by Bach, Shelby
“Well,” Lena said uncertainly. “My grandmother doesn’t actually let me use the oven. I blew the last one up. You see, in third grade, this science experiment—”
“Looks like we have a happy ending all around,” the Director said, so abruptly that Lena looked a little hurt, and both Melodie and I glared at Mildred Grubb. “Gretel, we shall invade your infirmary no longer. Jack, Rapunzel, come with me, please.”
Rapunzel gave the Director the same look a rebellious teenager gives her mother right before a lecture. It was a relief to know that I wasn’t the only one annoyed with the Director.
Jack dragged his feet as he crossed the room. “Need anything, Chase? A change of clothes?” he asked, and Chase sat up a little straighter, a smile starting. I was glad Jack was doing something fatherly, even if he was only procrastinating. “Your stuffed ele—”
“Dad,” Chase said, cutting Jack off and turning red, and I tried not to laugh.
“Now, Jack,” said the Director sternly, and the three of them left the room.
“Oh, no—Rapunzel forgot her ointment,” Gretel said.
“I’ll take it.” I needed to talk to her.
It was easy to figure out which way they had gone after leaving the infirmary. All I had to do was follow the sound of the Director’s voice. Her angry, yelling voice.
“You knew what the children would be facing. Why didn’t you tell me?” the Director asked.
I hung back, just around the corner, wondering if I should leave, feeling awkward like I always did when grown-ups fight.
“Mildred, if I had told you, you would not have let them go,” Rapunzel said softly, “and there was no one else. Besides,” she added lightly, “you probably wouldn’t have understood me if I had said something.”
“You should have tried.” I had the feeling the Director didn’t like not knowing everything that was going on. “You know you should’ve tried.”
“And you should have told the children the truth of the Snow Queen,” Rapunzel snapped, and I silently agreed. “You increased their danger by ignorance.”
Apparently, Mildred Grubb didn’t have an answer for that. “After I deal with Jack, you and I will speak again.” She stalked into her office, and the door closed behind her so firmly you could almost say she slammed it—in a grown-up, ladylike way, of course.
“Don’t mind her, Rory,” Rapunzel called out. (It almost didn’t surprise me that she already knew I was listening.) “She is afraid. Solange has done much undetected.”
“Thanks for the carpet.” I stepped out, a little hesitantly, and I placed the light on the silver chain and the jar of ointment in her hands. “And for this.” I noticed the red smudges on the glass. “Sorry we got a little blood on it.”
“You’re quite welcome, Rory.” She put it in the pocket of her dress, and her smile was warm. “You wanted to ask me why we couldn’t send anyone else.”
She had pretty much read my mind. I shoved my hands in my pockets. “I’m scared of heights. Pretty much anyone would be better than me.”
“It didn’t matter,” Rapunzel said. “It didn’t stop you.”
“It did.” I’d gotten stuck on the way up the beanstalk.
“Not when it mattered. You learned to fear for your friends and your loved ones,” she said softly, “and you feared Solange for how she would threaten them. You’re too young now to know what strength this gives you, but this—” She touched the hilt of my sword, still hanging from my belt. “It would not have worked nearly so well if you hadn’t wanted to protect the others so much.”
That wasn’t all that comforting. “It’s a magic sword. It didn’t have anything to do with me.”
“It is magic. I am trying to explain how the magic works, and it seems I have done a poor job,” Rapunzel said wryly. “That sword will protect whoever and whatever the wielder wishes. There is a reason that it found its way into your hands. Had another student wielded it, she may not have been able to defeat nine dragonets to help her friend reach safety.” She smiled. “Poor Rory, you have no idea who you will become.”
My stomach knotted. We both knew she was still talking about Solange.
“Are you afraid, Rory?” she asked.
I thought of the Snow Queen—the way she had spoken to Jack, her terrible smile. It was a different kind of fear. It was the kind that made me look over my shoulder in dark places, and Mom’s shoulder, and Amy’s, and Chase’s, and Lena’s. I nodded.
