Hailey Twitch and the Wedding Glitch

by Lauren Barnholdt

  Cousin Angela is looking down at herself in those shoes. She is walking around. She is putting her hand on her hip. She is looking in the foot mirror. And then all of a sudden she is screaming.

  “THESE SHOES ARE STUPID!”

  “Cousin Angela,” I say real quick, trying to calm her down. “Just relax. See how nice and pretty these shoes are? They look like just the kind of shoes a flower girl would wear.”

  “I DON’T LIKE SPARKLES!”

  I gasp. That is impossible. Everyone loves sparkles. You cannot not love sparkles. This is not making any kind of sense in my head.

  Aunt Denise and my mom think this is the most hilarious thing they have ever seen in their lives. They are laughing their heads right off.

  “This is not a laughing matter,” I tell them. “Please try to be mature about it.”

  But this makes them just laugh even harder.

  “Hailey,” my mom says. “You and Cousin Angela have to pick a shoe that you both like.”

  “I don’t like these ones!” Cousin Angela says.

  And then Maybelle does something very bad. She swoops right down in front of Cousin Angela. And she points her wand at those sparkly shoes.

  “Maybelle,” I whisper. “What did you just do? I do not have time to clean up any more of your messes.”

  “These shoes are tight on my feet,” Cousin Angela says. “I want them off this instant!” She plops herself right down on the floor of that store. And then she tries to take those shoes right off. She tugs. And she tugs. But those shoes will not come off.

  “Looks like we will have to buy them,” I say. “Since they will not come off your feet.”

  “GET THEM OFF MY FEET, MOMMY!”

  “I am sorry, but if you cannot keep your children quiet, you will have to leave this store,” the lady who works there says.

  “Yes, I’m sorry, but we cannot stay quiet,” I say. “We are very loud and bad. Now we would like two pairs of these shoes, please. Wrap them up to go.” I point at those sparkle shoes. “And then we will be out of here. And not be causing a big scene anymore.”

  “OW, MY FEET, OW!” Cousin Angela is really having a bad screaming fit now. She is pounding her feet right on the ground.

  “Calm down, Angela,” Aunt Denise says. She is down trying to pull those shoes off Cousin Angela. But they will not come off. “What size are these shoes?” Aunt Denise is saying. “They are stuck on your foot.”

  I look at Maybelle. She is sitting in a big bride shoe that has a big fat bow on it. “Maybelle,” I whisper. “What did you do to that shoe?”

  “She cannot get it off,” Maybelle says, giving me a big smile. “That is me using bad magic. And that is you getting those shoes.”

  I love that sprite! She is always coming through for me.

  Now my mom and Cousin Genevieve are over trying to help get that shoe off Cousin Angela. So I put my sparkly shoes on. And I start to play a skipping game. I grab a bride veil off of a shelf and put it right over my head.

  “Yes, I will marry you, Antonio,” I say. “But only if we can live in my house with my mom and dad and Kaitlyn.”

  “Angela, hold still!” Aunt Denise is saying. She is pulling on the top of that shoe. And my mom is pulling on the bottom. But that shoe will still not come off. It just does not want to budge.

  “Well,” I say real loud, “I guess we will have to buy those shoes. And Cousin Angela will have to wear them everywhere until it is time for the wedding.”

  I am still playing a skipping game. No one is paying any attention to me.

  “I do,” I say into the mirror. I am pretending I am a bride. And I am marrying Antonio Fuerte. I start to sing a very good wedding song I know and twirl all around. “Dum dum da dummmmm.”

  Rrrrrrippp. Uh-oh. I look down. I accidentally stepped on that veil. And now there is a big rip in it. There is another sign on the wall here. And that sign says you break it, you buy it. Yikes.

  “Maybelle,” I whisper. “Please come and fix this veil immediately.”

  But I forgot about Maybelle trying to be bad at her magic. On account of tricking Mr. Tuttle. And so when Maybelle points her wand, that veil rips even more.

