The Worst Fairy Godmother Ever!

by Sarah Aronson

  Isabelle did her half twirl and her swoosh—just for fun.

  She said, “Your wish has been granted. We will be friends. No matter what!”

  Then she gave Nora a huge hug. Then they went into the house and gave Nora’s stepmom a huge hug. They hugged Gregory, too—not that he really understood why.

  Nora was feeling almost as sappy as Isabelle. “For a long time,” she said, “I stopped wishing for a best friend.” She stood taller. “Then you showed up, and I knew I had found one.”

  The irony was obvious.

  Isabelle and Nora were already friends, and Isabelle had already made her happy. Now they needed to figure out the ever after part.

  Obviously, they started with snacks.

  They ate two sundaes and also some cookies and some of that bread that Nora’s stepmom had just made. Even though bread didn’t technically go with the rest of the snacks, it was warm and delicious. Especially with a spoonful of honey on top.

  When people are happily ever after, they don’t worry about silly things like matching food.

  Isabelle might have hung out there all night, but about midway through the second sundae, her stomach started to feel strange.

  This time it wasn’t because she had done anything wrong.

  It was someone (or something) tugging at her. Like a clock.

  “The Extravaganza!” Isabelle cried. “I forgot! I need to go home and get ready.”

  When Nora looked confused, Isabelle made her promise to wait up. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll tell you everything later.”

  Back at the castle, Isabelle found Clotilda in Grandmomma’s office. Both of them had their feet up on the desk.

  “Right under the wire, just like I told you,” Clotilda said, holding out her hand for a large envelope, probably full of sparkles.

  Isabelle was too happy to be mad. “You bet against me?” she said to Grandmomma. She couldn’t believe it. She turned to Clotilda. “You bet with me?”

  Grandmomma put her feet on the ground and smoothed out her dress. “What was I supposed to do? You never read the books. You didn’t even pretend to read the contract. All that fine print—you think I made that up for my health?”

  Isabelle waited for her to mention other things. Like the stolen sparkles. And the spyglass. But she didn’t.

  “So, yes, I bet against you.” She almost smiled. “But I’m glad I lost.”

  Clotilda peeked in the envelope. (She was really enjoying this.) “I told her you had it in the bag.” She patted Grandmomma on the back. “She was the right princess at the right time. Just like you always say.”

  Grandmomma nodded. “But you took such a long time.”

  Clotilda agreed. “We kept waiting for you to find her a friend. But you ended up becoming her friend instead. It was sort of charming. A real happily ever after. Just like it should be.”

  “That is true,” Grandmomma said. She picked up a picture of Nora. Unlike in the first one, now she was smiling. “But you could have made it a lot easier on yourself. Why do you think I made you play the trust game? How many times did I have to tell you that there is no purpose more important than helping others achieve their happily ever after? Or that happily ever after isn’t only about magic? Or that the magic didn’t come just from sparkles?”

  If there was one thing Grandmomma liked to say, it was “I told you so.” Also “I was right.” And “How many times did I have to tell you?” Today she finished with “You really should have read the books. The fine print is not that fine.”

  Clotilda agreed. “After the Extravaganza, I’ll help you review.”

  Even though this was technically a very good idea, Isabelle didn’t want to think about the rules. She wanted to go back and visit Nora. (She didn’t tell Clotilda that. It would have hurt her feelings.) Grandmomma handed her a book. “Can you read Rule Ten out loud?”

  Isabelle looked at the writing. “Can you turn on a light? The letters look fuzzy.”

  “Fuzzy, you say?” Now Clotilda handed Grandmomma an envelope—probably full of sparkles. “Meaning you can’t read it?”

  “Yes. Fuzzy.” She’d never thought about it before. “What is going on?”

  “Grandmomma thinks you need glasses.” (The fine print was, in fact, not that fine.)

  Isabelle put the book down. “You can’t just wave your wand and make them better?”

  Grandmomma looked a bit sheepish. “Sorry. Not everything can be solved with magic.”

  Tomorrow there’d be plenty of time to check her eyes and order some glasses. Right now, they had to get ready for the Extravaganza.

  Grandmomma waved her wand and turned Isabelle’s regular clothes into a pretty orange-and-purple dress, complete with new shoes and a fancy hairstyle. Isabelle twirled one time—without knocking anything over. She admired her bright green sparkly sneakers—a little worn in. It was a nice touch. She knew Nora would approve.

  “Ready?” Clotilda said. (In the fairy godmother world, there was no such thing as fashionably late. Fashionably late was another way of saying rude. Especially when it came to the Extravaganza, everyone showed up on time.)

  “Ready,” Isabelle said. A few sparkles flew in the air. She couldn’t stop herself. She needed one more spin.

  For once, Grandmomma did not object. “You did it! And now, it’s party time.”

  In the fairy godmother world, just like the regular one, there was nothing better than a big old fancy party, especially if the decorations were sparkly and the food was delicious.

  And the food at the Extravaganza was supposed to be out of this world.

