Raine smiled in a nostalgic way. “Legend says that as my princess grew older, people told the king of that beautiful tree, and that because he had to see it, he found the princess. And that’s fine for them to believe, but you should know I did everything. I sang in the king’s ear and told him to look for the tree. Although I’m not as famous or sensational as some other fairy godmothers, I don’t mind. Legends are all part of the job.” She gave Luciana the side eye. “Remember: We are helpers. It’s not about us. Princesses need to learn to be independent. They can’t just wait around for happily ever after.”
Angelica looked like she was about to say something, but then the lights went out, and an empty spotlight appeared at the front of the room. Then it moved to the back of the room. When it moved back to the front, Number Three was ready. She held her arms out wide. “My name is Kaminari.” As she walked around the room, her hair swooshed and shined like she’d powdered it with sparkles—like it was made of black glass.
“Trainees, my first princess was a beggar girl named Jade. Right after I met her, she was tossed into a river by a greedy young man who couldn’t see her royal heart.”
“So you swooped down and saved her from the river?” Isabelle asked.
“No. I let a nice couple do that.” Kaminari winked. “FYI, fairy godmothers do not save princesses.” She picked up her wand and twirled it through her fingers. “Once she was safe, I helped her understand forgiveness—to see the good in all people, even the greedy young man. Of course, I also gave her a ton of jewels. What’s a princess without jewels?” When she was done reminiscing, she blew on the end of her wand, spraying everyone in the room with piles of red and gold sparkles.
Before Isabelle could try stuffing them in her pockets, Kaminari opened her arms. “Being a fairy godmother can be fun. But it is also serious business. If you stick around long enough, you can change the world.” Without saying another word, all the sparkles disappeared.
After each Best took a bow and exited the classroom, Grandmomma returned to the front of the room. She told them all to quiet down. (In other words, the fun part was over.) “Trainees, the art of wand waving is the most essential skill a fairy godmother can master. Your style is important. But it is the substance and heart you bring to your style that matter most.”
Fawn wrote something down in her book. She tried to cover her writing, but Isabelle could still see it. When you help your princess, good things happen.
“Is that always true?” Isabelle said out loud by accident.
Grandmomma placed a piece of candy on her desk. “I suggest that every chance you can, you get to work. As you just heard, sometimes you have to act fast. Sometimes, your work will seem unconventional. Prepare to get to know your princess, so you are ready for her wish. Know her strengths and weaknesses as well as the part of the world she lives in. Most important, always ask: How can I help?”
“Does that mean we’re going to get our wands now?” Isabelle asked. She stopped herself from adding finally.
But Grandmomma could tell that’s what she was thinking. “First you need to earn them, Isabelle. Also, you need to do some paperwork.”
A huge stack of documents appeared on each desk in a small cloud of sparkles. The first page said:
Official Fairy Godmother Contract. Please read carefully.
Angelica and Fawn seemed charmed, but the Worsts grumbled. “How exciting,” they said. “Just what we were hoping for.”
Grandmomma acted like she hadn’t heard a single moan or groan. “When you’ve read everything, please sign your name on the line and clip all the pages together. In exchange,” she said, “I will give you what you’ve all been waiting for.” She glanced at Isabelle but did not crack a smile. “Remember, take your time. Read every single word. Do not skip the fine print.”
Isabelle looked down at the very thick stack of papers.
I,___________________________, do solemnly swear to uphold all the rules and guidelines in The Official Rule Book for Fairy Godmothers, 11th Edition.
In her opinion, all the print was fine. The letters all ran together. If she stared at it too long, they turned blurry and wavy. Isabelle found it impossible to sit still long enough to even read the second line.
Really, what did it matter? She knew what would happen if she succeeded. She knew what would happen if she failed.
If the fine print was so important, Grandmomma should have made it bigger.
Isabelle pretended to read. She turned one page, then another and another, over and over again.
