My Fairly Dangerous Godmother, Page 3

  “You’re my fairy godmother?” I repeated. “You’re not going to let ogres kill me?”

  “Well, not on purpose.” Her wings flapped lazily. “I did mention I was still training, didn’t I?”

  I twisted the doorknob again. Still locked.

  She let out a sigh took hold of my hand, and led me away from the door. “You don’t need to be so nervous. I’m here to grant you three wishes. It’s a good thing.”

  I gulped, unsure I’d heard her right. “You . . . you want to grant me wishes?”

  The Leprechaun eyed me, shaking his head. “She keeps repeating everything you say—a sure sign her brain is banjaxed. Blame me all you please for the troubles in our last missions, but I tell you this: you can’t grow lilies from a scrub brush, now can you?”

  Chrissy smiled at me again. “Ignore Clover. That’s what I usually do when we’re forced to work together.” She dropped my hand and tapped her wand against her fingers. “Now let’s talk about your wishes. As I understand it, you want to be a star. I could whip you up something along the lines of singing and dancing talent.”

  I kept staring at Chrissy in disbelief. She was real. Standing in my hotel room. Talking to me. “I have a fairy godmother?”

  Clover gave Chrissy an I-told-you-so look, then pointed in my direction, and mouthed, “Scrub brush.”

  “I’m not stupid,” I told him. “I’m in shock. I didn’t know people actually had fairy godmothers.”

  “Most people don’t.” Chrissy said airily. “Usually you have to do a selfless good deed to a beggar who happens to be a fairy in disguise. You, however, qualified for help on the FGA’s pitiable and wretched damsel outreach program.”

  “Oh.” It’s never good news to hear your life has become so wretched that other species feel sorry for you.

  Bits of glitter fell from the tip of Chrissy’s wand, fluttering onto the floor. “I guess I should warn you that when the show airs, not only does it show you splattering the stage, the next three people who get Xed express their disappointment by imitating your event. By the end of the show, the judges pretend to vomit every time they think an act is bad. You go viral.”

  Oh no. I put my hand to my throat. “How many people are going to see it?”

  Chrissy looked upward, calculating. “Do you mean when the show airs or after the segment hits the internet and people make remixes of your audition?”

  My legs felt weak. I sunk onto the nearest bed.

  Clover disappeared from his spot and the next moment reappeared next to me. He patted my arm with his tiny hand. “Look on the bright side, lass. You always wanted to be famous for your singing.”

  “And,” Chrissy added, opening her purse, “your crush said you were pretty. So, you know, that’s cool.”

  Well, it might have been if he hadn’t also said I had no talent and then watched me puke on my shoes.

  Chrissy dug around in her purse until she pulled out what I thought was a lipstick tube. It grew longer and thicker, becoming a scroll of ivory paper covered in elegantly scrawled handwriting. “You’ll be able to improve your life with your wishes.” She took hold of one end of the scroll and unrolled it. “Just as soon as you sign this waiver.” The scroll kept unrolling until the end lay on the ground. “It’s the standard fairy godmother contract.”

  Fairy godmothers had contracts? Somehow I’d missed that part of the Cinderella fairy tale.

  “Make a careful reading of it,” Clover muttered.

  Chrissy waved away his words, deeming them unnecessary. “Most of the contract is written in longwinded legalese that’s hard to understand. Basically what you need to know is this: Wishes are permanent and their consequences are real and lasting. You can’t wish for more wishes or vague generalities like being popular or happy.

  “Your wish has to be something tangible. Something I can actually make happen. Oh, and I wouldn’t recommend wishing for magical powers. My last charge asked for the ability to change things into gold and then got all upset when she had to face an evil, megalomaniac fairy who wanted to kill her because of it. Seriously, sometimes mortals are so hard to please.”

  “Um . . .” I said. “What was that about an evil, megalomaniac fairy?”

