A Magical Trio

by Alex Flinn

  Impending marriage. My stomach gives a jolt.

  “But . . . you sent me a note. The brownies brought it. Sieglinde had you in the lighthouse. She was holding you captive.”

  And slowly, dawn breaks. Sieglinde didn’t have Meg at all. She tricked me, knowing I loved Meg, that I’d do anything to get her back, even surrender Victoriana.

  I shake my head. “Never mind. It was all a trick.”

  “Well, that’s a load off. Where are we?”

  “Hobie Beach?”

  “Hobie Beach?” She glances around, her eyes falling on the bicycle I’m holding. “Do you have your mom’s car?”

  I look around, stupidly. “No. Only this bike.”

  “Perfect. So I’ll have to find a cab back. Like that’s easy around here.” She searches in her pockets for money. “Can you do me a favor and not use that thing if it’s not an emergency?”

  “I thought it was an emergency! I rode through pounding rain, thunder, and lightning to rescue you, and you say it’s not an emergency? It was an emergency!”

  She stares at me, saying nothing.

  I say what I’ve been wanting to say since I left Key Largo.

  “I love you, Meg.”

  “What?”

  “I love you!” I yell it over the whoosh of cars. “And I know you love me too. You were trying to tell me, that day we played Four Truths and a Lie, but I ignored you. I didn’t know.”

  She shakes her head. “The game’s over, Johnny.” She walks closer to the street, looking frantically for her money.

  “But it couldn’t be the way you said. That would mean there were two lies.”

  She stops walking and turns to face me. “I got mixed up. They were both lies. How could I be in love with you, Johnny? You said yourself we’re just friends.”

  She’s found her money, and she turns and walks the rest of the way to the roadside, looking for an opening to cross. She’s tapping her foot, and I know she wants to run, wants to dart into traffic, anything to get out of my life.

  “I was wrong, Meg!” I yell after her.

  She turns again. I can see she’s shaking, and not from the cold and rain. Maybe I should let her go. Maybe it’s too late. Maybe she’s rather be with Philippe now.

  “Wrong about what?”

  “Wrong about being friends, or only friends anyway. I love you, Meg. I didn’t realize it until I started losing you, but I love you, and I hope you weren’t lying when you said you loved me.”

  She doesn’t answer for a long time, just stares at me, and I hear the voices of seagulls, the growl of waves against shore, the roar of cars, and finally, Meg.

  “You jerk.”

  “What?” Not the answer I expected.

  “Oh yeah, you think you’re funny, messing with me, playing with my feelings. Well, no more. I’ve spent half my life crushing on you. I even tried to help you find the frog, just to spend time with you. Stupid. And now when I finally give up and find someone else—”

  “Someone else? That goofball!”

  “Philippe loves me.”

  “And do you love him? If you do, I’ll leave you alone. But if you don’t, and if you’re willing to be with the dumbest guy in South Beach—and that’s saying a lot—then I want to be with you. So do you love him?”

  I’m shaking, waiting for her answer. She looks at me, and I know she sees it, know she sees me holding my breath too.

  Finally, she laughs. “Of course not. How could I love someone who calls me his ‘leetle sea urchin’?”

  I breathe out. This, at least, is good.

  “But the kiss? You kissed him, and it broke the spell. If you didn’t love him, how did it work?”

  She shakes her head like she’s dealing with an ignorant child. “You never listen well. The spell said it could be broken by the kiss of one with love in her heart.”

  “So?”

  “Love in her heart. I have love in my heart, so when I kissed the prince, it broke the spell. I didn’t have to love Philippe. It’s what they call a loophole.”

  “So the love in your heart . . . ?”

  “You, stupid. I never loved anyone else. Does that make you happy?”

  That’s all I need to hear. “Yeah, it makes me happy.”

  There, in the wet morning, with cars whizzing by in front of us and waves crashing behind us, like some kind of weird romance where the soundtrack’s off, I take her in my arms and kiss her.

  Chapter 44

  After a few minutes of that, when motorists start honking at us and yelling that we should get a room, and other sweet things people say to teenagers in love, we come up for air. Meg says, “So what are you going to do about Princess Barbie?”

