by Sarah Noffke
In this fantasy, the girl would have parents who tucked her in at night and named all of her stuffed animals. She’d wake up to the smell of bacon and waffles in the morning and come downstairs to find her mother smiling at her and calling her “Beautiful.” Her father would be reading the newspaper and offer to give her piggyback rides around the house after breakfast. However, that was a fantasy and Paris knew it.
She looked out the open window, enjoying the fresh breeze that wafted through. The grounds of Happily Ever After stretched on for as far as she could see from her second-story view. Paris enjoyed looking at the winding path she’d taken a while ago to reach the front door, flanked by twisted oak trees. Beyond that were trees and rolling green hills and blue sky. Pristine wasn’t the right word for it. The place was surreal and idyllic in every way.
A scratching noise on one side pulled her attention from the lawn and wind dancing through the trees. She stiffened, then turned to face the dresser against the wall. The sound grew louder.
Paris looked around for a weapon of sorts. What if a monster who knew she didn’t belong at the college was hiding in her dresser? Or maybe it was the ghost of the last girl who had flunked out of Happily Ever After.
She shook her head and muttered, “You have an overactive imagination.”
Paris held up her fist as she neared the dresser, deciding it was the best weapon and the one she was best at using. She didn’t think she could punch a ghost, but it was better to be prepared.
The scratching intensified, shaking the second from the bottom drawer.
Soundlessly, Paris grabbed the handle and held her breath—tensing.
In one swift movement, she yanked the drawer open, preparing for something to spring out of it.
The small squirrel didn’t fly at Paris when she opened the drawer. Instead, as if somewhat annoyed that he’d been interrupted, Faraday sat up, turning in the drawer and offering her a pursed expression that seemed to say, “Do you mind?”
Paris slumped with relief. “What are you doing in there?”
“I’m making my bed, thank you very much,” he replied in his squeaky voice.
Her eyes widened as she threw her finger to her mouth. “Would you shush it? You’re going to get me in trouble. How did you know this was my room?”
Paris glanced over her shoulder at the open window, guessing that’s how the sneaky squirrel had trespassed. “Again, how did you know this was my room? You could have snuck into someone else’s, and I told you not to get me in trouble.”
Still sitting upright in the drawer of bright white socks—all brand new—Faraday pointed at the bed. “I made an educated guess since the letter there is addressed to you.”
Paris whipped around, looking at the pink bed and seeing what he meant. Lying against the many rows of fluffy pillows was an envelope. On the front was her name: Paris Westbridge.
She recognized the writing at once. It was from Uncle John.
Feeling a sudden wave of nostalgia, Paris picked up the letter, looking back over her shoulder at the squirrel. “You didn’t read it, did you?”
A look of offense crossed his face. “What type of person do you take me for?”
“I don’t take you for a person at all, squirrel,” she replied dryly, picking up the letter.
“Touché,” he chirped, diving down into the sock drawer, making the scratching noises again.
“Need I remind you that you broke into my room and are rearranging my sock drawer before I stepped foot in the place?” Paris opened the envelope and pulled out a short letter.
“I’m getting my bed together,” he countered. “As I told you that I’d have to do.”
“Good, do that,” she muttered while scanning the letter from Uncle John.
It read:
Dear Pare,
I trust that you’ve made it to Happily Ever After College and are settling in. I would have loved to see you off, but I respect that you’re independent. I’m always here for you if you ever need anything. Also, I’m proud of you for taking on this challenge. I know that you didn’t want to, but I can’t help but feel this will be a good chapter for you. Still, I miss you already and can’t wait to hear about your adventures. Please try to stay out of trouble and do the best you can. I know that romance isn’t something you subscribe to, but you have the biggest heart of anyone I know so I think you’re in the right place.
Take care and much love.
Uncle John
Paris lowered the note and sat on the bed, which was the perfect balance of soft and firm. She couldn’t help but feel that she would disappoint her Uncle John if she took Mae Ling’s advice. This was her second chance to make things right. Still, according to Mae Ling, it didn’t seem like it was only about Paris anymore.
“Maybe I can do both,” Paris muttered. “Behave and also be me.”
The squirrel poked his head up out of the drawer. “I think those two are mutually exclusive.”
Paris grunted. “You’re mutually exclusive, rodent.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” he argued while scratching around in the drawer. “In the logic and probability theory, one is required to have two propositions to maintain mutual exclusivity.”
“Did you fall out of a tree as a baby?” Paris asked. “Is that why you’re so weird?”
“Can you define your use of the word weird in this context?”
Paris stood from the bed. “By weird, I mean that you sound like you swallowed a dictionary when you should be making chirping sounds.”
“Logic would reason that if I had trauma as a baby, I’d have fewer brain cells and therefore behave less intelligently,” he countered.
Paris shook her head, pulling out the drawer on top of the one where Faraday was burrowing, making him have to duck suddenly.
“Hey,” he complained in a muffled voice from under the open drawer. “You nearly hit me there.”