  “I will never forget the first time I walked up these steps,” Clotilda said to Isabelle in her extremely cheerful voice, the one she always used when other fairy godmothers might be listening. “When you walk into the parlor, don’t rush. Stop and look around. The Bests always make sure that every detail is covered.”

  Clotilda wasn’t kidding. The parlor was so gigantic, Isabelle needed to stop and take a breath so she didn’t feel dizzy. From floor to ceiling, every ounce of it glimmered and shimmered and glowed. The ceiling glittered like a star-filled sky. The floor felt dry, but Isabelle almost jumped back—it looked like raging water. The walls were covered with jewels and mirrors, and in every corner and on every wall, there were girlgoyles—except these girls were painted in all kinds of bright colors. To Isabelle, they looked like they were cheering for her.

  “So what do we do first?” Isabelle asked Clotilda.

  “Mingle, of course.” Clotilda seemed to know everyone in the room already. “Why don’t you go find your friends and give them your good news?”

  Isabelle scanned the room until she found Angelica and Fawn. They were standing with some fairy godmothers who looked a lot like them, only older and slightly more wrinkly. “Hello,” Isabelle said. She smiled at Angelica. “How was the Mediterranean? How did you grant your princess’s wish to sail a ship?”

  “It was easy peasy,” Angelica said. “All I did was enter her name in a contest to win a sailing course and voila! She loved the boat. Last time I checked, she was talking about sailing around the world with her parents.”

  Fawn was slightly less boastful. “Mine was very sweet. And very young. When she saw snow for the first time, she couldn’t stop laughing. She even built a snow godmother!”

  Isabelle wanted to tell them about Nora, but the only questions they asked Isabelle were about Melody—not Nora. “Did you get to watch your sister work? Do you think Melody will find love one day? Or will she want to go to another rodeo?” Any other day, this might have made Isabelle feel bad, but today she didn’t care. They were at the Extravaganza. Nora was happy. The food looked great. She loved her green sparkly sneakers. When some older godmothers formed a conga line, Isabelle jumped to the front and weaved them around the tables and chairs until it was time to sit down.

  Isabelle found her assigned seat in the very back corner of the room, near the bathroom.

 
; Minerva was there. So were Irene and MaryEllen and a couple of older fairy godmothers who were close to the Worst, but not there yet.

  Of course, they were complaining.

  They didn’t like the food.

  The music was too loud.

  They thought that all the young godmothers were overdressed.

  Minerva pointed to Angelica and Fawn. They were seated next to the Bests. “We told you it was rigged.”

  “You think that’s bad? My own grandmomma bet against me granting my princess’s wish.” She laughed it off. “What did your practice princesses want?”

  Irene rolled her eyes. “New ballet slippers, of all things. For a recital she wasn’t supposed to be able to dance in.”

  “A lost kitten who’d run away,” MaryEllen said. She shrugged. “In the old days, the wishes were a lot juicier.”

  “It used to be that everyone wanted love,” Minerva told Isabelle. “There were also evil witches. And no one had a phone. But now it’s different. Some princesses want trips around the world. Some want their dream jobs. Some want to find love all by themselves!”

  Secretly, Isabelle was relieved. “And some want to save the world. Or make a new friend.”

  Irene wondered if maybe it was time to retire. “The regular world just isn’t what it used to be.”

  “I don’t agree,” Minerva said. “My practice princess was perfection. She was just like my first princess—a little bit wild, but always kind to animals.” She took a bite of a little fried thing with mustard sauce on top. “And it was wonderful to be back in the Netherlands. The fields were blooming with flowers. I didn’t need very many sparkles at all.”

  Isabelle smiled. She had never seen Minerva act so … happy.

  Irene didn’t look happy that Minerva was happy. “Was it hard for you to leave her?”

  “It was excruciating,” Minerva said. “So this morning, I filled out an official fairy godmother request form to save her for me when she becomes a real princess. I can wait that long to see her again.”

  Now Isabelle was a little confused. “Why did you have to request that?”

  Minerva put her wrinkly hand on Isabelle’s shoulder. She looked at her in a funny way. “Obviously, because practice princesses don’t remember their fairy godmothers. Don’t tell me you forgot Rule Three C?”

  When Isabelle said nothing, the Worsts all groaned. They knew the rule by heart.

  Rule Three C: After the Extravaganza, all practice princesses will forget their fairy godmothers, no exceptions. This is because:

  a) In the future, they may receive a new trainee.

  b) They may someday receive a real fairy godmother.

  c) If they don’t forget, they might become lazy. They will tell their friends. And then everyone will want a fairy godmother and no one will want a trainee and fairy godmothers will stop being special.

  Before they could get to d, Isabelle stopped them. “Do you mean right after the Extravaganza?”

  This was terrible.

  Isabelle got up and ran toward the podium. She had to fight for Nora.

  She found Grandmomma talking to Number Five. “I need to speak to you about Rule Three C,” Isabelle said.

  Isabelle didn’t wait for her to tell her it was also a rule she should have known. Or ask why she hadn’t read it. Or why she’d only found out about it just now. “I don’t care if it’s a rule. It’s not fair.”

  It’s a sad fact that most rules do not work for everyone. Even if it’s a good rule, it can be the wrong one for a few.

