by Sarah Noffke
There were some giggles from the class. Some hisses of disapproval. Some gasps of shock.
Paris swallowed and continued before Professor Frizzy Hair could interrupt her. “If I pass this quiz, I’ve tested out of your course and can move on to embroidery or whatever other useless things you expect me to learn next.”
Professor Butcher didn’t respond right away, her beady brown eyes studying Paris for a long moment. “You don’t know the material. There’s no way that someone like you will pass a pop quiz on your first day without reading the material.”
Paris pressed her hand firmly onto the book in front of her, hoping that the untested spell worked. Everything was riding on it.
“I’ve picked up a few things in my time,” Paris replied.
“On the streets?” Becky questioned with a laugh.
“Yep,” Paris chimed. “Ever done shots with giants? They’re sticklers for etiquette. If you don’t shoot your whiskey the right way and slam your glass with the right intensity, they’ll put your head through the bar wall.”
Professor Butcher grimaced with disapproval. “I don’t think we’re referring to the same type of etiquette.”
“I think we are,” Paris argued. “All cultures have their rules and customs. Just because I wear a leather jacket doesn’t mean I can’t dine with the king of the fae while also drinking with the gnomes. If you don’t believe me, test me. If you’re right, I’m out of here and not your problem anymore.”
“Fine, one condition,” Professor Butcher stated.
Paris raised an eyebrow. “Let’s hear it.”
“If you don’t pass the quiz with anything less than a perfect score, you fail my class, a requirement for passing Happily Ever After College.” She leaned forward, bearing down on Paris. “And that means you’ve flunked out of here.”
Not blinking, Paris considered her options. She didn’t have to do it. If she simply apologized, she could go back to learning the material and avoid this fast-track option. It was a huge gamble. However, if she did that, she’d have to sit through hours of cotillion classes with this snotty instructor, and that would probably kill her spirits. Then what would she have left?
Shaking off her indecisions, Paris nodded. “You’ve got yourself a deal. If I fail, I’m out of Happily Ever After College. If I pass, I’m done with this class.”
Professor Butcher gave her a wicked grin. “I hope you haven’t unpacked yet.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“I’ll make this straightforward and fast,” Professor Butcher began smugly, pressing her hand to her chest. “This will be an oral exam. Three questions. All pertain to table etiquette. However, I’ll warn you that it will cover material that we haven’t gotten to yet in this class, but if you are to test out of this course, you’ll need to prove that you have superior knowledge.”
Unflustered, Paris pressed her hand firmer onto the book, preparing the spell in her mind. “I’m ready then.”
“First,” the fairy godmother said, sounding victorious as if Paris had already failed. “When setting a formal dinner table, what is the proper placement of all the plates in front of a guest?”
This, Paris knew right away, was supposed to sound like a trick question. It sounded too easy, as though she was supposed to say sarcastically, “right in front of the guests.” Not falling for the trick, she momentarily closed her eyes, and using the spell that used osmosis to read an entire book, she absorbed the entire contents in front of her. It was a lot all at once, both because it instantly made Paris feel overwhelmed with information and exhausted from performing the spell.
However, not only did she know the answer to the question, she also learned a lot of other very useless information, like how to greet guests at a ball and arrange a bouquet.
“The answer is that the dinner plate should be placed in front of a guest,” Paris replied and paused, waiting for it.
When the obnoxious professor’s eyes lit up with triumph, Paris continued. “Furthermore, the dinner plate should be placed a thumb knuckles’ length from the edge of the table.”
The smile that was about to unfurl on Shannon Butcher’s face disappeared at once, replaced by annoyed surprise.
“The salad plate should be placed in the middle of the dinnerware since that course is eaten first,” Paris concluded, daring to smile at the professor. She didn’t smile back.
After a long calculating pause, the other woman narrowed her eyes at Paris. “I started you with an easy first question.”
“How kind of you,” Paris responded blandly, earning a few snickers from the class, although when Professor Butcher whipped her head up, everyone fell quiet.
“Second question,” the fairy godmother said in a scolding voice. “Explain the proper way to set glassware for a formal dinner, and you must include all necessary glasses and their exact placement.”
Paris sighed as if she was bored. She simply pulled on the information that she’d learned in the one hundred-page book inside of a few seconds. “First, you must place the water glass above the dinner knife, which is to the right side of the plate with the blade facing inward.”
“I didn’t ask for information on the flatware,” the professor seethed.
Paris shrugged. “Oh, darn. I was hoping to score extra credit. Anyway, after the water glass, then the wine glass is placed up and to the left of it. Finally, a coffee or teacup should be put on a saucer to the right of the spoon, which is on the far right of the plate.”
When Paris finished speaking, everything fell deathly silent in the classroom. She didn’t say a word, simply waited for the fuming professor to reply.
“Lucky guess,” the fairy godmother said. “The third and final question won’t be as easy as the first two. I’m sure that you’ve seen a table set at some point.”
“At dinner last night,” Becky offered.
