How I Found the Perfect Dress

by Maryrose Wood

  Not gonna happen, I resolved, as I headed for the entrance to the club. I was not liking anyone, and no one was liking me, until I’d undone the enchantment Colin was under and knew how to magic-proof every boy I came into contact with.

  sarah and i stood in front of the stage, the dance floor vibrating beneath our feet, until the band finally took a break. Even between sets Club Toxins wasn’t the quietest place in the world to make small talk, but through a series of funny pantomimes, Mike offered to go get me a soda.

  After he walked away Sarah yelled in my ear: “I think Mike Fitch likes you!”

  “He shouldn’t,” I said sharply.

  Sarah pulled back. “What’s the matter? Did Colin finally ask you to make it official?”

  I wish, I almost said. But if Sarah was right about Mike, I needed to squash his interest like a bug. No sparks allowed, was my new rule. Even the accidental kind.

  “Actually I’m getting a wicked headache. Tell Mike I had to go home,” I shouted over the music to Sarah. “Please? I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

  Even in the half-light of the club I could see the skepticism on Sarah’s face. “If you don’t want to hurt his feelings,” she yelled back, “why don’t you tell him yourself?”

  Across the sea of dancing bodies, I saw Mike weaving his way back to us. Just looking at his unself-conscious smile, his easy grace as he slid through the crowd holding two tall Cokes high in the air—he was no Colin, but it didn’t matter; I could feel the pull of his boy-magnetism reach into my core and tug.

  . . . the glimmer of a half-goddesses’s desire . . .

  “I can’t,” I said, panicking. “I really can’t.”

  Then I bolted out the door.

  nine

  i stood outside the club, teeth Chattering, and Called my dad to come pick me up. After I hung up I saw on my “missed calls” that Colin had tried to reach me a few minutes earlier. He hadn’t left a message. I called him back and he picked up instantly.

  “Hey,” he said matter-of-factly. “I called but then I remembered ye were out with yer pals. Are ye home already?”

  “On my way,” I said.

  “An early night, eh? Didja have fun?”

  “Some.”

  “How was the band?”

  “Loud.” I scanned the area outside Toxins, in case Sarah or Mike had wandered outside looking for me. They hadn’t. Sarah had probably decided I was a jerk all over again, and Mike seemed much too sensible to go chasing after a girl who was drama queen enough to leave in the middle of a gig without saying goodbye.

  “Did that fella Mike turn up?” Colin asked. He made it sound like a completely innocent question.

  “He had to,” I said. “He’s in the band.”

  “Ah, good for him. Bein’ in a band, that’s a proper chick magnet, that is. So, listen, Mor,” Colin said, as if we’d been talking about the weather, “the reason I called ye is—I forgot me project binder at your house! Honestly I don’t know where me head is at these days.”

  Chomp. The memory of Queen Titania biting the head off her marzipan Colin came rushing back.

  “I’d come over for it now,” he went on, “but by the time I got to your place and back on the bus it’d be half past tomorrow, and I’m totally beat, to tell ye the truth. Unless I could stay over?”

  Chomp.

  If Colin didn’t show up at the faery ball again because he was safe under my roof, the queen would be furious. I didn’t want to think about what she might do then.

  Chomp. Chomp.

  “It’s too late for you to come over,” I said quickly. “But I’ll bring the binder to you tomorrow, first thing.”

  “Could ya, Mor?” he said with relief. “That’d be grand, if ye don’t mind comin’ bright and early. We’ve got tons to do, and if I try to slip away again Alice’ll have me head.”

  Chomp. Chomp. Chomp—

  Okay, I get the message, I thought. They could be subtle as a pie in the face, these Faery Folk.

  “Where did you leave the binder?” I asked.

  “In the garage. I was taking some notes about the gnomes, believe it or don’t. They’ve given me a brilliant notion for our wee robot bugger. . . .” He yawned. “’Scuse me! Maybe I should’ve given the veggie juice a fairer trial, eh?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll bring the binder to you tomorrow morning.” You should go to bed, I almost added. But I knew what would happen once he did.