“Well, it sounds like you’ve got some brain cells to lose, so what’s the harm?” she teased while running her gaze over the drawer’s contents. It was full of undergarments that were all neatly folded and brand new. She pushed the drawer closed and checked the others, finding them all stocked with clothes that were soft and well-made.
Leaving the sock drawer open for Faraday, she crossed the room to the bedside table to find it filled with toiletries and other things she might regularly need. Paris brought her gaze up to discover the blue silk gown hanging on the back of the door. A grimace sprang to her face at once.
If she wanted to stay out of trouble, as Uncle John had encouraged her, she should wear the gown as Willow had advised. However, if she followed Mae Ling’s advice, there was no way in hell that she’d be caught wearing that thing, which was the antithesis of what Paris liked to wear.
The competing struggle was real, and she suspected it would only get harder. Before she pulled her door open, Paris glanced back over her shoulder to where the squirrel continued to sort through her sock drawer. “Stay out of sight. Don’t make a noise. And don’t get me in trouble.”
“Affirmative on all three accounts,” Faraday answered. “Will you bring me a cheese sandwich at some point? I’m starving and have a lot of work to do here, making my bed just right.”
Paris shook her head. “Don’t tear up my socks, squirrel. Yes, I’m sure no one will notice if I nick a cheese sandwich from the kitchen and sneak it upstairs.”
“Tell them that you require a late-night snack,” he advised.
Laughing, Paris pulled the door shut. She would grab the strange squirrel a sandwich for dinner from the kitchen, right after she figured out where it was. First, she had to find this conservatory now that she knew what that was.
Chapter Eighteen
It didn’t take Paris long to realize that she was lost. All the hallways on the second floor looked the same, lined with doors that she guessed led to other residents’ rooms.
She reasoned that she could simply call Wilfred and he’d show her down
to the conservatory, but Paris wanted to prove she could find it on her own. Pride was something she was good at harboring.
Soon after becoming lost, Paris realized that multiple staircases led up to the third floor and down to the first. She assumed that she’d missed the one they’d taken up to her room and was now totally turned around.
After finding a window at the end of a hallway, Paris glanced out and realized she was at the back of the large house. These grounds didn’t look anything like the ones that her room faced. Instead, she saw a shimmering blue pool, an outdoor patio, the forest on one side, and gardens on the other. In the distance were a tranquil lake, horse stables, and more buildings.
Taking the next set of stairs, Paris was greeted by many rich and delicious aromas as she descended to the first floor. At the end of the hallway, she glimpsed a glassed-in room that could only be what she guessed was the conservatory.
Paris made her way toward it, but crying echoing from a room coming up on the left stole her attention immediately. The telltale sounds of taunting followed the noise.
“It isn’t that hard, Penny,” a girl said. “Jump if you want them. Or you could use magic, but chances are, you’re not going to get that right.”
Paris paused at the doorframe, trying to decide if she should poke her head into the room and investigate. The conservatory, where Willow and Mae Ling required her, was a little way down the hallway.
The crying interrupted Paris’ focus. “I can’t see without my glasses to jump or to use magic,” someone whined.
“Always an excuse with you,” the other girl fired back coldly.
Paris realized that she couldn’t in good conscience simply stroll past what was clearly a bullying situation. She entered the room, which she quickly recognized as a large dining hall.
Stretching the length of the space was a long table made of mahogany wood and lined with two dozen chairs. There was a fireplace on one wall and a bank of windows that faced the statue garden on the other. Along the closest was a buffet with covered dishes that were steamy and gave off many of the rich aromas that Paris had smelled upon coming downstairs.
With her back toward Paris was a woman with stringy grayish-blue hair, wearing a blue gown like the one she’d left hanging on her door. The fairy godmother in training had her hand over her head and was using magic to levitate a pair of purple glasses high above another woman’s head.
This one didn’t see Paris even though she faced the newcomer because she was squinting upward and making poor attempts to jump for the hovering glasses. She had short curly hair that was the same color as the other girl’s.
“Oh, poor Penny Pullman.” The bullying fairy clicked her tongue several times and shook her head. “What’s going to save you now? Maybe you can get a scholarship to help you get your glasses back? Or you can go cry to the headmistress again like you did this morning.”
“Please, Becky,” Penny begged. “Please let me have my glasses back.”
Becky the Bully ticked her finger up, and the glasses rose. “This is why we shouldn’t allow those like you to get a free ride. You can’t even use magic to defend yourself. What good are you going to be as a fairy godmother?”
Paris’ face instantly flushed with anger. Her fists clenched by her side. Her eyes narrowed with frustration. She didn’t know anything about Penny or Becky, but she knew enough to read the situation, which she’d seen a hundred times.
Not thinking, as she typically didn’t do in those situations, Paris immediately reacted. She used her magic to lift a banana cream pie that sat on the sideboard behind Becky high into the air and made it hover over the fairy’s head.
“Give her back her glasses,” Paris instructed in an authoritative voice, making her presence known.