  “Don’t worry about him. He’s not a problem anymore.” Chrissy kept unrolling. “One more thing. Since you didn’t earn your fairy by doing a good deed, you have to pay attention to the honesty clause. While I’m acting as your fairy godmother, if you tell a lie—” She stopped unrolling and ran a finger down the words on the scroll, searching. “They just changed the consequences again because a bunch of tree nymph lobbyists worried about fire hazards . . . oh, here it is. ‘If thou tellest a lie, thy nose shall grow and stay protruded until thou doth correct thine untruth.’”

  I touched my nose gingerly. “Does that hurt?”

  She shrugged. “Why? Are you the dishonest type?”

  “No,” I said quickly. I wasn’t. But everyone tells white lies occasionally. The no-I-don’t-think-your-boyfriend-is-a-jerk sort of thing. It would be horrifying if my nose randomly grew an inch during a casual conversation. “How long will you be acting as my fairy godmother?”

  “That depends on how long it takes you to use your wishes.”

  Even with the threat of possible nose growth, I didn’t want to turn down her offer. I mean, having magic wishes could solve so many of my problems. I would just have to be careful to be completely honest.

  Chrissy reached the end of the scroll and handed it to me. While I scanned the long looping words, she pulled a quill from her purse and handed it to me too.

  I hesitated for a moment, but only for a moment. Any dangers magic might present were dwarfed by the thought of my audition going viral. People were going to do remixes of my audition. I couldn’t let that happen. I signed my name and handed the quill and contract back to Chrissy. She tugged on the end of the scroll, and it rolled up like a window shade.

  “Now then,” she said, tucking the scroll back in her purse. “What do you wish for?”

  Easy. “Can you change something that’s already happened? Can you make me do great on my audition—so good, I win the show?”

  Her lips pursed in dissatisfaction. “That sort of time travel is tricky. If I change the audition, you would no longer qualify under the pitiable and wretched outreach program, which would mean I couldn’t be your fairy godmother, which would mean I couldn’t grant you that wish in the first place. Do you see the paradox that creates?” She fluttered pink fingernails in my direction. “Please spare me the paperwork. The paradox office is a hassle to work with.”

  There had to be a way to get around that. “If I wished it, could you make the tape of my audition self-destruct, then make the show give me another audition, and make my voice perfect from now on?”

  “Yes.” Chrissy raised her wand. “That’s three wishes. Is it what you want?”

  Behind me, Clover cleared his throat. “Psst. Scrub Brush, you might want to think that over a wee bit more carefully.”

  “No, those aren’t my wishes,” I answered. I hadn’t realized how fast I could spend them. I needed to phrase things better so I only used one wish. If I said “I wish to win the America’s Top Talent competition,” Chrissy would have to work whatever magic necessary to make that happen, and I would only use one wish.

  Then again, what if my wish made the audition go so viral the show offered to make me an honorary winner as a publicity technique. That wouldn’t actually make things any better.

  “Listen, lass,” Clover padded across the bed until he stood in my line of sight. “Don’t just think on what will make you happy now. Choose something that will still be making you happy ten years from now.” He nodded knowingly and looped his thumbs through the buttonholes of his jacket. “Gold is a popular choice.”

  Clover was right. I needed to look at the big picture. I didn’t want to just win the America’s Top Talent show. That had always been a stepping stone to my real goal—being a su
ccessful singer.

  Chrissy glanced at her bracelet, and I noticed a watch face nestled among the twisting beads. “I hate to rush you,” she said, “because I’m the kind of godmother who is compassionate, thorough, and understanding—and please remember to use those words should you be contacted by the FGA with a customer satisfaction survey—but I’ve got to go soon. I have a job interview.”

  Clover let out an amused scoff. “What is it you’ll be interviewing for this time? Another stint as a tooth fairy?”

  “No,” she said with an offended sniff. “Used teeth are totally disgusting. I’m applying for a part-time position as an insomnia fairy.”

  “Insomnia fairy?” I asked. “There are fairies for that?”

  Chrissy’s wings spanned open and closed. “It’s not widely known among mortals. People who know about us get all uppity and do totally unreasonable things like bar their windows with iron and try to zap us with dark magic.”

  She smoothed her shirt and flecks of glitter sprinkled on the floor. Housekeeping would wonder what I’d done in this room. “People always wish they had more time to get things done, but no one is ever grateful when we give it to them.”