“Good. Keep that fear,” she said. “You’ll need it, and you will do what must be done.”
I didn’t realize how much I had been waiting to hear this, but a load lifted from my shoulders. Rapunzel could see the future. She would know.
Maybe she could help with a few other things too. “Should I tell Mom the truth about EAS?”
Rapunzel laughed. It was a much deeper and louder sound than I expected to come out of such a young-looking person. “I cannot make those decisions, Rory. Only you can. But I would be honest about the photographs.”
What photographs? I almost asked. But since it was Rapunzel, I figured I would find out soon.
“You should go back,” Rapunzel said. “Chase is about to come after you, and he will be in a good deal of trouble if Gretel sees him out of bed.”
I ran back to the infirmary and found Chase with his covers flung off and one foot on the floor, and I shooed him back in just before Gretel came around the corner.
• • •
During the ride back, I watched the neighborhood flash by through the car window with half-lidded eyes. It was dark, and Ellie had made me take a shower after she briefed me on how EAS had handled my mother—Gretel had performed a simple enchantment so Mom would believe that I’d gone on a field trip to the capital for five days. “But you’re a little dusty. And sooty. And your clothes are completely covered in blood,” Ellie had said, handing me a towel and guiding me to a bathroom I had never seen before. “Your mother can’t see you like that. There’s only so much a spell can do.” Being clean and warm had made me sleepy.
I was too tired to open my eyes any wider, but I wanted to see the sights. There was the grocery store where Amy and I had picked up dinner on the way home from the Fairie Market. The dry cleaners where she had dropped off Mom’s dresses on Monday morning. The telephone pole that Mom had accidentally nicked while she was parallel parking. She’d made me promise not to tell Amy, but you could still see the chunk that the car had taken out of the wood, right at bumper level.
A smile curled around my mouth. It was so ironic. A week ago, they had seemed as familiar as my mother’s face, but right then, I had to dredge up the memories that went with each place. It seemed like I had been away much longer than a week.
“Everything seems smaller,” I said quietly, more to myself than to Ellie.
“Happens a lot with giant Tales,” she replied. “It takes the Characters a while to get used to human-size things again.”
That wasn’t it. It wasn’t what I had seen. It was how I felt. I had changed up the beanstalk. I didn’t feel bigger exactly, but more solid—as if I took up more space. We had done something important—something that really mattered.
I wondered if Mom would notice, if she would ask me what happened. I wondered what I would say.
I didn’t like lying to her, and I had run out of reasons not to tell her.
But I wasn’t so sure that the truth would be helpful. I knew how she would react if I told her everything. She would pull me out of school, break her filming contract, and move us far, far away. She would do all she could to protect me, and it wouldn’t be enough. She couldn’t save me from this, or even understand it very well. It would only scare her.
So, if I explained, would I be telling her to do the right thing? Or just to get it off my chest?
Or was not telling her the easy way out?
It would’ve been nice if Rapunzel had told me what to do, but I guess she was right. It was my decision. I was in charge of my own li
fe story. That could be comforting too.
“This is it, right?” Ellie parked the car.
I stared at the white house and its blue shutters, and after a second, it seemed more familiar. “Yes.”
It looked normal. It looked like the farthest place I could possibly get from somewhere giants could eat us or dragons could barbecue us or the Snow Queen could send villains with snowflake-shaped throwing stars.
It looked safe. My nose prickled a little, just under the bridge.
“You okay, dear?” Ellie said.
I nodded. “Thanks for the ride.”
As soon as I stepped out of the car, the front door flew open, and my mother stood on the front steps, holding her arms out to me. “Where’s my favorite daughter?”
When I saw her there, I started running, and I hugged her around the middle.
“Hey.” She covered my face with kisses. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m your only daughter,” I mumbled into her shirt. “And also,” I said, looking up, “I missed you.”
She pulled open the door and took my hand. “Now come inside and tell me all about it.”
