The Problem Child, Page 2

  Sabrina sat on the boy’s back with a leg on each side of him.

  “OK, what now?”

  “Grab my tusk.”

  “Grab your what?”

  Puck turned his head toward her. His face had transformed into that of a walrus. He had two long tusks protruding from his mouth and a mustache of bristly, thick hair. His nose had shrunk into his oily black face and his eyes were large and brown. Sabrina cringed, but reached around with her good arm and grabbed firmly onto one of his tusks.

  “Please don’t do this,” she whimpered. “This is such a bad idea.”

  “The only bad ideas are the ones never tried,” Puck said as his body began to puff up. Layers of blubber inflated under Sabrina. Puck’s shirt disappeared, replaced by a super-slippery skin. “Keep your hands and feet inside the ride until we come to a complete stop,” he shouted. “Here we go!”

  Puck leaped forward just as the beast reached the top of the hill. The boy’s slick walrus body rocketed down the steep slope toward town. Sabrina held on for dear life.

  They zipped between trees and bounced over jutting rocks. Sabrina turned back, confident the monster wouldn’t follow them on this desperate flight, only to see it plowing down the hill after them, knocking over trees as if they weren’t even there. “JABBERWOCKY!” it screamed.

  Puck the walrus raced down the bank of a frozen stream, ramping off a rocky outcropping and soaring into the air. The children fell for what seemed like forever, then hit the ground hard, narrowly missing the spiky branches of an oak tree. Sabrina turned again to mark the monster’s progress. It too used the rocky ramp and sailed into the air. Flapping its wings, it soared higher and higher; then a strong wind knocked it off course and it slammed hard against the mountainside. Moments later, Sabrina lost sight of it completely, though she could still hear it braying in the distance.

  “I think we lost it! We’re safe!” she cried, just as the ground leveled off. Unfortunately, Puck’s slippery body was still zipping along as a four-lane highway of speeding cars appeared in front of them. Unable to stop, Puck skidded into the traffic, spinning several times as he tried to avoid a pickup truck. The startled driver slammed on his breaks. Tires squealed and bumpers crunched. Shrill horns filled the air, but the children still couldn’t stop. On the other side of the road was another steep hill. They whipped down it, heading right for a ramshackle old barn. Its doors were wide open, and they slid right in, crashing at last into the far wall of an empty stable.

  “Let’s do it again!” Puck said, laughing so hard he rolled over on his fat, blubbery side. Giggling, he transformed back into his true form—an annoying eleven-year-old boy.

  Sabrina held her sore arm and gazed around at the barn. A few bales of hay sat in the corner and an old plow lay rusting on the ground. Several windows high on the wall were wide open, allowing the snowstorm to blow inside. It was a great place to hide, if they didn’t freeze to death in the process.

  “Grimm, you look like you fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch,” Puck said when his giggling was finished. Sabrina’s head hurt too much for her to come up with a snarky comeback. She was exhausted and her arm felt as if it were ready to fall off. Puck must have sensed how desperate she felt, or maybe he just heard her teeth chattering, because he did something so un-Pucklike, Sabrina couldn’t believe it. He got up, sat down behind her, and let his enormous fairy wings sprout from his back. Then he wrapped them around her to keep the bitter cold away. It was the first truly nice thing the so-called Trickster King had ever done for her. Instinctively she wanted to tease him for this rare moment of compassion, but she bit her tongue. Knowing Puck, he’d storm off and she’d die an ice cube.

  “What was that thing?” Sabrina asked.

  “It’s called a Jabberwocky,” Puck said. “Two tons of teeth, tail, and terror. From what I’ve heard, they’re impossible to kill. But don’t worry, Grimm; it’s gone. It had its share of the Trickster King for one day.”

  “We need to get help,” Sabrina said, shivering.

  “I’m on it,” Puck said. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small wooden flute, and blew a couple high-pitched notes. Within seconds, a swarm of little lights flooded through the open windows and surrounded the children. They looked like fireflies, but Sabrina knew better. They were Puck’s pixie servants—or, as he called them, his minions—and they did whatever Puck asked of them, especially if it was mischief. They buzzed around their boy leader and waited for instructions.