  Probably because no one wants to get anything done at 2:00 a.m. except sleep. I didn’t say this. I just made a mental note never to wish I had more time.

  Chrissy checked her watch again. “I can only stay a few more minutes.”

  I opened my mouth to wish to be a famous rock star and then decided on different wording. I’d heard a few rock stars whose voices weren’t that great. They had to rely on autotune to produce decent albums, and every time they performed live they sounded bad. I needed more talent—so much talent I never had to worry about messing up during a number again.

  “I wish to have such a beautiful voice,” I said slowly, “that I’m famous, adored for generations, and . . .” I hadn’t meant to add the next part. The words came out impulsively, as though they wanted to be said. “. . . loved by Jason Prescott.”

  Granted, the guy had criticized me on national television, but he’d only said those things because he didn’t know me. I wasn’t the type of girl who had things handed to her. I practiced long and hard. If he got to know me, he would see that.

  Chrissy lifted her wand. “You don’t want to use a wish to erase your audition tape? It will go viral if you don’t.”

  I shook my head. “I can live through that as long as I know I’ll have a voice I’m famous and loved for.” A sort of giddy excitement filled me, warming my thoughts. I would not only become a rock star, I’d be one with real, lasting talent.

  I suddenly regretted not giving a timeframe to my wish. It wouldn’t do me a lot of good if I didn’t become a great singer until I was sixty. As Chrissy waved her wand, I called out, “How long will it take?”

  Hundreds of sparks burst from the tip of the wand, surrounding me until the hotel room disappeared behind the winking lights. “Not long,” she said.

  The tingle of magic brushed against my skin. Everything seemed weightless, as though I was floating. Cloudlike wisps curled around me, and ribbons of sunrise-colored steam twisted through the lights. What would it be like to be famous? How was it going to happen? I could hardly wait to try out my beautiful new voice.

  As the lights cleared, I had one glimpse of a cloudy sky above me, and the next moment I plunged downward into cold water.

  Chapter 3

  I had expected many things from my magic wish. None of them involved falling into a giant body of water. Tiny bubbles whooshed around me, licking my skin. I couldn’t see the bottom or sides of a pool. I was in something bigger—a lake or an ocean. I held my breath and swam upward toward the light wavering on the water above me. I swam fast, filled with the adrenaline of surprise. I broke through the surface, sputtering. “What in the—” My voice didn’t sound any different, which was another surprise. I thought it would.

  Steel blue waves lapped around me, stretching out as far as I could see. An ocean. Several clouds roamed through the sky, but the air felt warm. As I became used to it, the water did too. I pushed strands of wet hair away from my eyes. Why had Chrissy put me here?

  I turned around and I noticed a ship a few hundred feet in the distance behind me. Several white sails billowed from its towering masts. The ship was midsized, made from weathered wood, with a silhouette of a woman carved into the prow. Some sort of odd decorations rimmed the side. Over all, the ship looked like something out of a pirate movie. I hadn’t realized anyone still made boats like that.

  A tour ship? A yacht owned by an eccentric history buff? Whatever it was, it was the only boat within sight, and I needed help.

  “Hey!” I yelled and stroked toward it. Chrissy had probably meant to put me on the ship and she’d missed. That was the downside, I supposed, of having a fairy godmother still in training. “Hey!” I yelled again. “Woman overboard! Help!” The boat wasn’t moving fast. I could catch up to it, but I wasn’t sure which end to swim to. I didn’t see any sort of ladder. Hopefully someone had a long rope they could throw down.

  A man appeared at the ship’s rail. He was round-faced with a scraggly blond beard and a bandanna tied around his head. He saw me, did a double take, and called to someone behind him. A tall man joined him at the rail. He had a bushy brown beard and wore a wide-brimmed hat over his tangled hair. Both men stared at me in puzzlement.

  “What’s a wench doing out ‘ere in the ocean?” the man in the bandanna asked.

  I couldn’t tell them my fairy-godmother-in-training had bad aim and missed the boat. “I fell in the water,” I called back. The honesty clause in my contract stopped me from providing more details. “Can you help me get onboard?”

