Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One: Penny’s Pennies
Chapter Two: Operation Help Maryrose
Chapter Three: Duckball
Chapter Four: Look Out!
Chapter Five: The Evil Magician
Chapter Six: The Cave
Chapter Seven: Hello, Genie
Chapter Eight: Bye-Bye, Genie
Chapter Nine: Ring-a-Ding-Ding
Chapter Ten: Excuse Me
Chapter Eleven: Flowerpalooza
Chapter Twelve: How Sweet It Is
Chapter Thirteen: The Sultan
Chapter Fourteen: Back to the Cave
Chapter Fifteen: Say What You Mean
Chapter Sixteen: 1, 2, 3, March!
Chapter Seventeen: Put a Ring on It
Chapter Eighteen: The Big Rescue
Chapter Nineteen: And the Winner Is …
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Read all the Whatever After books!
Copyright
You’ve already read twenty books?” I ask. “That’s amazing.”
“Thanks, Abby,” says my best friend Frankie. We’re sitting at a crowded table in the cafeteria, eating lunch. “How many have you read?”
“Only nine,” I say, and take a bite of my cheese sandwich.
“That’s still great.” Frankie nods and adjusts her cute red-framed glasses. Her twenty-first book is on the table, next to her blueberry yogurt.
This month, the fifth grade is doing a read-a-thon. That means that we have to get our parents to pledge a certain amount of money for every book we read, and all the money we raise goes to help our school library. My parents and Frankie’s parents both pledged two dollars a book, which means that I’ve made eighteen dollars so far. Frankie has raised forty! The person who raises the most money gets to help the librarian pick the books that the library should order. Tomorrow is our deadline.
If I win — and, um, it’s not looking promising — I know exactly which books I’m going to ask for: more books about fairy tales. The library has three fairy tale books now, but last week when I went to find one, all of them were checked out. I think the third grade is doing a unit on fairy tales. Great for them, but does that help me? Not at all.
Why am I obsessed with fairy tales? Because I go INTO them. I do! Pinkie swear. So far, I’ve visited Snow White, Cinderella, The Little Mermaid, Sleeping Beauty, Rapunzel, The Snow Queen, Beauty and the Beast, and The Frog Prince. I never get to choose the story. I don’t even know the fairy tale I’m going to end up in until I’m in it. Which is why I need more fairy tale books to be available in the library.
It’s very, very helpful when I’ve read the tales and know what’s going to happen next.
Yeah, I can ask my parents to buy me more books about fairy tales, but they don’t know about the magic mirror and I don’t want them to get suspicious. They’ve already almost caught me and my little brother, Jonah, coming back from some fairy tales. They’re lawyers, and pretty smart.
HOW do my brother and I go into fairy tales? Well, we have a magic mirror in our basement. If we knock on the mirror three times at midnight, poof — we step right inside a story.
Really.
See, there’s a fairy named Maryrose who is trapped in our mirror and she’s the one who takes me and Jonah inside. We’re not sure why she’s trapped, but we do know she was cursed. We’re also not sure why she sends us into the stories she does. All we know is that she has some sort of mission for us. I kinda think our mission is to help uncurse her, but I don’t know for sure.
“Are you going to read any more books by tomorrow?” Frankie asks me, and I snap back to the present.
“I’m hoping to finish the one I’m reading,” I say. “Then I’ll be at ten.” I’ve been reading everywhere. At home. At recess. In the car on the way to and from school. I even read twenty-two pages in the bathtub last night, which may not have been the best idea since I sort of dropped the book in the tub. Anyway. It’s still readable. Damp, but readable.
I turn to Robin, my other best friend. “What about you?”
“I’ve read five,” she says, glancing up from her book and her turkey sandwich. Her strawberry-blond hair is pulled back in a high ponytail. “But my parents pledged three dollars a book, so I’ve already raised fifteen dollars. Woot!”
Robin is super smart at science but not the fastest at reading and writing, so I’m glad her parents are giving her an extra reward.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your reading,” I say with a wave of my hand. “Go, go, go!”
