My Fairy Godmonster (2 page)

“Mom’s ashes are buried there,” I gasp.

Dad gets real quiet.

I yell,” “How can you be so happy? He’s never
mentioned one word about a girlfriend and suddenly he’s getting
married?” My gut churns in misery.

“Winifred, calm down. I trust David’s
judgment. It’s settled.”

“Wait and see. I’ll end up doing all the
work.”

“I’m sure everyone will help.” With that
illusion, Dad walks out the kitchen door.

I sink onto the sofa, exhausted. The
nightmare and now this? I don’t even want to think about a wedding
in my special garden, the coolest place in the whole world. David
and Mom planted the garden when she was pregnant with me. David
said flowers and plants grow there that shouldn’t in our
climate.

Nobody knows how I feel about the garden. Not
even my best friend, Jac. My Dad never talks about Mom, so the
garden is the only place where she’s real to me. The only place
where I can talk to her. I can’t imagine the garden being trampled
by wedding guests.

The knot in my stomach tightens. Dad and I
never argue. Until now. And the strangers aren’t even here yet.

A tiny crack splinters into my heart.

Chapter 3: Warning - Males Approaching

Two days later, I finish cleaning house and
look back into the living room. Memories fill every corner with
love; the hobbyhorse, the old chest with my treasures, the wooden
rocking chair that Dad made for me. I wonder if the people from
Boston will see our place like I do. Full of old, but good
furniture, roomy and comfortable. Ignoring the twinges in my heart,
I head outside to clean the stable.

I pull on rubber boots and gloves and grab
the pitchfork and wheelbarrow. My boots squish in horse manure
mixed with pee. Beyond gross. Horse manure isn’t so bad when it’s
dry. Just digested grass, grain and alfalfa that don’t smell. It’s
great for manure fights with Dad, kinda’ like throwing lightweight
snowballs. When it is wet with pee, ugh. I start raking. An hour of
shoveling later, my clothes are ready for the washer. I pull hay
out of my hair, imagining I look like Frankenstein’s bride.

I hear unfamiliar whistling. Kong growls deep
in his throat. The sun highlights three dark figures standing in
the open stable doors.

“You in here, Win?”

David is early.

I can’t be seen looking like this in front of
strangers. I wish Jac were here. She’s the only person I know who
can do barn duty and never get dirty. She could have sidetracked
these guys. What good is having a best friend if she’s on vacation
when you need her?

“Win?” asks David again.

Throwing down the pitchfork, I leap into a
pile of hay to hide. The pointy strands of hay stab like needles
through my shirt and into my skin. I moan quietly and hear
footsteps.

“Nice view, Win. You’ve grown a bit,” David
says, laughing.

I stop wiggling my butt. Heat whooshes to my
face. I feel like a beached ostrich.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

I want to kill David for teasing me in front
of strangers. I crawl out. “I lost a ring,” I fudge, looking down
at my clothes.

Kong wags his tail, his tongue hanging out.
David bends down and pets him.

“Hi, Kong, old boy. Meet
John and Scott
.”
Kong slobbers happily.

I snatch the hay from my hair and try to rub
the manure off my pants.

Four pairs of male eyes stare at me. One of
them sniffs loudly and burrows his nose in my crotch.

“Get away, Kong,” I croak, getting hotter and
hotter. My voice squeaks. I want to sink into the ground and
disappear. Could this get any worse? Oh, yes.

I look up. “Hi, David.”

Where is my brother? This is a man, inches
taller than I remember. Way over six feet. I want to jump into his
arms, but he looks like a blonde god and I hold back. At least, his
sky blue eyes are the same.

David steps aside. “This is my friend and
best man, John Masters.”

I pretend I’m not covered in manure and smile
at John. He is shorter and thinner than my brother, almost six feet
tall. Nice looking, with warm brown eyes surrounded by glasses.

“Hello, Win,” John says. “May I call you
that? David talks so much about you.”

“This is Scott, John’s younger brother,”
David says.

Like I want to meet a boy, now. David didn’t
learn anything in college about girls. How did he find one to
marry?

Scott stops petting Kong and slumps over to
me. I swipe stringy hair out of my face and get a good look. Whoa.
Scott is maybe two years older and four inches taller than me.
Broad shoulders, small waist and hips. Muscles bulge under his
t-shirt. My heart thumps faster. His dark eyes look defiant. Jac
would call him “hot.”

