by Kristy Tate
“My mom.” Brock took a deep breath. “She loves to surround herself with beautiful things. She collects…all sorts of things.”
Grace slipped her hand into his. “Your mom can’t be the Queen.”
He squeezed Grace’s hand. “Maybe she is and maybe she isn’t. But I still think I know where the mirror is.”
“So—assuming you’re right, are you just going to hand it over to the Queen?”
He shrugged. “It’s hers, isn’t it?”
The dwarfs bobbed their heads and Blanche and Charmant murmured yes.
“Let’s give it to her,” Brock said. “Maybe then the Queen will stop threatening everyone and return to her own realm.”
“Where is it?”
“It’s at the shop. In the attic. I remember it because soon after it arrived, I started hearing whispering… I thought I was developing schizophrenia.” He snorted a harsh laugh. “I did research on it, talked to my mom about it. She told me not to worry, and the whispering stopped—well not completely—when I put it in the attic. I didn’t think of it at first because it doesn’t look like a mirror. It looks like a painting.”
Grace’s thoughts went back to when she had also thought she heard whispering at the shop. “Won’t your mom be mad if we take it?” she asked.
“Possibly, but why does she have it, anyway? Besides, I haven’t seen my mom for weeks.” He sounded bitter and angry, and Grace hurt for him.
“Rather than going all the way back to the shop, do you want to call someone and ask them to bring it?”
“It would have to be someone we trust.” Brock bit his lip, thinking. After a moment, he shook his head. “I’ll just go. That way if I happen to see my mom, I can ask her about it.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Grace asked.
“No. Stay here. I’m not sure how this conversation is going to go. Although, chances are I won’t even see her. But I do want to try and talk to her.”
He left with sad, droopy shoulders. Grace tried to imagine his feelings, but his mom experience was so different from hers, she couldn’t.
“What now?” Grace asked the small crowd in the cave.
“Let’s go watch the fireworks show!” Blanche suggested.
“Formidable!” said Charmant.
“Not us,” Prof said.
“We’re going home,” the grumpy one said.
“Oh, boys! Are you sure?” Blanche asked.
“Yeah,” the sleepy one grumbled.
“We’re out of here!” Grumpy announced.
“If the Queen’s here, it’s better if we’re not,” the shy one said.
“You know you can’t hide from her,” Charmant said.
“Yes, but if the boy has the mirror—” Prof said.
“There’s no reason to doubt him,” another put in.
“He seems reliable,” Simplet said.
“I trust him,” Prof said.
The sleepy one shook himself. “Much more than I trust the Queen!”
“There’s one more thing,” Prof said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a shiny golden egg. He handed it to Grace.
“Here,” he said gruffly. “For everything.”
“But…the mirror. You don’t have it yet.”
“We know you’ll do the right thing,” he said, pressing it into her hands.
“You should give this to Brock.” It felt heavy, smooth, and warm. “How much is this worth?”
Prof shrugged. “More to you than to him. Don’t get us wrong, we like him. But he doesn’t need it like you do.”
“All righty then, I guess this is goodbye!” Blanche said. She hugged and kissed each one of the dwarfs. “I will miss you all!”
“What about you? When are you coming home?” Prof asked.
Blanche stuck out her chin. “I’m not sure yet. I like it here. I’m going to stay.”
“At the Mirage?” Charmant asked.
Blanche made an unhappy noise. “No… It’s much too tidy. I’ll have to find a house. Preferably one that needs some housekeeping.”
Grace’s mouth went dry as a thought occurred to her. She stared at the egg. It seemed to hold all the answers. “You want to do housekeeping?”
“Of course, it’s what I love most of all!”
Roy cleared his throat.
Blanche shot him a quick, mean glance. “It makes me feel useful and needed. I’ve had it with palaces and char maids.”
“You could live with my grandparents,” Grace said. “They need someone to clean for them.”
