The door on the right was covered in glitter and bright colors. The words WALK THROUGH THIS DOOR IF YOU ARE READY TO BECOME A GREAT FAIRY GODMOTHER flashed brightly across it. The door on the left was not fancy at all. It was brown and smooth, and it felt a lot like leather. The words on this door were small and looked a little bit blurry, so she stepped right up to them. WALK THROUGH THIS DOOR IF YOU ARE NOT.
Why did there always have to be multiple choices?
Why did she always feel like she was about to be tricked?
Claiming to be ready seemed like the smart thing to say, but it was also less humble. Humility, according to Clotilda, was the fifth most important thing a fairy godmother had to be.
When a really old godmother showed up, Isabelle did not waste a second. “Which door is the right one?” she asked.
The old godmother looked her up and down. “They’re both the same,” she said, limping past her toward the brown door. “Everyone is ready. And everyone is not.”
That sounded suspiciously like something Clotilda would make up. But since Isabelle wanted to get a look around the classroom before Grandmomma arrived, she didn’t question the old godmother. Instead, she squared her shoulders and confidently walked through the fancy door. She decided to look ready, even though she wasn’t.
The truth was nobody inside even looked up to see which door she had picked. They were too busy talking and looking around the room. Photographs of the greatest fairy godmothers of all time—including a nice picture of Grandmomma as a young godmother—covered the back wall. Above the photos flashed everyone’s favorite slogan: HAPPILY EVER AFTER. THE LAST LINE OF EVERY GREAT STORY.
The front of the room was interesting, too. There was a big red desk and an even bigger red chair. On the desk sat a jar full of pencils and a bigger jar full of candy. It was stocked with all of Grandmomma’s favorites, and some of Isabelle’s, too. She recognized the wrappers from her secret trip to Grandmomma’s office.
Next, Isabelle looked for an empty seat.
Normally when there was listening to do, she preferred to sit in the back row. But three older godmothers, including the really old one she had met outside, had already taken those spots. Isabelle figured they were probably teachers, since they looked just like Grandmomma on a bad day: crabby, tired, and annoyed.
The only two other people in the room were young like her. But they had taken seats in the one place she did not want to sit—the front row, right in front of Grandmomma’s desk.
The first girl reminded her of an intricate flower. Her black hair was piled into fancy braids with red and pink ribbons and scarves that made her dark skin glow. Her arms looked strong and lean, like the roots and stems of the flowers that grew all over the eastern half of the fairy godmother world.
The second one looked like she had drifted down from the clouds in the sky. Like a lot of fairy godmothers of the past, she was more bubble than brawn, all pinks and whites and pale yellows and fluff. She had very round eyes and very round cheeks and a very round body.
Isabelle thought about sitting down next to them, but they looked so cool and confident that she couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated.
Clotilda had told Isabelle (about a million times) that, just like princesses, fairy godmothers came in all shapes, sizes, and shades. She’d also told her that as she progressed in the training, she would learn about all the different customs of princesses as well as the godmothers. And that she was going to make great lifelong friends.
But these girls—she didn’t know what to say. They looked polished and smart and so much more … well, everything. Plus, they were reading The Official Rule Book for Fairy Godmothers like it was the most interesting book they’d ever seen. No matter how many times Isabelle coughed or cleared her throat or yawned really loudly, they didn’t look up. Hopefully that meant they weren’t prepared, either.
She was still standing when the really old fairy godmother from earlier waved her over.
“What are you waiting for—an invitation?” the old godmother whispered. “Go on, introduce yourself. They won’t bite!”
Isabelle knew better than to disappoint a teacher! As fast as she could, she walked back up the aisle and stood in front of the two girls. “Hello there. My name is Isabelle. I am very much pleased to meet you.” Her voice came out sounding more like a frog croak than real words. Neither girl looked up.
Isabelle tried again, this time speaking louder and slower. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Isabelle.”