“I’ve only read one book,” offers Penny from across the table. She makes a face. “I hate reading.”
“Well, I guess you won’t get to be the one to pick out the books,” I say. Okay, that was a bit mean. But Penny isn’t exactly my favorite person. Robin, Frankie, and I are a set. We’re all three best friends. But Penny is Robin’s other best friend, which is why she’s sitting with us. Penny has her hair in a high ponytail, just like Robin’s. They like to be twinsies. It’s annoying.
Penny pops a grape in her mouth. “Actually, I probably will. My parents pledged a hundred bucks.”
What? “A hundred bucks?” I repeat. “How many books do you have to read for that?”
“One,” Penny says, twirling her pony. “They’re going to donate a hundred bucks no matter what. And I’ve already read one. So I get a hundred.”
My jaw drops. Her parents are giving her a hundred dollars? For reading one book? That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.
I wonder if I can get my parents to do the same thing.
She laughs. “Maybe I could bring in a hundred dollars in pennies. Penny’s pennies. How hysterical would that be?”
Ten thousand pennies would be heavy, not hysterical. And super annoying.
“I hope I can pick out fashion magazines instead of books,” Penny goes on. “Or maybe I’ll get lots of books about horses.”
Penny loves horses. Her cubby is covered with pictures of Thoroughbreds.
I cannot let that happen. I cannot let all the new stuff be fashion magazines or books about horses. I will not be able to free Maryrose while galloping into fairy tales and looking stylish.
Here’s the thing: If I win the read-a-thon, I’m not only asking the librarian to order more fairy tale books. I’m also asking her to order a book on spells and curses. And with a book on spells and curses — and how to reverse them — I can help free Maryrose from our mirror. So I have to win.
* * *
“Mom? Dad?” I say at dinner. “Would you guys give me more money for my read-a-thon?”
“How much more?” my mom asks, passing me the bowl of mashed potatoes.
I do the calculations in my head. I’m almost up to ten books, so … “What if you give me ten dollars a book?” I suggest. That would get me to one hundred! No. Wait. Then Penny and I would be tied. “Ten dollars and one cent per book?” That would get me to one hundred and ten cents. I’d win!
“Honey, that’s a lot of money,” my mom says. “I think two dollars a book is a good motivator to keep you reading.”
I’ve lost my appetite. “But it’s not enough! I’m going to lose.”
“I think you’re forgetting the point of this read-a-thon, Abby. It’s not to win. It’s to help the library,” my dad says, taking a bite of his roast beef.
I sink into my chair. I know they have a point. But they don’t get it.
Jonah is making wells in his mashed potatoes instead of coming to my defense. Hello? Doesn’t he know how important this is?
Except he doesn’t. I haven’t told him about my plan to order a book on spells. But I can’t say
anything now, in front of our parents.
A glob of mashed potatoes falls off my brother’s fork and lands on his place mat.
Our dog, Prince, jumps up out of nowhere and licks it off.
“No, Prince, get down!” Jonah says sternly. Prince has been acting up lately. A lot. Last week he chewed up my mother’s new sneakers. He also jumped on my desk chair and used his snout to knock the read-a-thon books off my desk. Over the weekend, he stole my dad’s meatball sandwich. Yesterday he ate Jonah’s math assignment.
Okay, it’s possible my brother made that last one up. He probably just didn’t do his homework.
But anyway, my parents put my brother in charge of training Prince in manners. So far, Prince’s grade is an F.
“If you don’t stop,” Jonah tells him, “I’m putting you in the other room.”
Prince hangs his head. But I think he’s just pretending, because he’s happily licking the potatoes off his doggy lips at the same time.
Jonah is doing about as well with his dog training as I am with my read-a-thon.
* * *
That night I stay up late reading my tenth book, Wishing Day. But I’m distracted. Despite it being a great book, I’ve been reading the same page for the past fifteen minutes. I yawn. Should I push myself and try to finish it tonight?
What’s the point?
