Keep Calm and Sparkle On!

by Sarah Aronson

  A lot of things looked different.

  For example, the Level Two slogans on the back wall. Isabelle wasn’t sure about DON’T DREAM OF SUCCESS—WORK FOR IT! or USE YOUR HEART AND YOUR HEAD. But she liked KEEP CALM AND SPARKLE ON! (She was pretty sure Clotilda had written it. It sounded just like something her sister would say.)

  Next to the slogans, new photos from the most recent Extravaganza, mostly of the top three ranking fairy godmothers—Luciana, Raine, and Kaminari—hung on the wall. In one, Luciana accepted a large bouquet of orange, black, and yellow wildflowers from Raine. In another, Kaminari led a small group of godmothers in what looked to be the cha-cha. But maybe it was another dance.

  There were also a bunch of group pictures. In the middle was a big one of Angelica and Fawn with Clotilda, their arms linked and big smiles on their faces.

  “You know, you should have been in this one, too,” Angelica said. Isabelle couldn’t tell if she was disappointed or cross. “We looked all over for you. Your sister was really upset.”

  Isabelle didn’t like being left out, but there was no way she could tell Angelica or Fawn the truth about where she had been (or about leaving the sparkles for Nora). So she said, “I’m so disappointed! I think I was standing on the balcony. It was such a beautiful night. Don’t you remember?” She hoped they bought her excuse.

  Isabelle turned her attention to the other pictures. There was a great one of Grandmomma, and a funny one of Minerva and the other Worsts. They had red icing on their teeth. Angelica and Fawn couldn’t help but laugh.

  Isabelle was just about to point out another funny picture (and hopefully get them to like her) when the door swung open. All the lights turned turquoise blue.

  “Grandmomma?” Isabelle said.

  But instead of Grandmomma, Luciana the Fascinante sauntered into the room, her wand pointed up and away (for safety) and her skirts swishing with every step she took toward Grandmomma’s chair and desk. Luciana was called Luciana the Fascinante because that’s what her first princess called her. She was also the Number One fairy godmother in the world, or in other words, the best of the Bests. So no one was going to argue about her name.

  Angelica dashed to the front of the room. “¡Qué gran sorpresa!” she said with a curtsy. (That means: “What a nice surprise!” in Spanish.)

  Luciana curtsied back. “Gracias, arigato, and todah!” (That means “thank you” in a bunch of languages.)

  She hopped up on Grandmomma’s desk and flicked her wand to restore the lights. Then she picked up an official rule book and flipped through the pages. “Take a seat,” she said. “Welcome to Level Two. As you might have already surmised, things are going to be a little different this term.”

  Different was one thing. But if you asked Isabelle (and nobody did), training without Grandmomma felt completely wrong.

  Unlike Grandmomma, who enjoyed pondering the honorable life of being a fairy godmother, Luciana didn’t mention the joys of making someone happily ever after or the importance of testing or how the bond between a fairy godmother and a princess was a sacred thing that they would always cherish. She didn’t review any of the rules or repeat any of Grandmomma’s favorites, like: “There is no such thing as a lousy princess.” And “You always get the right princess at the right time.”

  Mostly Luciana talked about the importance of conserving sparkles. And that under the circumstances, things were going to be a little different for trainees and their practice princesses. Also harder. And that under the circumstances, that was okay with her because she thought that training had become way too easy anyway.

  All this “under the circumstances” made Isabelle even jumpier than she already was. She wished Luciana would get it over with and spell out what the circumstances actually were. Or that Grandmomma would show up—even if that meant Isabelle getting in trouble. Luciana talked too fast. And she only talked about practice princesses and never included regular girls like Nora.

  But Isabelle knew better than to complain to Luciana the Fascinante.

  So to stay calm (and awake), Isabelle drew squares all over her paper, and then by accident, she doodled right on her desk. Even though Isabelle knew it wasn’t polite to draw on furniture, she couldn’t help it. The wood of the desk was old and soft, and pushing her pencil into it was really satisfying. Isabelle also clearly wasn’t the first to do this. Her desk was already covered with tiny carvings from past trainees.

