(Isabelle wasn’t sure what a princess-like wish was. But she couldn’t ask. Not during testing.)
“Are there any other exceptions?” Grandmomma asked.
Fawn did not answer right away. “Technically, it’s possible for fairy godmothers to help regular girls—but I don’t know of any recent examples.”
This answer made Isabelle squirm. Regular did not sound like a good thing to be. Regular sounded bad, like normal in the Fairy Godmother Home for Normal Girls.
As the Worsts took their turns, Isabelle could think about nothing but normal and regular. Regular and normal.
When Grandmomma called her name, she was still worried.
Isabelle walked to the front of the room, held up her wand, and tried to look Grandmomma in the eye. This was not easy. She blinked twice, and then a third and fourth time. But Grandmomma didn’t blink at all. That made Isabelle blink even more.
“Your signature style?” Grandmomma prompted.
Isabelle tried to be brave, but right away, her performance went wrong. First, she forgot to curtsy. Then her half twirl turned into a quarter turn and an almost trip. Third, her swoosh looked more like a swish.
Grandmomma didn’t smile, but she didn’t frown, either. “I have a special question for you. What is the first and most important secret to finding happily ever after?”
That question sounded familiar to Isabelle, like she had seen it somewhere before …
Then she realized it was the question from the rule book—the one whose answer had disappeared when she snuck into Grandmomma’s office.
Isabelle was pretty sure this was not a coincidence.
“There is no secret,” Isabelle said finally. She waited for Grandmomma to tell her to pack her bags and go to a brand-new terrible place called the Home for Incompetent Fairy Godmothers Who Could Never Be Trusted.
Instead, Grandmomma thanked her. She said, “I’ll be back soon.” As she walked out the door, Clotilda walked in. She told the group she was here to keep them busy while Grandmomma discussed them with the three Bests.
For the first time ever, Isabelle didn’t mind waiting.
Minerva didn’t, either. “I told you the whole thing is rigged,” she said. “But maybe for you, that’s not a bad thing.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Isabelle asked.
Minerva looked a little embarrassed. “Well, she is your grandmother.”
When Grandmomma and the Bests came back, Isabelle crossed all her fingers and toes. She wasn’t sure if her performance had been enough to get her assigned a practice princess.
Bright lights suddenly filled the classroom. Confetti fell from the ceiling. (Isabelle was pretty sure this was the work of Kaminari.)
“Congratulations to all of you,” Grandmomma said. “You have all passed.”
“That’s amazing!” Isabelle jumped out of her seat and danced around the room. She tried to hug Angelica, but Angelica did not want to be hugged. Neither did Fawn.
When she tried to hug Minerva, the old godmother accepted a short embrace. “We can celebrate later.” (She looked happy, too.) “Right now we have to pay attention. Your grandmother wants to say something.”
Isabelle sat down and watched Grandmomma uncover a huge bowl filled with sparkles. “I will call you forward, best to worst. You will receive information about your practice princess. Then you will dip your wand in the sparkles. These sparkles will give you just enough magic to help your practice princesses.”
Isabelle almost clapped her hands when Grandmomma pulled out the first envelope.
“Congratulations, Fawn,” Grandmomma said. “You may begin.”
Isabelle could hardly believe it when Fawn dipped her wand into the bowl. She thought she might have heard a sizzling sound. When Fawn removed her wand, the top half had turned white. She looked different, too. A little older. And happier.
When Fawn opened her envelope, she discovered that her practice princess had already made a wish. She wanted to see snow.
Isabelle was not impressed. “Snow? Are you kidding?” That didn’t seem like a hard wish to make come true.
No surprise, Angelica earned the next-highest score. When she dipped her wand into the sparkles, it made a crackling sound. When she opened her envelope, it revealed a beautiful princess who wanted to sail a ship.
That didn’t seem hard to make happen, either, but before Isabelle could say anything, Minerva hit Isabelle in the head with a balled-up piece of paper. When Isabelle looked back, Minerva gave her a look that clearly said “Be quiet.”