Blanche clapped her hands. “I should love that.”
“They’re pretty horrible.”
“They can’t be any worse than the boys! And they’re certain to be better than the maids at the palace, and the housekeeping crew at the hotel!”
And just like that, things clicked. Grace had someone to take care of the grandunit. She could take Heather and Toby back to Salmon Dale. Her mom could stay in Germany with her dad as long as she needed to. Grace felt dazed by the sudden, happy turn of events.
But then she thought of Brock’s droopy shoulders. And how good it felt to hold his hand. How much she wanted him to kiss her.
But did he want to kiss her? He’d had plenty of opportunities. She couldn’t plan her life around someone who might kiss her someday. Everything had magically worked together and provided her with a way to go home. She had to take it.
Blanche waved her hankie at the dwarfs as they moved deeper into the cave.
“Are you telling me that if I follow the cave, I’ll end up in the Fairy-Tale Realm?” Grace asked.
Blanche smiled her answer.
Roy stepped in front of Blanche. “You are my wife! The palace is our home. You belong to me.”
“Oh, phooey!” Blanche pushed his shoulder and brushed past him. “I belong to no one!” she said without turning back. She strode away, in the opposite direction of the dwarfs and the Fairy-Tale Realm.
“B-b-but,” Charmant stuttered after her. “True love!”
“Hogwash and balderdash!” Blanche’s words bounced off the dirt walls. “That’s all fairy tales.”
“But we’re fairy-tale characters!” Charmant insisted, going after her. “That’s who we are!”
Grace trailed after them.
“Hey! What about me?” the huntsman called out.
No one even turned around.
“Just because we were that way once doesn’t mean we have to stay that way.” Blanche lifted her chin. “I can be whomever I want to be!”
Grace thought about pointing out that taking care of her grandparents wasn’t going to be such a great life, but decided to stay out of it. When they got to the mouth of the cave, she watched Blanche march away with Charmant sniveling behind. Neither knew anything about getting along in this world.
But then again, neither did she.
Grace glanced at the egg. She could make this happen. With this egg, she could afford to get her family back to Salmon Dale. Grace had learned in her economics class that a standard gold bar used by central banks and bullion dealers was worth more than half a million dollars. This wasn’t as large as a gold bar, but she didn’t need half a million dollars.
Maybe they had renters in their house now, but she could find another one until their lease was up. Her mom could eventually get her job back at the high school. Heather could work for Lucy and go back to the art institute.. She slipped the egg into the pocket of the burgundy skirt and kept her hand on it for safekeeping.
#
Santa Magdalena’s streets were dark and empty by the time Brock pulled onto Teresa Avenue. He rolled the BMW around to the back alley and parked. Not surprisingly given the hour, the alley was as deserted as the street. Brock jumped from the car and typed the security code into the back door. It clicked open, and Brock pushed inside.
He froze.
The shop was barren. Dust bunnies rolled across the empty floor. Brock stepped inside, and spun around. How had this happe
ned? Where was everything? He dashed into the showroom. Other than the gilded cash register sitting on the counter, the room was empty. He bolted up the stairs.
Moonlight streamed through the windows and landed on the blank floors of the attic. The mirror, of course, as well as everything else, was gone. Brock slowly went down the stairs and out the front door. He stared at the front of the store. The Lilac Shop sign had been pulled down. He pulled his phone from his pocket, ready to once again try and make contact with his mom. It buzzed with an incoming message.
My darling Brock,
I’m sure you must have a hundred questions, and in time, I hope I’ll have the opportunity to answer all of them. But for now, all you need to know is that I love you very much, and because I love you, I’ve decided it is best if I disappear for a short while. In time, I hope you’ll understand that everything I do, I do for you. We won’t be able to communicate until I return, so please don’t try to find me. This is for your safety. I’ve left you the cupboard, so you will have everything you need. Much love, Mom
“Brock?”
