Once Upon Now

by Danielle Banas

  “Did we hire new interns?” one of them wondered aloud.

  The elevator arrived and Corinne pushed me inside before the doors opened halfway. She stabbed the button for floor sixty-four. The top floor.

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” she said.

  “No kidding! My mother’s a psychotic murderer!”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Leonard, Wilhelmina isn’t your mother. She just looks like her. Remember that.”

  The elevator shot up with an incredible speed that made my head spin. If I had my old body back, I knew my skin would be speckled with sweat. Corinne retreated into herself, probably wondering if she’d made a horrible mistake.

  As I watched the numbers climb, I thought about Wilhelmina and my mother. Mia and Beatrice.

  Sal and my father. I wondered who Corinne would be in my world. Would she be royalty there too? A student? A celebrity? More important, I wondered who Leo Clark was in Pittsborough, and what I would do if I met him.

  WE REACHED THE TOP OF the Q with a loud ding that made my teeth grind. When the doors slid apart, Corinne took the lead, pulling me down a narrow purple hallway. I quickly discovered that Wilhelmina was obsessed with the color purple. The walls, the floor, even the ceiling were painted various shades that made me feel like I was living inside a grape.

  “In here!” Corinne tugged me into a closet as two guards marched by. My shoulders were pressed against the wall, and Corinne’s back was to my chest. Her hair smelled like flowers and salt water.

  “Is it safe?” I whispered.

  She opened the door. “Define safe . . .”

  The hall opened into a cavernous room, and an anxious laugh escaped my mouth at the sight before me. Wilhelmina was an evil queen, but she was also the definition of a workaholic. She lived in her office. Literally. The floor was filled with at least fifty cubicles, each one decked out to look like a different room. There was a bed and a lamp in a cubicle in the corner. A couch and television in the one adjacent. A small art gallery across the way. Not even my mother was this crazy.

  “Believe it or not, it didn’t always look like this,” Corinne whispered. Her lip trembled. I waited for some truthful words to force my mouth open, hoping they would comfort her, but for once I remained silent. Corinne’s family was gone, and nothing I could say would bring them back.

  A nasal voice jerked us both to attention. Corinne nodded resolutely and we inched forward, scooting between two bedroom cubicles and a library to reach the stainless-steel refrigerator looming at the back of the floor.

  They sat at a long table in front of a row of curtained windows, Mia in a swivel chair and the queen in a throne that looked comically out of place, given the rest of the decor. A guard stood beside them, texting on a cell phone. When he looked up after finishing the message, I gasped.

  “What?” Corinne asked.

  “That guy! That’s me!”

  The queen sat up straighter and Corinne pulled me down, reaching for a blanket to cover our heads. We peeked out from between the folds.

  “Do you hear something, Leslie?” Wilhelmina addressed my doppelgänger.

  Leslie? And I thought Leonard was bad.

  “I’ve been alerted of intruders in the compound, Your Majesty, but I’ve seen nothing to indicate they’re near.” Then he—I mean me—I mean Leslie—did something strange. He looked at where we were hiding . . . and winked.

  Wilhelmina resumed her conversation. “I’m removing your curfew, Beatrice. And I’ll need to get us a dragon. Now that I have Pittsborough under my control, we can move onto New New York and perhaps the entire country.” She giggled a horrible sound, making my skin crawl. I reminded myself that she wasn’t my mother. Her laugh was a lie. “Sweetheart, eat your peas.”

  “I hate peas,” said Mia. She sounded confused but appeared otherwise unharmed.

  A dismissive hand was waved in her direction. “Hush, Beatrice. You love peas.”

  “Mom, why do you keep calling me Beatrice? That’s not my name.”

  “Beatrice, how dare you make a joke after everything you put me through.”

  Leslie tried to cut in. “Your Majesty, I—”

  “Not now, Leslie!”

  “His name is Leo,” Mia said.

  Plates rattled as the queen pushed herself to her feet. “Beatrice, your lies must stop this instant! Is a little obedience too much to ask?” Black and gold sparks crackled at the tips of her fingers. Magic.

  “I’m not Beatrice,” Mia said quietly.