  “Yer a peach, Mor,” Colin said. “I swear, if me head wasn’t attached to me shoulders . . .”

  i Waited Until everЧone Was asleep before i headed out to the garage to search for the binder. Entering the dark, musty-smelling space in the middle of the night, cold concrete underfoot—it was like landing on a faraway planet.

  In the garage, no one can hear you scream. . . .

  Bollocks, as Colin would say. I refused to get spooked just by stepping into my own garage. Even if there were thirty-two pairs of gnome eyes staring at me.

  The motion-sensing light fixture clicked on as soon as I took a second step. It was mounted up high, in the far corner near the ceiling, and sent long, angled shadows crisscrossing underfoot. Amazing how two-foot gnomes could cast nine-foot shadows under the right conditions.

  “Binder, binder, must find the binder . . .” Yes, I was talking to myself, but not because I was scared. It was because—okay, I was totally freaked out! Why the fek hadn’t I waited until morning? Wasn’t this exactly like those scenes in bad horror movies, where the stupid teenage girl babysitter wanders alone into the basement, dressed in her underwear and carrying nothing but a flashlight, even though there’s a psychotic killer on the loose who’s been calling her all night and breathing her name creepily into the phone?

  Morrrrrgannnnn . . . Morrrrrrgannnnn . . .

  The shadows beneath my feet coiled like a tangle of vines. I took another step, willing myself to believe that my foot couldn’t get caught, but the shadows writhed and swirled—the ground was spinning, or maybe I was the one spinning, twirling around and around on a dance floor. . . .

  “Morgan?” said a voice. “Morgan! Bloody hell, I’m glad to see you! But trust me, lass, you don’t want to be here.”

  Colin stood before me, in his pajamas and with a major case of bedhead, holding a frothy green umbrella drink in one hand and a ballpoint pen in the other. There were no shadows on the ground, just an ornate pattern of black-and-white tile extending across a vast ballroom floor. Around us, hundreds of faery couples dressed in nightgowns and pajamas laughed and danced. At the moment, the music was a swinging big band arrangement of “Rock-a-bye Baby.”

  “I get it,” I said, taking it all in. “It’s a pajama party, right?”

  “I’m dead serious, Mor.” Colin looked around anxiously. “Once they’ve got ye, they don’t let ye go. If ye can still remember how ye came here, ye’d best leave now.”

  How sweet, I thought. Colin’s the one who’s under an enchantment, and all he can think of is me.

  “Don’t worry. I can handle the Faery Folk.” I watched the adorable stuffed-animal butlers toddle around with trays of canapés. “I’ve dealt with them before—it’s kind of a long story,” I added, before he could ask. “Are you asleep right now?”

  He shrugged. “In a manner of speakin,’ I am. But I’ll wake up in the mornin’ feelin’ like shite, ye should pardon the expression, and I won’t remember all this. Just bits and pieces of a dream.” He glanced around the high-ceilinged ballroom, with its mirrored walls and crystal chandeliers. “Sometimes I write notes to meself, see? Hold me drink for a minute, I’ll show ye.”

  I took the glass and sniffed the thick green liquid, then wished I hadn’t. “Blech! What is it?”

  He made a face. “Veggie juice daquiri. Rancid stuff. They’re only tryin’ to please me, I know, but it never comes off well. Ah, here it is.” He pulled a slip of paper out of his pajama shirt pocket and read:

  “‘Colin old boy, ye spend every night da
ncin’ with the faeries. That’s why yer so knackered. Don’t be thick-headed now; just believe it. Yours truly, Colin.’ ”

  Colin looked at the note and sighed. “The notes get all bollixed up by morning, but I keep trying.” Then he clicked open his ballpoint pen and added, “‘P.S., Morgan’s here too, fancy that,’ ” before tucking the paper back in his pocket.

  “Would you like another?” A three-foot-tall teddy bear dressed in a tuxedo and carrying a tray was looking up at me with the cutest button eyes.

  “No, thanks. But you can take this.” I put the disgusting drink on the bear’s tray.

  The bear nodded. “Nice outfit, Miss Morganne,” it said, and ambled off. I looked down to discover that I was wearing a me-sized version of Tammy’s Tinker Bell pajamas. No wonder I felt so comfy.

  Colin gave me a curious look. “‘Morganne’?”