Becky whipped around and saw Paris in the entry. The glasses remained floating in the air, the pie as well, but unseen directly above the bully’s head. Penny continued to cry, although she seemed surprised to have someone else there to witness her humiliation.
The woman with stringy hair narrowed her eyes at Paris. “Who are you?”
“Justice,” Paris fired back immediately.
The fairy ran her disapproving eyes over Paris’s black street clothing. “Well, it looks like we have new help here at the college. Good, the Brownies could use help cleaning the toilets.”
Ignoring the awful attempt at criticizing, Paris shook her head. “Give her back her glasses.”
“Mind your own business, loser.” Becky’s face pinched with hostility.
Penny sniffled, continuing to make poor attempts to jump for her glasses, her eyesight so bad that she couldn’t see the pie also hovering directly above the other woman.
“The abuse of others is my business,” Paris retorted, thinking that she’d give the bully one last chance. “Give her back her glasses, and I’ll walk away.”
Becky laughed loudly. “How about I don’t give poor Penny back her glasses, and you go back to cleaning hair out of our drains and scrubbing my shower?”
Paris sighed. She’d tried to be reasonable. In the end, the jerk fairy gave her no choice. “Fine, I hope you like bananas.”
Suddenly confused, Becky squinted at her. “What? I can’t stand bananas. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Don’t worry. You don’t have to eat them.” Paris stepped into the dining room. “It seems time that you get your just desserts.” With that, Paris released the banana cream pie and let it turn over in the air, where it fell straight down onto Becky’s head, covering her hair, shoulders, and face with whipped cream, filling, and crumbs.
Chapter Nineteen
Becky shrieked. The glasses hovering in the air dropped, but before they could crash to the floor, Paris saved them with magic and put them safely on the table next to Penny.
Bananas and whipped cream dripped down Becky’s face, but it didn’t cover how livid she was as she continued to scream. “How dare you?”
“I dared,” Paris boldly replied as she crossed her arms over her chest and thrust out one hip.
“Who do you think you are?” Becky railed while wiping the banana cream off her face. Behind her, Penny was still sniffling as she put on her glasses.
“I’m your worst nightmare,” Paris retorted defiantly.
She would have followed that up with a round of insults, but running footsteps from behind cut her off. Willow rushed into the room, panic written on her face. Mae Ling followed her but didn’t appear as concerned or rushed.
Willow searched the three women, focused solely on Becky, and blinked in confusion. “What’s going on here?”
The fairy covered in banana cream pie shot an accusatory finger at Paris. “She did this!”
Willow rounded on Paris, disappointment suddenly covering her face. “Is that true?”
“I don’t like bullies,” Paris stated simply, her arms still crossed.
“Will someone please tell me what’s going on here?” Willow glanced between the two.
“This one was taunting her, holding her glasses out of reach,” Paris explained and pointed at Penny.
Willow sighed, instantly understanding the situation. “Becky, what have we told you about teasing Penny?”
“We were playing around,” Becky lied.
The headmistress glanced at Penny, who was cleaning her glasses and wiping tears from her face. “I’m certain that your idea of playing and Penny’s are very different.”
“I don’t know who this new maid is that you’ve hired,” Becky began, scowling at Paris, “but it’s none of her business what we fairy godmothers do.”
“In training,” Mae Ling corrected. “You’re all fairy godmothers in training.”
“Paris isn’t on the staff,” Willow explained. “She’s a student here.”
That enraged Becky more. “Since when?”
“Since now,” Paris answered.
“Then why isn’t she wearing the gown?” Becky challenged.
“It didn’t
fit,” Paris stated simply.
“It’s one size fits all,” Willow offered.
Paris glanced discreetly at Mae Ling, trying to read her expression. It seemed to be encouraging her on this path. Returning her gaze to the headmistress, she clarified, “It didn’t fit in the more symbolic way.”
Willow sighed. “We’ll discuss the dress code later. In the future, it’s not your job to discipline bullying behavior.”
“It’s sort of why I’m on this earth,” Paris argued.
The headmistress exhaled a steadying breath and tried to quell her impatience. “Paris, I know that you’re used to doing things a certain way, but here at Happily Ever After College, we don’t simply act on our impulses.” She indicated the sideboard. “Chef Ashton will be very disappointed to learn he has to remake this dessert.”
Paris slumped, realizing her mistake. Uncle John often said that her impulsive behavior caused more work for others. Ironically, when Paris tried to defend the little guy, she usually made trouble for someone else who was innocent in the whole injustice situation. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do that. It’s just that Becky didn’t really leave me any choice. I told her to return Penny’s glasses, and she refused. So I did the first thing I could think of.”
“It doesn’t seem that you were thinking at all,” Willow replied.
“She definitely wasn’t,” Becky fired hotly.
“As for you,” Willow rounded on the fairy, “you know that Penny is sensitive and doesn’t like to play your games.”
“It wasn’t a game,” Paris argued, wondering how long Becky had coasted by with this type of behavior.
“Look, newbie, you don’t know anything about this place so stay out of it,” Becky threatened.