The Spell Bind

by Barbara Brauner

  Martin excitedly runs up the steps to keep pace with me while I float upward. “This is…this is…this is…incredible! How are you doing that?”

  “It’s magic! And I’m your fairy godmother!”

  “No, really. Tell me! Who needs a jetpack when you’ve invented a jet dress! Please, please, please, tell me how this works! Neodymium magnets? Reverse parachute technology? Nanomotors?” His eyes gleam. “This could be one of the greatest scientific breakthroughs of the twenty-first century!”

  “It’s not science, it’s magic. Magic! Magic! Magic!” I pull out my wand and twirl it in the air. “Who needs neo-whatever magnets when you’ve got a wand?”

  Martin looks a little puzzled, and I think he’s starting to believe me. He walks up the stairs as I keep going higher and higher, then finally says, “Can I ask you another question?”

  I attempt to sound grand, like Katarina when she’s being fancy. “Ask any question your heart desires.”

  Martin points to the ceiling. “What’s going to stop you from hitting that?”

  I look up—and there’s a ginormous fan whirring away a few feet over my head. Eek! I’m about to be pureed! “Help!” I don’t sound grand anymore. I sound terrified.

  Paige and Sunny start snapping switches on and off, but the fan doesn’t slow down even a little.

  I reach for the dress-controller emerald but then hesitate—I’m twenty feet in the air, and it would be a long drop to the marble floor beneath me.

  “Lacey, watch out!” Paige screams.

  At the last possible second, right before the Lacey hits the fan, Martin leaps off the stairway and grabs me around the waist in midair.

  And he saves me.

  With his extra weight, we glide back down to the floor, safe and sound. Paige and Sunny hold on to my sleeves again, and Martin lets go. He looks at me, wide-eyed and totally shocked.

  Finally! He believes I’m a fairy godmother!

  Martin makes a pleady face. “Please tell me! I won’t say a word to anyone until after you patent it. It’s nanomotors, isn’t it? Lots and lots of nanomotors. Where are they?” He starts pulling at the cloth of my dress.

  I swat at his hands. “Stop that!”

  “I have to know how this works! It’s driving me crazy.”

  Suddenly, Katarina buzzes in and hovers an inch away from Martin’s nose. “She told you, you ignoramus! I don’t know why this has to be so hard! Lacey Unger-Ware is your fairy godmother. Deal with it!”

  Martin looks at her, and then he sits down on the steps like the wind has been completely knocked out of him.

  “Now do you believe me?” I ask. I point to Katarina. “Martin, meet my teacher. Katarina, meet Martin.”

  Martin says, in a low voice that almost sounds like he’s talking to himself, “On the one hand, I believe in science and I know that science says fairy godmothers are imaginary. On the other hand, I’ve read all the Narnia books, all the Harry Potter books, and all the Lord of the Rings books. I know everything in those books is imaginary…but it would be so amazing if it was real.”

  He reaches out gently to touch Katarina’s fluttering wings—and she bites him.

  “Ow!” Martin says. “Well, you sure seem real.”

  “She is,” Sunny says. Paige and I nod in agreement.

  Martin studies Katarina. “How about trolls? Are they real?”

  “Yes.”

  “Leprechauns?

  “Yes.”

  “Centaurs?”

  “Extinct.”

  “Aww. Elves?”

  “Real.”

  “How maar! What about Superman?”

  “That’s a comic book! Stop asking me these stupid questions! All you need to know is that Lacey’s your fairy godmother, and she has between now and the full moon to make your life not-stink.”

  Martin whistles.

  “Does that mean you believe I’m a fairy godmother?” I ask.

  “I guess.”

  Katarina flies over and pokes Martin—hard—with her wand. He says, “Yes, yes! I believe you’re a fairy godmother!”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. I’ve made it through step one: he believes me! “There’s a lot to talk about,” I tell him. “But can we go someplace without a ceiling fan? A chopped-up fairy godmother won’t do you any good at all.”

  Martin leads us down his basement stairs. “This is my workroom. It’s kind of messy.”