  “Go get the old lady,” Puck said to them, “and bring me something to start a fire.”

  The pixies buzzed and darted out through the barn windows. Moments later a wave of them returned carrying tree limbs and dead leaves. These they arranged in a pile in front of the children and then zipped away again. Soon, a second swarm returned carrying a single bottle of root beer, which they gently placed in Puck’s hands.

  “You have served me well, minions,” he said unscrewing the top and tossing it into a corner of the barn. He chugged the whole drink and tossed the bottle aside.

  “Ahhhh,” he said as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

  “Was that refreshing? I’d hate for you to be thirsty. Maybe you would like a sandwich, too,” Sabrina snarled. Puck was always thinking of himself.

  “Keep your pants on,” the boy said. “Something has to be done to keep you from turning into a Grimmsicle.”

  He unfolded his wings, stood up, and leaned over the pile of timber. His eyes were watering, apparently from all the gassy soda, and suddenly he opened his mouth wide and belched. The burp was deep and guttural and, much to Sabrina’s surprise, accompanied by a fireball that shot out of the boy’s mouth and ignited the firewood. Sabrina felt the fire’s warmth immediately.

  “I didn’t know you could do that,” she said.

  “Oh, I’m full of surprises,” the boy said proudly as a rumbling sound came from his belly. “Want to see what I can do out the other end?”

  The little pixies buzzed and twittered. To Sabrina it sounded as if they were laughing.

  “Uh, no thanks,” she said, edging closer to the fire.

  “Suit yourself,” he said and then turned to his small servants. “I need you to go back to the road and wait for the old lady. Come and get me when she arrives.”

  The little lights blinked on and off, as if to say they understood, and zipped away. When they were gone, Puck wrapped his huge, fairy wings around Sabrina again.

  “I’m sorry we couldn’t save your parents,” he whispered.

  Sabrina wanted to cry. She had been so close to rescuing Henry and Veronica and they had slipped through her fingers. How was she supposed to fight the little girl in the red cloak who obviously had magical abilities and controlled a hulking freak with a zillion teeth? Sabrina was just an ordinary eleven-year-old girl. She was powerless. She looked over her shoulder at Puck. He was a fairy—a creature of pure magic. Puck could turn into all kinds of animals, he could fly, he had pixie servants, and now, apparently, even his obnoxious bad habits were useful. The boy was overflowing with power and it gave him a fearlessness Sabrina envied.

  “I’d prefer if we kept the heroics to ourselves,” he said now, interrupting her thoughts. “The last thing I need is you yapping to everyone in town about me being a hero. I am most definitely not a hero. I’m a villain . . .”

  “Of the worst kind,” said Sabrina, finishing the boy’s sentence. “I know.” Puck, a.k.a. the Trickster King, had made it clear on numerous occasions that he was one of the bad guys, but lately it seemed that he was always saving the day.

  “And don’t you forget it!”

  “How could I?” Sabrina said. “You tell me every ten minutes.”

  Puck didn’t respond, and for a long moment the children were silent.

  “Still, thanks for saving me,” Sabrina said as she felt herself drift off to sleep.

  “No problem. I’ll just add it to your tab,” he replied.

  hen Sabrina wok
e, she was in a hospital room with a clunky plaster cast on her broken arm. Her little sister, Daphne, sat on the edge of her bed, busily scribbling GET WELL SOON! on the cast with a black marker.

  Daphne had been through a lot in the last year and a half; both of them had—the orphanage, the insane foster families, their nasty caseworker, giants, monsters, and mayhem. Through it all, Sabrina had protected her little sister the best she could, growing up fast so that Daphne wouldn’t have to. It was worth it to keep the ever-present smile on her little sister’s face.

  “Hey, monkey,” Sabrina said.

  Daphne screamed with joy and hugged her sister tightly.

  “Are you OK?” Sabrina asked.

  “I’m fine,” Daphne said, kissing her sister on each cheek.

  “And Granny Relda?”

  “She’s good. She went to get a cup of coffee. She’ll be right back.”

  “Mr. Canis?”

  Daphne’s eyes welled with tears.