Everyone was surprised when Grandmomma called Minerva next. She looked like she was about to cry when she opened her envelope and saw the great-great-great-granddaughter of her first and most beloved princess. (Minerva was really old.)
Next, Grandmomma called the other two Worsts, Irene and MaryEllen. Their styles had been simple. Their assignments didn’t seem hard, either. In fact, everyone’s practice princesses seemed like they were going to be really easy—nothing like the princesses and wishes the Bests had described.
That’s what Isabelle was thinking about when Grandmomma called her to the front of the room.
It took her a second to realize that she was the final fairy godmother trainee to get a princess. The bottom of the barrel. The worst in the room.
Today, she didn’t care. She was going to dip her wand into the sparkles. She was going to get a practice princess. Nothing else mattered.
“Thank you, Grandma,” she said. “I know I can make my first princess happily ever after.”
Grandmomma’s eye twitched. She didn’t like being called Grandma. “As you know,” she told the class, the Bests, and Clotilda, who seemed to be crying, or at least dabbing her eye with her finger, “this is a big day for my family.”
First, she pointed to the bowl. “Go ahead,” she said. “Dip it in. Count to five. Feel the power of the sparkle.”
Right away, Isabelle’s wand began to turn white. Her hand shook. But it felt wonderful at the same time. She counted so slowly that when she got to three, Grandmomma yanked the bowl away. “That’s all you need, Isabelle.” She handed her the envelope. “Go on. Open it.”
The room went silent. Everyone stared at the picture Isabelle held up.
“Sheesh. That’s the worst princess I’ve ever seen,” Minerva blurted out.
“She’s actually not a princess,” Grandmomma said. “Because of Isabelle’s unique abilities, I have given her the first regular girl ever.”
Isabelle shook out the envelope, but the picture was all there was. “Isn’t there supposed to be a wish in here?” she asked Grandmomma.
Grandmomma didn’t answer. Instead, she shooed Isabelle back to her seat. “Remember,” she said to all of them, “you have one season and one season only to make your practice princess happily ever after. In the regular world, that means you’ve got a few weeks. Six weeks, to be exact, so please do not delay!”
As Isabelle walked out the door, Clotilda ran to her side and squeezed her hand in an annoying sisterly way. “Don’t worry! All is not lost! You can watch me work first,” she said. “Whoever this girl is, she can’t be that bad.”
Isabelle didn’t agree. She might as well pack her bags now. It didn’t matter how many sparkles she had hidden away.
Her princess was the girl whose picture she’d seen in the drawer in Grandmomma’s office. She was the girl with the very sad frown and terrible hair and terrible everything.
Her name was Nora Silverstein.
Three and a half days later, Clotilda sounded the alarm. “Isabelle! Come quick! It’s happening.”
Isabelle ran all the way down the hall. “Come quick” meant Melody was about to make a wish.
But when Isabelle got to Clotilda’s room, nothing seemed out of place or even remotely magical. “Did I miss it?” Isabelle asked. “What’s going on?” This was frustrating. “I don’t hear or see or feel anything.”
“You’re not supposed to, but I can. L
oud and clear.”
Isabelle figured she had no choice but to sit down and trust her. “So what does she want?”
According to Clotilda, there was some big rodeo in town, and Melody had not yet been invited. Just like the princesses of classic fairy tales, she yearned to go and be part of the fun. She was a smart, nice, shy girl ready to saddle up on a horse and meet a smart, nice, shy boy. A prince, so to speak.
Melody even had a list of qualities she hoped he would possess. She wanted someone who
liked board games,
shared her love of going to the movies, and
was kind to animals.
“No wonder Minerva thinks the system is rigged.” It seemed to Isabelle that a rock with a stick taped to it could make this princess happy.
Clotilda disagreed. “Melody’s wish might sound easy to you, but you have to understand: She isn’t a practice princess. I’m going to be taking care of her for a long time.” She took out her official Wish List and turned to the page that was all about Melody. “See how many things she wants? It’s not like I jump every time she calls.”
