“Susan!” cried Mr. Pfenstermacher. “Come away from there. That woman is dangerous! She might… might… turn you into a frog!”
“Hey,” said Maybelle. “No fair bringing up old mistakes.”
Several of the men began to advance on her, muttering menacingly.
“I’m warning you,” said Susan. “Don’t touch this woman! She’s the only person who has ever liked me. And I… I… I love her!”
The world seemed to hold its breath. There was a moment of deep and mysterious silence. Then an enormous crack of thunder sounded overhead.
Susan sighed and collapsed in a heap at Maybelle’s feet.
At the same time the other children stopped squirming and struggling.
A sense of peace seemed to settle over the villagers.
“Susan did it!” cried Edna. “She broke the spell. Congratulations, Maybelle!”
Susan shook her head and sat up. “What happened?” she asked, sounding groggy.
The townspeople were all asking pretty much the same thing, shouting, “What happened? What’s going on?”
“Make way, make way!” cried a stern voice. It was the blind beggar to whom Susan had given a coin the day before. “Be quiet,” he said, pushing his way to the front of the crowd. “All of you.”
He spoke softly now, but his voice held a strength and a power that immediately calmed the crowd. Their shouts grew softer, turning to mutters, then fading to silence.
The beggar turned to Susan. “Well done, young lady!” he said. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Who are you?” asked Susan, staggering to her feet.
“My name is Mr. Peters,” said the beggar, pulling off his hood and taking off his dark spectacles.
“Well, I never!” said Maybelle in astonishment. “Look at that, Edna!”
“I decided to watch you up close this time, Maybelle,” said Mr. Peters. “You made some awful blunders.”
“Boy, you can say that again, boss. Well, we might as well get it over with. Take my wings. Break my wand. Tarnish my halo!” She sighed. “There’s nothing worse than a failed fairy godmother.”
“But Maybelle, you’re no failure. You said it yourself: Susan needed to learn to love. It was your open heart that brought out that love. That’s the most important thing a fairy godmother could ever do. Failure? Maybelle—you’re a smashing success!”
Maybelle blinked in astonishment. “Love, huh? Gee, that’s pretty classy.”
“It beats the heck out of magic apples,” said Mr. Peters.
Edna, who was standing behind Maybelle, began to sniffle.
Maybelle turned around. “Why Edna,” she said. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m so embarrassed!” wailed the tall fairy godmother. “Mr. Peters has seen what I’ve done!”
“What did you do?” asked Maybelle, genuinely puzzled.
“I fell in love!”
“Oh, that,” said Maybelle, waving her hand as if shaking something away. “You should never be embarrassed about loving someone.”
Mr. Peters nodded. “Well put, Maybelle. She’s right, Edna. You mustn’t be embarrassed about loving someone.”
“But the rules…” sniffed Edna.
“Are made to be broken,” said Mr. Peters. “As in this case. The being you fell in love with is not a human but an immortal. Therefore, you can still live in the blue.”
“Wonderful!” said Maybelle.
“What about Zozmagog?” asked Edna, putting a protective hand on his shoulder.
Mr. Peters smiled. “He comes, too. But I’ll warn you, he’s going to have to earn his way.”
“How can I do that?” asked Zozmagog.
“I want you and Edna to start a school to train fairy godmothers. You should be very useful, Zozmagog; you can teach the trainees about some of the dirty tricks they can expect to face from imps.” He stooped to pick up Maybelle’s wand. “Tricks like sabotaged magic wands.”
“Why you little devil!” said Maybelle.
Out of habit, Zozmagog looked around, looking for someone else to blame. When he realized that wasn’t possible, he said softly, “Sorry about that, Maybelle.”
“Now,” said Mr. Peters, “I think it’s time we headed for home.”
“Not yet,” said Edna. “There’s one more thing, and I want to do it now, before we go.” Turning to Maybelle, Edna lifted the Fairy Godmother of the Year medallion from around her own neck. “Here, Maybelle,” she said gently. “I think you should have this.”
“The Fairy Godmother of the Year award! Oh, no, Edna. I couldn’t—”
“Take it, Maybelle,” said Mr. Peters gently. “You’ve earned it.”
