Into the Wild (24 page)

In the dim green light, Julie skirted around them. As she passed Little Bear, he lifted his head. “Do you think it is that easy?” he said.

She froze. That tone of voice . . . she knew that flat, mechanical voice. Oh, no. “Little Bear?” She knew it wasn’t.

“This one’s too hot, this one’s too cold, and now you will find the one that’s just right?” the Wild said. “You won’t find your happily ever after. Not this way.”

It couldn’t stop her now, could it? “I beat your games,” Julie said. “I made it here. You have to let me go—your rules.”

“You will make a foolish wish,” the Wild said. “You will destroy your happiness and the happiness of your family and friends. No one has ever made the wish that was truly their heart’s desire.”

It was trying to talk her out of it. She
had
survived the stories. All the Wild had left was talk. Right? As if on cue, the other two bears raised their heads. “Someone has been eating my porridge. Someone has been sleeping in my bed.”

Julie ran out the lobby door.

She skidded to a stop. Hip-high bushes and thick trees clogged the backyard. She shot a look over her shoulder. The bears weren’t following her.

Maybe they couldn’t—the bears never caught their Goldilocks.

Putting her hands on her knees, she caught her breath. It was just talk. Just talk. And it couldn’t talk her out of this. She’d find the well, and she’d do what she had to do.

Julie peered into the vegetation. The well should be right in front of her. Just because she couldn’t see it didn’t mean it wasn’t there. She climbed over vines and roots. She waded through bushes.

And she found the well. All of a sudden, it was there. There weren’t any fanfares or lightning bolts or anything like that. She almost stumbled over it, in fact—the base of the well jutted out into her path and was hidden by bushes. Julie cleared aside the brambles and stepped onto the base. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling. The well certainly didn’t look like much.

Under a layer of moss, the wishing well looked as it always had: cracked mortar, dilapidated shingles, chipped stones. The rope that had once held a bucket was frayed. The bucket itself was centuries gone. Julie put both hands on the mossy wall and looked down. She couldn’t see the bottom.

All right, then. Now what?

It was time to make a wish. Okay. She was ready. Julie rolled up her sleeves, spread her feet wide, braced herself on the wall, and leaned directly over the middle of the well.

What wish should she make?

She hadn’t thought about it. Not specifically. She’d been so caught up in the race to get here that she hadn’t thought about what she’d do when she got here.

She could wish it all had never happened. No, she couldn’t wish that. She thought of tricking the ogre into using the wand, dancing at the ball, meeting her father. She didn’t want it to have never happened.

She could wish the Wild was gone. That idea was appealing. Not only could she stop the Wild here, but she could ensure that it never came back. She liked that. It would serve the Wild right for playing puppet master with who knew how many people.

But what would happen to all those people—not to mention herself—if the Wild disappeared while they were inside it? What if it took everyone with it? Julie shuddered. The Wild was right: she could make things worse if she wasn’t careful. Far, far worse.

What had her mother wished for? Too bad Mom hadn’t given her a hint. It has to be the wish dearest to your heart, her mother had said. But what was that wish? What did she want? She used to want so many things. Now she just wanted her life back.

That’s my wish, she thought. I want my life back. But how should she say it so it didn’t come out wrong? How could she guarantee that the wish she made was what she really wanted?
It has to be the wish that’s dearest to your heart.

Julie smiled. She knew what to say. Leaning over the mossy rocks, she whispered into the well, “I wish the wish that is dearest to my heart.”

Her words fell like pennies into the water.

For an instant, there was silence. She looked around, peering at the still, dark forest that surrounded the motel like a waiting animal. It didn’t work, she thought. After everything, it didn’t work.

She turned in a slow circle, looking for some movement, for any movement. Should she make another wish? Was the well broken? Was it all a trick? What if she was trapped here forever? The trees were silent. Blinking, she wiped at her eyes. She was not going to cry. There had to be something else she could do. There had to be . . .

