The Land of Stories: The Wishing Spell (3 page)

“Mr. Bailey?” Mrs. Peters asked.

He continued to snore.

“Mr. Bailey?” Mrs. Peters asked again, kneeling down closer to him.

He let out another enormous snore. A few of the students wondered how it was possible for such a loud noise to come out of him.

“Mr. Bailey!”
Mrs. Peters shouted in his ear.

As if someone had lit a firework under his seat, Conner Bailey jumped back to life, almost knocking his desk over.

“Where am I? What happened?” Conner asked in a panicked state of confusion. His eyes darted around the room while his brain tried to remember where he was.

Like his sister, he also had bright blue eyes and strawberry-blond hair. His face was round and freckled and, at the moment, slightly smushed to one side like a basset hound when it first wakes up from a nap.

Alex couldn’t have been more embarrassed by her brother. Besides sharing looks and a birth date, she and her brother couldn’t have been more different. Conner may have had a lot of friends, but unlike his sister, he had trouble in school… mostly trouble staying awake.

“I’m so glad you could rejoin us, Mr. Bailey,” Mrs. Peters said sternly. “Did you have a nice nap?”

Conner turned bright red.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Peters,” he apologized, trying to be as genuine as possible. “Sometimes when you talk for long periods of time, I doze off. No offense. I can’t help it.”

“You fall asleep in my class at least twice a week,” Mrs. Peters reminded him.

“Well, you
do
talk a lot.” Before he could stop himself from saying it, Conner knew it was the wrong thing to say. A few of the students had to bite their hands to stop from laughing.

“I recommend you stay awake while I teach, Mr. Bailey,” Mrs. Peters threatened. Conner had never seen anyone squint their eyes so tight without shutting them before. “Unless you know enough about fairy tales to teach this lesson yourself,” she added.

“I probably do,” Conner said. Once again, he spoke without thinking. “I mean, I know a lot about this stuff, that’s all.”

“Oh, really?” Mrs. Peters never backed down from a challenge, and every student’s worst nightmare was that they’d be her challenger. “All right, Mr. Bailey, if you’re so knowledgeable, answer this question.”

Conner gulped.

“In the original tale of Sleeping Beauty, how many years does the princess sleep before she is awoken by true love’s first kiss?” Mrs. Peters asked, studying his face.

All eyes were on him, impatiently waiting for the slightest indication that he didn’t know the answer. But fortunately for Conner, he did.

“One hundred,” Conner answered. “Sleeping Beauty slept for one hundred years. That’s why the castle grounds were covered in vines and stuff, because the curse affected everyone in the kingdom, and there was no one to garden.”

Mrs. Peters didn’t know what to say or do. She frowned down at him, immensely surprised. This was the first time he had ever been correct when she’d put him on the spot, and she certainly hadn’t expected it.

“Try to stay conscious, Mr. Bailey. Lucky for you, I used my last detention slip this morning, but I can always request more,” Mrs. Peters said, and promptly walked to the front of the classroom to continue her lesson.

Conner sighed with relief, and the red drained from his face. His eyes met his sister’s; even she was surprised he had gotten the answer right. Alex hadn’t expected Conner to remember any fairy tales….

“Now, class, I want you all to get out your literature books, turn to page one hundred and seventy, and read ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ quietly to yourselves,” Mrs. Peters instructed.

The students did as they were told. Conner made
himself as comfortable as possible at his desk and began reading. The story, the pictures, and the characters were all so familiar to him.

One of the things Alex and Conner looked forward to the most when they were very young had been the trips to see their grandmother. She lived up in the mountains in the heart of the woods in a tiny house that could best be described as a cottage, if such a thing still existed.

It was a long journey, a few hours by car, but the twins loved every minute of it. Their anticipation would grow as they traveled up the windy roads and through the endless trees, and when they crossed a yellow bridge, the twins would excitedly exclaim, “We’re almost there! We’re almost there!”

Once they arrived, their grandmother would greet them at the door with open arms and hugs so tight they would almost pop.

“Look at you two! You’ve both grown a foot since the last time I saw you!” Grandma would say, even if they hadn’t, and then would lead them inside, where a freshly baked batch of cookies waited for them.

Their father had grown up in the woods and would spend hours each day telling the twins his adventures as a kid: all the trees he’d climbed, all the streams he’d swum, and all the ferocious animals he’d barely escaped from. Most
of his retellings were highly exaggerated, but they loved this time with him more than anything else in the world.