Professor Meanie Head nodded. “Yes, I realize that now. More important than setting a formal dinner table is table etiquette, which I didn’t notice you’d mastered at meals.”
Paris groaned. “Oh, did you catch me with my elbows on the table? Silly me.” She’d now learned in her quick study of the textbook that elbows on a table were a big no-no. She was going to conclude that the people who came up with these rules didn’t have enough to do and were always looking for some reason to turn their button noses into the air.
“In detail, explain how bread should be buttered and eaten at a meal,” the professor demanded.
After reading the entire book in front of her, Paris knew that the night before and at breakfast, she’d buttered and eaten her bread wrongly, according to etiquette. How very atrocious, she joked to herself.
Drawing in a breath, she feigned indecision, giving the woman before her a moment where she thought that she’d stumped her. The bitter professor probably believed that Paris would say, butter the roll with a knife and tear into it, as she had done at the dining table. However, according to the book, that wasn’t the correct method. There was a much stuffier one.
“One should never butter the entirety of their bread at once.” Paris ensured she didn’t repeat the words exactly as she had read them but rather put them in her own words. “Instead, one should tear the bread into bite-sized pieces as it is going to be eaten, butter it individually, and put it into the mouth with one’s finger and thumb. Additionally, one should never use their knife for buttering as mixing food on the plate is not considered good taste.”
Although she knew the answer was correct, Paris still tensed, waiting to be graded. No one said a word, the entire class all seeming to hold their breath.
“I’m not sure how you knew all the answers to that quiz,” Professor Butcher said bitterly. “Your answers were suspiciously accurate as if you used a spell. No offense intended, but for someone with your background, I find it unlikely that you’d have naturally learned the information.”
“Would you believe that I had an extra hour this morning to study?” Paris posed, techni
cally not lying.
“I guess that’s the only reasonable explanation,” the flustered woman said, her face flushing pink and a calculating look on her face. She wasn’t buying it, but Paris didn’t care. Professor Butcher couldn’t prove anything.
“No offense intended,” Paris said and stretched to a standing position. “I think it’s better that we made this little arrangement because if I had to stick around in this class, it would probably have crushed my normally sunshiny disposition.”
“About the arrangement,” Professor Butcher said in a high-pitched voice, sounding suddenly flustered. “I’m not sure the headmistress would allow—”
Paris held up her hand. “A deal is a deal. The class all heard our agreement. Don’t worry. I’ll go and work out everything with the headmistress right now.” She looked at her wrist, although she wasn’t wearing a watch. “I mean, I do have an extra hour or so before my next class since I’m done with this one…for good.”
Before the angry professor could object, Paris breezed out of the classroom, all eyes on her back. The quiz she’d passed wasn’t the most complex test that Paris ever had, but without her crash course speed-spell reading the book, she would have failed without a doubt. However, she didn’t think she could get through all her classes the same way.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Wilfred,” Paris said once she was in the hallway outside the classroom. “Can you help me—”
Before she finished the request, the magitech AI fairy butler materialized beside her. Paris shook her head, still not used to such an invention. It was strange to think that Wilfred was solid and yet also like a hologram.
“Yes, Ms. Westbridge?” He bowed. “At your disposal.”
“Am I not interrupting you when I call on you like that?” she asked, so many curious questions occurring to her all of a sudden.
“Is that why you called me?” he questioned, his white-gloved hands behind his back.
“No, but now that you’re here, I have to know.”
He nodded. “I can understand your confusion about how I operate. There are multiple renditions of me that can be used for assisting those throughout FGE.”
“Oh,” she said with surprise. “Like an army of posh English butlers?”
Wilfred shook his head. “Not really. I consider myself an assistant to the staff and students of Happily Ever After College.”
“We’re going to have to work on your sense of humor.” Paris laughed. “I didn’t think of you like an armed soldier who was guarding the college.”
“I’m not programmed to have a sense of humor,” he stated matter-of-factly.
Paris scratched her head. “But you have opinions, it seems.”
“Why would it seem that way?” he questioned.
“Well, because before in the kitchen you said, and I quote, ‘I’m afraid that discipline isn’t the strong suit of the college.’” Paris slipped into the butler’s English accent for the last part of the sentence. “That statement isn’t fact-based. It’s an opinion, although I’m sure it’s supported by evidence.”
He nodded. “It’s true that due to my longevity with the college and my experiences, I’ve evolved to have opinions. It’s a result of being both magical and tech as well as having the fairy component. That magical race is considered more sensitive than the others, and I was modeled to emulate them.”
Paris shook her head. “I think that trait skipped me then. I don’t think I’ve been called sensitive once in my entire life.”
Wilfred gave her a thoughtful expression. “It’s my observation that you’re not a normal fairy. Maybe this is due to your upbringing or because you don’t eat enough sugar or that this is simply an anomaly unique to you.”
“You know, describing a trait of mine as an anomaly isn’t as complimentary as you might think.” Paris winked at him with a faint grin on her lips.