  I shrugged. “It’s my goddess name.”

  “Is that part of the long story?”

  “Yes, but if I tell you now, you won’t remember it anyway.” I looked over my shoulder to make sure Queen Titania wasn’t nearby. “You know you’re under an enchantment, right?”

  He rolled his eyes. “So it would seem. But of course I don’t believe in such things.”

  “That’s kind of beside the point. Colin, listen.” I was starting to feel tingly, as if my time here at the ball was running out. “The Faery Folk love clues and riddles. Has anyone said anything to you that might be a hint about how to undo the spell?” I thought of Finnbar’s tip, shoo = clew. “Some casual remark—about shoes, maybe?”

  “No, not a word.” Colin rubbed his head, making his hair stand up at even crazier angles. “You know what’s truly humbling about all of this? Knowing that me granny and grandpap were right! All the flack I’ve given ’em over the years about believin’ in the wee folk! I feel like a right eejit now, I tell ye.” He shook his head.

  “I promise, Colin, I will figure out how to break this enchantment.” Even to me, my tone of determination seemed at odds with my outfit. “I have one lead already.”

  His face brightened. “What is it?”

  My confidence faded quickly. “I have to, uh, find a leprechaun,” I mumbled.

  “Bloody hell!” he exclaimed. “Good luck with that.” He glanced across the ballroom. “You’d best get out, Mor, before the princess du jour comes back from the faery loo. Tonight’s contestant is a possessive type. I don’t think she’d be happy to see us chattin’ away.”

  I laid a hand on his arm, but as soon as I touched him the room started to swirl. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at UConn. Oh!” I cried, remembering. “Colin, where did you leave your binder? I looked in the garage but I didn’t see it. Colin . . . Colin?”

  I startled awake, in a cold, shadowy place. Thirty-two sets of motionless, painted-on gnome eyes were staring at me.

  Had I drifted off to sleep?

  In the darkest corners of the garage I thought I saw something move, but it was the flicker of the fluorescent bulb overhead. I was back in the real world, and the gnomes were just tacky garden ornaments made of plastic and plaster and paint. Nothing more.

  It would have been easy to believe that, except for the fact that Colin’s binder was now lying directly at my feet, on the cold cement, in a place where I knew it hadn’t been before. I reached down to pick it up, keeping one eye on the gnomes at all times.

  Hugging the binder to my chest, I walked backward toward the door that led from the garage into the mudroom. I hesitated in the doorway.

  “Uh, thanks,” I said to the empty garage.

  No answer, duh.

  Okay, i thought, as i made mЧ WaЧ silentlЧ Upstairs to my bedroom. What gives? Two, count them, two trips to faery world had been made today: first at Lucky Lou’s and then in my own garage. Both were places I’d been a zillion times before. Neither trip had required any drastic effort on my part—as in, I didn’t have to get thrown off a bike while hurtling down a country lane in Ireland with no helmet on. That fateful bonk to the head last summer was how all this half-goddess stuff got started in the first place.

  But now my head was totally unbonked. It even had some hair on it. I was in my own hometown, firmly rooted in my own boring and otherwise normal life—all that was different was that Colin was here.

  And Colin was there too, I realized, in Ireland, last summer. Was he the key somehow? I sure felt like I was under an enchantment when I was around him.

  I didn’t look at the binder until I was safe in bed in my room, in my own faded plaid pajama pants and Simpsons T-shirt, my cold bare feet tucked deep underneath the blankets.

  I knew it wasn’t right to pry into Colin’s business, but part of me was itching to know: If I opened the binder, would I find pages of geeky technology jargon and nothing else? Or would there be flirty doodles from Alice in the margins of the pages?

  Or maybe I’d find random notes-to-self from Colin, like the ones he scribbled at the faery ball: “Colin old boy, don’t forget: Morgan is the girl for you. Spurn all other advances. Regards, Colin.”

  It had been a long, action-packed and mysterious day, and I was more than ready for sleep, but my curiosity (okay, jealousy and insecurity, whatever) got the better of me. Looking at somebody’s school notebook wasn’t the same as reading his diary, was it? I mean, he’d never said not to look at it. Right?