  “Guess I’ll just return this headdress back where I found it,” I say real loud in case anyone is listening. I put it right back down on the shelf. “It is exactly like it was when I picked it up, perfect and beautiful.”

  “Owwww!” Cousin Angela is screaming. “THEY’RE PINCHING! THESE SHOES ARE PINCHING!”

  “They are not,” Aunt Denise says. She finally pulls one of them off. Pop! She looks in the shoe. “I don’t understand. They’re your right size. Why are they so small?”

  “That is very weird,” I say, shrugging. “Well, anyway, that situation is all over now. And I still think we should buy them. They are very beautiful shoes.”

  “Excuse me,” the saleslady says. I turn around. She is holding up that ripped headdress!

  “No,” I say quickly. “We do not need a headdress veil today. But we will take two of these pairs of sparkly shoes. And we are in a very big hurry, so hop to it.” Then I remember my manners. “Please.”

  “Hailey!” my mom says. “What did you do to that veil?”

  “I did not do one thing to that headdress,” I say. I look at it real close. “I have never seen that headdress in my life.”

  “You were wearing it around and singing,” the saleslady says. “And then you ripped it.”

  “How much is it?” my mom asks. She is looking very pale in her face.

  “Three hundred dollars,” the lady says.

  “Three hundred dollars!” I yell. “That thing is a rip-off!”

  “I think,” Aunt Denise says, “that it is time to go.”

  My mom is very mad at me. She gave me the silent treatment all the way home. She is probably going to think up a very bad punishment for me. On account of how I wore my dress to school. And on account of how I ripped that headdress.

  I decide that I will do something very good to make up for it. First I clean my room all up. I put all my toys away. I put all my books on my shelf very neat. I pick up all my clothes and put them in my hamper. I even put all my puzzles away very perfect, instead of just shoving them into their boxes in a big jumble of a mess.

  Then I sit down at my desk.

  Here is what I pull out:

  One piece of plain white paper.

  One bottle of silvery glitter.

  One glue stick.

  Some sparkly heart stickers.

  Four gel pens.

  “I AM SORRY” I write on the front of the paper. Then I fold it in half to make a wonderful card. And on the inside of that card I write “I LOVE YOU, FROM HAILEY.” I put some beautiful sparkly red heart stickers on it. And then comes the very best part.

  I cover that whole card with my glue stick. And then sprinkle sparkly silver glitter all over it.

  “What is that?” Maybelle asks. Some glitter is flying up in the air and getting all over her wings.

  “That is an ‘I’m sorry’ card for my mom.” I am getting glitter all over the place. I brush it off my hands. Glitter goes flying up and up and up into the air. Maybelle has a big sneeze.

  “Ah-choo!” She waves her hand in front of her face.

  “It is the most perfect card I ever made,” I tell her. “My mom will be so happy when she sees it. She will forget all about that headdress. And then she—”

  I do not get to finish what I am saying. Because all of a sudden, there is a flash of blue lightning! A flash of blue lightning that can only mean one thing!

  “Mr. Tuttle!” I say as he pops right up in my room. “What are you doing here?” I am getting a little bit nervous. Mr. Tuttle looks like a principal. He has a big stomach and glasses and a mustache. And he is in charge of Maybelle. He is no
t very fun or funny.

  “I have come to tell Maybelle she will be going back to the castle on Saturday.” Mr. Tuttle makes a mark right down on his clipboard. He is always writing important facts down on that thing.

  “Saturday is impossible,” I tell him. “We are going to a wedding on that day, thank you very much.” I shrug my shoulders. “Sorry, it is out of my hands.”

  “Maybelle can go to the wedding,” Mr. Tuttle says. “But she will be leaving right after that.”

  I go over and sprinkle some glitter right onto his bald head. “There you go,” I say, patting him on the shoulder. “You need a little sparkle in your life.”

  Mr. Tuttle does not like that. “I will be back on Saturday,” he says.