  Sabrina hugged her sister to comfort her and to prevent the little girl from seeing the tears rolling down her own cheeks. Mr. Canis, a.k.a. the Big Bad Wolf—and her grandmother’s best friend—had been trapped in an explosion that had blown up the girls’ elementary school. It was part of a plot by Rumpelstiltskin, in disguise as the school counselor, to break through the barrier that kept the Everafters in Ferryport Landing. He had used the students’ anger to turn himself into a human bomb, and Sabrina had been the greatest source of his power.

  His plan had failed, thanks to Mr. Canis. And it was when Sabrina realized that her anger might have killed their friend that she used some borrowed magic to wish herself away from the destroyed school and to wherever her parents were. That was how she’d found herself face to face with the Jabberwocky and its mad mistress. And now she knew that Mr. Canis really was dead.

  She hugged her sister harder. “It’s going to be OK,” she said.

  Daphne quickly took a step back, crossed her arms, and forced a disapproving scowl onto her face.

  “You’re grounded!” she said.

  “What?” Despite her tears, Sabrina had to bite her lip to stop from laughing.

  “You heard me. You’re grounded.”

  “What for?”

  “Being a jerk,” Daphne said. “Mayor Charming gave us the Little Match Girl’s matches. We were supposed to make a wish and step through the portal to save Mom and Dad together. But you ran off all willy-nilly by yourself without even knowing what you were getting into. You’re lucky you weren’t killed.”

  It was obvious that Daphne had rehearsed this lecture many times, but the little girl’s sweet face and goofy overalls made it hard for Sabrina to take her seriously.

  “This is super-serious stuff,” Daphne said, noticing the grin on Sabrina’s face. “This isn’t funny. I’m really mad. Every time something important is happening you run off on your own and leave me behind. I’m part of this family, too, you know.”

  “Daphne, I was worried you’d get hurt. You’re only seven years old.”

  Daphne’s face grew red with anger. “I’m glad Puck did what he did to you!”

  Sabrina’s grin faded. “What did Puck do?”

  Daphne closed her eyes and bit her lip.

  “I just want you to know it wasn’t my fault,” the little girl continued. “When Granny told him there was no way in the world you could pay him seven million dollars for saving your life . . . well, he got real angry.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Granny says it will come off eventually,” Daphne whispered. Sabrina eyed the black marker in Daphne’s hand and a bubble of fear rose in her throat.

  “He didn’t!” Sabrina cried.

  “He did,” Daphne mumbled.

  Sabrina stumbled out of bed and rushed to a bathroom in the far corner of the room. She stepped inside, flicked on the light, looked into the mirror, and screamed. Puck had drawn a thick mustache above her top lip that reached to the middle of her cheeks and ended in fancy curlicues. On her chin he had drawn a devilish goatee. On her forehead were the awkwardly printed words CAPTAIN DOODIEFACE. She looked like a deranged eleven-year-old pirate.

  “He is so dead!” Sabrina turned on the faucet and snatched a washcloth off the rack. Once it was good and lathered with soap, she scrubbed her face until her skin was red and raw. She rinsed the suds off to see her progress and screamed! Puck’s graffiti was still there.

  “It’s permanent marker,” said Daphne as she stepped sheepishly into the bathroom.

  Sabrina continued to scrub in vain. Eventually she gave up and angrily threw the useless washcloth into the sink. Puck had pulled some pretty terrible pranks in the past—Sabrina had woken up with a tarantula in her bed, found a boa constrictor in the shower, and even accidentally brushed her teeth with Crazy Glue—but this was the worst. “Where is that little troll?” she cried as she stomped back into the room.

  “If he’s smart he’s hiding from the terrible wrath of Sabrina Grimm,” an elderly voice said from across the room. The girls turned and saw Granny Relda standing in the doorway. She was an old woman in a sky-blue dress and a matching hat with a sunflower appliqué on it. Her face was a web of wrinkles but her green eyes and rosy cheeks made her look much younger. She rushed to Sabrina and wrapped her up in her arms. Daphne joined the hug.

  “I saw Mom and Dad,” Sabrina said, as Granny held her at arm’s length to look her up and down. “They were in some kind of hospital on top of a mountain. There was a little girl in a red cloak and a monster as big as a truck. Puck says it’s called a Jabberwocky.”