He looked up. Gabby and Chase stood in front of him. He dimly registered that they were holding hands.
“You okay?” Gabby asked.
“You look…” Chase began.
“My mom moved out,” Brock said, noting the shock in his voice. “She’s gone. She took all her stuff.”
“Wow, that’s rough,” Chase said.
Gabby hugged him hard.
“What are you going to do?” Gabby asked.
“I’m not sure,” Brock said. “I mean, I’ll be okay…financially…but…” His mind tripped over spending his senior year alone in his big house. How could she do this to me?
“Is there anything you need?” Chase asked.
“No…not really.” Then he remembered Grace and the Wicked Queen. “Wait. I need a mirror.”
“Just any mirror?” Gabby asked. “Because I got a lot of those.”
“Sure. Why not?” He had an idea, but he didn’t know if it would work.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Along Sherwood Forest’s main street, paper mache skeletons hung from the rafters of the shops and restaurants. Baskets of marigolds lined the sidewalks, and carts selling candy skulls dotted the streets. Some of the skulls were made of spun sugar and decorated with a riot of colorful frosting while others were made of chocolate.
Someone pushed Grace from behind. She took a few steps to regain her balance, but didn’t think much of it, given the crowded streets. When someone pushed her again, she turned to face Alicia.
Alicia lowered her eyelids and sent Grace an if-looks-could-kill glare. “Stay away from Brock!”
“Why should I?”
Alicia leaned forward so that their noses nearly touched. “He’s mine!”
“People don’t possess other people, Alicia.”
“I possess his heart!”
“That’s…that’s a fairy tale,” Grace said, repeating Blanche’s words. “You can believe it if you want, but it’s not true. It’s not real.”
“This is real!” Alicia said, cocking back her arm and aiming her fist at Grace’s face. Alicia’s arm wavered in the air. She struggled to move it, but it remained frozen. Alicia’s face began to purple.
They both stared at the wavering arm for a long moment, then, remembering the mermaid stone, Grace started to laugh. She pulled the chain out of her shirt and gazed into the shiny stone. It glowed in the dark, like her own personal beacon. She kissed it. “Thanks,” she said, and she walked away, her heart hammering.
How could she still not believe in fairy tales?
Fireworks boomed over her head. The ghosts and ghouls around her oohed and awed in appreciation. She found a bench and sat down, her heart full of gratitude and her head full of plans. They could be home by Thanksgiving. Maybe her dad would be well enough to come home by Christmas.
Who would Brock spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with? Would Cordelia come home? What if she came home, found that he’d given the mirror away, and then was so mad at him she cut him off? What would he do? Where would he belong then?
The sky exploded with another flash of white fireworks, but she was only half paying attention. The crowd screamed, their cries tinged with panic. She looked up and saw a giant black dragon winging her way.
“Give me the mirror!” the dragon hissed.
Grace climbed to her feet and edged backward. The people around her ducked and covered their heads. Women screamed, men nervously laughed. A witch beside her clutched at her throat and prayed out loud.
“I-I don’t have the mirror,” Grace stammered. “You must think I’m Blanche…but I’m not.”
The dragon shot a stream of fiery flames. They encircled Grace with warmth, but couldn’t touch her.
Grace grasped her necklace. “Mermaid’s stone,” she said, sounding much braver than she felt.
The dragon reared back and shot another blast at Grace. Confusion flickered over the scaly face as the flames, once again, parted around Grace like the Red Sea.
“Depart, Witch!” Charmant jumped in front of Grace, wielding his sword. He danced in place as the dragon sent her deadly flames his way.
“Stay close,” Grace told Charmant. “She can’t hurt me.”
The dragon tried swooping closer, but every time she got near, Charmant lunged at her with his sword.
Stalemate. It occurred to Grace that this could get really boring.
Footsteps sounded from behind. Grace glanced over her shoulder to see Brock hurrying their way, a mirror in a cheap hot pink plastic frame in his hand. Brock held it up to the dragon.
