“I’m an imp now,” said Crista, swallowing the last piece of her onion ring.
“We can fix that. Pilose said magic could be reversed.”
“Ali.” Michael poked her.
She knew he was right. First things first. “I’m going to fix it,” she said as she let him push her toward the party room.
Crista patted her wig and picked up another onion ring.
They were right in front of the party room now. Ali pushed the door open. There were Hannah and Deacon, standing against the far wall, tied back to back with what appeared to be extremely long hair ribbons. Their hair looked pretty normal, definitely not like the obvious wigs the imps were wearing. Between Ali and Michael and their siblings sat Ali’s parents—Pilose and Ringlet. They were sitting on opposite sides of a long, oval table that was topped with a half-eaten birthday cake and hung with helium-filled balloons. Both imps had frosting on their faces.
“How did you get in here?” her dad/Ringlet barked.
“I opened the door, moron,” said Ali. “Now get out of my way. This is all going to be over. You’re giving my parents’ bodies back.”
“That door was locked twice!” Ringlet said.
“She’s got more magic than you now,” said Michael.
Ali hadn’t realized she was using her magic. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting to Hannah and Deacon. She raced around the table, but Pilose stood up and blocked her way. She was giving Ali the look her mom gave when she got a D on her report card, the I’m disappointed in you, young lady look. Pilose had no right to look at her that way. She had no right to be walking around in her mother’s body. Now was the time to find out if it really was her mother’s body. She grabbed Pilose’s arm. It was real, not like Mrs. Hopper’s.
Pilose grabbed Ali’s other arm. She was just as strong as Ali’s mom, too. But I have magic, Ali thought. Since she’s big, she might not have any left. Ali focused her mind on her tuft of hair and jerked both her arms away. Pilose grabbed for her again, but she dodged and headed for Hannah.
Michael punched Ringlet in the face, and Ringlet fell into his chair. He looked like he was about to cry.
“Oh, stop it,” said Michael. “It was just a tap.”
Ali hoped her dad wouldn’t feel that punch when it was over, but it couldn’t be helped. Now Michael was right beside her.
Ali and Michael undid the thick ribbons that were tying Hannah and Deacon together.
“Hang on, we’re getting you out of here,” said Ali. She reached up for Hannah’s hair while Michael reached for Deacon’s. They both tugged.
“Oooow!” Hannah screeched.
“Dude, what are you doing?” Deacon yelled.
“They’re not wigs!” said Michael.
“They have to be,” said Ali. “We’re supposed to remove their wigs. There was a drawing and everything!”
“Why would you think I’m wearing a wig?” Hannah asked, sounding a little dazed. “And where are we?”
“You’re in Bill-E-Beef’s,” said Ali.
“Why would I be at Bill-E-Beef’s?”
“It’s a long story,” said Ali. “Let’s just go home.”
“Is it someone’s birthday?” Hannah asked. “I have a headache.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” said Pilose.
“Mom?” Hannah asked, rubbing her eyes.
Deacon looked around as if he were half-asleep. His hair was matted to his forehead.
“Who’s going to stop us?” asked Michael. He pounded his right fist into his open left hand.
Ringlet was holding his nose. He looked at Pilose, wide-eyed and teary.
“Alison, I’m sorry,” said Pilose. “Bunny told us if we ran away from you again she’d have our wigs. These In-betweens are too important.”
“Fine,” said Ali. “Michael, let’s bust out of here.” Ali had never punched anyone before in her life, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her, even though Pilose had her mother’s face. She made a fist and pulled her arm back.
“Ali, what are you doing?” Hannah screeched.
“They’re not our parents,” said Ali.
“Yeah, dude,” said Deacon. “These are Hannah’s parents. Let’s just have some cake.”
The door to the party room opened, and more faux parents walked through. These people didn’t look like terrified babies who just wanted to eat junk food. They glared at Ali and Michael. One man tapped a large salt shaker menacingly against his palm. Another had a sugar jar. A third held a napkin holder in each hand.
