by Julie Wright
“No!” I said defensively. “We were . . . well, we were in a hurry. My parents were fighting anacondas. I’ve kinda got a lot going on right now. I’m sorry I forgot it. When we get home, I’ll keep it with me—promise. I’m sorry, Farmor.”
She tsked, but her features softened. “Ja, you’ve got quite a lot going on right now.” She turned her attention to my new tag-a-long. “Who’s your friend?”
“This is . . . Lisa.” I almost added that she wasn’t a friend, but figured there wasn’t any point in the semantics.
Farmor took Lisa’s chin in her hand and twisted her face around to look at the moldy hair from all angles. She arched an eyebrow at me. “Is this your doing?”
Could I wish myself out from under the accusation in Farmor’s eyes until it was all over and everything was fixed? I wanted to. I wanted to wish myself under a rock. Lisa wasn’t nice, but was I so different? Before my birthday, I’d kept a low profile and just stayed out of her way, but once I’d had the power to hurt her, I hadn’t been able to stop myself. Now she stood half-dressed in a jungle with her moldy hair and moldy nails and all her friends sick at home.
How nice was that, exactly?
“Yeah. I did that.” I confessed.
Lisa jerked her chin out of Farmor’s grip. “You did this to me?” She pointed at her hair and took three steps back away from us. “And you dare to call me not nice? How’s that for hypocrisy? What are you?”
It stung to hear Lisa repeat my personal reflections back to me.
Before I could form a response, Farmor said, “She’s a Troll Kvinna, just coming into her powers, but hasn’t learned to control them yet. I’m sorry for your distress. We will repair the damages. Won’t we, Allyson?”
I nodded.
“How did she get here, Ally?” my mom asked.
“I wi—you know, that one word that I am starting to hate a lot. I didn’t mean that I actually wanted her here. I didn’t literally want her to see me. It was sarcasm.”
“First things first.” Farmor interrupted my mom’s obvious dislike for Lisa, and got down to business. “Wish her hair back the way it was, Allyson.”
My dad rested against the hood of the car. He looked beat up, dirty, and slightly bewildered over everything taking place in front of him. Mom handled it better, aside from Lisa’s presence, but she believed in Karma and astrology. None of this was too far a stretch for her.
I opened my mouth to wish on Lisa’s hair, but stopped. “What if I wish wrong and make it worse?”
“Just wish for her hair to go back to normal.” Farmor’s simple directions made me feel slightly dumb for worrying.
Lisa’s wide eyes proved that she didn’t like the idea of me doing anything that might get messed up somehow. She clenched them shut when my focus settled on her head and said, “This is all just a nightmare.”
“I wish for Lisa’s hair to go back to normal!” I said. The electricity crackled and bit into the air around and above us.
Lisa’s hair lifted from her head as though she’d stuck her finger in a light socket. It dried out and darkened, each strand flowing tip to root from green to a mousy brown. Her hair fell back to her shoulders in a gust. She opened one eye cautiously. “Do I look okay?”
I bit the inside of my cheek, worried. “I told you I’d do it wrong,” I said.
Lisa’s hands flew to her head in a panic over what changes I’d wrought on her. “What? What did you do?”
I flopped my hands to the side. “She has this really great chestnut brown hair, not this!”
Farmor smiled knowingly. Mom beat her to the conclusion. “Lisa probably dyes her hair. You asked for it to go back to normal. I’m betting this is normal for her. You shouldn’t complain, Lisa. Natural is better.”
Lisa glared at me and my mom in turns. “Do you have any idea how much it costs to get my hair the right color? My mom’s going to kill me if I have to make another appointment this month!”
“It’s better than the green,” Mom said again, then she twisted her mouth to the side and slumped against the hood of the car with Dad. “But I suppose you’d better put it back the way it was before you tampered with it. I do not want a phone call from her mother about this, Allyson.”
“And my nails!” Lisa said, holding her hands out like exhibits A and B.