  I shrug. “Guess I’ll have to let her down easy. It’ll be tough for her, losing out on the hottest stud muffin on South Beach, but she’ll get over it eventually.”

  Meg laughs and pushes some hair off my forehead, prompting another motorist to lean on his horn. “But what about the money?”

  “I don’t know. I think it’s important to make sacrifices for your family, but I can’t make this one, and Victoriana shouldn’t have to either. It’s too important. We should both be allowed to choose who we want.”

  Meg sees a cab heading down the opposite side of the causeway. She waves it down, stepping into traffic to do so and setting off another medley of horns. “Well then, we’ll have to tell them. Both of them.”

  At the hotel, we’re lucky to get into the elevator without incident. But I know getting into the princess’s room will be another story. Even on the elevator, when I press the penthouse button, a chambermaid who’s riding with us gives me a funny look, like she knows I don’t belong there. I nod, to show her I’m okay. She’s a new maid I don’t know.

  “Hey,” she says when I nod. “Don’t you recognize me?”

  I look at her, and now that she mentions it, she does look familiar, with red hair in a ponytail that winds almost to her waist. “I don’t know. Should I?”

  She laughs. “Probably not. I’ve changed a lot lately. You might even say transformed.” She cranes her neck to one side.

  And then, I get it. “You’re a swan.”

  “Former swan. I’m Mallory. Good to see you.”

  “You . . . work here?”

  She nods happily. “Farnesworth offered us all jobs once he accepted what had happened. After he finished being mad, he was happy about us all being human. He’s just a lonely guy. But Truman pointed out that we could be better friends as people. A couple of the guys, Ernest and Harry, went back to Key West with Caroline. But the rest of us are bunking with Farnie until we find an apartment, and working at the hotel. Margarita’s a bartender. Jimmy’s a bellman, and Truman’s a valet.”

  “Yeah. I saw him earlier.”

  “He hasn’t driven a car in years, but really, who knows this place better than us?”

  The elevator reaches the penthouse. The door opens. I say, “Wow. That’s great. Any way you could do us a favor?”

  “Sure. You’ve done so much for us.”

  But when she finds out what it is, she’s less sure. “I don’t know if I can get you in with the princess.”

  “Just tell her we’re out here. She’ll let us in.”

  A few minutes later, I’m being led into the Penthouse B suite.

  Chapter 45

  As soon as the sitting room door closes, Victoriana hugs me. “Oh, Johnny! Dear boy, you have saved everyzing! My bruzzer—he is home! I do not have to marry Volfgang!”

  I look down. “Yeah, about that . . .” Then, something catches my eye. She’s looking very hot in a pink-and-white sundress with matching . . . “Hey, where’d you get those shoes?”

  “You like zem?” She twists her foot flirtatiously, glancing at the closet. “Zey were a gift from Philippe. My darling bruzzer was so grateful zat I send you to him. Zey are a new designer, Gianni Marco. You know him, maybe?”

  “Know him? I am him.”

  Victoriana�
�s blue eyes widen. “A hero and a shoe designer? I am beside myself.” She props herself up against my shoulder, then lifts first one foot, then the other. “Zese, zey are quite lovely.”

  “Thanks.” I stare at her hand on my shoulder. There’s something intoxicating about being with her, even now. Maybe it’s just that she’s wearing my shoes. Still, it’s hypnotic.

  Meg clears her throat. “You can thank me later for giving them to Philippe. But isn’t there something you want to tell the princess?”

  I step away from Victoriana, almost causing her to stumble. After she rights herself, I say, “Um, yeah. I can’t marry you.”

  “Not marry me? Pourquoi?” She glances at the closet again.

  I look at her shoes. It would be so perfect if I could persuade her to mention them in public, as some kind of alternate reward. I remember the brownies’ marketing plan. But after what I’m about to say, she never will. “Um, it’s just . . . I’m kind of in love with someone else.”

  The princess’s mouth forms a surprised O. Her blue eyes flick from me to Meg, then back. “Ah, I see.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  Her face breaks into a humongous grin. “Sorry? Oh no. I am quite relieved. I did not want to marry either.”