Why didn’t I think to bring a weapon? Ali thought. Come on, everyone. If you’re still waiting outside, now’s the time!
Thirty
Jared stomped down the street. He hadn’t been able to hear everything because he’d been hiding behind a parked car outside the school so that no one would see his ugly face and lose their lunch. But he’d heard enough to figure out that there weren’t going to be any more flocks of fairies. The fairies’ goal all along had been to replace all the parents in town and live as people. And the kids wanted to turn them back into fairies. Either way, the growing was over, and there’d be no more wishes. Ali had lied to him. Jonathan had hexed him. The fairies were evil. What was he supposed to do? Wear a bag over his head for his whole life? Join the circus as the “ugliest boy in four states”? He kicked at a cat that was slinking its way along someone’s yard, but he missed.
The cat yowled anyway.
“Shut up, you stupid furball,” said Jared.
“Meeeeeeow!”
“I know I’m ugly, all right? At least I’m not somebody’s pet.”
“Yoooow,” said the cat, racing away.
Great. Even cats hated him for no reason. He had watched the kids heading away in their pack, and now he turned in the opposite direction. Those kids weren’t going to help him. The fairies weren’t going to help him. Maybe he could have a face transplant. But if this was magic, would the ugly just grow back? Jared was so angry he was about to cry. And the worst part was that the street was completely empty. There was no one around to kick.
“I never did anything wrong!” he yelled. “I don’t deserve this!” He picked up a large rock off the grass and tossed it from hand to hand. “It’s Jonathan who deserves it. JONATHAN!!” He hurled the rock through the nearest window. MRS.HOPPER’S HAIR PALACE, the sign said. Jared didn’t notice that this was the place he’d followed Alison Butler to earlier. He was too angry to notice anything. He certainly wasn’t aware that the red and white barber pole right above his head was glowing even though the rest of the shop was dark.
The rock smashed through the window and landed inside the store next to a pile of rubble. That was when Jared noticed that the place was already pretty much destroyed. His rock hadn’t even done anything. He should go get his rock and smash something else. But then what?
He couldn’t go back to school. Even his own parents didn’t care where he went now. He wiped away an angry tear.
“I can help you,” said a voice. It sounded like an old lady.
Jared looked around. No one was there. He was hallucinating. First ugly, now crazy.
“Look up, dearie,” said the voice.
Jonathan wiped away another tear and looked up. There was nothing above him but a barber pole. It was red and white and lit from within, spinning slowly around its axis. He shook his head.
“Yes, up here,” said the voice.
“Who are you?” Jared asked. He didn’t bother looking up again. It was just another trick.
“I was trapped here by those evil imps,” said the voice. “Their magic must have weakened, or I wouldn’t be able to speak now.”
At that, Jared’s head popped up. An enemy of the evil fairies?
“Use your magic to release me,” said the old-lady voice.
Jared sighed. Of course. “I don’t have magic,” he said. “All I have is this cursed face.” His boils brightened. “Unless my ugly face is magic?”
&
nbsp; The voice laughed, a light hiccuppy sound. “Not your hex, dearie, your child magic.”
“My child magic?”
“All children have magic,” said the barber pole. “I don’t suppose they told you that.”
“No,” said Jared. “No one tells me anything . . . nothing true, anyway.” Why should he believe this talking barber pole?
“Well, let me tell you,” said the pole. “You children have as much magic as they do. Using it is another matter. But for now, I can talk you through it.”
“Wait a minute,” said Jared. “Not that I believe you, but if I do help you, what do I get? See, I’ve got this hex—”
“I see,” said the pole.
Even a stupid barber pole was disgusted by him. Jared fumed. “I’ve got this hex, and I need to get rid of it, and I need to get revenge, okay? So can you help me or what?”
“Once I get out, I’m quite a lot more powerful than an imp,” said the pole. “That’s why they trapped me in here.”
“All right,” said Jared. He didn’t really believe, but what other hope did he have? If whoever was inside the barber pole was evil, then so what? “What am I supposed to do?”