“Her nails too?” Mom sat up straight and cast dark looks my way. “I don’t care that this girl is a monster. You were raised better than that, Allyson Peterson.”
“The girl’s a monster?” Dad asked. For all he knew, she really was a monster—a swamp thing, or a beast out of nightmares. She’d had the hair for it.
“She’s a bully,” Mom said. “She’s been picking on Ally for years. Apparently Ally finally stood up for herself.” She pointed at Lisa’s hair.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were dealing with a bully?” Dad fixed me with a plaintive stare.
“I was handling it.”
Dad pointed to Lisa. “Doing that is not handling it. You should’ve told me. I could have called her parents, and we could have worked this out.”
I didn’t mention that THAT was exactly why I hadn’t told him. He was a fixer, but getting Lisa’s parents involved wouldn’t fix anything. I had to be honest. My parents were handling the whole “Ally has magic” way better than imagined. They were freaking out more over my relationship with Lisa than they were over my wishing powers. Parents were so unexpected sometimes.
Lisa looked pretty astonished by the conversations around her. “Hello! Your daughter attacked me. Who’s the bully here?”
“If you hadn’t strung her up in a tree, she wouldn’t have had any reason to make those wishes. Karma really does bite back. Of course she’ll fix this, but you should consider your actions in the future, young lady. You get what you give.” Mom snapped her fingers and pointed at Lisa as though giving a direct order.
“Ally got strung up in a tree?” Dad asked.
Mom nodded. “I’ll tell you about it later.” She patted his shoulder and leaned into him as though offering support. He leaned into her as well, obviously needing that support.
It worked. They were getting back together.
I grinned stupidly—at least, the grin felt slightly lopsided with the delirium of the thought. Getting back together!
Lisa’s face had fallen from anger and confusion to one of shame and confusion. My mom’s little lecture must have hit its mark somewhere. But Mom was totally right. No matter what, I wasn’t the sort of person who plotted revenge. Forcing Lisa to go back and pay for an expensive hair treatment and leaving her with nails that looked like she’d become a chronic nose picker wasn’t something I could do and feel okay about. “I am sorry,” I said. “I wish Lisa Snoddy’s hair and nails were exactly as they were the afternoon before she hanged me.” There. That should be specific enough for the wish to work the way it had been meant to work.
Her hair stood out again in the crackling energy, this time turning from the mousy brown to the rich dark chocolate that made her look like an exotic supermodel. Her fingers sizzled at the ends as they turned from slimy green to burgundy with little silver swirls and flowers that the nail technician had been so meticulous in applying.
I looked down at my own nails. I could never afford to pay for a manicure when I had to pay for my phone and car insurance. But then, a thought came to me . . . “I wish my nails looked like Lisa’s.” The ends of my fingers flashed in the arc of electricity. “That is so cool!” I declared, wiggling my newly decorated fingernails. Nobody else looked all that impressed.
“Allyson. Really? Focus, girl. We don’t have time for parlor tricks. We need to get your parents and this girl home.” Farmor waved a dismissive hand in Lisa’s direction. “While you were gone getting the keys—you do have the keys, don’t you?”
I pulled them out of my pocket and jingled them. At least something had gone right.
She nodded her approval. “While you were gone, I explained your wish to
your parents. They’ve agreed to get along, and now we’re safe to simply be wished to your mother’s house again.”
She definitely sounded in charge; no one dared argue with her. “Get in the car everyone.”
We all scrambled to do as told. My mom and dad in the front and me squeezed between Lisa and Farmor in the back. Lisa seemed more than happy to do whatever it took to get home, even if it meant sitting next to me, though she tried not to touch me in any way.
“Now, Allyson . . . wish for all of us to return to your mother’s driveway. We don’t want the car in her living room.”
I had to alter what I’d planned to say, not having considered the car ending up where it didn’t belong. The fog and electricity shrouded us for the briefest of moments before it cleared away to reveal my yard and home standing in front of me.
Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief as they scrambled out of the car as quickly as they could get the doors to open.
