Authors: Janette Rallison
Emily gave my straps one final tug. “It’s not perfect but it will at least hold until you can get to the dressing room to fix it.”
As if I was going to come back out here after I’d just become the poolside entertainment. I hauled myself up the ladder. More clapping followed my ascent. Tristan held my towel open for me and I wrapped it around my shoulders tightly. “Did you have to announce that to everyone?”
“I didn’t want the lifeguard to yell at you again,” he said.
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Even though I couldn’t see them, I could feel Hunter’s and Jane’s gaze on me. I could feel everyone’s gaze on me. In a low voice I said, “I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.” Then I made a beeline toward the dressing room.
I heard footsteps behind me, then Tristan called out,
“Savannah, wait a second!”
I didn’t. I hurried faster. The dressing-room door was in sight. “Savannah, don’t—,” he called.
I ignored him and dashed through the door, but I figured out the rest of his sentence as soon as I set foot inside. It was, “Savannah, don’t go in there; that’s the men’s dressing room.”
Because, yes it was.
Which just goes to prove you shouldn’t say, “I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life,” as that just invites life to outdo itself on your behalf.
I screamed. The guys in the dressing room screamed.
Although their screaming was more of an angry “Hey, you shouldn’t be in here!” scream, whereas mine was a high-pitched, “There’s a bunch of naked guys every-where!” scream.
Blurry vision doesn’t have a lot of benefits, but for a few seconds in the men’s dressing room, I was grateful I couldn’t see well. Because really, there is no one on the track team that I want to know that personally. I turned 59/431
and stumbled back outside, where I was once again greeted with clapping from my peers. In fact, this time some of them gave me a standing ovation. I plunged into the women’s dressing room, grabbed my things, and ran out to the parking lot. I waited in Emily’s car until she came and climbed in beside me.
“Well,” she said as she threw her things on the backseat, “I’ll give you one thing—you know how to get noticed.”
As soon as I got home, I went inside, changed into an old pair of gray sweats and a T-shirt, then sat in my bedroom. On the plus side, I was no longer so concerned about going to prom.
On the negative side, I was now concerned about going back to school. I was always going to be known as some sort of men’s-room crasher.
Eventually Jane came home. She walked into my bedroom and sat on the end of my bed. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I looked at the ceiling and willed her to go away.
“Nope.”
She watched me silently. “Look, I wish you’d just yell at me and get it over with. Then everything could go back to being normal.”
“Sorry,” I said. Normal didn’t exist anymore. She really should have known that without me having to tell her.
“I’ve liked him all year,” she said. “I liked him even before you knew who he was. I didn’t give you the silent treatment when you started dating him.”
“That’s because I didn’t steal him from you.” 61/431
“But if you had known that I liked him, would you have dated him anyway?”
I knew Jane too well to get swept up in her theoretical situations. If I said yes I was no better than her. If I said no then she’d ask me why I couldn’t find it in my heart to be happy for her now.
Instead I smiled over at her. “Well, after you and Hunter break up, you can tell me who you want to date next and then we’ll find out.” She let out a sigh, sat there for a few more moments, then got up and left. I lay on my bed for a while longer and considered job possibilities for people who didn’t graduate from high school. I could be a waitress. At least that way I wouldn’t starve because I could eat the un-wanted scraps from people’s plates.
Which made me hungry. I went downstairs and got a Ding Dong. When I walked back into my room, I saw the thing. Since I didn’t have my contacts in, I could only tell that it was about five inches tall, mostly green, and moving across the end of my bed. A huge toad, perhaps?
A mutated rat?
I picked up a book and walked toward the thing, ready to clock it if it turned out to be rabid. As I got closer, the creature looked up at me and in a thick brogue accent said, “I hope you plan on reading that book and not 62/431
throwing it. I’d consider you tossing something at me an ugly breach of hostess etiquette.” I gasped, stopped, then leaned closer. As it came into focus, I realized it was a tiny man.
I dropped the book. My hands went to my mouth, and I had to stifle the urge to scream. Instead I let out quick breaths. “I’m having a nervous breakdown, aren’t I?” He put his hands behind his back and looked up at me. “I’m not qualified to comment on your mental health. I’m a leprechaun—not a doctor. Now, on with our business. Where is your Miss High-and-Mighty godmother?”