This time, they perked up. “As in, sister of the Clotilda?”
Isabelle nodded and both girls squealed. “The fourth best fairy godmother in the land,” the girl with the braids said. “You must be so proud.”
Isabelle didn’t know about fourth best, but there was no point in arguing. “Yes. We’re all really proud.”
They asked her tons of questions, from Clotilda’s favorite color (yellow) to what Clotilda liked to eat (peaches) and what she thought about Clotilda’s princess, Melody (perfection, obviously). Neither one of them invited Isabelle to pull up a chair. But maybe they were nervous, too. Isabelle was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. She sat down in the row behind them and waited for the Clotilda excitement to die down.
It took a while, but eventually the girl with the braids offered her name. “My name is Angelica. And this is Fawn.”
When Fawn held out her hand, she looked like she might be in danger of floating away. “I’m so excited to get started. Aren’t you?” She opened up her Wish List, the master portfolio of all the princesses past, present, and future, then looked at Isabelle’s empty lap. “Where are your books? Don’t tell me you’re such a genius like your sister that you don’t need them?”
Isabelle hadn’t even thought about bringing her books. She’d never bothered to open the big, fat Wish List that came with the rule book. It was still in its wrapping, stacked in the corner of her room, collecting dust.
But Isabelle knew better than to admit all that. Instead she winked—the way you do when you have a secret—with her mouth wide open (and perhaps a stray sparkle near her eye). She said, “I’d rather not talk about princesses, if you know what I mean.”
To her surprise, Angelica seemed to know exactly what she meant. She pointed to the old godmothers in the back of the room. “We don’t want to say anything in front of the Worsts, either.” She rolled her eyes and whispered, “I couldn’t believe it when I saw them!”
“They’re the Worsts? Really?” Isabelle said, too surprised to whisper. She had heard that Grandmomma liked to readmit the most unsuccessful fairy godmothers for retraining—to give them a fresh start—but she hadn’t expected them to look so normal. “I thought they were our teachers.”
The really old godmother hit Isabelle in the head with a crumpled-up piece of paper. “You know, we can hear you.” On the paper was a drawing of Grandmomma. It was not complimentary.
The Worsts all began complaining at once:
“The system is rigged.”
“She acts like she’s doing us a favor.”
“Some princesses like being miserable. Don’t say we didn’t warn you. It was a lot better. Before.”
Isabelle knew what she meant by “before.” She meant before Mom and her really unhappy princess, before all the new rules, when fairy godmothers didn’t have to go to training—or in their case, retraining. “What do you mean, ‘rigged’?”
The really old one had tons of wrinkles. “You’ll see soon enough.”
One of her friends had bright purple hair and a very long nose. “How do you think your sister got to be fourth best? In the old days, you had to pay your dues!”
Isabelle still didn’t know about fourth best, but she didn’t want to argue. “Clearly, you haven’t met Clotilda.” Her sister had always been perfect and talented and got everything she wanted way before anyone else. “Besides, Grandmomma would never rig the system. She’s not that nice.” She smiled. “The truth is, most of
the time she’s crabby. And stuffy. And …”
“Isabelle.”
Angelica and Fawn went back to reading. The Worsts looked away.
A shadow crept across the room.
Isabelle felt a cold, bony hand on her shoulder. She did not have to turn around to see whom it belonged to.
In case it wasn’t clear, a cold bony hand on the shoulder is never a good sign. Especially when it belongs to Grandmomma.
“Welcome to Level One,” she said, walking to the front of the class. “I hope you’re all excited to be here.”
Angelica and Fawn stood up and clapped their hands. They were definitely excited.
The Worsts didn’t budge or smile. They definitely were not.
Grandmomma spelled out the rules for training. “First you will have to succeed in the classroom. Only then will you get a chance to demonstrate what you’ve learned on one practice princess chosen especially for you.”