Lisa didn’t turn back to look at us as she started running toward her own home, her pink robe billowing behind her, her newly brown hair bouncing on her back with each step. “Everyone will hear about this!” she said as she ran, her words faint and hard to discern. “Everyone will know that you’re a freak. My parents are so going to sue your parents!”
“Flicka!” Farmor called out with a twist of her hand.
Lisa froze and came back to us, her feet scraping the grass as her body dragged her back. Her eyes were wild with fear as her body spun in sync with Farmor’s waving hand.
Farmor smiled at Lisa. That smile held no malice, only pity. “You have had several unpleasant days. I am sorry for that. Allyson is sorry as well. She said as much before fixing your hair and fingers. No one meant to hurt you. You should just be glad the snakes were gone before you arrived, ja?”
Lisa’s eyes widened more—if possible. She looked like she wanted to run, but her body wouldn’t allow her to move.
“Such trauma isn’t good for one with such shallow expectations of the world. It would be best if you remember nothing of this. It would be best if you forgot all.” Farmor placed her hand in front of Lisa’s frightened face. “Förgäta allt och vara hemma!” As Farmor passed her hand over Lisa’s face, she blew lightly. Lisa faded, her body melting into wisps of mist caught on a breeze that blew her away.
“Where did she go?” I asked.
“Home. She’s been spelled severely these last few days. She’ll need a very long nap.”
“And she won’t remember? Not anything?”
“Not likely, älskling. She shouldn’t remember anything. The brain is a tricky thing. It doesn’t have a delete button. A forgetful charm can mask memories and bury memories, but it cannot delete them. The memories will feel vague to the rememberer, like dreams or movies they once saw long, long ago.”
“Oh.” I couldn’t explain why that disappointed me exactly. I think it was because it meant she wouldn’t remember that I’d had the power to hurt her and leave her hurt. She wouldn’t know that I had done the right thing by not leaving her hurt, like she had left me hanging in a tree.
“We should go inside,” Mom suggested. “We have a lot to talk about. And I need some ibuprofen.”
We followed her inside. A lot to talk about indeed.
Chapter Twelve
Note to self:
It’s easier to let kittens out of a bag than to catch them and put them in again.
So you could do magic my whole life?” Dad asked, holding a clean cloth to his head as Mom pulled out the first aid kit to tend to the scratches, welts, and bumps they’d acquired during their fight with the anacondas.
“Ja. Your whole life—most of my life for that matter—except those first fifteen years.” She smiled at me knowingly.
“You could do magic my whole life,” he repeated. “Magic! And I still had to pay for my own car, and my own gas, and I didn’t even get that motorcycle I really wanted—even though it was cheap!”
“Of course. What? You think magic makes me a bad mother? I still had to teach you a work ethic, didn’t I?”
“I can’t believe it.” he said, scowling at my mom as she pulled his hand with the cloth away from his head so she could put on antibacterial cream. Obviously, he wasn’t all that impressed with his education on work ethic. “And all those times I had to walk to school in the winter when it was freezing . . . you could have snapped your fingers and poofed me there.”
Farmor groaned. “Why does everyone say snap? We don’t snap. And what would happen if your schoolmates saw you appear in front of them? It’s bad enough we’ve had to be so obvious about what Allyson can do in front of your neighbors.”
Dad’s scowl deepened as Mom put the sticky part of a bandage over his eyebrow. “That’ll be fun to get off,” he said to her before turning back to Farmor. “You could’ve at least put a warming spell on me so I didn’t have to freeze the whole way to school.”
Farmor scraped the chair back as she stood abruptly and placed a hand on top of his head. “I wanted you to have a normal childhood unfettered with worry. And forget any more bandages.” She shooed my mom away while muttering something under her breath and focusing her energy on her hand at his head. Dad’s cuts and bruises filled in and changed to smooth skin.
Then she grabbed hold of the bandage Mom put over his eyebrow and yanked it off. Dad gritted his teeth and glared at his mother, but he didn’t cry out. I had to give him credit. I would have screamed if someone pulled my little eyebrow hairs out.