“Gosh,” said Maybelle, as Edna placed the medallion around her neck.
“Oh, Maybelle!” cried Susan. “I’m so happy for you.” She threw her arms around Maybelle and gave her a hug. “Only—will I ever see you again?”
Maybelle smiled sadly. “I don’t think so, dear. After all, you don’t really need me anymore.”
“But…”
“But there’s one thing you need to know. I really do like you. A lot! And I’ll be watching over you.”
Susan smiled.
“Come along, Maybelle,” said Mr. Peters. “It’s time for us to be going.”
“Hey, what about me?” cried Zitzel.
“Can he come with us?” asked Zozmagog.
“Are you kidding?” cried Zitzel. “I’d be bored silly. And I’m silly enough as it is.”
“Can he stay with us?” asked Susan, turning to her mother. “He’s kind of cute.”
“Oh, Susan, really, I don’t think—”
“But Mother,” said Susan, “charity begins at home.”
“I don’t eat much,” added Zitzel.
“But think of all the trouble,” said Mr. Pfenstermacher.
“I prefer mischief to trouble,” said Zitzel, trying to look innocent. “Besides, I would protect the people I lived with.”
“Is that true?” asked Mrs. Pfenstermacher.
“Absolutely,” said Mr. Peters. “He would guard you against all sorts of goblins and ghoulies. Things might be a little… lively… at times. But you wouldn’t have to worry about major problems.”
“Besides,” said Susan with a smile. “Think of what a bad influence he would be on me.”
Mr. and Mrs. Pfenstermacher laughed. “All right, dear,” said her father. “He can stay.”
The children all began to cheer.
“That was well done, Susan,” said Maybelle. She stretched up and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “That’s for luck,” she whispered. Then she went to stand with Mr. Peters, Edna, and Zozmagog.
Mr. Peters made a gesture, and all four of them disappeared in a little puff of white smoke.
The smell of new hay and cinnamon lingered behind them, mingled with just a trace of beer and peppermint.
“Well,” said Mr. Pfenstermacher, “that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. Are you all right, Susan?”
“I never felt better in my life,” said Susan, running to her parents and giving them each a hug.
“Me too!” cried Gustav.
“And me!” cried Helga and Ludwig and Friedrich.
“Well,” said Mrs. Pfenstermacher, “I guess they really were what they claimed to be.”
“Not exactly,” said Dr. Dekter.
“What do you mean?” asked Susan.
Dr. Dekter smiled. “Maybelle told me she was the world’s worst fairy godmother. But if you ask me, she was the world’s best.”
“Naturally,” said Susan. “What other kind would I have?”
And she said it with such a charming laugh that no one wanted to slap her.
A Personal History by Bruce Coville
I arrived in the world on May 16, 1950. Though I was born in the city of Syracuse, New York, I grew up as a country boy. This was because my family lived about twenty miles outside the city, and even three miles outside the little
village of Phoenix, where I went to school from kindergarten through twelfth grade.
Our house was around the corner from my grandparents’ dairy farm, where I spent a great deal of time playing when I was young, then helping with chores when I was older. Yep, I was a tractor-ridin’, hay-bale-haulin’, garden-weedin’ kid.
I was also a reader.
It started with my parents, who read to me (which is the best way to make a reader)—a gift for which I am eternally grateful. In particular it was my father reading me Tom Swift in the City of Gold that turned me on to “big” books. I was particularly a fan of the Doctor Dolittle books, and I can remember getting up ahead of everyone else in the family so that I could huddle in a chair and read The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle.
I also read lots of things that people consider junk: Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, and zillions of comic books. In regard to the comics, I had a great deal going for me. My uncle ran a country store just up the road, and one of the things he sold was coverless comic books. (The covers had been stripped off and sent back to the publishers for credit. After that, the coverless books were sent to little country stores, where they were sold for a nickel apiece.) I was allowed to borrow them in stacks of thirty, read them, buy the ones I wanted to keep, and put the rest back in the bins for someone else to buy. It was heaven for a ten-year-old!
