“Let me just hop back over. Be right back.” Jonah starts to climb the fence when a huge white bird flies out of nowhere and dives down toward my brother.
“Jonah!” I yell.
My brother falls back down to the ground.
The bird tweets at him angrily.
“It doesn’t seem to want you to go back there,” I say.
That’s when I notice a sign above the field’s fence. In all capital letters it says: VEGETOPIA RESIDENTS: KEEP OUT OR ELSE!
“Does that mean I can’t get my Cubs cap back?” Jonah cries. “Who knows when we’ll get back to Chicago? I need my hat!” We grew up near Chicago, but our new house is across the country in Smithville.
“Hmm. Well, technically we’re not Vegetopia residents …” I say.
Tweet! Tweet! Tweeeeeeeet!
The massive bird honks and flaps its wings.
“But good luck explaining that to the scary bird,” I add.
Jonah sighs. “Good-bye, Cubs hat. It was fun.” He makes a sad face, and we turn away from the fence.
To the left of us is a pond. To the right of us is a forest.
“Let’s go the forest way,” I say. “I’m not in the mood to go swimming.”
“You’re never in the mood to go swimming,” Jonah grumbles.
“To the forest!” I declare, and head into the woods. Jonah and Prince follow close behind.
This forest is dense. There are lots and lots of tall trees close together. I can hear the leaves rustling in the gentle wind, but I can’t feel it.
“Let’s walk until we get to something,” I say.
“Like a beanstalk?” Jonah asks.
“Like anything,” I say. “Something that might tell us which fairy tale we’re in.”
As we march through the forest, I notice that the sun is slowly lowering in the sky. It must be late afternoon. That’s not good. That’s never good. We need daylight. Who wants to be in a forest in the dark? Not me.
Forests have bears. And wolves. And other things that will eat us.
Who knows what could be in here? Fairy tale animals sometimes have magic powers! Really. I’ve met talking frogs. And talking reindeer. There could be talking lions. Or fire-breathing dragons. Or evil unicorns.
I wouldn’t mind seeing a unicorn, actually. But a non-evil one, of course.
How awesome would it be to bring a unicorn back with me to Smithville? I could have a unicorn pet! Maybe it would be pink, with a sparkly horn. It would make all my friends jealous.
Penny doesn’t have a pet unicorn, that’s for sure.
Although I would never be able to sneak a unicorn past my parents. Especially considering how strict they’ve been lately.
“Abby,” Jonah complains, tugging my arm, “my knee hurts. I skinned it at recess today. How much longer do we have to walk?”
I realize I’ve been spacing out, my mind on unicorn pets. Prince, my real pet, barks up at me, as if he can tell I’ve been cheating on him.
“Sorry,” I say, snapping to attention. I take in our surroundings. There’s just tree trunk after tree trunk. Rocks and dirt crunch beneath our sneakers. Birds twitter in the trees.
I see no unicorns. Or dragons. Or talking lions. Or even bears.
Or any sign of where we might be.
I step onto a huge rock and strain my neck to look around.
“Hey, there’s another farm field with a fence around it,” I say, pointing. “I think those are red peppers.”
Jonah jumps on another rock. “And the sign says ‘Property of Me. No Peppers for You.’”
I climb onto his rock and look for myself. The sign really does say that.
“Like I’d want a pepper,” Jonah says, shaking his head. “Who steals red peppers? It’s not red velvet cake. Or red licorice. Oh! Speaking of which, guess what I have?”
“What?”
He digs into his jeans pocket and pulls out an unwrapped crusty-looking lollipop. “A lollipop!”
“That looks gross, Jonah.”
Prince barks. I hope he won’t try to eat it.
“It’s perfectly fine!” Jonah protests. “I found it in my sock drawer. And since we didn’t have dessert, I thought we might want something sweet.”
“I’ll pass. Thanks.”
“Okay, fancy-pants. Your lollipops always have to have wrappers? Do you also refuse to eat food off the floor?”
“Yes, I do.”
He shrugs. “Your loss.”