“Besides,” Farmor said. “You were a boy. I didn’t want you to feel bad when you had no ability on your own. Males cannot inherit the power; they can only hold it in reserve until they can pass it off to their female descendants. It has been a source of contention and bad blood in families for several other bloodlines. Since your father died young, and I had no intentions of remarrying, you were left an only child with no chance of ending up with a sister. It seemed better to not bring it up. I’m sorry.”
The apology looked like it was hard for her to say, and must not have happened very often in their lives, because he looked surprised to receive it.
Farmor placed a hand on Mom’s head and healed her too. “Now, you’ll both need to rest. Being spelled is tiring work, Besides you were out all night fighting to save your lives. So off to bed. We’ll talk more when you wake up.”
Mom yawned and stood. “That’s a good idea. I’m exhausted. You go to sleep too, pumpkin. No school for you today.”
No school? Finally! A magic perk.
Dad tossed a sheepish glance in Mom’s direction. “Can I sleep on your couch? I don’t think going home right now is a very good idea. I don’t even know where my car is. We need to sort things out with the kids before I’m willing to leave, but I’m totally wiped out right now.”
I blinked in surprise. He was still planning on leaving? He was asking permission to sleep on the couch? Why weren’t they back together?
Mom considered him for a minute. “Yeah, you can crash here, but let’s not make this a habit, okay?”
“I certainly hope not. Unless we find out that Robison is really a pirate and we end up battling squids next time.”
“There isn’t going to be a recurrence of anything like this, is there Ally? You’re done wishing, spelling, or otherwise interfering with our lives, right?” Mom looked at me pointedly.
My heart dropped into my stomach. “Right. But don’t forget, I wasn’t the one who sent you to the Amazon to fight snakes. You ought to be more careful what you write in your journal.”
Dad looked confused. Mom blushed, little red splotches blossoming on her face and neck. But neither of them asked what I’d meant by the comment. Mom didn’t because she already knew and didn’t want to incriminate herself further, and Dad didn’t because he likely didn’t want to know. He used to say that no one could prove that ignorance wasn’t bliss.
He followed Mom out of the dining room and into the TV room where the couch was located.
“It didn’t work,” I said, feeling rather sorry for myself. That was a whole lot of effort to get no payoff in the end.
“What? Your wish?” She looked to where my parents had gone. “No. Not like you wanted. But it didn’t turn out too terribly. They’re still speaking to one another. They are acting far more mature than I’ve seen them in years. Love is a funny business and is one of those things that cannot be forced. It has to be given freely. We have rules as Troll Kvinnor. We cannot tamper in governments, kingdoms, economies, love, or death—either preventing or causing.”
She must have sensed I’d zoned out because she said, “Allyson! Hear me.”
“What? I’m listening.” I lied.
“So what are the things we are never to tamper with? You should be able to repeat it since you were listening so well.”
I dropped my head to the table and said, “Love, politics, death. Can I go to bed now? I’m really tired.” It was already morning. We’d been out all night. I wondered if Lisa’s mom would worry if she didn’t wake up easily. She was on quarantine too, so at least she wouldn’t have to worry about getting up for school. Quarantine . . . I would have to do something to fix that as well. My head pounded, throbbing as my heart pumped blood through it.
Farmor snapped her fingers at me. And here she’d been saying Troll Kvinnor didn’t snap. “It is important you understand this. I know you’re tired. But you need to focus. The consequences for breaking Troll Law are . . . well, it’s important.”
“I already repeated it back to you. I just wish I—”
“Do you have the wishing troll yet, or is it still under your bed?”
She’d interrupted me from wishing to go to sleep forever. In light of what I was about to say, I was pretty glad she’d stopped me. Maybe there was no wicked witch in Sleeping Beauty’s story. Maybe Sleeping Beauty was just a Troll Kvinna without a wishing troll and she wished herself to sleep. Farmor sat in the chair across from me. “Go and get it. Come straight back down.”