I’m still going to lose. I will not make more money than Penny. I will not win the read-a-thon. I will not convince the librarian to order a book on spells and curses.
I look at the clock. It’s 11:40 P.M.
Maryrose lets us through the mirror only at midnight. That’s twenty minutes away.
Since I’m not going to be able to help her here, I might as well see if there’s any way to uncurse her by going through the mirror. At least there’s magic in the fairy tales, unlike here in Smithville.
I slam my book shut and sit up.
I know what I have to do.
I put on my jeans, a yellow T-shirt, a blue zip-up sweatshirt, and my running shoes. Since I never know which fairy tale we’re going into, I have no clue what to wear. Will I need a bathing suit? Or a snowsuit? A snowsuit would totally have been useful in The Snow Queen. It was freezing. Tonight, I am going with just a regular outfit and hoping for the best.
I look around for my newish watch. I need to wear my watch when I go into fairy tales. It keeps track of the time back home in Smithville. Time in fairy tales passes differently. Sometimes a day in a fairy tale is an hour at home. Sometimes two hours in a fairy tale is one hour back home. We never know until we’re there.
I walk over to my jewelry box on my dresser. The box is decorated with drawings of fairy tale characters. Like Snow White. But this Snow White is wearing my pajamas. That’s because Jonah and I always mess up the fairy tales we enter. The characters on my jewelry box change to show what happens after Jonah and I return home. I smile at the princesses, open the box, and grab my watch.
I ease open Jonah’s door and gently shake him awake. “C’mon! Let’s go through the mirror and see if we can help Maryrose,” I whisper.
Prince jumps onto my brother’s bed. Then he chomps down on the stuffed lion Jonah has had forever and starts shaking it like crazy.
“Prince, no!” I grab the lion out of his mouth. Ew, it’s all slobbery.
“Maybe we should leave Prince here as punishment,” Jonah says, frowning at his mangled stuffed animal.
I snort-laugh. “As if that would work. He’ll bark the whole time and wake Mom and Dad! He comes with us.”
Ruff! Prince says, heading for the door.
“But what if Prince does something super bad in whatever fairy tale we end up in?” Jonah asks, getting out of bed. “Maybe we should wait until he stops acting up.”
Thud. Thud. Thud. I hear paws racing down the stairs. Prince is already heading for the basement.
“We can’t wait!” I argue. Okay, we could probably wait till tomorrow, but I really want to go now. When I find out that Penny won the read-a-thon by reading ONE book, I’ll feel less like a loser if I know I did something even more important than win a read-a-thon — like help a cursed fairy.
Jonah quickly puts on his favorite sweatpants, a blue T-shirt, and sneakers. Then we run downstairs. Prince is waiting for us at the door to the basement. I open it and the three of us fly down the final steps.
Right in front of us is the magic mirror. It’s about twice the size of me. The outside is made of stone etched with drawings of little fairies and wands. The glass part is smooth.
All of a sudden, I yawn a giant yawn.
Jonah tilts his head. “You sound tired.”
I yawn again but stop myself in the middle. “I’m not tired! I’m fine!” Okay, so maybe I’ve been up late reading a lot, but I’ll be all right. “C’mon! Maryrose is in trouble! Let’s go!”
I don’t waste any more time. I knock once. There’s the usual hissing sound.
I knock a second time and the room fills up with a purple haze.
In the reflection, Prince’s brown fur looks purple. So does Jonah’s wavy dark hair and pale skin, and my curly dark hair and pale skin.
“Get ready!” I say, and knock a final time.
Our purple reflections start to swirl.
And Prince leaps straight through the mirror.
“Prince, wait!” I cry.
But does he wait? Nope!
I grab Jonah’s hand and we jump in.
Going through the mirror never hurts. It feels like you’re stepping through an open door.
I’m expecting to land on grass. Most of the fairy tales we visit take place in a forest. I am often wiping grass and leaves off my clothes.
So I’m kind of surprised when I land in the middle of a dirt road.
BONK!