  She was just about to carve a brand-new square (or maybe a triangle) when a shadow fell across her desk and she felt a perfectly manicured hand on her shoulder. Isabelle did not have to look up to know that this hand belonged to Luciana, and that she had officially been caught writing on the furniture.

  With one flick of the wand, Luciana turned Isabelle’s doodle into a bright red, shiny apple. It was so shiny it looked like it could hold magic. Luciana ate the whole thing, bite by bite, and tossed the core in the trash. “Before we begin today’s training, I would like to speak to each one of you. One by one. Best to worst.”

  Fawn must have known she was best in the class, because she stood up right away. Physically, Fawn still reminded Isabelle of a cloud, but she no longer looked like she was going to blow away. As Luciana waved her wand all around the girl, Fawn looked solid. And strong. And confident.

  Luciana asked three questions: “Did you enjoy being a fairy godmother?” and “What was the easiest part?” and “What was hardest?”

  Fawn glowed tawny pink—like a cloud right before sunset.

  “The best part was the feeling of making my princess happily ever after,” Fawn said. Then she thanked Luciana profusely and told her how much fun it had been to delight her practice princess with a surprise sprinkling of soft, white, glistening snow. “It wasn’t hard at all! There’s nothing more enjoyable than granting a wish.”

  Isabelle didn’t think they were supposed to brag. Also, she hadn’t found getting to happily ever after easy at all. To be honest, listening hadn’t been that enjoyable. It was a lot like waiting. Which meant it was mostly boring.

  When Fawn sat down, Angelica stood up. She seemed stronger and more confident, too. She had woven shiny, red ribbon into her braids and dyed the tips a deep purple.

  Like Fawn, Angelica had also loved listening and making her princess H.E.A., which was her new snappy way of saying happily ever after. She made a big point of adding how really, really grateful she was to have been given a princess with an adventurous streak, since according to her, adventurous princesses were the best. Before walking back to her seat, she added that nothing was hard. “I found the whole process very easy. I returned almost half a teaspoon of sparkles back to the can.”

  Luciana said something in another language. Isabelle was sure it meant: “You, my dear, are more impressive than your friend, and I know next time you will be Number One in the class.”

  Isabelle hoped her name would be called next. But it wasn’t. Minerva’s was. But Minerva wasn’t about to get up. “What’s going on with the sparkles?” she asked from the back row. “And where’s Elizabeth Marie?”

  No one called Grandmomma Elizabeth Marie. Not to her face. Or even behind her back.

  Isabelle slunk low in her seat as Luciana strutted to the back of the room. Isabelle was sure Minerva was about to be expelled. But instead, Luciana asked her, Irene, and MaryEllen the same questions she asked Fawn and Angelica. Then she asked Isabelle to join her at the front of the room.

  Standing this close to the number one ranking fairy godmother was nothing less than terrifying. Luciana had piercing eyes and arched eyebrows and very sharp, pointy maroon fingernails with rhinestones on all of the tips. Her clothes made Isabelle feel like sneezing—they smelled like basil, mint, and fresh green pepper. And her wand was extremely long. When she flicked it, it made Isabelle’s fingers and toes feel tingly and her heart feel happy—sort of like wings fluttering. Or leaves swishing in the wind.

  Isabelle took a step back. She was sure the wand had the po
wer to shock her. Or make her confess.

  (For the record, fairy godmother magic doesn’t work that way. It never makes anyone do anything unless it’s something that person wants to do. So Isabelle didn’t have to worry about that.)

  “We’re all very curious,” the Number One fairy godmother said, waving her wand very close to Isabelle’s face. “Did you enjoy working with your regular girl?”

  “I enjoyed it immensely,” Isabelle said, taking a tiny step back. “We cleaned up the world. We made posters. We became friends.”

  She heard someone snicker. It was probably Angelica. Or maybe it was Fawn.

  “Did you face any challenges?”

  “Yes,” Isabelle replied very seriously. “Nora didn’t think fairy godmothers were real. So at first, she made really big wishes.”

  When Luciana said, “That would be a problem,” everyone laughed.