“So why this time?” Isabelle asked.
“Easy peasy lemon squeezy.” Clotilda polished a spare apple, because she was very good at turning ripe fruit into fancy accessories. She also polished her wand and checked her hair (even though it was perfect). “Because she’s sad. Because this one came from the heart.” With that, Clotilda disappeared in a cloud of pink dust.
That was not an explanation.
Isabelle got up to leave. Behind the door, she found Grandmomma. She was snooping. “You want to watch?” she asked.
“Are you kidding?”
“I am not.”
Grandmomma, who never kidded about anything, had a not-so-secret official fairy godmother spyglass to keep track of the godmothers, but in this case, she meant in person. “Forget the spyglass. Just hold on to me and whatever you do, don’t let go while we’re traveling.”
A wave of the wand later, Isabelle sat in a corner of Melody’s living room. She whispered, “Don’t we need to hide?”
“Nope. And you don’t have to whisper, either,” Grandmomma said.
Isabelle, who had never been invisible before, danced around the room. She peered over Melody’s shoulder as she read her party invitation. Isabelle wanted to try on Melody’s cowboy hats, but Grandmomma put her foot down. “Calm down. You can look, but you can’t touch.”
When Melody started to pull dress after dress out of her closet, Isabelle decided to explore. She dragged Grandmomma from room to room. Clothes were boring. Something smelled delicious.
Also, something didn’t feel right. “Where’s Clotilda? Isn’t she supposed to be doing something?”
“What do you mean? She’s doing everything.” Grandmomma told Isabelle to sit down. She was getting tired. “Rule Seventeen: Foster independence. Please tell me you remember that.”
“I remember,” Isabelle said, even though she didn’t. What was the fun in doing all the work but getting none of the credit?
It wasn’t until Melody was almost ready to go that Clotilda appeared to add the finishing touches. She waved her wand and approved of all of Melody’s choices. She also offered her good luck, confidence, and hope. She sprayed her with a few (non-magical) sparkles. These were just for show since she had already given Melody all of the things she needed.
“So what did you learn?” Grandmomma asked when they had returned to Isabelle’s room.
Isabelle could feel a lecture coming. “I liked Melody’s boots. They were snazzy and sensible.”
“Your sister didn’t get to be Number Four for nothing,” Grandmomma said. “Now, open your rule book and think about everything you learned. Think about how Clotilda helped Melody. And for pity’s sake, stay alert. There’s magic in the air.” She looked very excited—she was rarely wrong about these things. “This is it, Isabelle. Something tells me your Cinderella in the rough is going to make her wish soon.”
For what it’s worth, calling Nora Silverstein a Cinderella in the rough was not really fair of Grandmomma.
According to Nora’s very short entry in the Wish List, she did indeed have a stepmother, but that’s where the similarities ended. Nora’s stepmother was nice. Instead of a stepsister, Nora had a stepbrother, a cute little boy named Gregory, and he thought Nora was the greatest sister ever. Her father was a decent man. Mr. Silverstein rarely made her clean her very nice room that was not in the attic or under the stairs or some other unappealing place. Nora cared about serious things like school and nature and cooking and helping other people.
Isabelle didn’t know what to do. There was no chapter in the rule book about serious princesses. There were no special rules for regular girls.
The next day, instead of taking Grandmomma’s advice, Isabelle took a break. After all that training, she thought she deserved it. She ran laps around the castle until her feet and legs and arms were sore. She practiced some new moves with her wand. Six weeks was plenty of time to get down to business.
Clotilda thought this was foolish. “How do you expect to hear Nora make a wish if you don’t sit still?”
So the next week, Isabelle sat. She sat in her room. She sat with the girlgoyles. She sat at the dinner table. She listened for Nora, but Nora didn’t make a wish. Or maybe she made a wish, but Isabelle couldn’t hear her.
Isabelle was sure she’d forgotten another rule (or that she hadn’t learned it in the first place). She knocked on the heavy red door to Grandmomma’s office.