  The man in the hat leaned further over the rail, eyeing me suspiciously. “She couldn’t ‘ave fallen overboard. We ain’t got no women on the ship.”

  The man in the bandanna cocked his head. “Unless the prince brought one along that we know nothing about. Royalty does what they likes. I’ll go tell the captain.” To me he yelled, “You hang on, m’lady, and we’ll drop the longboat for you.”

  Prince? M’lady? I took a better look at the men. The grayish long sleeve shirts they wore seemed old-fashioned. Just like the ship. Now that I was closer, I could see the decorations rimming the side weren’t decorations at all. They were the ends of cannons.

  Little bursts of alarm pumped through me. This couldn’t be right. Had Chrissy sent me back in time?

  No, she wouldn’t have. There weren’t any rock stars hundreds of years ago.

  The man in the hat squinted at me. “Blimey. She ain’t got no clothes on.”

  Oh no! Had Chrissy messed up my wish so badly she’d dropped me naked into an ocean?

  I crossed my arms over my chest and looked down. I wasn’t naked. My wet hair covered most of it, but I wore an odd plastic bikini top made out of large pale shells. I guess I should have expected someone with pink hair to come up with this sort of outfit. I sunk lower in the ocean so less of me was visible. “I’m not naked,” I yelled back to the man. “I’ve got a bathing suit on.”

  Three more scraggly men arrived at the ship’s rail. “A naked wench?” the first asked.

  “Where?” the second added.

  “Let me see.”

  The first man cocked his head. “What’s she doing out ‘ere in the ocean?”

  One of the men pulled out a spyglass and pointed it in my direction.

  I sunk lower into the water and gritted my teeth. “If you don’t mind, I could use some help.”

  The sailor with the spyglass lowered it. “She’s got on naught but her unmentionables.”

  Another leaned over the rail, gawking at me. “She must have taken off her dress. Them skirts women wear—they could drown a whale, they could.” He cupped his hand to the side of his mouth. “Keep swimming. I’ll ready the longboat.”

  “Nay, don’t.” A man with stringy black hair crossed himself once, then twice, as though the first time mig
ht not have worked. “The wench is a mermaid. Mark my words, seeing one is always a portent of trouble.”

  The man with the hat put his hands on the rail and smiled an oily smile. His teeth were yellow and crooked. “Seems more like a piece of luck to see such a pretty thing out here.” He motioned to me. “Swim closer, dearie, and tell us your name.”

  Eww. Creepy. The guy was old enough to be my father. Were all the men on the ship like this? I looked to the left and to the right, out at the waves that sloshed in every direction. “Um, are there any other boats nearby?”

  The wind caught the men’s shirts and rippled them like a row of dirty gray flags. The sailor with stringy black hair shook a scolding finger in my direction. “Don’t listen to anything she says. Mermaids lure men to their destruction.”

  I glared back at him. “I’m not a mermaid. See, I’ll prove it. I’ve got legs.” I leaned back in the water and lifted up my feet.

  Only, they weren’t feet anymore. Where my legs should have been, glistening teal scales spread upward, each as intricate and interconnected as feathers on a bird’s wing. They tapered into a tailfin that spread out at the top like a lace fan.

  I let out a startled scream, which was nearly as loud as the men’s startled screams. In disbelief, in horror, I moved my tailfin up and down. It felt so natural, so much a part of me, that I hadn’t even noticed I didn’t have legs. What had Chrissy done to me? I was half fish.

  “I told you she was a mermaid!” the man with the stringy black hair yelled. He stumbled back away from the rail. “We’ll have bad luck now!”

  “You think you’ll have bad luck?” I coughed out. “I’m the one without legs. That’s bad luck.” I submerged my tailfin in the water again. I didn’t want to see it anymore. Shallow, panicked breaths pumped through my chest. A scream of indignation was fighting to come out.

  Chrissy had to fix this. She had to. I gazed upward, as though I might see her lounging about in the air. “Chrissy!” I shouted. “I need to speak to you!”