“A real cowgirl.” Scott says. His voice is
sexy.

I don’t like his tone. Nobody should look
that good when they insult you. I explode inside and look Scott up
and down. “A real city slicker.”

John whistles. “See what you mean, David.
She’s a firecracker.”

I straighten my back, furious inside. Nobody
should talk about you behind your back. Tears sting my eyes.

“Where’s Dad?” asks my brother, the
traitor.

“Office.” My voice cracks.

Scott snickers.

I back up, ready to explode. WHACK. My foot
hits steel. The pitchfork slams me in the back of the head.
Concerned voices filter into my brain. I really see stars.

“It’s nothing. I do this all the time,” I
blab.

Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. I run out of the stable,
bright red and completely humiliated.

Chapter 4: Yield - Parent Control

Surviving the next two days is a bummer.
Breaking dishes has become my new habit. Every time Scott comes
around, I’m a klutz. He’s like a mosquito that won’t leave you
alone. Instead of buzzing, he whistles. I think he does it on
purpose to annoy me, because he doesn’t look very happy.

Thank goodness David is helping with the
after-dinner cleanup tonight or we’d have to buy new dishes.

I ask him, “Are you practicing for husband
duties?”

“For what?” he asks.

“Doing the dishes when you are married.”

A red blush creeps up his neck. Hah. Glad I’m
not the only one in the family who blushes.

“Tell me about Claire,” I say.

“I wasn’t sure she’d marry me.”

“Why?” I ask.

David hesitates. ”Er, you never know if a
girl will accept a proposal.” He turns his face away from me.

I can tell he’s hiding something. “What’s
wrong with her?”

“Nothing!” he exclaims. “She’s the sweetest,
most beautiful, adorable, intelligent girl I have ever known. She’s
…”

“Okay, I get it.” David looks like Dopey in
Snow White. “Where did you meet?”

He laughs. “I was riding my bicycle when a
car clipped the back wheel. I crash-landed on Claire’s car
hood.”

“You never told us that. You could have been
killed.”

“It was the best day of my life.”

That goofy look again. I wonder what kind of
girl Claire is, to be able to turn my brother into mush. I check an
imaginary list. “Nothing wrong with Claire. Must be her family.
Give.”

David frowns. “People from back east are
different. They’re not always friendly and open with strangers. I
wasn’t sure they’d accept me when I proposed to Claire.”

“Why not? Except for the teasing and
abandonment of your family, you’re a catch. Handsome, honest,
trustworthy. Any girl would be lucky to marry you.”

“Thanks, Sis, I think.” He laughs and hugs
me.

My heart doesn’t seem so squished. I miss his
hugs.

“There’s something I haven’t told Dad about
her parents,” David says sighing. “You know how he is, everybody is
equal in his eyes.”

“Yeah, I know.” The Smith family motto. “Out
with it. What’s wrong with them?”

“Nothing. They’re rich. Mr. Dudley earned it
all, but his wife wants you to believe they were born into it.”

I suck in my breath, glancing at our simple
country kitchen. “They won’t want to stay here.”

David explains, “I’ve tried to prepare them.
Claire’s mom wasn’t too sure about staying. Her dad is not a bad
sort and he insisted they get to know our family.”

“They should stay at a motel in town.
Anything else?” I wonder.

David stares out the window. “Claire’s little
sister is a handful.”

Before I can ask him more about her, David
hurries out of the kitchen. My stomach does hip-hops. A problem
child and rich people in my house. Great.

I start to put a glass in the cupboard.

Scott whispers behind my back. “Hi.”

The glass slips from my hands. I try to catch
it midair and miss. Scott grabs it before it hits the floor and
puts it in the cupboard.

“You sure drop a lot of dishes, cowgirl.”

I glare at him. “Don’t call me cowgirl. I
don’t ride western.”

“Isn’t this the west, cowgirl?”

I don’t like his arrogance. Or the sarcastic
tone in his voice. Of course, I’m not used to talking with boys.
Lonnie, the boy on the ranch next to us, only knows how to spit
wads of gum farther than his buddies. At school, I don’t think
Lonnie’s ever said anything to me except, “Get outta’ my way.”
Scott is different. He seems moody, not really interested in much
of anything around here except Kong and the horses.