When she got to the very last page, she whipped out a pen with a dramatic flick of her wrist and signed her name on the line. Then she ran to the big red desk and plopped all those papers into Grandmomma’s arms.
“I’m done first,” she said. “Aren’t you impressed? Can I have my wand now?”
“Practice wand,” Grandmomma reminded Isabelle, reaching into a desk drawer and pulling out a small, plain stick. “Once you pass training, then we will give it some juice.”
Isabelle tried to hide her disappointment as she accepted the non-magical stick.
“What do you say?” Grandmomma prompted her.
Isabelle grinned. “Wait until you see my signature style. You are going to love it.”
The really old godmother cleared her throat. Loudly. Then she coughed twice.
Isabelle knew what that meant. “I mean, thank you. And I am ready and humble and excited. I promise. I understand the terms of the contract.”
Grandmomma shooed her out the door. “So you say,” she said. “So you say.”
The next day, Isabelle tried her best to do everything she was told.
She ran around cones—for agility. She did ballet—for grace. She even played the trust game. In her opinion, this game was so boring it shouldn’t even be called a game, but for some reason, it was really important to Grandmomma. To play the trust game, each fairy godmother had to pick a partner. Then (without looking) each of them had to take a turn falling into her partner’s arms.
Isabelle was chosen last.
“Stand closer,” the really old godmother said. Her name was Minerva. “And put down your wand.”
“I can do two things at once.” Isabelle had tied a ribbon to the end of her practice wand to make it look fancier. When she flicked her wrist, the ribbon zigged and zagged. It made her look almost magical.
Minerva snatched it out of her hands. She was a lot stronger than she looked. “If you drop me, I’ll turn you into a grasshopper. Don’t think I can’t.”
Isabelle wondered if it would be fun to be a grasshopper, if only for a minute. She also wondered if she should bring in her own sparkles (the stolen ones in her underwear drawer).
Luckily, everyone else was paying attention. “Watch out!” they shouted at Isabelle. “Don’t drop her!”
Isabelle dove for the ground just in time for Minerva to land in her lap. “Told you I wouldn’t drop you,” she said. Then she turned to Grandmomma. “Now do we get some sparkles?”
Grandmomma called them all to her desk. “How about one?” According to her, this was plenty of magic. Grandmomma turned to the Bests, who were joining them for their first lesson with sparkles. “They’re all yours,” she said grimly.
Luciana the Fascinante called them to the front of the room. “Let’s start with the basics of incorporating sparkles into your magic.” She dropped a pile of rags on the floor. “To start, I’d like you to transform this mess into appropriate princess attire.” She made it sound like it was the easiest thing in the world to do.
Tap, tap, tap! Angelica made a blue dress on her third try. Tap, tap, tap! Fawn managed to make a cool pair of gold pants. Isabelle hunched her shoulders. The Worsts went ahead of her. They all made gowns. (They were very old-fashioned.)
Luciana pointed her wand straight at Isabelle’s heart. “Why don’t you give it a try now?”
Tap, tap, tap! Isabelle pointed her wand at the pile of cloth. Tap, tap, tap! They flopped a
round a bit. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, TAP! The rags whirled up in the air and got tangled around a statue of the greatest fairy godmother ever (may she rest in peace), knocked over the jar full of candy, and almost tripped up Minerva (but luckily she got out of the way in time).
“Too many taps!” Luciana no longer looked fascinante, unless fascinante meant furious.
“Let’s go outside,” Raine said. She handed each of them a live mouse as they exited the classroom. “We can clean this up later.”
“Cheer up! No sulking allowed,” Minerva told Isabelle as they claimed their mice and followed the others. “Not everyone is a dressmaker. Maybe you’ll do better with livestock.”
This turned out to be wishful thinking.
When they got outside, Angelica volunteered to go first (of course). She managed to turn her mouse into a brown-and-white pony on the second try. Fawn was even better. Her mouse became a unicorn.
Isabelle was too busy enjoying the fresh air to keep good track of her mouse.