  “Creepy!” Daphne cried.

  “They looked fine, Granny. Like they had been sleeping the whole time. We tried to rescue them but the little girl had this magic ring and before I knew it they had vanished into thin air. Then the Jabberwocky set everything on fire with its breath. The place looked like they had been living in it for a long time. There were red handprints all over the walls, too. Granny, I think this little girl is the leader of the Scarlet Hand. There might be some clues there but we have to go now before it burns to the ground!”

  “Sabrina, you’ve been in the hospital for three days,” Granny Relda said in her light German accent. “The place where you saw your parents is nothing but ash now.”

  Three days! Sabrina felt a sob rising in her throat.

  “I’m so sorry, liebling. If you’re feeling up to it, the doctor says we can take you home,” the old woman continued.

  Sabrina nodded, fighting back tears.

  Just then a nurse entered the room carrying a bouquet of exotic flowers. “Oh, look, our patient is awake,” she said, “in time to receive some flowers. These just arrived.”

  She set the flowers on a table. Sabrina pulled a little card off the side of the pot and read the inscription. GET WELL SOON, LOVE, UNCLE JAKE.

  Granny’s face seemed to tighten for a moment but then she smiled. “Must have been sent to the wrong room. Let’s go, girls. We have a ride waiting for us downstairs.”

  Snow White was beautiful, charming, sweet, funny, and intelligent. The only thing she wasn’t was subtle. She couldn’t stop staring at Sabrina’s mustache and goatee in the rear-view mirror of her car, and, after catching the woman’s gaze for the hundredth time, Sabrina finally blurted out that Puck had done it to her. The pretty teacher laughed so hard she snorted. Then she apologized.

  “Boys will be boys,” she said as she steered her car down the old country roads of Ferryport Landing. “They can be pretty immature when they’re young, but they get a little better as they get older.”

  “Puck is over four thousand years old, Ms. White,” Sabrina grumbled. “I think the odds of him getting more mature are pretty slim.”

  “You’re probably right.” The woman sighed, sharing a knowing smile with Granny Relda who sat in the front seat beside her. “Billy is nearly five hundred and most of the time he doesn’t act a day over seven.”

  “So, are you two boyfriend and girlfriend?�
� Daphne cooed. She hung on the back of the front seat to hear all the gossip.

  “Daphne!” Ms. White said as her cheeks flushed. “We’re just talking.”

  “Something you two haven’t done for a few hundred years,” Granny Relda said. “I’ve heard the good mayor has been sending you flowers every day.”

  “Relda, you gossip! Who told you that?” Snow White cried.

  “Oh, a little bird told me,” Granny replied.

  Sabrina rolled her eyes. In a town like Ferryport Landing, filled with fairy-tale characters and magical creatures, saying a little bird told her wasn’t just an expression. It had probably happened.

  “When you two get married, can I be your flower girl?” Daphne begged.

  “I’ll make you a deal, Daphne. If the mayor and I ever get married, you can be the flower girl, but you might be a very old woman by the time it happens. We’re only up to having coffee together. I want to take our relationship slowly, and he’s busy with the election,” Ms. White said.

  “Election?” Sabrina asked.

  “The mayoral election,” Ms. White explained. “We have one every four years, though it seems like a bit of a waste of money these days. No one ever runs against Billy.”

  Soon, Snow White steered her car into the Grimm family’s driveway and parked. Everyone got out and said their goodbyes.

  “Snow, thank you so much for the ride,” Granny Relda said.

  “My pleasure, Relda. If you need anything, just give me a ring. Until the school is rebuilt, all I’ve got to keep me busy is the self-defense class. Which reminds me, will I be seeing my star pupil again this Friday?” Ms. White turned to Daphne.

  The little girl bowed to her, the way people do in martial arts films.

  “Yes, sensei,” she said with a big grin.

  “Have you been practicing your warrior face?”

  The little girl clenched her hands into claws, squinted her eyes, and contorted her mouth so that she looked like she was very angry, though her overalls with a kitten sewn on the front made it all a little comical.