“What?” I asked.
“Chrysanthemum Everstar.” He scanned the room.
“She’s here, isn’t she?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He did a full turn on my bed and then let out a
humph
. “Aye, it’s just like her to be late. She ought to take her own advice every once in a while and that’s the truth.” He shot me a dissatisfied look. “And I know what you’re thinking—seeing a leprechaun and all—but you can’t have me gold, so don’t even ask.” That’s not what I had been thinking. I was wondering how long nervous breakdowns lasted and what else was 63/431
going to pop up in my bedroom. “Uh, did I understand you right? Are you meeting someone in my room?”
“When she gets around to it.” He walked over to my pillow and sat down in a huff. “Do you have anything to eat around here? It might be a while.” I attribute it to still being in shock, but I handed him my Ding Dong. It was nearly as big as he was. For a moment I worried that it would fall over and crush him, but he handled it well enough. He ripped the plastic, broke off a piece, and put it into his mouth. Then he nodded, smiling. “Not bad for Yankee food.” I watched him and resisted the almost overpowering urge to pick him up for a better look. I sat beside him on the bed and tilted my head down toward him. His clothes were so intricate. Tiny golden buttons lined the front of his jacket. It had a subtle pattern of dark green leaves I hadn’t noticed before.
“So who is this Chrysanthemum Everstar and why are you meeting her in my bedroom?”
“I’d tell you,” he said between mouthfuls, “but I’m just the
assistant
. Not supposed to overstep my bounds. A glorified errand boy, that’s what I am. Stupid Unified Magical Alliance. We never should have unionized.” He took another bite and wiped cream filling off his beard.
“Relegated to America. A fierce awful place to 64/431
be—hardly a magical creature around except for the fairies and computer gremlins.”
“Computer gremlins?” I repeated.
“And a bad-tempered lot those are. Not much for company.”
I looked over at my computer and shook my head. It was at this moment that I stopped thinking I’d lost my mind and believed him. “I knew it,” I said.
I didn’t have time to say more because just then a poof of light, like a hundred sparklers going off at once, filled my room. The next moment a life-size teenage girl decked out in a tank top, miniskirt, knee-high boots, and sunglasses stood before me. She had long cotton-candy-pink hair, which matched not only a small sequined purse on her shoulder but also her immaculate nail job.
I stood up in surprise, then blinked at her, trying to adjust my eyes after the intense light.
Without so much as a glance at me, she turned to the leprechaun. A pair of incandescent wings fluttered in agitation. “What are you doing here?”
“You said to meet here at 5:30 mortal time. I knew you’d be late so I came at six, and I still beat you here.” She put one hand on her hip. “I said to meet me at the edge of the rainbow and we’d come here together.
You’ve not only ruined our dramatic entrance”—she 65/431
glanced down at her wristwatch—“you’ve seriously cut into my shopping time with my friends.” He waved a piece of Ding Dong at her. “We’re a leprechaun and a fairy. We can’t make an entrance without it being dramatic.”
Still looking at her wristwatch she said, “I will say this much for you, you’re getting more efficient. We’re just minutes into this assignment and you’ve already made a mess of it.”
“That’s it.” The leprechaun stood up and brushed off his jacket. “I’d rather walk to Ireland than help you.”
“Fine,” she said. “It’s a long trip. You’d better get started.”
He raised his chin, took a few steps down my bedspread, then turned around, walked back to my Ding Dong, and broke off another piece. “Now I’m going.” With one last
humph
, he completely disappeared.
I stared at the spot on my bedspread, trying to see something—some sign that he was still there.
The fairy walked over to me. “You don’t need to worry about him. He probably just went to play poker with the computer gremlins. You know how leprechauns are.” I didn’t, but I nodded anyway.
She smiled at me. “Well, you’ve already met my ex-assistant, Clover Bloomsbottle. Did he tell you that I’m here to grant you three wishes?” 66/431
My mouth hung open for a moment. “Me? Why?” Another smile. I noticed she had perfect teeth. “Fairies have a long and rich history of helping deserving maidens. And besides, I needed an extra-credit project.” She put her hands together. “Now that I’m officially your Fair Godmother you can call me Chrissy. Chrysanthemum Everstar is much too long, don’t you think?”