  “Relieved?” Even though I am too, I feel a little insulted.

  She glances at the closet again. What is up with that—some kind of nervous tic? “Of course. I was desperate. I needed my bruzzer back, and what uzzer reward would be suitable for a princess’s quest?”

  “Oh, I don’t know?” Meg pipes up. “Money?”

  “Money?” Victoriana looks taken aback. “You would have done zis zing for money?”

  I nod. Vigorously. “It’s pretty important to a lot of people, particularly people who need to pay electric bills.”

  “I do not even know what an electric bill is.” Victoriana breaks out in a big teeth-flashing smile. “But I have money. I have very much money! It only seemed too little payment for such a great debt. But tell me how much you need.”

  Meg clears her throat, and I’m about to say that, if Victoriana wants, she could just tell a few magazines about my shoes, and we’ll call it even, when suddenly, there’s a huge crash from inside the closet.

  “Aw darn!” says a male voice.

  “I think someone’s in there,” I say.

  “Could be dangerous,” Meg adds, and without even waiting for Victoriana to agree, she strides toward the closet and throws open the door.

  A pile of dresses, skirts, and about ten shoe boxes falls out. On top of it all is a man.

  “Ryan!” Meg exclaims.

  “Ryan?” I say at the same time.

  The princess crosses the room on her teetery shoes. “You two know each uzzer?”

  “Sure. We were together when you met me.” I feel more than a little peeved. I mean, I went on this whole big quest, ran all over the Keys looking for a frog, practically got buried alive by a witch, and the whole time, she’s had Ryan in the closet? “You’re in love with Ryan?”

  Ryan grins. “Them’s the breaks, Johnny boy.”

  But Victoriana laughs. “Non, non, non. You misunderstand me. I have a little—’ow you say—dalliance wiz Ryan. But I do not love him. I do not wish to marry anyone. I am too young. My bruzzer, Philippe, swears on his honor zat now zis roller coaster ride is over, he will return to Aloria, settle down wiz ze girl who has kissed him, and rule the country in a responsible manner, and we will beware of Sieglinde and ze witches.”

  Settle down.

  “Um,” Meg says.

  “So you see, I am free. In fact, I am returning to Aloria as soon as Philippe can contact the young lady. Do you know where she is?”

  Now, it’s my turn to look at Meg. She laughs a little, staring down at her apron. “Um, that’s me, and you see, I don’t want to marry Philippe either.”

  The door to the room flies open. “Do you mean it, my leetle wombat?”

  “Yeah.” Meg winces a little at the wombat thing. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to break off the engagement.”

  “Break it off? I am not understanding.”

  Victoriana shakes her head. “In zis country, people do not wish to marry ze princes and princesses. It is mystifying.”

  Meg shakes her head. “I’m not in love with you, Philippe.”

  “Mon dieu!” Philippe raises his eyes to the heavens, or the ceiling anyway. “Thank goodness.” Then, collecting himself, he says, “I only mean we do not know each uzzer so well.”

  “It’s all right,” Meg says. “I’m sure it would have been . . . interesting, but I’m not exactly princess material, am I?”

  “No.” Philippe shudders. “I mean, yes. I mean, I want you to be happy, my darling mole rat.”

  Meg smiles, not at Philippe, but at me. “I am. It was nice, saving you.”

  Philippe takes Meg’s hand and brings it to his lips. “A pleasure. You and my dear, sweet sister have my eternal gratitude.”

  “And mine as well,” Victoriana says. “But I do wish zere was something more I could do for you zan . . . money.” She says the word like it’s something you wouldn’t say in front of a teacher.

  Meg prods me.

  “Since you ask,” I say, “there is something.”

  Chapter 46

  A few minutes later, it’s all settled: I’ll send her ten pairs of shoes, and she’ll wear them, mentioning that they were made by “an exciting new designer” she met in South Beach.

  “Sort of a princess product placement,” Meg says.

  “Zis is not trouble,” Victoriana says. “But now zat we have settled zis, we really must go.” She walks to the door. “Bruno!”