Her mother walked out of the woods.

She looked as if she’d been lost in the forest for days. Her face was tired, purple circles under her eyes and gray shadows on her cheeks. Her hair was shorn at odd angles, as if someone had cut it with a hedge trimmer. Her clothes were torn and stained with dirt. Julie thought she’d never looked more beautiful.

Zel halted. Her eyes widened. “Julie?”

Julie ran to her and threw her arms around her neck. “Oh, Julie,” Zel said. She hugged her tight.

When Julie pulled back, both their cheeks were wet. Zel smiled through the tears. “You did it,” Zel said. “You did it!”

Julie shook her head. “The Wild’s still here. I didn’t do it right.”

“What did you wish?” her mother asked.

Julie told her.

“Oh, pumpkin,” Zel said. She smiled as bright as the noon sun. Why is she smiling? Julie wondered—and then she realized why: Julie had wished for her heart’s desire, and her mother had come. Mom was part of Julie’s dearest wish. “Pumpkin, you did just right,” Mom said. She hugged her again.

And there was a flash.

In an instant, Julie, Zel, and Gothel were sitting at the dinner table, leftover quiche on the plates in front of them. All three of them looked at each other. Outside, sirens started to wail. “Uh-oh,” Zel said.

Gothel stood, knocking a plate of quiche onto the floor. “Rapunzel . . .”

Zel sprang out of her chair and rushed to the window.

“Is it the police?” Julie asked. She heard voices outside. Lots of voices. And helicopters. Julie joined her mother at the window. It was the police. And the military. And the media. News vans, cop cars, and army jeeps were zooming down West Street. She saw soldiers jump out of vehicles and knock on the neighbors’ doors. It wouldn’t be long until they came here too. “What do we do?” Julie asked.

“I will turn them into frogs,” Gothel said. She withdrew a wand from the billows of her cape. “I will . . .” She swayed and then shook her head, as if trying to clear it.

Julie and Zel turned to her in alarm. Oh, no. Had she forgotten again? Was she the witch, not Grandma? Zel caught Gothel’s arm, steadying her. “You will
not
,” Zel said. “Mom, listen to me. We’re free. You’re free.”

“I . . .” The witch stared at Rapunzel, and then Gothel’s face crumbled. “I was the witch,” she said softly. “Again. It was still my role. Oh, Zel, it knew—at my core, I am still the witch. I cannot be free of it.”

Gently, Zel said, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Julie backed away from the window as her grandmother—her strong, unflappable grandmother—began to cry. Julie had wanted to return to the real world. Her heart’s desire had been to return to her real life. She had known there would be a price. This was the price: their secret was out. And she had lost her father. Again.

“Take a deep breath, Mother. We need to pull ourselves together and determine who made it out of the Wild,” Zel said. “Did anyone other than the three of us make it?”

Julie hadn’t thought of that. Had she wished for the wrong thing after all? Had the Wild found a way to make it come out wrong? Had she lost her father for nothing? No, she wouldn’t believe it. Her heart’s desire had to include everyone: Grandma. Boots. Cindy, Goldie, the bears . . . Gillian! What happened after the ball? Had she gotten free of the animals? Had she gotten free of the Wild? Julie had to try to call her. She bolted upstairs.

She flung open her bedroom door and halted in the doorway. On her bed slept an orange cat in doll-sized pj’s. Beside him, in a baby’s nightgown, was a white, longhaired cat. “Boots?” Julie said.

He opened one eye. “Hey, sis,” Boots said.

Suddenly, she felt as if she were brimming inside. Her vision blurred—there were tears in her eyes. He was okay! He’d made it out! She’d done it right!

Boots said, “Meet my girlfriend.” He nudged the white cat.

The white cat blinked awake and said, “Oh, yes, nice to meet you. Sorry I was evil before. I’m feeling much better now.”