“Let’s keep walking,” I say with a sigh. “Maybe we’ll spot a castle.”
“Or a beanstalk.”
“Or a beanstalk,” I say. It’s not looking totally unlikely at this point. “I’m sure we’ll find something eventually.”
There have to be houses or a town or people somewhere in Vegetopia. Someone wrote those signs. The peppers don’t know how to use a pen.
We jump off the rock and zigzag around more trees. Prince begins to whine, so Jonah scoops him up.
“Um, Abby?” Jonah says. “What if we never find our way out?”
“It hasn’t been that long,” I say. “We only got here around an hour ago.” I glance at my watch to check. Hmm. It’s 2:00 A.M. back in Smithville. We left at midnight. That means we’ve been gone for two Smithville hours. But time always moves faster in fairy tales than it does back home. Or at least it moves at the same pace. Until now?
“Time might be slower here,” I say, suddenly worried. “We need to figure out why we’re here quickly and then get home.”
“What do you mean, figure out why we’re here?” Jonah asks. “We’re here because you were mad at Mom and Dad and wanted to go through the mirror.”
“Right,” I say. “But why did Maryrose send us to this particular fairy tale?”
“Good question,” Jonah says, pondering.
We always have a lot of questions — and very few answers.
We do know that Maryrose, the fairy in our mirror, is cursed. And we also know that she thinks we’re “almost ready” for something. That’s what she told us once anyway. But for what?
“We keep messing up the stories, and she keeps sending us back,” I explain to Jonah, taking a wriggling Prince from his arms and setting the puppy back down on the ground. “So she must like that we change the stories. Right?”
“Or the opposite,” Jonah says, kicking a pebble in front of his shoe. “Maybe she keeps sending us back because we keep changing them. Maybe she doesn’t want us to change them. Maybe she’s waiting for us to learn how to stop messing them up! And that’s when she knows we’re ready for our mission.”
“Oh,” I say. “I never thought of it like that.”
I push a leafy branch out of the way, and suddenly —
BAM!
Jonah and I bump smack into a girl and a boy.
“Ouch!” I say, rubbing my forehead.
“That hurt!” says the girl, rubbing her forehead.
The girl and I stare at each other.
She has wavy brown hair and pale skin and looks a lot like me.
Like identical to me.
The boy has brown hair, pale skin, and looks a lot like Jonah. Like identical to Jonah.
I love my little brother, but the world does not need two of them.
The girl has a totally freaked-out expression on her face. The boy has a this-is-awesome expression on his face.
Jonah has a this-is-awesome expression on his face, too.
I can’t see my own expression, but I can pretty much guess it mirrors the girl’s.
“What the what?” asks the boy.
Jonah raises a hand slowly.
The boy raises a hand slowly.
I take a step back. So does the girl.
“AHHHH!” all four of us shriek.
Are we looking in a mirror? Did someone put a giant mirror in the middle of the forest?
No. Clearly not. Mirrors don’t speak.
Well, sometimes they do. When they’re in my basement. But still.
“You can’t be me,” I tell mirror-me.
“I’m not you,” she barks back. “I’m me!”
But we have the same green eyes. Same small noses. Same heart-shaped faces. Same wavy brown hair. Her hair is definitely messier than mine, though.
Wait. The girl has a mole on her left cheek. I don’t have a mole on my cheek. Do I? I feel my left cheek. Nope. No mole.
I glance at the boy. His eyebrows are bushier than Jonah’s.
I start to notice other differences. The girl and the boy are both much thinner than Jonah and I are. And they’re wearing different clothes. The girl has on a tattered, thin brown dress. And the boy is wearing torn brown pants that are too short for him and a ripped brown shirt.
So I guess the boy isn’t mirror-Jonah.
And the girl isn’t mirror-me.
Still, we could be twins.
I’ve always wanted a twin. How cool would that be? I could dress her in my outfits to see how I look. We could pretend to be each other! We would totally share a room and have a bunk bed.
She better let me sleep on top.
Behind me, Prince lets out a frightened bark. He cowers behind my legs, clearly as freaked out as Jonah and I are at seeing our doubles here in the forest. You think he’d just be relieved he doesn’t have a twin.