The butler didn’t return it. Instead, he rocked forward and back again, his arms still pressed behind his back. “To further explain your questions regarding how I work. Many versions of me can pop up to assist staff and students. However, I’m not able to be in the same room with one of my renditions. It scrambled my programming and was therefore disallowed.”
“So we can’t have a cheerleading pyramid of Wilfred’s, then?” She laughed.
“That was another joke, was it not?” he asked, quite seriously.
Paris deflated. “Apparently not a good one. We’ll work on this for you. I suspect if time allows you to form opinions, we can get you laughing.”
“With such evolutions, that opens the flood gates to many other possibilities.”
“What do you mean?” Paris asked.
“Well, it goes to reason,” Wilfred began. “That if I evolve to laugh, that means I’ll also have the capabilities for other emotions. Ones that could be destructive to my productivity.”
“Oh.” She drew out the word. “You mean that if you learn how to laugh, you’ll also be able to cry?”
He thrust out his chest. “It was Kahlil Gibran, the great poet who described not experiencing emotions as a seasonless world. To sum up, he said, one could not laugh all their laughter unless they wept all their tears.”
Paris had never cared much for poetry. Well, not until that morning had she read a book, and now it had been two books—one that she read in a few seconds using magic. Her life had drastically changed. But this Kahlil Gibran sounded like an interesting writer and his poetry may be worth checking out.
“Well, we do live in a seasonless world here, don’t we?” Paris threw her arm out and gestured at some windows down the hallway where perfect sunlight streamed through from the Enchanted Grounds. “But it does seem that working at fairy godmother college, which is all about promoting love, that you as a staff member would have some emotions.” She shrugged. “What do I know?”
He considered this. “More than you might think. That’s an interesting observation and holds some merit, although I will admit that promoting love is mostly done here using an equation.”
Paris blinked at the butler in confusion. “Again, I have a lot to learn because I didn’t think that love and math had anything in common. One is all organic and frilly things, and the other linear with clear rules and laws. Am I right?”
“It is more about how fairy godmothers are taught to create a match,” he explained. “It’s believed that a Cinderella who displays certain traits is in the best possible position to attract a Prince Charming and maintain a healthy relationship due to their mutual refinement.”
Paris groaned, showing her annoyance. “Yes, I learned about this ridiculous notion when I tested out of Cotillion. I never thought that love was about etiquette. I thought it was for everyone and not reserved for those who tucked in their blouses and drank their tea with their pinkies in the air. However…” She swept her hand at her attire and shrugged. “What do I know? I’m the picture of being a slob, and I’ve never once been in love, not even remotely close. So maybe if I starched my pleated skirt, I’d feel my heart flutter…although I’m not sure I have one at all.”
Wilfred arched one of his white eyebrows at her. “It’s highly unlikely that you don’t have a heart.”
“Wil…that was a joke.”
“Right, madam.” He bowed. “Of course it was. You’ve given me some interesting things to consider, although I don’t have any answers to your questions.”
“You calling them interesting again proves my point about you having opinions,” she sang. “Seems like only a matter of time before you’re laughing at my jokes.”
“We shall see, Ms. Westbridge. Now, you called me because you needed assistance. Is that right?”
Paris nodded. “I’m looking for Headmistress Starr’s office. Will you please point me in the right direction?”
“I’ll do one better and lead you there.” He started forward down the long corridor.
Paris hurried after the butler, finding that she had more questions now than when s
he tested out of Cotillion class. Hopefully, Willow could shine some light on things.
If Mae Ling wanted Paris to voice her opinions, she would hopefully be happy with her performance this far.
Chapter Thirty-Four
When Wilfred paused in front of a door labeled Headmistress Willow Starr, Paris was about to thank him and knock.
Before she could, the butler rapped on the door, and when Willow said, “Come in,” he pushed the door open in a dignified manner. Then he stepped forward and stated, “Ms. Paris Westbridge to see you, Headmistress.”
Paris had never been announced before, and it all felt very formal. Then again, what else should she have expected? So far, everything at Happily Ever After College was quite stuffy.
“Oh,” Willow said with surprise. “Yes, please send her in. Thank you.”
He nodded and held out a presenting arm to Paris.
She nodded in appreciation and stepped past him into an office that very much resembled the sitting room at the front of the manor. It exuded the feel of “grandmother’s house” with the crocheted blankets draped over chairs and lace doilies adorning rich wood tables.
The headmistress sat behind a modest and elegant desk, wearing the blue gown with the pink sash, her grayish hair draped over her shoulders, and a dainty felt-tipped pen in her hands. Beside her was something that looked like a tiny telephone, then something that resembled a phone but one of those older rotary kinds.
Willow’s eyes swiveled up to a pendulum clock on the wall and back to Paris. “You’re supposed to be in class.”
Wilfred had disappeared, pulling the door shut immediately. Paris nodded, feeling suddenly nervous about interrupting the headmistress.
“Yes, I realize that, which is why I’m here,” she started, knotting her hands together. “You see…” Paris trailed away, realizing that she hadn’t planned out what she was going to say to Willow.