“For your information,” I answer, “I ride an
English saddle. It’s way different. There isn’t a horn to keep you
from falling off. It’s not for city slickers.”

Scott almost smiles. I’m surprised. My heart
flip-flops.

Dad and John wander in for some coffee.

Scott has a funny look on his face when he
looks at my dad, kind of wistful and sad at the same time.

Dad notices. “You spend a lot of time in the
stables, young man.”

“Horses are cool,” replies Scott. “I was
going to learn how when …”

He stops talking and swallows hard. “I always
wanted to learn how to ride.”

“Winifred is our riding instructor.” Dad
smiles at me. “Keeps this place afloat.

She’ll teach you.”

I blush, horrified to have to spend time with
any guy. Especially Scott.

John grabs a cup of coffee. On his way out of
the room he says, “Better teach him, Win. My brother can be a
nuisance until he gets his own way.”

Scott glares at his brother, then glances
into my eyes and away. Some kind of buggy thing jumps up and down
in my throat. What is going on with my body? I can’t control it at
all.

Scott shifts uncomfortably. “You don’t have
to if you don’t want to.”

I hardly breathe when he blinks his long
eyelashes. “After chores, I’ll teach you.” The words leap out of my
mouth. I blush. And cringe inside. What am I doing?

Jac will freak out when she hears. She’s had
boyfriends since she was six years old. She knows how to talk to
boys. It also helps that she looks like a small Spanish doll. I
look like a stick with boobs. I hate the snickers from boys at
school.

Scott says, “I’ll help you with the
chores.”

Dad starts out of the kitchen. “That’s very
generous of you, Scott. Teach him on Dancer, Win.”

Not on my horse. I raised and trained Dancer.
Nobody rides him but me.

“But, Dad.”

“Dancer.”

I turn to Scott, burning. “Stable chores come
first.”

Scott says, “Sure. Can we start
tomorrow?”

I want to smack him. Why does he look so
happy all of a sudden? My heart tap-dances in my chest. I have lost
control of everything. I hope it won’t get any worse. Boy, am I
wrong.

Chapter 5: Do Not Stop! Incoming Aliens

The next day, I show Scott how to clean a
horse stall.

“What’s shoveling manure got to do with
riding horses?” he asks.

“If you ride a horse, you need to know how to
take care of one. Cleaning the tack comes next.”

Scott stares into my eyes. “How come you
don’t want me to ride your horse?”

I sigh. “Nobody’s ever been on his back, but
me.”

“Will I be in danger?”

I laugh. “Hardly. Dancer is a great
horse.”

Dad appears at the stable doors. “Our company
has arrived.” He scowls. “By limousine.”

Kong runs to Dad, wagging his tail.

“Stay, Kong,” he says.

Kong plops down on the ground.

I look at Scott. “I gotta’ go.”

He says, “I can handle the rest.”

“Thanks.” I try to ignore the flutters in my
stomach. I join Dad and we walk toward the kitchen.

“Did you know Claire’s family is rich?” Dad
asks.

“David told me.”

Dad frowns when he notices how dirty I am.
“The Dudley’s are in the living room. What will they think of
you?”

“We live on a ranch, Dad.” I remove my boots
outside the kitchen door. “Want me to shower, first?”

He hesitates. “No, wash your hands and come
in and meet them.”

We walk into the kitchen and I overhear a
soft, woman’s voice.

“Otis, I cannot exist here.”

A gravelly voice answers, “Come on, Erminia.
It’ll be like old times.”

“I want to forget old times,” she
mumbles.

Dad and I glance at each other. His face
looks grim.

I turn the water on hard and wash up, hoping
the sound alerts our visitors. Following Dad into the living room,
I stop in the doorway. Dozens of suitcases and trunks fill every
space. The rich smell of new leather permeates the room.

“Winifred, meet Mr. and Mrs. Otis Dudley. My
daughter, Winifred.”

I stare. Rich doesn’t describe the wealth
that drips off these people. Mrs. Dudley’s jewels shine against her
slender black dress. Mr. Dudley wears an expensive grey suit with a
huge diamond tie tack.

“Sure you want to stay here?” I blurt without
thinking.