Stepping through the door, I took a deep breath and smiled.
No matter how many times we moved, all the houses eventually smelled the same—like Mom’s expensive perfume and the orange-oil spray that we always used to clean. It smelled like home.
I knew right then that I was going to lie. Maybe it was selfish, and definitely dishonest, but it felt too nice to have someplace where there were no villains, no Destinies, and no Snow Queen.
Mom guided me into the kitchen. “Want some tea? Amy’s not here. It’s her night off.”
People lay open on the counter, beside a glass of white wine, and I recognized the figures in the picture: one was the young actress I kept seeing on movie posters everywhere, her red hair in ringlets, half-covering her laughing face. The other was my dad, watching her. They were holding hands.
Underneath the picture, the caption read: Director Eric Landon with his new girlfriend, actress Brie Catcher, outside café HowPow after a very cozy brunch.
Of all the things I expected to find when I came down the Beanstalk, this definitely wasn’t one of them. The smile fell off my face.
“Oh. That. Trash, I know,” Mom said, too cheerfully, flipping the magazine closed, “but my publicist keeps telling me I have to keep up with the gossip.”
It hurt her. Of course it hurt her, and she was just going to pretend she wasn’t upset—like she always did.
Well, if I was going to keep quiet about the Snow Queen and whatever Destiny EAS refused to tell me about, I wasn’t going to keep quiet about anything else. Not anymore.
“You know,” I said quietly, “it’s okay to be sad sometimes, Mom.”
She became very still, taken aback, and then concern crossed her features. “Are you sad?”
You should be honest about the photographs, Rapunzel had said.
“No.” I was surprised to realize it was true. “No, I’m angry. I could’ve guessed—he kept talking about her, wanting me to meet her. Why couldn’t he just tell me?”
I scowled at the magazine, furious at Dad for being so spineless. I mean, he wasn’t the only famous person in our family. To make sure my parents wouldn’t have to deal with the Snow Queen and whoever else knew about me, I had willingly gone into a giant’s dragon-infested home. The least that Dad could do was call and give me a heads-up that he and his new girlfriend were in a magazine. He had no idea how his life affected mine.
I was dialing his number before I realized that the phone was in my hand. He picked up on the second ring.
“My princess! When did you say you got out of school again? I need to get our flights worked out for Oxford.”
“I’m not going, Dad,” I said coldly.
“Okay.” He sounded so disappointed that guilt mixed with the anger, and my next words got stuck in my throat. “Are you sure? Because Brie and I were—”
Anger flared again. I remembered Chase in the Glass Mountain, yelling at his father. I could do this much.
“Dad, I know you’re dating her.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Did your mother tell you?”
“No, a magazine told me.”
“People?”
He even knew about the article, and he hadn’t bothered to call me first? I breathed in so sharply that Mom tried to grab the phone. I stepped out of her reach.
He sighed. “Rory, I know this is hard for you. Brie’s the first—”
“I’m not mad about that. Why didn’t you tell me? I had to find out from a magazine.” Now that I was talking, it all came flooding out. “What if I wasn’t at home when I found out? What if I was at school and somebody else had read about it and asked me what I thought? That happens, you know. That’s how I found out about your last fifty gazillion movies.”
I might have exaggerated slightly, but it didn’t make the rest of it any less true.
“Rory, I—I’m sorry—”
He did sound sorry. My fury started to escape, which was bad. Without it, Dad might be able to smooth things over. I wanted him to feel bad for a little while. I wanted him to remember not to do it again.
“Fine. Just spare five minutes out of your busy schedule next time.” I hung up.
The kitchen was silent for a little while, and then Mom recovered from her shock.
“You are one sweet, brave little girl, did you know that?” Mom stroked my hair. “What did I do to deserve a daughter like you?”
A daughter who lied to her mother and told off her father. “I’m not very sweet right now,” I said.