  “If you say so,” I say. “But if I were you, I would keep an eye on that Maybelle. She is turning into a disaster with her magic.”

  “What do you mean?” Mr. Tuttle is raising up his eyebrows and looking very interested in this.

  “I mean that she glued some shoes right onto my cousin Angela’s feet.”

  “Is that true, Maybelle?” Mr. Tuttle seems very shocked.

  “Yes,” Maybelle says. “My magic is a big mess.”

  She is a very good actress, that Maybelle. She should be a movie star for sprites.

  “Well, I will be keeping an eye on you,” Mr. Tuttle says. “And if you have a good handle on your magic, then you will go back to the castle with me on Saturday.”

  And then he is gone.

  “Don’t worry,” I tell her. “You will get to stay. You just have to keep doing bad things. Now let’s go give this card to my mom.”

  • • •

  My mom is very happy about that card. She loves it more than anything in her whole life. She is very glad that I said I am sorry.

  But she still says I am going to have to have a punishment. And then there is more bad news. And that bad news is sitting right on the kitchen table.

  “What are those?” I am wrinkling up my nose at those plain shoes that are sitting there. They are white. With no sparkles. No glitter. Not even one bow!

  “Those are the shoes you and Cousin Angela are going to be wearing in the wedding,” my mom says.

  “First of all, shoes are not allowed to be sitting on the table, thank you very much.” I put those shoes right on the floor. “And second of all, I am going to be wearing sparkly shoes only.”

  “No,” my mom says. “You are not.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “No, you are not. And if you make a fit about it, you are going to get a bigger punishment.”

  What a disaster of a wedding.

  The rest of that week goes by very slow. It is going slow, slow, slow, slow, slow up until that wedding.

  But on Friday in music class we are allowed to have free music again. And this time I am running up and grabbing those bongo drums right out of the box.

  “Did you get your sparkly shoes yet?” Natalie Brice asks. She is using the pipe instrument. That is the second best instrument to have.

  “Not yet,” I say. This is not even really a lie. Because I do not have them yet. But I will figure something out. I am good at figuring things out right at the last minute.

  “But you’re getting them, right?”

  “Of course I am getting them. What kind of wedding do you think this is?”

  “Sometimes you lie about things. A lot of things.”

  I give her a mean look. “Well, I am not lying about this.”

  We all fall into a line. And we make wonderful music all together as a class.

  Then Mr. Green says, “This is our last day of the music unit. So please put your instruments back into the bucket until next year.”

  This is wrong. We are supposed to be able to keep those instruments for our own selves! Just like last year’s class. And I need those bongo drums. So that I can make music at the wedding. And if I put them back in that bucket, that mean one Natalie Brice will snatch them right up.

  So I just sit real quiet in my seat. Everyone else is putting their instruments back in the bucket. But I will not do it. I am going to keep these perfect bongo drums right in my lap, thank you very much.

  “Hailey Twitch,” Mr. Green says. “Will you please put the bongos back into the instrument bucket?”

  “No, that is okay.” I set those bongos down very carefully on my desk. This is so Mr. Green will know that I am going to take very good care of them. They are going to a great home.

  “No?” Mr. Green looks very confused. He does a big frown, and a big wrinkle comes on his forehead. Then he sighs and smooths his hair back. “Would you like to tell me why not, please?”

  “Because I am going to bring these bongo drums home,” I say. I hold them up and play them. Boom, boom, boom. That beautiful sound is music to my ears.

  “Hailey,” Mr. Green says. He closes his eyes like he cannot even deal with this. “You cannot take those drums home. They belong to the music department.”

  “But when we are done with the instruments, we get to take them home,” I tell him. “And I would like to pick these bongo drums, please.” I give him a very good smile.

  “No, you do not get to take them home.”

  “Last year they did.”

  “That is because last year we got all new instruments. And so the students were allowed to take the old ones home. Now please return the drums to the instrument bucket.”