Julie yanked up the dust ruffle and saw it, the Wild, as a small tangle of green. It was back. The Wild was home too. Outside, a siren wailed, loud and close, and a green, leafy vine withdrew deeper under the bed.

She started to laugh and cry at the same time.
This—
all of it, all of them—was her dearest wish! Still laughing and crying, she scooped both cats into her arms and hugged them.

“Watch the fur!” they said in unison.

Releasing them, Julie picked up the phone and dialed. Her hands were shaking. Please, she thought, please let everything be back to normal. Gillian answered, “Yes-th?” Gillian! Oh, was she glad to hear that voice! And the trumpet—she couldn’t wait to hear that trumpet! “You okay?” Julie asked.

“My wips are sore.”

“What?”

“My
lips
are sore.”

She winced. Gillian must have played for hours. It must have been torture. “Sorry!”

“S’okay,” Gillian said. “Some parts were terrible, yeah. But Mom says-th I can keep a dancing bear. S’that’s kinda cool. What ’appened to you?”

“Well . . .” Some parts
were
terrible, but others . . . She grinned. Yeah, it was kind of cool. Phone to her ear, Julie flopped backward onto the bed. “First, my bike came alive . . .”

Chapter Twenty-seven

Happily Ever After

 
Julie dove at her backpack. “Oh, no, you don’t!” She grabbed the straps as the Wild attempted to pull her backpack under the bed. “Let go!” She kicked at a vine. “I’ll prune you!” She gave it another solid kick.

The vines released, and she fell backward onto her butt. Ow. That was totally unnecessary. She glared at the Wild, then she got to her feet and examined the backpack. Part of the transformation had already begun: half of the backpack looked like a vagabond’s pack. The nylon was now patched rags. Great. Just great. She opened it. Luckily, her books were fine. The Wild hadn’t had it long enough to affect them.

“Julie!” her mom called from downstairs. “Cindy’s here!”

“Coming!” she yelled back. Julie gave the Wild another glare. “Behave yourself,” she said. She left the room and locked it behind her.

She passed through the kitchen. On the kitchen table, Grandma had spread a map of Europe. “Don’t nag me, Zel,” she was saying. “I don’t need reservations. Plenty of our kind still live there.”

“You can cancel the reservations if everything works out,” Zel said. Julie could hear the irritation in her mother’s voice. They’d been arguing about this for two days now, ever since Grandma had announced her plans and handed her motel over to the three bears. Julie fetched her lunch, leftover ravioli from the latest dwarf dinner, from the refrigerator.

“I will be there to make amends,” Gothel said. “They won’t refuse to offer hospitality once they understand I mean them no harm.”

“It’s been centuries. You can’t just drop in unannounced.” Pausing mid-argument, she gave Julie a kiss. “Have an uneventful day, pumpkin.” With a backward wave, Julie went out the door.

Outside, Cindy was waiting in her orange Subaru. Julie climbed in, and Cindy sparkled at her with a thousand-watt smile. “You won’t believe the night I had,” Cindy gushed as she threw the car into reverse and peeled out of the driveway.

Julie clutched her seat belt. Maybe Mom would let her take the bus again soon. Really, it was much better than it had been the first week. There were far fewer reporters pestering people on the street or kids at bus stops. She shouldn’t be so overprotective. Despite all the FBI and reporters and scientists that had appeared that first week, no one knew how intimately Julie and her family were involved in the whole Wild phenomenon. Only Julie and her mother had been at the well, and they weren’t telling.

Cindy squealed the brakes in front of the school. As Julie got out, Cindy gave a cheery wave and a shout reminding Julie to watch who she kissed. Julie winced.

Next week, she was definitely taking the bus. She trudged into school and down the hall toward her locker. “Oh, how vintage,” a familiar voice said from across the hall.

Kristen was smirking at Julie’s backpack. Her bevy of friends giggled. Julie walked past her without a word. Gillian was waiting beside Julie’s locker. “If she only knew what you did,” Gillian whispered. “You saved her.”