  The low-ceilinged space has a tool-covered workbench against one wall, and there’s a cluttered plywood table in the middle of the room. The girls glide me over to a beat-up recliner in the corner and I press the controller emerald and thump into the chair, my dress heavy again. “That’s better,” I say.

  Katarina flutters above the table, looking for a place to land. It’s not easy, since there’s so much bizarre-looking junk: wires and batteries and half-open computers. Katarina finally sits on a volleyball that’s wedged between two motors—which both turn on. Then a metal arm raises a tube of toothpaste and squirts her in the face. Katarina screams and tumbles over just before a second metal arm scrubs the volleyball with a toothbrush. “What is this torture device?” she shrieks.

  Martin runs over and turns off the motors. “It’s not a torture device. It’s a machine that brushes your teeth before you get out of bed in the morning. Pretty cool, huh?”

  It is cool. Martin is probably the smartest kid I’ve ever met.

  But Katarina’s not impressed. She furiously raises her wand. I’m a little worried that she’s going to turn Martin into a rat or a toad or a cheese sandwich or something. Luckily, she decides to use the wand to clean herself up instead.

  Martin sits on a stool, polishes his glasses, and asks, “What’s the plan?” He looks at me expectantly, and so do Sunny, Paige, and Katarina.

  “Well, my job is to unstink your life, Martin,” I explain. “So let’s think about why your life stinks. It stinks because all the kids hate you. Right? And the kids hate you because you wiped out the water tower, the school carnival, and the club field trips.”

  Katarina nods. “Plus you’re undeniably odd.”

  “He’s not odd—he’s interesting!” Sunny says.

  “Right,” Katarina says, completely not meaning it.

  Paige says, “Fixing all of those things sounds really hard.”

  “And expensive!” Martin says. “So, Lacey…can you make me a magic cash machine? Or a money tree?”

  Katarina shakes her head. “No, she can’t. Everyone knows that magic money is funny money!”

  “Because it’s fake?” I ask.

  “No! Because it’s funny. It never stops telling jokes.”

  “Really?”

  “Try it.”

  I pull out my wand and chant, “Don’t make me holler; I want a dollar.” I toss the spell into the air, and a green dollar bill, surrounded by green sparkles, flutters down to the floor.

  Sunny picks it up. “It looks real.”

  Then George Washington’s picture on the bill winks at her and says, “I just flew in from the East Coast, and boy, are my arms tired!” George Washington starts laughing like this is the funniest thing he’s ever heard. Sunny and Paige roll their eyes.

  Katarina glares at him. “That’s not funny, Money!”

  George laughs on, and on, and on.

  Katarina sighs. “He’ll laugh until midnight, and then he’ll disappear. And that’s why Lacey can’t just conjure up money.”

  “But what am I going to do with George Washington until then?” I ask.

  “Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha,” George says.

  Katarina zips down, grabs a corner of the dollar bill, and flies it into the little basement bathroom. George yells, “NOOOOOO!” over the sound of flushing.

  “And that takes care of that,” Katarina says as she flies back into the room. “Please continue the discussion.”

  We all look at her, shocked. It’s not every day you see somebody flush the father of our country down the toilet.


  Martin scratches his head. “So, Lacey, if this is going to be about raising money, what are you going to do?”

  “Um…I just found out you were my client a few hours ago. I’m not really sure—it’s going to be hard.”

  Katarina snorts. “It’s not going to be hard. It’s going to be impossible!”

  Sunny looks desperate. “You’ve got to be able to do something, Lacey! You’re his fairy godmother. Are you sure it’s all about the money? To unstink Martin’s life, maybe you just need to make the kids at school like him.”

  “Im-possible!” Katarina says.

  “It’s not im-possible!” I say. “Paige went from being a geek at her old school to a popular cheerleader at Lincoln. And that was without any fairy godmother help!”

  “Yeah, but my dad got a new job here. It’s easier when you move a thousand miles away.” Paige turns to Martin. “How do you feel about Alaska?”

  “I’m fine with Alaska. I don’t think my parents would be.”

  I grin. “I’ve got the answer! Nobody has to move to Alaska! Paige needs to use her superpower!”