  Isabelle didn’t like how they were looking at her—or laughing at Nora. “I might have needed every last second—and sparkle—to get her to happily ever after, but it was worth it. Nora might be a regular girl, but she was as great as any practice princess. Maybe even greater.”

  Then, as fast as she could, she scrambled back to her seat.

  Luciana waved her wand East, South, West, and North. “Thank you all for your honesty. Now I want to be honest, too, and prepare you for what comes next. In Level Two, training is always more challenging. But under the circumstances, it’s going to be even tougher.”

  Isabelle wiggled in her seat. Granting wishes and making a practice princess (or regular girl) happily ever after was hard enough. Why did it have to become tougher?

  She had a feeling she was about to find out.

  Luciana told all the trainees to face the back door. “To help us with our work, let’s welcome the second, third, and fourth best fairy godmothers. And an extra special guest, too.”

  Isabelle turned to face the back.

  She crossed her fingers.

  She hoped that the special guest was Grandmomma.

  It just had to be her.

  Trumpets blared. The lights flickered. The back door flew open. Everyone applauded. Partly because it was always exciting to see the Bests. But also because it was the first thing all day that felt even a teensy bit normal.

  Raine—the second best godmother—looked majestic in a copper gown with wide flowing sleeves, decorated with shimmering metallic fringe. The third best godmother, Kaminari, was wearing clothes that were trim and tailored. But when the light hit her hair and clothes—wow! She shimmered like liquid glass.

  But when Clotilda walked in wearing a sparkly tiara and old-fashioned fairy godmother clothes, everyone burst into giggles. These were the kind of impractical clothes you found in books but that modern fairy godmothers never wore. Her dress had big puffy sleeves, and her long tulle skirt kept snagging on all the desks.

  “Why are you wearing that?” Isabelle asked. Clotilda was not the kind of fairy godmother to make such silly mistakes with clothes.

  “Obviously,” Clotilda said, trying not to look miffed, “Raine and Kaminari played a joke on me.” She tugged at a satin ribbon. “They told me it was dress-up day. Their magic is stronger than mine.”

  Everyone gathered around Clotilda to check out her custom glass shoes. That is, until the back door blew open with a scorching-hot gust of air. It was the special guest. They’d forgotten all about her.

  (Unfortunately, it wasn’t Grandmomma.)

  Instead, a very old fairy godmother—the oldest Isabelle had ever seen—hobbled into the room. She walked with a cane. She kept her wand tucked behind her ear.

  This godmother was shorter than Kaminari and more stooped than Minerva. Her olive skin was so wrinkly and worn she looked old enough to have been the first fairy godmother of all time.

  “Zahara!” Minerva shouted.

  As fast as she could (in other words, faster than usual, but still really slowly), she limped to the antique godmother. They embraced like old friends.

  “I don’t believe it,” Minerva said at least three times. “I thought you were …”

  “Dead?”

  Even though it could have been an awkward moment, the two old godmothers burst into fits of croaky laughter. So did Irene and MaryEllen, who apparently had also thought Zahara was dead. Even Luciana looked amused. While Raine and Kaminari helped her to Grandmomma’s chair, Clotilda didn’t move a muscle. She stood in the corner with her arms crossed and a frown on her face.

  This little act of defiance had nothing to do with her dress—she was over that. She frowned because Zahara wasn’t some random ancient fairy godmother. She was the ancient fairy godmother who used to be Grandmomma’s best friend, with the emphasis on used to be. Isabelle didn’t remember ever meeting the old fairy godmother, but she’d never forget the last time some old godmother mentioned Zahara’s name around her grandmother.

  It was not a nice memory. It was not fun to see your grandmomma cry.

  And now Grandmomma was nowhere to be found and Zahara was getting comfortable in her chair and acting like this was totally normal. But it wasn’t normal. Or fair. Or nice. Just like everything else, this probably had to do with sparkles. So Isabelle just sat there and tried not to draw attention to herself.

  For the first time since Level One began, the Worsts could not have looked happier. They scooted their seats toward the front of the room.

  “Where have you been all this time?” Minerva asked. (Isabelle was sort of curious about that, too.)