My only real regret from those years is the time I spent watching television, when I could have been reading instead. After all, the mind is a terrible thing to waste!
The first time I can remember thinking that I would like to be a writer came in sixth grade, when our teacher, Mrs. Crandall, gave us an extended period of time to write a long story. I had been doing poorly at writing all year long because we always had to write on a topic Mrs. Crandall chose. But this time, when I was free to write whatever I wanted, I loved doing it.
Of course, you think about doing many different things when you’re a kid, but I kept coming back to the thought of being a writer. For a long time my dream job was to write for Marvel Comics.
I began working seriously at writing when I was seventeen and started what became my first novel. It was a terrible book, but I had a good time writing it and learned a great deal in the process.
In 1969, when I was nineteen, I married Katherine Dietz, who lived around the corner from me. Kathy was (and is) a wonderful artist, and we began trying to create books together, me writing and Kathy doing the art.
Like most people, I was not able to start selling my stories right away. So I had many other jobs along the way, including toymaker, gravedigger, cookware salesman, and assembly line worker. Eventually I became an elementary school teacher and worked with second and fourth graders, which I loved.
It was not until 1977 that Kathy and I sold our first work, a picture book called The Foolish Giant. We have done many books together since, including Goblins in the Castle, Aliens Ate My Homework, and The World’s Worst Fairy Godmother, all novels for which Kathy provided illustrations.
Along the way we also managed to have three children: a son, Orion, born in 1970; a daughter, Cara, born in 1975; and another son, Adam, born in 1981. They are all grown and on their own now, leaving us to share the house with a varying assortment of cats.
A surprising side effect of becoming a successful writer was that I began to be called on to make presentations at schools and conferences. Though I had no intention of becoming a public speaker, I now spend a few months out of every year traveling to make speeches and have presented in almost every state, as well as such far-flung places as Brazil, China, Ethiopia, and Bangladesh.
Having discovered that I love performing and also that I love audiobooks, in 1990 I started my own audiobook company, Full Cast Audio, where we record books using multiple actors (sometimes as many as fifty in one book!) rather than a single voice artist. We have recorded over one hundred books, by such notable authors as Tamora Pierce, Shannon Hale, and James Howe. In addition to being the producer, I often direct and usually perform in the recordings.
So there you go. I consider myself a very lucky person. From the time I was young, I had a dream of becoming a writer. With a lot of hard work, that dream has come true, and I am blessed to be able to make my living doing something that I really love.
Hey, baby! You looking at me? I was born on May 16, 1950, in Syracuse, New York. In this picture I’m one year old.
As a farm boy, I learned to drive a tractor when I was quite young.
Reading was always important to me—anytime, anywhere.
I planned to be a cowboy …
But I ended up a boy scout. (From the look on my face, I think I just got away with something …)
In 1969 I married Kathy. She lived right around the corner from me. She’s an artist and has illustrated twenty of my books. We have three children—Orion, Cara, and Adam.
Here’s me at Buckshot Lake. Apparently no one told me I was supposed to sit in the boat.
As a young father, I often functioned as a piece of furniture.
Here’s me with my daughter. I swear I did not steal her candy!
A rare sighting of my half-mad brother Igor (on the right), star of Goblins in the Castle. When I was an elementary school teacher, Igor would visit my classroom every Halloween to celebrate his birthday. For some reason the two of us were never seen together. It was a puzzling mystery. This is a picture of Igor posing with my wife’s little brother.
Something has clearly gone very, very right!
Often I give speeches about reading and writing. But sometimes I get a little carried away.
No, seriously, I meant it when I said I get carried away …
I not only write books, I read them aloud, too. Here I am recording an audiobook for my company, Full Cast Audio. Whatever I just read has clearly surprised me!
I love my books … they make me happy! I hope they do the same for you. Photo courtesy of Charles Wainwright.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2012 by Bruce Coville
Cover design by Connie Gabbert
ISBN: 978-1-4976-6854-6
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
345 Hudson Street
New York, NY 10014
www.openroadmedia.com
EBOOKS BY BRUCE COVILLE
FROM OPEN ROAD MEDIA
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