Then Mom sighed. She pulled the magazine toward her and opened it to the next page, with a picture of my father by himself. It wasn’t obvious—her mouth didn’t tremble, her eyes didn’t tear—but sadness filled her face.
“I don’t want you thinking that I miss him, or that I wish it was me in that picture,” she said quietly, without looking at me. “But for many years, I dreamed of a life that I could share with your dad—a life I imagined we could build together. I grieve for that as much as anything else, and it doesn’t feel good to know that he’s started his new life before I got a chance to start mine.”
I hesitated, just for a second. “But, Mom, is moving every few months building that new life or running from it?”
She looked up, eyebrows raised, and I knew we would both have to get used to my sudden outspokenness.
Then she smiled, a more subtle version of the too-cheerful look. I had crossed into Oh-Rory-I’m-the-mother territory. But that was all right. I had still said it.
“Tell me about your trip,” she said, sitting down.
I slid onto the barstool next to her and started constructing a Tale.
y golden harp hath been stolen!” Chase—as the giant—raced across the stage after Lena. I remembered my cue.
“Darling!” I cried in a high-pitched voice, running after Chase, my arms full. My face had turned red even before the skit had started, but that was okay. It kind of suited my character. “You forgot your scarf!”
The audience laughed. I almost stopped in my tracks, but then I remembered that I was supposed to be the comic relief.
Lena disappeared offstage. I caught up with Chase and wound the scarf around his neck very carefully as the curtain closed behind us. On the other side, I could hear the triplets putting the wire and papier-mâché beanstalk in place.
“Now your coat,” I said sternly. As I put it around his shoulders with exaggerated care, a few more parents chuckled.
Scowling at me, Chase looked so ridiculous with the green paint on his face that I almost laughed myself. “Woman, none of your silly fussing,” he said, sounding a little less like a robot. “I have to go catch our supper.”
“You’ll wait, or the only thing you’ll catch is a cold,” I said mock-sternly. “Last time you had a runny nose, you kept smelling Englishmen all over the place.”
The audience
laughed again, harder this time. Chase gave me a look that plainly said that he resented me having all the good lines.
“There, now.” I patted his shoulders, and we both ran offstage.
Lena stood at the top of the triplets’ beanstalk. Her harp hung from her hand, gasping.
For the yearly parents’ presentation, EAS had voted on a “Jack and the Beanstalk” skit, but some of those parents—like Amy and my mom—didn’t know about the magical aspects of the program. So, the harp couldn’t have any speaking parts. Or even breathe onstage.
“You okay, Melodie?” I asked as Chase climbed to the tippy-top of the beanstalk, very nimbly for someone with a sling and a broken collarbone. I pointed at the cardboard cutout of a harp. “Because we have a stunt double all ready for you.”
Melodie looked outraged at the suggestion. “I’ve waited centuries to be in a play. This could be my big break.”
The triplets pulled the curtains open, and Melodie held her breath again, her cheeks bulging.
It was hard, but I didn’t laugh.
“I’ll get you, Jackie!” Chase shook his green fist.
Lena hurried down the rest of the beanstalk.
“Oh, behold!” Adelaide said to the audience, sounding extremely irritated. She still wasn’t happy about being cast as Jackie’s mother. “My child has returned.”
Lena jumped the rest of the way to the floor. “Mother, mother, an ax!”
Adelaide handed her a cardboard imitation. Lena took one swing, and the papier-mâché beanstalk toppled slowly as Kyle pulled the ropes.
Chase screamed, very enthusiastically. His favorite part.
He landed on the floor a little offstage and then let himself fall to the ground, his eyes closed and his tongue sticking out. Then he opened one eye and whispered, “Is it just me, or should we not let Rumpy write the skits anymore?”
• • •
Afterward, searching the crowd for my mom and Amy, I overheard Jack telling Chase, “. . . terrible that you weren’t a Jack. Terrible. But there’s still hope. You could be a Giant-Killer.” He had obviously recovered from his guilt.