“Someday, when you’re older, I’ll take you to all the secret places where I used to play,” their father would tease them. He was a tall man with kind eyes that would wrinkle whenever he smiled, and he smiled quite a bit, especially when he was teasing the twins.

At night the twins’ mother would help their grandmother cook dinner and, after they had eaten, as soon as the dishes were done, the family would sit around the fireplace. Their grandmother would open her big storybook, and she and their father would take turns reading the twins fairy tales until they fell asleep. Sometimes the Bailey family would be up until sunrise.

They told the stories with such detail and passion that it didn’t matter how many times the twins heard the same story. They were the best memories any child could ask for.

Unfortunately, the twins hadn’t been back to their grandmother’s cottage in a very long time….

“MR. BAILEY!” Mrs. Peters shouted. Conner had dozed off again.

“Sorry, Mrs. Peters!” he bellowed back, sitting straight up in his seat like a soldier on guard. If looks could kill, Conner would have been dead from the scowl she was sending him.

“What did we think of the
real
Little Red Riding Hood?” the teacher asked her class.

A girl with frizzy hair and thick braces raised her hand.

“Mrs. Peters?” the frizzy-haired girl asked. “I’m confused.”

“And
why
is that?” Mrs. Peters said, as if asking, “What on earth could you possibly be confused about, idiot?”

“Because, it says the Big Bad Wolf is killed by the Hunter,” the frizzy-haired girl explained. “I always thought the wolf was just upset because the other wolves in his pack made fun of his snout, and he and Little Red Riding Hood became friends in the end. At least, that’s what happened in the cartoon I used to watch when I was little.”

Mrs. Peters rolled her eyes so far into the back of her head, she could have seen what was behind her.

“That,” she said with a clenched jaw, “is exactly why we’re having this lesson.”

The frizzy-haired girl became wide-eyed and sad. How could something so dear to her have been so wrong?

“For homework,” Mrs. Peters said, and the room unanimously slumped in their seats, “you are to pick your favorite fairy tale and write a paper, due tomorrow, on the real lesson the tale is trying to teach us.”

Mrs. Peters went to her desk, and the students began working on their assignment with the little class time remaining.

“Mr. Bailey?” Mrs. Peters summoned Conner to her desk. “A word.”

Conner was in deep trouble, and he knew it. He cautiously stood up and walked to Mrs. Peters’s desk. The other students gave him sorrowful looks as he walked by, as if he were walking to his executioner.

“Yes, Mrs. Peters?” Conner asked.

“Conner, I’m trying to be very sensitive about your
family situation
,” Mrs. Peters said, glaring at him over the frames of her glasses.

Family situation
. Two words Conner had heard too many times in the last year.

“However,” Mrs. Peters continued, “there is certain behavior I just will not tolerate in my classroom. You’re constantly falling asleep in class, you don’t pay attention, not to mention you quiz and test very poorly. Your sister seems to be functioning just fine. Perhaps you could follow her example?”

It was a comparison that felt like a kick in the stomach every time someone made it. Indeed, Conner was not his sister by any means, and he was always punished because of it.

“If this continues, I will be forced to have a meeting with your mother, do you understand?” Mrs. Peters warned him.

“Yes, sir—
I mean ma’am! I meant ma’am!
Sorry.” It just hadn’t been his best day.

“Okay, then. You may have a seat.”

Conner slowly walked back to his seat, his head hanging
slightly lower than it had all day. More than anything, he hated feeling like a failure.

Alex had watched the entire conversation between her brother and their teacher. As much as her brother embarrassed her, she did feel for him as only a sister could.

Alex flipped through her literature book, deciding on which story to write about. The pictures weren’t as colorful and exciting as they had been in her grandmother’s book, but seeing all the characters she had grown up reading about made her feel at home, a feeling that had recently become a rarity.

If only fairy tales were real,
she thought.
Somebody could wave a wand and magically make things how they used to be.

I
’m so excited about this lesson,” Alex told Conner as they walked home from school. This was something Conner was used to hearing his sister declare, and it was usually his cue to stop listening.

“Mrs. Peters made a very good point, you know,” Alex continued excitedly, speaking a mile a minute. “Think about everything children miss out on when they’re deprived of fairy tales! Oh, how terrible for them! Don’t you just feel awful for them? Conner, are you listening to me?”

“Yup,” Conner lied. His attention was focused on an abandoned snail shell he was kicking along the sidewalk.