  Wilhelmina’s eyes narrowed. Visions of Mia becoming cursed like Corinne, cursed like me, flashed before my eyes. I moved to stand, but Corinne beat me to it, throwing off the blanket in a whoosh.

  “She’s not Beatrice,” Corinne said.

  “You!” Wilhelmina screeched. More sparks filled her hands.

  “Yes. Me. I would say it’s lovely to see you, Wilhelmina, but”—she glanced at me—“I’m learning the importance of not telling lies. So here’s the truth: You suck. And that throne behind you is mine.”

  The door at the opposite side of the office crashed open, and a dozen guards clambered through. Upon spotting Corinne, they stopped, shocked. A few rejoiced, while others seemed to prefer Wilhelmina and rushed toward Corinne in anger. I stuck out my right leg, tripping them and sending them crashing into the table. One guard recovered easily and jumped at me, but I brought my fist down on his head. (I guess wooden hands are good for something.)

  Before I could blink, the office was upended. Wilhelmina waved her hands, creating a tornado that sent me flying and smashing through a conference room door. Chairs splintered, television sets exploded. The floor shook as the fridge tipped over, trapping two men beneath its weight.

  I ducked as a body soared over me. Two bodies. Corinne and Mia huddled together, their faces streaked with blood.

  The wind died down, stopping with a hiss reminiscent of a snake rearing for an attack. A tall shadow fell across the doorway.

  Seeing Wilhelmina up close was terrifying. She wore the same square glasses as my mother. The same powerhouse pantsuit. But there was a coldness in her eyes that froze me solid. The floor behind her was littered with splintered wood and unconscious bodies. I wondered if Leslie was among them.

  “Oh, Corinne,” Wilhelmina said. “What must it be like to meet the same fate as your parents? Do send them my greetings.” She cackled as the door slammed shut.

  Flames sprung up, engulfing the walls.

  Corinne picked up a chair, throwing it at the door. I joined her, turning the table and using it as a battering ram. But it was no use.

  “She sealed it with magic!” Corinne yelled as the flames roared. I blinked smoke from my eyes.

  Wooden boy, plus fire . . . equaled ouch.

  Mia clung to me, teary-eyed. “Leo, I’m sorry! I never should have left.”

  “Hey. No, stop that.” If this was it, if this was the last chance I had to tell her, I didn’t want to say it while she was sobbing. “Mia, I can’t take back what I said on the ship, but I want you to know that I do care. You’re my sister, and . . . I . . .” I shrugged. “I kind of love you.”

  Corinne drilled her elbow into my stomach. “Okay, I really love you. And that’s not a lie.”

  A buzzing energy rushed through me. My body stretched, burning as it lost its rigidity. I had nails again, skin, those little baby hairs on my arms that didn’t serve much purpose except to reiterate that I was human once more.

  I broke my curse.

  I looked to Corinne. Her face was alight with a smile.

  We broke my curse.

  But . . . the building was still burning. Of course.

  The floorboards cracked. Corinne screamed. Mia pulled my arm. “Leo?”

  “Yeah?”

  She pointed at the door, where the flames swirled faster. The air shimmered like a mirage, but the feet stepping through the inferno were undoubtedly real.

  Leslie waved his arms, extinguishing the fire i
n a puff of smoke.

  He met my eyes, grinning. I could get used to the idea of my family members having doppelgängers, but I didn’t think I’d ever come to terms with the fact that I had one too. And apparently he could do magic. Some guys had all the luck.

  “Nice face,” Leslie said.

  “Um . . . thanks?” I replied, brushing ashes from my clothes.

  Leslie offered his hand to Corinne. “Long time no see, my lady. You’re a lot greener than I remember.”

  I expected Corinne to have some witty reply, but instead she threw herself into Leslie’s arms. The tender way in which they eyed each other made me wonder what type of history they’d shared. It also made me majorly awkward.

  When I cleared my throat, they snapped apart.

  “I have something for you.” Leslie pulled a jar from inside his coat pocket, showing us a fat brown frog resting on a leaf. There were distinct markings around its eyes in the shape of glasses, and a purple stripe down its back—the same lavender shade as Wilhelmina’s pantsuit.