“Who are you guys?” I ask the boy and girl at last.
The girl looks at us suspiciously. “I’m Gretel,” she says.
Gretel?
Gretel?!
Her name is Gretel? Oh! Oh! Oh! There is only one Gretel!
“Jonah!” I say. “This is Gretel!”
“Uh, hi?” Jonah says. He raises one eyebrow at me questioningly. “Nice to meet you,” he tells the girl.
“Doesn’t that name ring a bell?” I ask, staring at him. Come on, Jonah. How could he not know instantly who Gretel is? “Hansel and …” I prompt.
The boy crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Hey, how do you know my name?”
Jonah’s face falls. “No! You’re not Hansel! Your name is Jack! Jack, I tell you! JACK!”
“Sorry, bud,” I say, and squeeze Jonah’s shoulder. “We’re in Hansel and Gretel.”
“Nooooo!” Jonah says, smacking his forehead. “We were so close!”
The girl and boy turn to look at each other — their expressions saying loud and clear that they think we’re totally cuckoo.
“Do you know our stepmother?” Hansel asks, hiding behind Gretel. “Is that how you know our names? Are you here to hurt us?”
“No,” I assure him. “We don’t know her. We swear. We must have heard your names somewhere else. Hansel and Gretel,” I repeat. “The names just go together. Like peanut butter and jelly.”
“Or French fries and ketchup,” Jonah says. “Or ketchup and basically everything.”
“Right.” I put out my hand. “I’m Abby, and this is my brother, Jonah.” Prince peeks out from behind my leg. “And this is our dog, Prince.”
“Hi,” Gretel says.
Hansel steps forward, no longer looking as fearful. “Hi.”
Jonah tilts his head, eyeing Hansel, who’s much shorter than Gretel.
“I thought Hansel was the older one,” Jonah says.
“I thought so, too,” I say. Guess not. And why did I think Hansel and Gretel were blond?
“I’m ten,” Gretel says.
“Me too,” I say.
“I’m seven,” Hansel says.
Jonah lifts his hand for a high five. “Me too!”
Hansel stares at Jonah’s hand, unsure what to do.
“Just slap it,” Jonah says.
Hansel hesitates but finally does it.
“There you go!” Jonah says.
We all stare at one another for a few more seconds. It’s extremely strange to run into kids who look exactly like you. Especially when those kids are Hansel and Gretel. The Hansel and Gretel.
“Why are you hanging out in the forest?” Jonah asks them.
“Our father and stepmother brought us out here,” Gretel says. “They told us we should light a fire. But we’re pretty sure they’re just going to leave us in the forest like they did last time.”
“They left you in the forest?” Jonah asks incredulously.
It’s true. They did. I know this part of the original story, since I’ve read it a million times, and our nana told it to me and Jonah when we were younger. But Jonah probably doesn’t remember it. I’ll have to fill him in when we have some privacy.
Gretel sighs. “Last time they brought us out here, we left little pebbles along the way. When the moon shone, we followed them all the way home. But this time, we didn’t have any pebbles, so my brother dropped bread crumbs as we walked. Just in case.”
“I did,” Hansel says proudly, in a way that reminds me of Jonah.
“Our dad told us to stay here while he and our stepmom cut some wood,” Gretel continues, “only that was a few hours ago. We were going to rest a little and wait until nighttime, but …” Her voice trembles. “I don’t think they’re coming back.”
Hansel kicks a rock with his shoe. “I don’t think so, either.”
Since I know the whole story, I know they’re not coming back.
“You should go look for the bread crumbs now,” Jonah says.
I give my brother a look. If Hansel and Gretel find their way back home now, it’s totally going to mess up the story. And what if Jonah was right? What if Maryrose doesn’t want us to mess up the stories? Maybe only when we leave the stories as is will Maryrose think we’re ready for our real mission. Whatever that may be.
“Good idea!” Gretel cheers.
“This way,” Hansel says. “I remember that tree with the half-broken limb.” He points, and we follow.