When Raine asked her to take a turn, Isabelle tried to fake it. (She couldn’t admit she had no idea where her mouse was hiding.) She aimed her wand at a nearby shadow.
Pop! A kangaroo appeared! And it didn’t look happy.
This was a disaster!
Everyone knew that fairy godmothers were supposed to respect the animal kingdom. They were not supposed to lose their mice or turn just anything into a creature that was supposed to stay wild. “What were you thinking?” Minerva asked. Raine looked furious. Grandmomma was already apologizing.
Isabelle shook her wand. “I think it’s defective. Or maybe I need more sparkles.”
It was frustrating to have magic that didn’t work—maybe even more frustrating than having no magic at all.
“You do not need any more sparkles.” Minerva whipped out her wand and pointed it at Isabelle’s unhappy kangaroo. “Use a little more body in your flick. Think before you wave.” In one motion, the kangaroo turned into a happy, sleepy puppy.
Isabelle wanted to hug her. Like everyone else, she’d felt bad for the kangaroo. “You are so not a Worst fairy godmother,” she whispered.
Minerva picked up the puppy and scratched it behind its ears. “Tonight, practice with something simple. Like a piece of fruit.” She added, “If it’s a little soft, it’s easier to transform.”
After class, Isabelle hurried home to the girlgoyles.
“Would you like a dress? Or maybe some new shoes? Or how about a gigantic purple helicopter to fly you all over the world until we find Mom?” (If Isabelle could grant her own wish, that’s what she would want.)
The girlgoyles, of course, made excellent practice princesses. They were patient. They didn’t argue. They didn’t complain when the ripe peach did not turn into anything special. Isabelle could tell they loved the way the ribbon swirled in the air when she flicked her wrist. If they could talk, she was sure they would tell her how magical she looked when she held her wand high above her head toward the stars.
But they couldn’t talk, so Isabelle kept practicing. It was fun to pretend that she was good at this.
First she added a full-body twirl to her wand routine, but it was hard to stop at just one. So she tried three. Then five. Five was fun, but it made her so dizzy she tipped over. After she had fallen so many times that both knees required first aid, she settled on a twirl and a half followed by a fancy over-and-under jabbing action.
Then Isabelle went downstairs to her sister’s room so she could demonstrate her new moves for an expert. “What do you think? Incredible, right?”
“Incredibly wrong. Are you taking advice from Minerva?”
Clotilda preferred a simple (boring) flick of the wrist followed by a teeny tiny (also boring) figure-eight motion. “You don’t want to freak anyone out. Practice princesses aren’t ready for a full-strength fairy godmother. Why do you think Minerva was sent back into training?”
Isabelle stamped her foot. Then she paced around the room. There were too many rules. In her opinion, twirls made her very trustworthy. And a lot more interesting.
Clotilda apologized in a kind-but-annoying way. “If it helps, everyone’s nervous in the beginning.”
“Not you. Not Grandmomma.”
“Especially me. Especially Grandmomma.”
Isabelle couldn’t imagine Grandmomma being nervous about anything. “But what if I can’t do it? What if I’m never good enough? What if I get a princess … like her?”
When she said “her,” she meant the unhappy princess who had changed everything. Clotilda put her hand over Isabelle’s mouth. “Grandmomma wouldn’t do that.”
Isabelle shut Clotilda’s bedroom door. She did not want Grandmomma walking in on them. “What’s the use? I’m just like her.”
This time by “her,” she meant Mom.
Clotilda sat down next to Isabelle. She pulled back her sister’s unruly hair. “Just because you look like her and act like her doesn’t mean you’ll mess up like her.” She tried to sound encouraging. “Don’t forget, you have a rule book. You get to go to training. She didn’t have any of that.”
That did not make Isabelle feel any better. “You don’t understand. You’re perfect. You always have been. And I’m …”
“Learning. That’s all,” Clotilda said in a perky way. “How about I quiz you? Or I can show you some more wand tips.”
But Isabelle didn’t want any tips.