  “You didn’t!” Corinne grabbed the jar, examining it closely.

  “I did,” Leslie said, wiggling his fingers. A few sparks shot across the room. “The guards and I”—he nodded outside the door, where several men were stirring from the wreckage—“have been looking to get Wilhelmina off the throne for ages.” He smiled at Corinne. “Now that our rightful heir has returned, we could do just that. Welcome back, Princess.”

  Was I mistaken, or was Corinne making googly eyes at her guard?

  “Thanks, Les.”

  “Wait, wait, wait!” I interrupted. “You call him Les, but you won’t call me Leo?”

  She shrugged.

  I did not understand girls.

  Mia tugged my arm, drawing me out of my confusion. “Leo, are we going home?” When I glanced at my watch, my eyes bugged out. Two minutes to midnight.

  “No worries,” said Leslie. With a flick of his fingers, a portal opened near the ceiling. I could see fuzzy images on the other side, twisting like I was watching them from the bottom of a swimming pool. Home.

  I turned, meeting Corinne’s eyes. I hadn’t necessarily enjoyed my time in Pittsborough, but there were things about it I would miss. Like the magic. And the dancing. And her.

  When I told her so, she smiled warmly. “Come back and see us again, Leonard.” She reached for Leslie’s hand. Something inside me felt like it was imploding.

  I tried not to show my disappointment. “I promise,” I told them. “And that’s the truth.”

  TRAVELING THROUGH THE PORTAL was similar to what I imagined flying through a thunderstorm would be like. The world spun like a carousel. Lights flashed. Thunder rumbled—or maybe that was the thoughts rolling in my head. When we landed on the other side, the library was still occupied. It was midnight in Pittsborough, but in Pittsburgh not a single minute had passed. Mia rushed off with the book of fairy tales, determined to convince the librarian to let her keep it, while I stared at my cell phone, contemplating asking my parents if they wanted me to pick up dinner so Mom wouldn’t have to cook.

  They would think I’d gone crazy, but I didn’t mind. I wanted to do something for them, even if it was something small. Just to show them I cared.

  “Oh, sorry!”

  A body bumped into me, knocking my phone to the ground. I bent to retrieve it, but my hand collided with another.

  When I looked up, I couldn’t contain my smile.

  Her skin wasn’t green, but her fingernails were. Her hair was the same vibrant red, falling in tangled curls over her shoulders. She brushed a lock from her face and looked at me like she thought I was nuts. I realized my mouth was gaping.

  She gave me a timid smile. “Can I help you?”

  “I . . . uh . . . I . . .” Was I drooling? “Sorry. Uh . . . excuse me.” I started to book it down the aisle, but stopped when Corinne’s voice rang through my head.

  Live a little, she told me. Feel something.

  “Actually,” I said, turning around, “I just wanted to say your nails look cool. Green’s awesome.”

  “Oh.” She picked at the chipped polish. “Thanks. It’s my favorite. I have this weird thing when it comes to frogs, and it sort of reminds me of . . .” She shrugged, embarrassed. “Sorry. You don’t care about that.”

  “That’s not true. Frogs are awesome. A little annoying and sometimes pushy, but they’re great listeners. They give good advice too.”

  The girl stared at me curiously, probably thinking I was making fun of her. My stomach squirmed. So much for being truthful.

  After the longest moment of my life, she held out her hand. “I’m Chloe.”

  “Leo.”

  We shook. Her fingers were soft and warm. “Leo,” she mused. “That wouldn’t happen to be short for Leonard, would it?”

  Between Earth and Sky

  r. s. kovach

  EVERY GOOD FAIRY TALE ends with a wedding. Because this story was starting with one, I should have known it was going to be downhill from there.

  Contrary to popular opinion, I was never against my mother remarrying. Everyone just assumed I was because I’m on great terms with my dad. My parents divorced before my first birthday, but by then they’d already been together for almost two decades. They just grew apart. Or at least that’s what they keep saying whenever they mention the past.