Isabelle was pleased that she knew all of this already. “And if you make her happy, you get to go to the Extravaganza! Am I right?” Isabelle asked. She popped up out of her seat, eager to show Grandmomma she had done some studying.
“Not just happy, Isabelle. Happily ever after.” Grandmomma’s whole face turned as red as a rose. “Now, please sit down. You should be more focused on graduating to Level Two than going to a party. I don’t want to talk about the Extravaganza right now.”
Isabelle sank down in her seat, slightly deflated.
The Extravaganza wasn’t just any party. According to Clotilda, it was the best, most magical can’t-miss party of every fairy godmother season. On that night, godmothers near and far dressed up in fancy clothes and ate delicious food. They took turns showing off their amazing magical skills. Clotilda had told Isabelle that last year, one fairy godmother made an entire garden of flowers bloom. Another brightened the sky with brand-new stars. And that was not all. Officially, the Extravaganza was also a meeting where fairy godmothers traded and picked up new princesses. But Isabelle wasn’t certain how that part worked.
As Grandmomma continued to talk, Isabelle thought of another question. This time, she raised her hand and waited for Grandmomma to call on her.
Grandmomma nodded at Isabelle. “Yes?”
“When do we get our wands?” Isabelle asked.
Grandmomma sighed and went right back to addressing the class. She talked about the early history of fairy godmothers, the times when they only served royal princesses, because they were the only ones who believed in magic. Then she talked about a time after that when everyone believed in magic and fairy godmothers were busy 24-7. Then she skipped over a whole lot of bad things (even though they all knew what she was talking about) and reviewed some of the things they were going to learn and do during the different levels of training and how it was important to do something or other. To be honest, Isabelle sort of lost track when it became clear that Grandmomma was not going to talk about wands.
During the lecture, Isabelle drew bunny ears on the Worsts’ drawing of Grandmomma. Then she added a cute bow tie. Then she turned the paper over and drew 227 squares that were all the same size. She would have colored them in, but Grandmomma flicked her wand at Isabelle, turning the paper into a teeny tiny orange, otherwise known as a kumquat.
Just thinking about the word kumquat made Isabelle want to laugh. Since she knew this would be a bad thing to do, she pinched her nose to hold it in. As it turned out, this was a bad strategy. All it did was make her laugh come out like a snort, and as anyone who has ever laughed at the wrong moment knows, snorts were even funnier than kumquat, and kumquat was an objectively funny word.
“Isabelle!” Grandmomma flicked her wand again to make the kumquat disappear in a cloud of orange sparkles. “Did you hear what I just said about the official fairy godmother practice princess system?”
Isabelle coughed, stalling for time. “Um … I believe you said that there was no such thing as a lousy princess?” This was a guess, but it was a good one. She said that all the time.
Grandmomma picked up her teacher’s guide and began to read:
“The difference between a practice princess and the princess you receive when you are a real fairy godmother is a) Not much. All of them want to be happy, b) Everything. Fairy godmothers in training have one cycle (also known as a season) to make their practice princesses happy. Real fairy godmothers serve their princesses for a much longer time, c) Age. Fairy godmothers in training are paired with princesses who are young, whose wishes are small and easy to grant.” She made quotation marks with her fingers when she said the word wishes.
Isabelle waited for her to say d, but instead Grandmomma tapped her wand on her desk. “But when I say ‘wishes,’ there are conditions, as I’m sure you’re all aware.” (That’s what the air quotes were for.) She continued, “But if not, please see the appendix, sections 3.5, 3.6, and 3.7, at your earliest possible convenience. Clear?”
Isabelle said “Clear” along with the rest of the class, even though she had definitely not read the appendix (or anything else in the rule book, really).
Again, Grandmomma tapped her wand on the desk. This time, a few sparks flew out of the tip. “So, who can tell me what the answer is?”
Angelica’s hand shot up like a sunflower. “All of the above, of course.” It was clear that she already knew every word of the manual. “The system works perfectly because we get the right princess at the right time.”