Ouch! Something just conked me on the side of the head. Maybe sometimes going through the mirror does hurt.
I rub my head. Ow. Ow. Ow.
“Sorry!” someone calls.
I look to my left. There’s a teenage boy with dark hair, big dark eyes, olive skin, and a Band-Aid on one knee. He’s holding a half-flattened ball.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “I’m so sorry you got hit.”
“I’m okay,” I tell him. I glance at Jonah, who’s sitting beside me, but he apparently did not get bonked in the head. He’s looking around and grinning.
“I think we’re in Jack and the Beanstalk,” he whispers to me.
I doubt that. Johah always thinks we’re in Jack and the Beanstalk.
“Bet you can’t get me!” another boy calls out in a singsong voice. “Bet you can’t!”
The nice teenage boy throws a ball at the other boy and hits him on the arm.
“You got me,” the other boy says, frowning. He moves to the side and sits down with a bunch of other kids.
Uh, did we just land in a fairy tale gym class? I look around. There are about six kids, all a little older than me. They’re wearing shorts and T-shirts, and they’re sweaty. We’re not near any kind of school or playground, but on a narrow road. There’s a low stone wall off to the side and small stone houses all close together. The sky is bright blue and the sun is hot.
I’m so glad I didn’t wear a snowsuit.
“Can you guys get out of the way?” a girl with a dark brown ponytail yells at me.
“Sorry!” I say, and scramble to stand up. I wonder what game the kids are playing. Something magical? Something we’ve never heard of because they only play it in fairy tale lands? “Jonah, come on! Prince? Where are you?”
I hear a ruff. Prince is eyeing the ball.
“No, Prince,” I say. “It’s not yours!”
He doesn’t listen and lunges for it.
“Prince, no!” Jonah says. “Uh-oh, Abby. I didn’t bring any of his training treats.”
I jump up and grab on to Prince just as he’s about to bite into the ball. Prince loves to play catch, which sometimes causes problems in fairy tales, even when he’s on his best beh
avior. When we were in The Frog Prince, he lunged after the golden ball and that caused the whole story to unravel.
I look for the right person to throw the ball back to. “What’s your game called?” I ask the girl with the brown ponytail. “Magicball? Goldenball? Fairyball?”
“Duckball,” says a girl.
“Cool,” I say. “Are there ducks involved? Do they fly? Is there magic?”
“No,” she says. “If you hit someone with a ball and they don’t catch it, they’re out.”
“Oh! It’s dodgeball!” Jonah says.
How boringly regular.
“I love dodgeball!” Jonah continues. “I’m really good at it! I won my tournament today!”
“Do you guys want to play?” asks the nice boy with the Band-Aid on his knee.
“Yes!” Jonah exclaims just as I say, “No!”
Jonah turns to me with a pout. “Why not?”
“Really?” I ask. I resist rolling my eyes. “You don’t know why not?”
“Fine,” Jonah grumbles. “Thanks anyway,” he says to the group of kids and then follows me and Prince to the low stone wall. I hear him mutter, “You’re no fun,” under his breath.
“Until we figure out where we are,” I remind him, “just look, watch, and don’t touch. You know we can’t just pop into a story and mess it up.”
“Yes, we can,” Jonah says. “We always do!”
That’s true. Usually we mess up the story by accident. Like when we accidentally broke Cinderella’s glass slipper.
Or when Prince caught the golden ball.
“And anyway, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” Jonah asks. “To help Maryrose? The only way we’re going to help Maryrose is by messing the story up.”
“That’s not true,” I say. “The way we’re going to help Maryrose is by finding a way to uncurse her. And anyway, we have to be careful — we don’t even know what story we’re in yet!”
“I’m telling you, it’s Jack and the Beanstalk,” Jonah says.
Jonah is obsessed. “You haven’t actually read Jack and the Beanstalk, have you?” I ask.
“I have!” he says. He cocks his head to the side. “Maybe. I’m not sure.”
I snort-laugh. “If you haven’t even read it, why do you want to visit it?”
Genie in a Bottle Page 1