For a change, Grandmomma didn’t look crabby. “Tell me. Do you have news?” It turned out that Fawn had just created an off-season, once-in-a-lifetime snow shower for her princess. And Angelica’s princess was already happily ever after, too, now that she had sailed across the Mediterranean Sea.
Isabelle felt like a failure. “It’s not fair,” she said. “You gave them easy princesses. Mine hasn’t even made a wish yet.”
Grandmomma popped a peppermint patty into her mouth. She repeated the same old things she always said: There is no such thing as a lousy princess. You get the right princess at the right time. Everyone deserves happily ever after. The magic didn’t come from sparkles alone. Blah blah blah. “Are you trying to tell me you can’t get it done?”
Isabelle didn’t want to give up, but she didn’t want to fail, either. Mostly, she didn’t want to be like Mom. (But she didn’t say any of those things.)
“Can we go snoop on her—the way we did with Melody? I promise to stand still. I won’t touch a thing. Or if you’re too tired, I could put on a disguise and follow her around.”
Grandmomma sighed. She looked exhausted. It was hard to deny a girl willing to beg for someone else’s happiness.
“Why don’t you come back tomorrow and try the spyglass?” She made Isabelle promise not to tell anyone. “If Minerva gets wind of this, she’ll have a conniption.”
The next day, Isabelle returned to Grandmomma’s office and peered through the spyglass. Grandmomma’s magic spyglass could be used to transport fairy godmothers, or to simply observe princesses in their natural habitats. Isabelle wanted to do the latter. She watched Nora eat breakfast. She watched her at school. She watched her say hello to two girls. She zoomed in.
Two girls meant friends.
It meant activities.
And maybe boys.
But instead of making plans, Nora told them she was taking her brother on a hike. She didn’t make any plans. She let the girls walk away.
Isabelle hoped this was a good thing, since a lot of magic could happen in the woods. But in this case, it was another false alarm. Nora didn’t run around or sing or talk to animals the way princesses were supposed to. Instead, she collected rocks. She spent a long time looking for lizards and caterpillars and feeding them leaves. Most of the time, she sat quietly in a clearing while her brother built a dirt castle. Later, they perched together on a log that someone had turned into a bench.
That night, Clotil
da quizzed Isabelle about her Nora research. “Who are her friends? What does she like to do? Would she like a pet?”
A pet was not a bad idea. Maybe Nora needed a puppy. Or a kitten. Or a prairie dog.
“But what if she doesn’t wish for it?” Isabelle pressed Clotilda. “What if she doesn’t want anything I can give her?”
“That’s not possible.” Clotilda rolled her eyes. “If you don’t believe me, check the appendix to Rule Twenty-Seven.” It was the rule for matching a princess with a godmother in training:
Fairy godmothers in training are matched with practice princesses (or otherwise) with the following qualifications:
a) They have made a wish that will make them happy if fulfilled.
b) They know someone who has made a wish on their behalf.
c) They believe deeply in the power of magic.
d) any of the above
e) all of the above
As far as Isabelle could tell, Nora was none of the above.
But she didn’t say that to Clotilda.
Instead, she walked back to her room and flopped on her bed and felt sorry for herself. This was what she deserved: a serious regular girl who didn’t want anything she could give her.
Isabelle didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to lose her sparkles. She didn’t want to be the worst in the class. She didn’t want to be like Mom.
Late that night, when she couldn’t sleep, she crept back to the girlgoyles. She swooshed her wand and held it up to the starry sky. She shouted, “I can do this! I am going to be a great fairy godmother. I am going to figure out what will make Nora happily ever after. And then I’m going to give it to her.”
Then she waited for some kind of magical sign.
Unfortunately, only the girlgoyles heard her. And they couldn’t help or give her any advice. After all, they really were just made of rock.
The next day, on the first day of the third week, Isabelle went back to the spyglass.
The Worst Fairy Godmother Ever! Page 4