  After fifteen years, Dad’s still single and I thought Mom would stay that way too. She doesn’t need to get married. Not for money or anything. She’s been the mayor of Otter Falls for forever, so we’ve got enough to have a nice house, a decent car, and the rest to get by on. Now that my brothers are all out of the house, we would have finally gotten the chance to take a vacation to someplace warm. But then she announced her engagement to Johnny Kwanlin, so now they’re getting my dream trip for their honeymoon instead.

  Despite being a Native American, his last name used to be Smith (seriously, John Smith!), but Johnny had it legally changed to the old Tutchone name for the sacred area that’s not too far from here. I think it means “water running through the canyon,” and it’s supposed to emphasize his connection to our shared heritage. He’s a bit overboard with all of that cultural stuff, but I’m still really happy for Mom because she’s with him for love. And at least she won’t be alone when I go off to college in a few years.

  Johnny’s from the Wolf clan, while Mom’s from the Crow, so it actually worked out perfectly. Being part of a traditional First Nations wedding is also pretty cool. Sure, I’ve been to tons as a guest, but I’ve never had the opportunity to participate until now.

  A tribal elder does most of the talking, but there are a lot of props involved—feathers, blankets, incense—so I help with those. Some of the guests are from the city and aren’t familiar with our rituals, so the elder explains things as he goes along.

  I’m trying to concentrate on keeping the eagle feather steady above Mom’s head, which shouldn’t be too hard because I’m taller than her, but my hand is already shaking. It’s not from nerves—there isn’t much for me to really be worried about—but from my arm muscles complaining about having to keep the unusual pose.

  I cringe, hoping no one notices. It’s only been a couple of minutes, and I know there’s a whole bunch more to go because the elder is still only at the part where he’s explaining the matriarchal setup of our society. Thanks to this, only the woman can initiate divorce from a man and not the other way around. I always thought that this was one of the coolest things about being First Nations.

  Of course, I can only claim membership on my mother’s side. I don’t even really look the part because even though I inherited my coloring from my mom, my features are totally from my dad. So basically, I look like a really tan Norwegian. This has never been a problem in Otter Falls because all of the kids are a mix of something. You really can’t get away from it up here in the Yukon.

  It’s early summer, and we’re outside the community lodge. The weathermen called for afternoon rains
, but so far Mother Earth’s cooperating. Although the temperature is probably just in the mid-sixties, it feels higher because of the unrelenting sun. We really should have done this by the Falls, the place on the Aishihik River our town was named after, where a cool breeze can always be felt coming off the water. It carries the fresh, sweet smell of the pines through the air, inviting you to take refuge in the shade of their ancient branches.

  Ah, shade! What I wouldn’t give to be able to enjoy some now. I don’t know whose bright idea it was to hold the ceremony in this clearing, but I’m sure not letting them plan my wedding. My wedding? What am I thinking? I must be getting heatstroke.

  Luckily, the rituals come to an end and it’s time for the final blessing. As the mother of the bride, Grandma Dawson gets this honor. She waddles from her chair at the edge of the surrounding circle of onlookers. Because of her age, she’s the only one who got a seat, and now I see she was smart enough to have an umbrella for shade. By now, Mom is crying, but she really does look beautiful. She’s dressed in an elegant animal-skin dress that’s decorated with beads and shells, some of which are also woven into the braids of her raven-black hair. The blessing involves more feathers and incense, and when Grandma hugs the newly joined couple, the crowd erupts in cheers.

  It’s just in time because now I really feel like I’m about to faint, so instead of joining in offering congratulations, I disappear into the lodge. The Great Hall has been decorated with flowers and balloons, and about a dozen circular tables have been set up for the reception, but I head straight for the bar.

  “Beer me,” I instruct with an authoritative voice.

  “Mira Sighansen, I know you didn’t just say what I think I heard,” the guy working the counter replies.

  I pout. “Come on, Billy, I’m parched! Hurry up before they start coming in.”

  He swings a dishrag over his shoulder and crosses his arms. “You know your mother wouldn’t bat an eye at throwing you in jail for underage drinking.”

  It’s times like these when I hate living in a town of a thousand. You have to really try not to know everyone, including Billy, who I think went to school with my brother Bryce. Or was it Roland? It really doesn’t matter, and my thirst takes precedence.