  Paige frowns. “I don’t have a superpower.”

  I nod. “Yes, you do. Your superpower is super popularity. You’re just about queen of the school. And when the queen speaks, people listen. Retractable claws and X-ray vision are nothing compared to popularity power.”

  Sunny nods, too. “Maybe some of Paige’s popularity could rub off on Martin.”

  Martin puts his hands together and pretend-begs. “Please, Paige! Please use your power for good!”

  Paige gets a deer-in-the-headlights expression. “I don’t know if there’s anything I can do. I’ve heard kids talking, and they’re really mad.”

  I tell her, “While I’m thinking of a good magic way to help Martin, it couldn’t hurt for you to talk to people, right? Let them know you’re on his side.”

  When Paige hesitates, the hopeful look vanishes from Martin’s face. He says, “You’re not on my side. I don’t blame you. I probably wouldn’t be either.”

  “I’m sure I’ll think of something magic,” I tell Martin. “There are loads of ways to make your life not-stink.”

  “Name three,” Martin says.

  “Um…” I mumble.

  “Name even one!”

  “Pop star hair!”

  “What?” Martin says.

  Okay, I admit it: I’m struggling. “What if we’re making this too complicated? Maybe all you need is cute hair!” I raise my wand and chant, “You’ll have flair, with pop star hair!”

  When I toss the spell at Martin’s head, his dark hair stands on end like he was just zapped by lightning. Then his hair flutters back down, and now he’s got fluffy bangs and blond highlights and choppy artistic sections sticking up in the back.

  He sees his reflection in the basement window and covers his head with his hands. “I. Look. So…”

  “Pop-starry!” Sunny says.

  “Stylish!” Paige says.

  “Stupid!” Katarina says. “Not just a little stupid…a lot stupid!”

  All right. The hair wasn’t my best idea.

  Martin pulls a hat out of a drawer and covers his head as a gloomy silence fills the room.

  Then we all hear a clicking sound from the worktable. It’s Katarina, who’s knitting something with tiny needles and a tiny pink ball of yarn. This is a strange time to start a new hobby.

  “What are you doing, Katarina?” Sunny asks.

  “Making a sweater. The nights are cold in Antarctica. So are the days.”

  Everyone looks at her questioningly, and then they look at me. I say, as if it’s not really a big deal, “If Martin doesn’t get his dream, Katarina and I will be sent to the South Pole.”

  Sunny says, “Like for a time-out?”

  “Like forever!” I say.

  Paige’s eyes open wide. “That’s harsh!”

  “Of course it’s harsh,” Katarina says. “Haven’t you ever read Grimm?”

  “The fairy tales?” Martin asks.

  “No, the historical documents. People think Grimm is just fun and games, but there are terrible punishments all over the place. Dancing in hot iron shoes. Eyes pecked out by birds. Compared to that, the South Pole is getting off easy. BUT I STILL DON’T WANT TO GO THERE!”

  Paige looks at me with sudden determination. “I can’t let that happen. I’ll use my popularity to help Martin. Maybe it’ll be easier than I think.”

  There’s a gurgly “hahaha” from the toilet. Katarina zips into the bathroom and flushes again. Twice.

  All my life, I’ve been kind of a clumsy person. I trip, I hit my elbows on things, and I’ve broken more dishes at the Hungry Moose than I can count. But right now, gliding down the sidewalk toward home in my dress, I’m graceful. As Paige and Sunny hold on to my sleeves to guide me along, I raise my arms like the dancer in Madison’s jewelry box and pretend I’m starring in a ballet.

  Katarina, flitting nearby, pokes me with her wand. “Stop that. You look like deranged.”

  I lower my arms, not feeling so graceful anymore. Probably to make me feel better, Sunny says, “I think talking to Martin went pretty well.”

  Katarina chortles. “Except for that part when Lacey almost got her head chopped off by the fan. Did I ever tell you about that time in Paris with the rusty guillotine? It was très horrible! The first thing you need to know about decapitation is—”

  “Don’t!” I say. “Let’s just enjoy the beautiful afternoon.” I raise my arms again, ballerina style. A girl could get used to traveling like this. It’s so…elegant!