“Fair
Godmother?
Don’t
you
mean
Fairy
Godmother?”
She tossed her hair off one shoulder. “No, actually I’m just a Fair Godmother.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
Her wings fluttered, but she looked at her fingernails instead of me. “It means that in Fairy Godmother School my grades weren’t great, or even good. They were just, you know, fair.”
“Oh,” I said.
Her glance shot over to me. “Hey, the exams are hard.
You turn one pumpkin into an angry, bloated walrus and they never let you live it down.” I sat down on the bed. “Um, you’re not going to try and turn
me
into anything, are you?”
“I don’t have to,” she said, her voice sounding offended. “That all depends on what you wish for, doesn’t it?”
“What
can
I wish for?” I asked.
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Chrissy pulled a sparklerlike wand from her handbag.
“That’s what I like about today’s teenagers. They’re all business. None of that ‘Oh, thank you, Fair Godmother, for rescuing me from my pathetic life.’ Or ‘I’m unworthy of having such gifts bestowed on me.’ Or even ‘Tell me from whence thou came, Fair Godmother.’ It’s all ‘What will you give me?’ ”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said. “I’m not ungrateful.
I’m just not sure what to wish for.” She put her wand back in her purse, walked to my bed, and sank down onto it with a sigh. “All right then, let’s hear it. Tell me all about your pathetic life.” Which wasn’t what I’d meant. I’d meant that I wanted to know what the rules were before I flung wishes around, but since she asked, I told her about Hunter and Jane, including the most recent chapter in swimsuit humiliation.
Chrissy shook her head slowly when I’d finished.
“That’s so sad. I can totally relate to the whole prom thing.” She gave a tinkling little laugh as though mentally correcting herself. “Well, actually, I’ve always gone to prom with buff elf guys, but I mean, I can understand how horrible it would be not to go.” She sat up straighter. “So do you want me to change this Hunter guy into a frog?”
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“No,” I answered, aghast. “You can’t go around turning people into frogs.”
“Yes, I can.” She held her wand up. “Do you want to see?”
“No, no. I meant that wouldn’t solve anything.”
“Then what do you want?” She laid her wand across her knees. “Oh, that reminds me, you need to sign this before I grant your wishes.” She opened her purse, pulled out a scroll, and handed it to me. I didn’t see how it had fit in her small purse, and supposed fairy magic must have been involved. She pulled out a quill as well and handed it to me. “The contract,” she told me. “Sign at the bottom
X
where it reads: Damsel in distress.” I unrolled the scroll, which, besides being quite long, was written in a “thee, thou, and thine” sort of language.
“What does all of this say?” I asked.
“That you get three wishes and only three wishes, that all of them must pertain directly to you—like, you can’t wish for world peace. You can’t wish for more wishes either—everybody tries that, and your wishes must somehow be tangible. Meaning you can’t wish to be lucky or popular or some vague sort of happy. Your wish has to be specific enough that I can actually wave my wand and make it happen.
“Also, side effects may include dizziness, nausea, leth-argy, and an intense desire to eat woodland creatures if, 69/431
during your magical journey, you happen to be turned into a bear. Contact your doctor if symptoms don’t subside after a week, blah, blah, blah. We never had to do all this paperwork in the old days. I tell you, everything changes once lawyers get involved.” She smiled at me and her wings spread out like a butterfly’s. “And one more thing. Since you’re my extra-credit assignment, you didn’t earn your godmother the usual way—by helping poor strangers you met during a quest—so you’ll need to be completely honest until your wishes are finished.”
I shrugged. “Okay, but why?”
She let out a grunt like she couldn’t believe I was asking. “Haven’t you ever read any fairy tales? In the classic stories, maidens who come in contact with fairies and tell lies end up having a nasty enchantment. Reptiles and amphibians drop out of their mouths. It isn’t pleas-ant. I’m just mentioning it because you don’t want to get on the wrong side of magic.”
“Oh.” I put my hand to my mouth. “Thanks for the warning.”
Chrissy picked up her wand and a new wave of sparks shot out the end. “All right then, as soon as you’re done signing you can tell me your first wish.” I unrolled the scroll on my desk and signed my name across the bottom. Then Chrissy picked up the scroll, 70/431