Fawn added in a wispy voice, “We are so grateful for this opportunity. We know you will set us up to do great things.” She opened the book to a page in the middle. “I especially like your tips for looking like a pro.”
Grandmomma was clearly not above flattery. “Thank you both,” she said, pointing her wand at the candy jar. Two pieces popped out of the jar and whisked up and around the room before landing on Angelica’s and Fawn’s desks.
Isabelle raised her hand before she knew what she wanted to say. The sound of candy wrappers crinkling made her mouth water. “Can I—”
“Silence!” Grandmomma shook her head, but she didn’t look that annoyed. “Without further ado,” she said, “I have something far better for all of you.”
Right on cue, trumpets began to blare. Drums pounded.
Something huge was about to happen.
Because of the music, Grandmomma had to shout to be heard. “Happily ever after requires more than magic. It is about so much more than sparkles.” She laughed. “But neither one of those things hurts, either!”
When the music ended, she pointed to the back door and everyone turned around. She said, “To celebrate your first day of training, please welcome my dearest friends, the worldwide experts on happily ever after.”
Standing at the door were the top three ranking fairy godmothers in the world, the best of the best. No introduction was necessary.
Isabelle had seen the Bests plenty of times—but only from a safe distance.
Up close was different. Up close, they all looked so powerful and proud—and even a little bit scary. They seemed totally different from the other godmothers she’d met. As they walked to the front of the room, they held their wands high in the air, almost as high as their noses.
This made them look a little stuck up, but Isabelle figured it was most likely a safety precaution. Since they were all literally on the job, their wands had to be loaded with tons of sparkles. Thanks to Clotilda, Isabelle knew that Number Two thought she should be Number One, and Number Three had a lot of new ideas. One false move and anything might happen.
Number One introduced herself first.
“Good morning, trainees! My name is Luciana, but my first princess called me Luciana the Fascinante, and let’s just say the name stuck.”
Unlike Clotilda and Grandmomma, Luciana wore her dark brown bun at the base of her neck. A jeweled ribbon and a carnation finished the look. Very sophisticated.
She flicked her wrist, and a bundle of pure white carnations appeared on every single des
k. “That princess, Nina Valentina, wasn’t just beautiful—she was also spoiled rotten. And what a temper! She threw tantrum after tantrum until the king himself was afraid to cross her on even the smallest of requests.” She tapped her wand again, and the carnations turned red—just like the one in her hair. “That’s when I was called in.”
The story of Nina and Luciana was one of the first ones Isabelle had ever heard. The way Grandmomma told it, Nina was the kind of princess that they all wished for. She was intelligent and feisty, a born leader, and a rascal.
“Making Nina happily ever after wasn’t easy,” Luciana said, “but when I was done, she knew how to appreciate her good fortune. She became a wise ruler. She is still remembered for her humility and kindness to all living things.”
When everyone was done cheering, Number Two stepped forward. She wore a colorful floor-length smock, cinched tightly at the waist. Her voice was soft and deep, and she spoke very slowly. “My name is Raine.”
Isabelle thought that was a perfect name for her. She was tall and dark-skinned with bright yellow hair. “Were you named for the weather?”
Angelica turned around and glared at her. “What is wrong with you? Her name means Queen.”
As Isabelle slumped in her chair, Raine whipped out her wand and held it high over her head. Poof! Crack! Bam! Grandmomma’s dress turned into a beautiful orange, black, and green robe—not that different from Raine’s. “As you should know from your Wish List, I received my first princess right after she’d been kidnapped by a witch, so I had to think fast. I turned myself into a starling and taught her how to understand me, so she would never feel alone. I also made the most beautiful tree you can imagine.”
“That was such a great idea,” Angelica said.
Isabelle was confused. Why a tree? Why a bird? In this case, being a fairy godmother seemed even more complicated than she had imagined.
The Worst Fairy Godmother Ever! Page 2