  We reach the intersection, and a breeze hits us as we cross the street. Sunny’s hair blows into her face, so she drops my sleeve—for just a second—to brush it away.

  Whoosh!

  A gust of wind sweeps through the crosswalk, and Paige can’t hold on to me by herself. I’m ripped out of her hands. Then I somersault head over heels down the sidewalk like a sparkly tumbleweed. “Oof! Ow! Oof! Geez!” I’m totally out of control.

  “Lacey! Come back! Come back!” the girls shout after me. But their voices grow fainter as I roll away.

  “Ow! Oof!” I fumble for the right jewel on the dress, trying to make it stop floating. I reach for the emerald, but it’s really hard to find since I’m tumbling like a sock in a dryer. By mistake, I press a ruby. This makes confetti pelt down on me from the sky.

  Where’s that stupid emerald? I grab for it again and accidentally hit a sapphire. Sappy romantic music starts to play, like something on the soundtrack of the gushiest princess movie ever. There’s gotta be a thousand violins all going at once.

  Every single jewel on this ridiculous dress must do something different, so I reach for the emerald one last time—

  Then, WHAM! I knock into the back of a person walking on the sidewalk. We both fall to the ground. The jolt must have reset everything, because my gown suddenly weighs a ton again, and the music and confetti have stopped.

  Feeling woozy from all the rolling, I turn my head—and look straight into the angry eyes of Makayla.

  Oh, geez.

  “Makayla! What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

  She points at the nearest house. “I live here. What are you doing here?”

  I still try to play it cool: “Uh, nothing.”

  Makayla stands up, rubbing her scraped knees. I wish I could stand up, but the dress is too heavy. She peers at my gown. “Why are you wearing that?”

  I rummage through my brain, searching for anything to say but the truth. “I was playing dress-up with Sunny,” I blurt out. Yikes. I’ve come up with some stupid excuses before, but this is Hall of Fame stupidest.

  Makayla looks at me in total disbelief.

  “You still play dress-up? What are you, five?” She whips out her cell phone. “I need a picture of this for my blog! You’re going to be a permanent fashion-don’t. I’m going to call the section ‘Lacey What-Not-to-Ware.’”


  Wow, my stupid excuse worked, which is good. But a picture of me in this dress showing up online would be bad. Mom and Dad would wonder where it came from, plus I don’t want to be a permanent fashion-don’t! It would be too humiliating. I twist and turn, trying to sit up, but in my heavy dress I’m like a turtle on its back.

  “Stop moving! The picture will be blurry!” Makayla says.

  I squirm even harder. “Don’t take a picture!”

  To keep me still, Makayla puts a foot in the middle of my chest—and one of the jewels on the gown starts flashing brilliant green. “What’s that?” Makayla asks, blinking in the light.

  As she watches the light, her eyelids get heavier and heavier. “So pretty,” she says in a sleepy little voice. She gives a big yawn, curls up on the lawn, and falls fast asleep.

  This is bonkers.

  Katarina flies up to me and sees the flashing light. “For the love of glitter! Turn off the Good Night Moonstone before you knock out the entire neighborhood.”

  A second later, a sparrow falls out of the sky onto the lawn, sound asleep, too.

  “Turn it off NOW!” Katarina says.

  I push the jewel and the flashing stops. “A Good Night Moonstone? Why would you put that on a dress?” I ask.

  “In case one’s client has to babysit little brothers and sisters, of course. I told you not to touch anything!”

  “I didn’t! Makayla stepped on me! Why didn’t I fall asleep?”

  “Fairy godmothers are immune.”

  Sunny and Paige run up, breathless from chasing me down the street. They stare at Makayla.

  “Why is she asleep?” Sunny asks.

  “I’ll tell you later! Help me move her. Be really careful!”

  Clunk! Clunk! Clunk!

  Makayla’s head bonks on every step as we drag her onto her back porch. We try to be careful, but a person is really heavy when you’re carrying her around. And it’s Sunny and Paige who are doing the work; I’m just floating and hanging on.