“Well, you know that your power is in your hair and your fingernails and toenails,” said the pole.
“I do?”
“Of course you do, dearie. Why do you think those evil imps have to eat so much hair to keep their powers?”
“That’s why they eat hair?”
“Oh, yes. They think it’s all because Bunniumpton added too much hair to the un-enslavement spell, but I’m afraid Bunny’s idiocy only made the problem worse. Un-enslavement is quite power draining, no matter how you get there.”
“Whatever,” said Jared.
“So put one hand on your head—whichever hand you write with, dearie.”
Jared put his right hand on his head.
“Now take off your right shoe.”
Jared took his hand off his head, ripped off his sneaker, and put his hand on his head again.
“And your sock.”
Jared let out an exasperated sigh and took off the sock.
“Hand back on head.”
Jared did it.
“Now hold your right foot with your left hand.”
“What!”
“The nails need to be close together, dearie,” said the pole. “You need all the power you have.”
Jared was really starting to wonder if someone was playing a trick on him. It would be just like Jonathan to rub it in like this. But he had seen Jonathan going off with the other kids. He held his right foot with his left hand and tried desperately to keep his balance.
“Now rub your head and repeat after me: I am a child. I am strong.”
“I am a child. I am strong.”
“Those Divvy-imps have got it wrong.”
“Those Divvy-imps have got it wrong.”
“I’m ugly, gross, and vile, true.”
“Hey!”
“Just say it, dearie.”
“I’m ugly, gross, and vile, true,” Jared muttered, hopping.
“But I have power more than you.”
That was a little better. “But I have power more than you.”
“The strongest of them all I’ll be.”
“The strongest of them all I’ll be.”
“Now set this ancient fairy free!”
“Now set this ancient fairy free!” Jared hopped on his left foot, then lost his balance and crashed to the sidewalk. “Uuuhhh,” he groaned, pushing himself up. He managed to make it to his knees, which was when he saw the old lady standing in front of him on the sidewalk.
She held out a liver-spotted hand. “We’ll work on your balance.”
“Who are you?” he asked, looking up at the barber pole. It was no longer glowing, and its plastic casing was riddled with cracks. The old lady was wearing a dowdy brown skirt, a white blouse, and sensible shoes. Her gray hair fell around her shoulders and stuck out as if she’d just woken up.
“They call me Emily Hopper,” said the woman. “Mild-mannered salon owner. But really I’m a fairy, of course.”
“Of course,” said Jared grumpily, letting the woman help him to his feet. “I thought they were fairies.”
“Ha!” said Mrs. Hopper. “Of course that Bunniumpton would try to trick you ignorant humans. There are good reasons why no one respects imps. Children love and fear fairies, you see. Imps are just a bunch of troublemakers.”
“What they did to me is more than a little bit of trouble,” said Jared. “And if you’re so special, how did they trap you up there?”
“You’re very unpleasant,” Mrs. Hopper observed. “It did take all of them to trap me—while I was asleep, no less.”
“Whatever,” said Jared. “Can you take this hex off me or what?”
“Fair is fair,” said Mrs. Hopper. “Hold still.” She placed both her hands on top of Jared’s head and stood on one foot. Unlike Jared, she didn’t wobble the least bit. “Make this unpleasant child look however he did before,” she said, then removed her hands and took a step back, examining him quizzically.
Jared touched his face. It was smooth! He turned and looked at himself in the remnants of the salon’s window. There was his old face staring back at him! The handsomest face in four states. He bit his lip over his smile. “You promised me revenge, too.”
“You’ll get it, dearie,” said Mrs. Hopper. “I’m certainly going to have mine.”
“Mommy, where are you going?” asked the mayor’s daughter, Hayley.
“Someplace where we can fix this,” Bunny snapped. She brushed a piece of her wig out of her face. This was not at all what she had imagined. She’d hoped she would have the mayor’s hair, but all of the imps’ new bodies were bald. And adding mousse to the wigs just made them sticky.
“Don’t leave me here,” whined the little girl.