“Look!” he cried. “Look at yourself! Do you think you’re beautiful now?”
The mirror reflected the dragon in all her horror and flames. The creature blinked, once, twice, three times, then fell to the ground in a sobbing heap.
Slowly she transformed from a black, scaly monster to a withered, gray-haired hag. “All I wanted was to be beautiful!” she cried.
Blanche edged forward. Charmant stayed beside her, his sword at the ready. Blanche patted the hag’s shoulder. “There, there,” she murmured.
But her words were lost in the roar of the crowd’s applause.
“Best show ever!” a ghoul standing behind Grace said.
“They just get better every year,” a witch said.
“I was here last week and the fireworks were nothing like this,” a zombie said.
Brock handed Grace the mirror and pushed through the crowd. He squatted beside the hag. “Mom?” he said, his voice full of questions.
The hag gazed up at him. “Ah, another secret,” she said, moments before she disappeared in a puff of pink haze.
Grace turned the mirror to study it more closely. She saw nothing more than her face, smeared with the zombie make-up.
Badly shaken, Brock gently lifted the mirror away from her and handed it to Charmant. “Take this away,” he said.
“This is the mirror?” Grace asked.
Brock shook his head. “Long story,” he said.
Grace made to follow Charmant, but Brock wrapped his arms around her. She felt his shuddering. Filled with a sudden and intense compassion, she held him tightly and lost herself in the sound of his beating heart. He leaned his forehead against hers, and they stood there, pressed together, until the crowd around them slowly dispersed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Brock and Grace sat at the table in Brock’s kitchen with Charmant while Blanche fussed over a pot of tea brewing on the stove.
“The Queen cannot be your mother,” Charmant said. “For one thing, the Queen has been in the Fairy-Tale Realm for these past many years while your mother has been here.”
“Couldn’t she have been in both places?” Grace asked. “According to you, she’s always traveled a lot.”
Blanche placed a plate of apple slices and slivers of cheese on the table. “But that doesn’t make sense,” she said. “Why would she be searching
for the mirror if she had it all along?”
“The old woman looked like my mom forty years from now,” Brock said.
“Maybe she’s your grandmother,” Grace suggested.
“Speaking of grandmothers….” Blanch murmured.
Grace thought Blanche looked way too happy about meeting her grandparents. She hated to tell her that they were sure to be a major disappointment. Grace glanced through the hedge at the dark windows next door. “They’re asleep now.”
Blanche blushed. “Of course. I didn’t mean right this second.”
Brock stood, pushing back his chair. “Here, let me show you the pool house where you can stay,” he said to Blanche. “You’ll be in the upstairs bedroom, first door on the left,” he said to Charmant.
Roy didn’t look too happy with the arrangement. “Are you sure your mother won’t mind uninvited houseguests?”
“You’re not uninvited. I’m inviting you. Besides, my mother isn’t here, I am.”
The moon shone high in the sky, letting them know it was well after midnight.
“I better go,” Grace said.
“I’ll walk you home,” Brock said.
The cold night air seeped through Grace’s zombie sweater, chilling her skin. Brock walked so close beside her that she could feel his warmth. His makeup gave him a chilling yet amusing look, but his expression was somber. She wanted to feel jubilant, celebratory, and she thought he deserved all those good feelings. After all, he’d defeated a dragon using his wits and a simple, cheap mirror from the Everyday World, but the heaviness in his mood hung between them.
“What happened to the mirror from the attic?”
She felt him tense.
“I had a better idea,” he said after a moment of hesitation.
“But don’t you think the Queen will just come after the mirror again?”
“Maybe, but she won’t come here.”
“Why not?”
“The mirror’s not here. It’s gone.”
“Where?”
He shrugged.
Did your mom take it? Have you talked to your mom about it? These questions and a million more flooded Grace, but the expression on Brock’s face silenced here.