  This whole room is acting very quiet. No one is talking. Or whispering. All they are doing is staring. Right at me. They are staring right at me while I am getting up from my desk. They are staring right at me when I am walking over to the instrument corner. They are staring right at me when I am putting those drums back into the instrument bucket. They are staring right at me when I am walking back to my desk.

  Except for Natalie Brice. She is staring, too. But she is also laughing.

  • • •

  “That Natalie Brice thinks she is the boss of everything!” I yell to Maybelle when I am walking home from the bus stop. “She is a no good traitor.” I am not exactly sure what a traitor is. But I know it is something very, very bad.

  “Hello, Mr. Frisk,” I say when I am walking by his house. Mr. Frisk is our neighbor. He has very bushy eyebrows. And he is bald. He is very nice. But sometimes I bother him. And then he puts a sign on his door that says Please Do Not Disturb. That is how I know that I am not supposed to knock on his door. Mr. Frisk likes his quiet time.

  “Hi, Hailey.” Mr. Frisk is sitting out on his porch and drinking a cup of coffee. But I do not have time to see him today. That is because I have to go to the important rehearsal dinner tonight.

  A rehearsal dinner is when you practice the wedding. So that nothing bad will happen.

  “I am ready to go to that rehearsal!” I yell as I go bursting into my house. “Get out the dress! I am ready to put it on.” I tear off my coat and throw it on the floor.

  “Hailey,” my mom says. “Please pick up your coat and hang it in the closet.”

  I go and pick my coat up. I hang it in the closet real careful.

  Then I walk very calm over to where my mom is sitting on the couch. “I am ready to put my dress on now,” I say. I sit down next to her very soft. I cross my hands over my legs. That is so she will know I am not too overexcited and hyper.

  “I’m glad you’re ready for the rehearsal,” my mom says. “But it is not until seven o’clock. And you are not going to be wearing your dress.”

  I jump off that couch right away. “What do you mean about that dress?”

  “You won’t wear the dress to the rehearsal,” my mom says. “You will only wear it tomorrow at the wedding.”

  “But this dinner is supposed to be like a practice. And I need my dress to practice.” I wonder if my mom has ever heard of this thing called a dress reh
earsal. It is when you get all dressed up in your outfit and you practice. I did it once for this play I was in called The Gingerbread Princess.

  “You cannot wear your dress,” my mom says. “And that is that.”

  • • •

  The rehearsal, it turns out, is not going to be very fun or funny. We are not allowed to wear our flower girl dresses. And we have to sit in a very fancy room. And everyone has to be very quiet. And eat this very fancy dinner. And that is all before we can even practice walking down the aisle. This is a very big waste of time.

  I have to sit at the end of the table. With Cousin Angela.

  “Something very bad is going to be happening at this dinner,” Maybelle says. She is drinking some apple juice out of a very fancy glass.

  “I do not like this food,” Cousin Angela says.

  “Me neither.” I am poking at the food. It is some kind of big piece of meat. And it looks very slimy and gross.

  “That is filet mignon,” Cousin Harold says. Cousin Harold is Cousin Genevieve’s brother. He has a lot, lot, lot of freckles, and he is as skinny as a flagpole. He is sitting right across from us.

  “What’s your name again?” Cousin Angela asks him. She is kneeling up on her chair instead of sitting flat. “I forget your name.”

  “That’s Cousin Harold,” I tell her. Then I roll my eyes at Cousin Harold. “Aren’t kids just the cutest?” I ask him.

  “I WANT ONE OF THOSE ROLLS!” Angela says.

  Cousin Harold passes her one.

  “What are those spots all over your face?” Cousin Angela asks Harold.

  “Those are freckles,” I tell her. “They are very beautiful orange spots.”

  Cousin Harold’s face goes very red, red, red. But you can still see those orange spots.

  “Your face is turning red,” Cousin Angela says. She opens up her roll and licks some butter right out of it.