“I remember that tree, too,” Jonah says. “But I didn’t see any bread crumbs.”
Gretel bites her lip. “I’m sure we’ll see the trail just past that big rock.”
“Nope,” Jonah says. “I had my eyes on that path so I wouldn’t trip. I already skinned my knee at recess today, and I don’t want to do that again. There was blood everywhere!”
“What’s recess?” Hansel asks.
“Can we please talk about this later?” Gretel says, hands on her hips. “We have to find the trail of bread crumbs and get home!”
Wow, she IS just like me. Just as bossy anyway.
Hansel and Gretel rush ahead to find the trail of bread crumbs.
“They might not find them,” I whisper to Jonah. “Because of the birds.”
“WHAT BIRDS?” Jonah whisper-yells.
“Shhh. Okay, I’ll tell you the whole story.”
I make sure that Hansel and Gretel are out of earshot. I can see them up ahead, looking at the ground. Prince is trotting along behind me and Jonah, clearly still wary of the newcomers. “Once upon a time,” I start, “there were two kids named Hansel and Gretel.”
Jonah nods. “That part I got.”
“Good. Anyway, Hansel and Gretel lived with their father and their mean stepmother in a small cottage in the forest. They were very poor. One day, because they were running out of food, their stepmother convinced their father to send Hansel and Gretel away. She thought the kids were too expensive and she and the dad would be more likely to survive with fewer mouths to feed. Although their father loved them, he agreed.”
“Our dad wouldn’t agree to that,” Jonah says.
“And our mom wouldn’t suggest it,” I point out.
“Abby?” Jonah asks.
“Yeah?”
“How could they run out of food if there are vegetable fields all over the place?”
Hmm. “Well, the signs all say ‘Keep Out,’ so the people clearly aren’t allowed to take any of the vegetables. They probably get attacked by that horrible bird if they try.”
“Oh, right,” he says. “I wonder
who owns the farms.”
“No idea,” I say. “Now back to the story. Hansel and Gretel heard their stepmother say she planned to abandon them deep in the forest. So, as they just told us, Hansel came up with the idea of leaving little white pebbles as they walked.”
“I would not want to be left out here by myself,” Jonah says as the treetops rustle hard in the wind. He shivers.
I nod. Me neither. “Well, because Hansel made a trail, they found their way home. Their dad was relieved. He felt terrible about abandoning them.”
“Go, Hansel and Gretel!” Jonah says, pumping his fist in the air. “But their stepmother must have been M-A-D.”
“Oh, she was,” I say. “And the next time there was a food shortage, the stepmom convinced the dad that they had to lose them in the forest again. But this time, Hansel couldn’t find any pebbles. The stepmother gave them one piece of bread to have for lunch, and then the parents led them into the woods. So Hansel decided to make a trail of bread crumbs by dropping little pieces of bread along the way.”
“Are those the bread crumbs Hansel is looking for now?” Jonah asks, nodding up ahead. Hansel and Gretel are still examining the dirt.
“Yes,” I say. “Except Hansel forgot that there are lots of birds in forests. And birds eat bread. When Hansel and Gretel wake up in the middle of the night to look for the trail, the bread crumbs are all gone.”
“But it’s not the middle of the night,” Jonah says, looking up at the still-light sky. “So maybe the bread crumbs could still be there now?”
“It’s possible,” I say, biting my thumbnail. “But then we’ve messed up the story.”
“Why, what’s supposed to happen?”
“Well, after they can’t find the bread crumbs, Hansel and Gretel walk and walk, deeper into the woods. They’re cold and scared and hungry. But then, all of a sudden, they hear a beautiful white snowbird singing. The bird is sitting on a branch, and then it starts flying. So they follow it.”
“Where does it lead them?” Jonah asks.
“To a house in the woods,” I say. “Made of cake!”
“What? There are no houses made of cake,” Jonah insists.
“This one is,” I say. “It’s made of cake and candy and gingerbread. You can eat the house!”
Jonah licks his lips. “I would totally eat that house.”
Sugar and Spice Page 2