  I took the binder off the nightstand next to my bed and promised myself I’d only take a peek. I never got past the cover, though.

  Embossed in gold, on a field of deepest green, it read:

  LABORATORY FOR THE

  EXPLORATION OF

  PRACTICAL ROBOTICS

  UCONN

  Laboratory. Exploration. Practical. Robotics. UCONN. LEPRUCONN.

  I put the binder back on the nightstand. Thanks for the encouragement, Finnbar, I thought, as I clicked off the light. But one of these days, you are going to have to learn how to spell.

  ten

  sarah e-mailed me earlЧ SundaЧ morning.

  Prom is in 12 days.

  Date may be optional, but dresses are required.

  Shopping = TODAY.

  No excuses. Pick u up at 2.

  Luv,

  Sarah

  p.s.

  Mike Fitch felt bad about your poor achey head. Says it’s his fault for not bringing you ear plugs. So there’s still hope if you come to your senses!!

  At least Sarah was still speaking to me, which was good. But how could I explain to her that I couldn’t go shopping for a prom dress today because I’d be too busy scouring the University of Connecticut campus for leprechaun tracks?

  The p.s. about Mike I had no choice but to ignore. Realistically speaking, how much fun could I expect to have at prom? I’d be afraid to even talk to anybody at this point, for fear of starting an epidemic of exhaustion and weird dreams among the cute boys of the junior class. Mono Morgan, they’d call me.

  I wrote back to Sarah quickly—Wish I could come, have to go to UConn today, not sure when I’ll get back—

  “Morgan!” Tammy ran into my room and started jumping on the bed. She was wearing a poofy pink princess skirt over her grass-stained soccer uniform. “Get dressed and come outside. I want to practice my new soccer moves!”

  “Stop jumping, please; it’s making me dizzy.” I pressed Send on my e-mail to Sarah and turned around. “What’s with the skirt?”

  “I like it. It’s pretty.” She fluffed it to maximum poofiness. “Will you practice with me?”

  “I would, Tam, but I have to go someplace this morning. Can’t you ask Dad?”

  “No.” She scowled. “He’s busy. He said it’s the Day of the Gnomes.”

  “But it’s still March.”

  “It’s warm today.” Tammy shrugged. “He said the Day of the Gnomes came early because of a ‘girl bull warning.’ But I don’t believe that. There are no girl bulls. Bulls are boy versions of cows.”

  I had to think for a minute to deco
de that one. “Global warming, Tam. That’s what he meant.”

  “Bulls don’t glow either.” She looked somber and lowered her voice. “I think he’s trying to make Mommy mad.”

  Smart kid, I thought. “Ask Mom to practice with you, then.”

  “Mommy doesn’t play soccer.” Tammy pouted. “She doesn’t like to get dirty.”

  “Tell her you’ll take off your princess skirt if she plays soccer with you,” I suggested. “Trust me, that’ll work.”

  So Tammy went off to push Mom’s buttons, and I cleaned out my bag to make room for Colin’s binder. On impulse, I grabbed the book Colin had given me last summer and put it in there too, to read on the bus.

  The Magical Tales of Ireland. I needed to brush up on my leprechaun facts. I was on the hunt, and the more I knew about my prey, the better.

  the robotics lab Was housed in a large, modern building on the far side of the campus, across a grassy quad and down a tree-lined path past the library and administrative offices. The door was locked and you needed to swipe a student ID card for entry, which I didn’t have, so I called Colin on his cell.

  “I’m right downstairs,” I said.

  “Brilliant. Be down in a sec.”

  I scanned my surroundings as I waited. Where oh where, in this sprawling collection of buildings, was I going to find a leprechaun? The Magical Tales of Ireland offered some information, but most of it you’d know by reading the Lucky Charms cereal box: Leprechauns were pint-sized magical shoemakers who smoked pipes and hoarded pots of gold, which they hid at the ends of rainbows. They wore green coats and buckled shoes and funny-looking hats. Sometimes their presence was revealed by the tap-tap-tapping sound of their shoemakers’ hammers.

  The book also said this:

  No magical creature is as shy and solitary as the leprechaun. They live alone; furthermore, all leprechauns are male. How the race renews itself is a topic of fierce conjecture.