“We’ll be right back,” said Lockner. He ushered Bunny out of the house and closed the door behind them. “You needn’t be so mean, Miss,” he said. “She can’t be more than five years old.”
“Then why isn’t she in kindergarten?” said Bunny, snorting. “Skipping school at her age.”
“I believe we were supposed to take her,” said Lockner.
“Whatever,” said Bunny. “That little urchin isn’t my problem. We’re going to Bill-E-Beef’s.”
“What do you plan to do there?” asked Lockner. “You don’t think the Happy Rat has another book of spells?”
“Don’t be silly—he’s just some guy in a costume,” said Bunny. “I’m going to improvise my own spell. I’ve got it all figured out. We’ll need more children, of course, but the restaurant is the perfect trap. The junk food they serve there will be the binding agent, and the In-betweens are there. I’ve got some seashells in my purse. All we need are the right words to break us away from these evil little children for good.”
“You make it sound so easy,” said Lockner.
“I’ve been tearing my wig apart coming up with these words, Lockner,” said Bunny, waving a sheet of paper in front of him. “Nothing is easy.” They had reached the mayor’s Prius, and Bunny jerked the driver’s side door open.
“Um . . . have you ever driven before, Miss?” Lockner asked, getting into the passenger seat.
“Oh please,” said Bunny. “It’s not even magic.” She turned on the ignition, put the car into reverse, and zoomed out, whooshing across the street, over the curb, and into a neighbor’s yard. “See, no problem,” said Bunny. She zoomed into the street and zigzagged in the direction of Bill-E-Beef’s.
Thirty-One
The overgrown imp with the two napkin holders—a tall man with a beer gut who was dressed in pajamas and slippers—took a step forward.
“Now hold on,” said Ali. “We’re not here to hurt anybody.”
“Just to change us back, right?” said the man.
“No, no, of course not,” Ali lied. “We don’t want our parents back. Parents are n
o fun at all. We’d rather eat cake.” Ali picked up the plastic cake knife from the table and cut herself a giant slice of birthday cake. She took a large bite. “Mmmm.”
The man narrowed his eyes and took another step forward.
Michael picked up the half-eaten piece of cake on Ringlet’s plate and took a bite. “Yum!”
“He punched me, and now he took my cake,” said Ringlet.
“Grow up,” said Pilose. “There’s more cake.” She turned to Pajama-man. “Now, we don’t want any fighting. These children can’t hurt us. They’re going to go home now and promise not to make any more trouble.”
“That’s right,” said Ali. “We’re all going home. Come on, Hannah.”
Pilose turned around and glared at Ali with the disappointed-mom look.
“I’m not leaving without Hannah,” said Ali.
Pajama-man knocked his napkin holders together.
Ali grabbed her tuft of hair and looked him right in the eye.
Pilose put both her hands out—one to block Ali and the other to block Pajama-man.
The rest of the imps moved forward.
Ali focused on her hair. She glared at Pajama-man. Slippers fly off, she thought.
The slippers whooshed out from under Pajama-man’s feet, and he fell, letting the napkin holders fly. One of them hit Pilose in the chest, and the other smashed through the rest of the birthday cake. Pajama-man landed on his bottom, screeching.
“That’s it, young lady!” Pilose yelled, and she slapped Ali’s hand off her tuft of hair.
At this, the rest of the overgrown imps charged forward.
Someone threw a pepper grinder at Michael, but he ducked. As three overgrown imps rushed toward him, he kicked a foot out and tripped the first one. The next one fell on top of the first and began to cry, but the third one jumped over the others and took a swing at Michael. Meanwhile, Ali wrestled with Pilose.
“Stop this nonsense, Alison,” said Pilose.
“Wig off,” Ali muttered.
Pilose’s wig flew straight up off her head and hit the ceiling. It stuck there as if glued.
“That’s just mean!” said Pilose, shoving Ali back into Hannah. Instead of thudding against her sister, Ali bounced. Hannah’s rubber arm wrapped around her stomach. It wasn’t Hannah at all!
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