  “My so-called demise was obviously a rumor,” Zahara said. “The truth is, I retired. But after a while, it got boring. So when Luciana called, I un-retired.”

  “When I was a young godmother, Zahara was famous for taking all the hardest-to-please princesses—even the ones who seemed destined for unhappily ever after,” Minerva told Angelica, Fawn, and Isabelle. “If there had been training back then, I would have given anything to take a class with her.”

  Zahara popped the lid off Grandmomma’s candy jar and took three peppermint patties (Grandmomma’s favorite). She tossed them all in her mouth, closed her eyes, and leaned back in her chair. Then her mouth fell open. She began to snore.

  Luciana sent a few lightning sprays through the room, and everyone (including Zahara) bolted up in their chairs.

  “Zahara, can you tell the trainees about the kinds of princesses you helped over the years?” Luciana asked.

  “Well, there was the one who fell in love with the handsome prince who had a curse on his head,” Zahara began. “That poor girl was the very definition of fortitude. First she saved him from drowning. Then she rescued him from an alligator. Before he was in the clear, she had to save him from his own dog.”

  “I read about her,” Angelica said. “But I don’t understand: Why didn’t you just remove the curse? Wouldn’t that have been a lot faster?”

  “In the old days, we didn’t care so much about speed,” Zahara said. “Back then, it was much more important to test our princesses and see if they had the strength to be happily ever after … or if they didn’t.”

  Everyone gasped. Since the whole thing with Mom, getting to happily ever after (or as Angelica would say, H.E.A.) as quickly as possible was pretty much the whole point to training—at least Isabelle thought that was the point.

  Maybe Zahara had been asked to retire. Maybe that’s why she and Grandmomma weren’t friends anymore. Isabelle raised her hand. “You don’t need to teach us anything about independence. Grandmomma taught us that in Level One.” (She was feeling very defensive of Grandmomma.)

  At the mention of Grandmomma, Zahara didn’t even flinch. “Hello, Isabelle. The last time I saw you, I believe you were toddling around the castle. You were so cute. I see your hair hasn’t changed a bit.”

  It was always annoying when adults said things like that.

  “As for independence,” Zahara said, “or what I would call patience and fortitude and common sense, let me tell you about my first prin
cess, a young ameerah named Noni, her sister, a king, and a pair of golden slippers.”

  There wasn’t a fairy godmother who didn’t love a good shoe story. Fawn opened her Wish List to a page at the beginning of the book (where Noni’s story was printed). “Before you tell us the details, would you sign my Wish List?” she gushed, and giggled. “Noni’s story is one of my favorites.”

  After signing Fawn’s Wish List and then Angelica’s, Zahara leaned back in her chair and started the story. “As some of you may already know, Noni was a poor girl who lived near a beautiful, winding river with her mean older sister. This sister was very jealous of Noni’s kindness and beauty and her one possession, a pair of lovely gold shoes.”

  Angelica raised her hand. “The shoes were from her father, right?”

  Zahara smiled. “The shoes always come from someone who loves you.” For the first time, Isabelle realized Zahara was missing two teeth. “When her sister received an invitation to meet the king, Noni asked to come along, but her sister forbade it. Probably because she knew the king would like Noni the best.”

  Isabelle could totally relate to the whole sister problem. What she didn’t understand was Zahara. “So why didn’t you tell the king to have a party?” (She was pretty sure that was how Clotilda would do it.)

  Luciana looked a little annoyed. “Because obviously Noni had chores to do.”

  Isabelle forgot how much fairy godmothers used to love making princesses do chores. But she also never really got why they were so important.

  Before she could raise her hand and ask, Zahara explained that chores made Noni a humble princess. They also gave her time. And when she said time, she meant time to become stronger and wiser. “When Noni had worked so long and so hard her feet finally couldn’t take it another day, she took off her shoes and went for a swim. She made a sincere and selfless wish for happiness. That was my cue. I turned myself into an eagle, swiped one of the shoes, and gave it to the king. He didn’t need a party because back then, kings knew that eagles meant power and happiness.”