  The mountainous guard appears. Victoriana says, “Can you please alert ze limo driver and ze pilot.” She gazes at Philippe. “Now zat my bruzzer is safe, we need to go home.”

  “Have a great trip,” I say, “and beware of Sieglinde.”

  Victoriana nods. “I will always be aware.”

  Fifteen minutes later, we’re on our way down to the lobby. It’s a little crowded because Bruno insists on standing in the center, holding Victoriana’s hand, and I’m stuck between him and Ryan. It’s like being pinned under two fallen oaks. Another treelike guard backs up Philippe.

  “Listen, man,” Ryan whispers. “I’m sorry about . . . I know you liked her, but it was just, Vicky and I have so much in common. We like the beach, partying . . . it’s like it was meant to be.”

  Yeah, it’s hard to find girls with those interests in South Beach. But I say, “Don’t worry about it.” I suck in my stomach to avoid Bruno’s elbow.

  We reach the lobby, and Bruno tugs Victoriana out past me.

  “Ouch!” she yells. “Zat is not necessary!”

  “Eet is my job!” Bruno looks around as if expecting a mob attack at any moment. But other than the usual guests on their way to the pool, the lobby’s pretty uneventful. If anything, it looks empty without the swans.

  “Ze limousine?” Philippe says. “Where is it?”

  Bruno says something in French to the other guard. The guard starts toward the front doors. “He ees checking.” Bruno glances around again.

  “But you called down for the limo. They said it was ready.” Meg, too, looks at the doors and whispers, “I don’t like this, Johnny. You know Farnesworth would have her limo here.”

  She’s right.

  “Maybe you should go back to your room,” I say to Victoriana. She nods and starts back toward the elevator.

  “Eet is not necessary.” Bruno takes her arm. “Gerard, he is checking.”

  Victoriana stares at his hand, which is tightly around her wrist. “Please, Bruno. You are hurting me.”

  “Eet is for your own protection.”

  The elevator door beside ours opens, and a woman with two little girls exits. When she sees Victoriana, she shrieks. “It’s really her! It’s the princess!”

  The two little girls run over to Victoriana. “Can we take ou
r picture with you?” the older one begs.

  “Samantha, that’s very rude!” the mother snaps, but she doesn’t pull her away. Victoriana has gotten free of Bruno and is talking to the girls, but their shrieks have alerted other guests, who run over and start snapping cell phone photos.

  “Can I try on your tiara?” asks one woman.

  “Mira, José! Mira!”

  They’re all shoving, poking, touching. Victoriana’s trying to be gracious, saying, “Wait! Please! I will speak wiz you all.” Her eyes seek out Bruno, but he’s glancing around like he’s searching for something. The other guard is talking to the valet, arguing with him. Victoriana’s car is still nowhere in sight.

  “Bruno!” Victoriana cries as a big guy steps on her open-toed shoe.

  “Hey, watch it!” Ryan tries to shove the guy out of the way. “You don’t treat girls like that.”

  Bruno’s still looking around, searching for something. Or someone.

  And suddenly, I know why the limo isn’t here. Bruno didn’t call for it. He called someone else.

  I reach for Victoriana’s hand through the crowd of people. “Come on, Princess. We have to go.”

  Victoriana looks around, unaccustomed to going anywhere without her bodyguard. “But Bruno—”

  “Johnny’s right.” Meg, who’s been staring at Bruno too, nods agreement. “You should go.” She leans over to Ryan. “Maybe you could get your car for Victoriana and Philippe.”

  “It’s a two-seater.”

  “It’s an emergency,” I say, trying to extricate Victoriana.

  Ryan starts out toward the employee lot. Victoriana tries to follow, but the crowd is relentless.

  “Wait! Wait!” a woman says. “I need a picture!”

  “Can you give me some money?” a boy asks.

  Finally, Victoriana’s through. She tries to make eye contact with Philippe, who’s oblivious. But the crowd has alerted Bruno that his charge is escaping.

  “Your Highness!” Bruno’s voice penetrates the crowd. He shoves past them, knocking one of the little girls on her rear end. She starts to bawl. “You should not have done zat!” He grabs Victoriana again.