“Maybe if you tell me the story,” Isabelle said, “I’ll feel better.”
So, even though this was a story Clotilda didn’t enjoy telling, she agreed to tell it just this once. The truth was Clotilda missed their mother, too. Most importantly, no matter how snooty and perfect she might seem, she really wanted her sister to do well.
Warning: This is a sad story.
Once upon a time, a long time ago, back when there weren’t many princesses or fairy godmothers and there wasn’t even a rule book, there lived a very young and very lively fairy godmother. She was known for her pure heart and beautiful laugh. Every day, she could be found dancing around the fairy godmother world.
She was very talented, so she was paired with the most beautiful and beloved princess the regular world had ever known.
This princess was sweet and smart and kind to everyone she met. Every time she made a wish, her fairy godmother took out her wand and her sparkles and got to work. It was so much fun making her princess happily ever after. So she got some more sparkles. And then just a few more.
The fairy godmother didn’t listen to warnings that sparkles should be used in moderation. She didn’t realize that if she used too many sparkles, they could stop working altogether.
One day, the fairy godmother’s magic was—poof!—gone. She couldn’t make any more wishes come true. Her princess was distraught. She cried over everything—even puppies. Or kittens. Or something like a glass of spilled milk. Her fairy godmother tried everything to get her magic back. She would not give up.
One day, the princess became so unhappy that she decided she didn’t want to be a princess anymore. She gave up her crown and ran away. She told her fairy godmother to leave her alone—forever.
People all over the land cried for their lost princess. But they never blamed her. They didn’t blame the king or the queen (who usually got blamed for these things).
Instead, they blamed her fairy godmother. And because they blamed her, all girls stopped making wishes. They stopped believing in magic. And that meant the fairy godmothers had no one to make happy. For a very long time, they didn’t have anything to do.
This was a very dark and lonely time.
A world without fairy godmothers, without wishing, without happily ever afters, was too grim. The elder godmothers decided they had to do something.
So they came up with new rules. They started training new godmothers. They guaranteed the regular world that every single princess would get a wise and careful and smart fairy godmother—one who knew all the rules and didn’t take too
many risks.
And the fairy godmother who lost her magic?
The fairy godmothers took away her wand and her sparkles. Even though they didn’t want to, they told her she could no longer be a fairy godmother. This is another sad part: Even though she promised to be good and quiet and not make any more trouble, they told her she could no longer live in the fairy godmother world.
In the name of happily ever after, she had to leave.
So she did.
And this is the really sad part: She was never heard from again.
When testing day arrived, Grandmomma stood at the front of the room in a long dress and presidential cape. “The time has come,” she said, raising her wand, “to see if you are ready to receive your practice princesses.”
Angelica went first. She touched her hip with the tip of her wand, and then raised her arm high over her head. It was very dramatic. It also made her look even more like a flower than usual.
Grandmomma looked impressed. “Tell me. When is the right time to greet your princess for the first time?”
Isabelle froze. She didn’t remember Grandmomma telling them they had to answer questions on the spot.
Angelica didn’t seem fazed at all. “After they have wished for something that will make them happy.” Then she added, “But it is also prudent not to visit her immediately or too often. In fact, in many cases, it is better to help your princess without being seen or heard. A good fairy godmother knows what to do.” She started to list a few examples, but Grandmomma held up her hand and told her to return to her seat.
It was Fawn’s turn next. “Step forward,” Grandmomma said. Fawn stood up, held out her arms, and appeared to float across the room. In front of Grandmomma, she swirled her wand in the air like she was stirring up a cloud.
Isabelle was totally impressed. Her style was really cool. Better than Angelica’s, even.
Grandmomma appeared to agree. “Are all princesses real princesses?” she asked with a smile.
“They used to be.” Fawn held up a finger and said, “But now there are exceptions. It is possible to draw a girl who wants to become a princess. Or someone with princess-like wishes.”
The Worst Fairy Godmother Ever! Page 3