  Grandmomma was not about to get into an argument at the Extravaganza. The truth was there wasn’t much she could do. “Rules are rules. You signed on the line.”

  Isabelle wouldn’t accept this. “But I promised Nora we would be friends forever. If she forgets me, it’ll be like she never had one.”

  When people speak the truth, it is hard to argue, even when you are powerful and magical.

  But Grandmomma was not like most people. Plus, she had anticipated this. She had written that rule for good reason. “Yes. I admit, it’s a shame—what we call a vexing situation. But I can’t make an exception for you. How would that look?”

  Isabelle didn’t care how it would look. Also, it sounded like Grandmomma was making an excuse.

  “Listen,” Grandmomma said, “think of it as simple economics. Supply and demand. Who would want to be a practice princess if you could wait and be a real princess later?”

  That was true. But still not satisfying. “But Nora will be sad. That can’t be right, either.”

  “She’ll be no worse off than she was before she met you.”

  That was true, too.

  “Forget about her,” Grandmomma said. “This is about you. And your training. As I recall, you didn’t think she was sad at all. Just serious.” Now Grandmomma looked a bit smug. “If you want to be a good fairy godmother, you don’t have a choice. Honestly, I told your mother the same thing.”

  Grandmomma had never spoken about Isabelle’s mother like this before. “You did? Why?”

  “You think I wanted my own daughter to be banished?” Grandmomma asked. “I told her to back off—to stop trying so hard and to leave the sparkles alone. That that princess wasn’t worth it. But she wouldn’t listen.” She put both hands on Isabelle’s shoulders. “But you’re going to. Right?”

  Isabelle took a step back.

  If she wanted to stay friends with Nora, she didn’t have much time.

  “Okay,” she told Grandmomma, crossing her fingers behind her back. “I will deal with it.” As soon as she could, Isabelle turned and hurried out of the Extravaganza.

  Back in her room, Isabelle felt something new. She couldn’t be sure what to call it, but it seemed stronger than any magic she had ever felt before. Bigger than sparkles. Even bigger than a stepmother’s wish on a shooting star. Isabelle was sure that something—or someone—was telling her to take a chance and do something quick.

  It felt like she had her own fairy godmother—like someone was watching over her. Like maybe, no matter how far away she might be, her mother had not been completely banished.

  Maybe she was still around. Somewhere.

  Isabelle knew what she had to do. And she didn’t have much time to spare.

  Nora jumped when Isabelle arrived in a small, dusty cloud of sparkles. “What are you doing here? I thought you had to go to some party.”

  Isabelle tried not to talk too fast. “You have to listen. When you wake up tomorrow morning, you are not going to remember me.”

  Nora thought this was hilarious. “That’s not true. We are friends for forever, just like I wished.”

  Isabelle didn’t want to tell her that she hadn’t read the fine print. But then she realized that she had to. “No. It’s a rule. I’m sorry. I didn’t read it. I didn’t even open the rule book until it was too late.”

  Nora could have gotten mad, but it was really obvious that Isabelle was upset. “So why are you here? To say good-bye?” she asked quietly.

  “No. I can’t do that. I have a plan.”

  Isabelle took out the jar of sparkles she’d kept in her underwear drawer and put them gently on Nora’s desk. “These are magic sparkles. I stole them from my grandmomma’s office. I am going to leave them here with you. That way, if you need a friend, no matter where you are or what you’re doing, you can find me.”

  Isabelle grabbed a piece of paper from Nora’s desk and wrote:

  How to use sparkles if you need a friend:

  Take a pinch of them and throw a few in the air.

  Don’t use a lot. They are more powerful than you understand.

  So, I repeat: Don’t use a lot.

  Isabelle was sure that Nora, unlike her, would follow the rules. (Unlike Isabelle, she was a good student—and she also had very good eyesight.)

  Then Isabelle put the sparkles where only Nora would see them: in her memory box—the one she kept under her bed. She gave Nora a huge hug.

  �
�Trust me, you can have lots of friends. All those girls at the park? They want to be friends with you. I bet they don’t understand what went wrong, either.”

  When Nora looked scared, Isabelle said, “It’s going to be okay. You will forget me, but I’ll never forget you. Even though it isn’t in the rule book, I’ll always be your fairy godmother.”

  Then she took a couple of sparkles out of the jar, pinched them between her thumb and her fingers, and in a puff, she disappeared.

  When Isabelle returned to the fairy godmother world, she did not go back to the Extravaganza, although she could hear that the party was in full swing. Right now, she didn’t want to mingle with Angelica or Fawn. Or hear about their wonderful practice princesses. She didn’t want to talk to Minerva. She definitely couldn’t face Grandmomma or Clotilda. She wasn’t even that hungry.

  The one and only godmother she wanted to talk to was not here. But that was okay. Up until recently, she had been sure she’d never see her again.

  But now, she wasn’t so sure.

  She was out there. Isabelle could feel it.

  She climbed up the castle steps and outside to her secret hiding place. She sat in the cozy spot between the girlgoyles. The sky was particularly bright, just like it was supposed to be.

  Already she missed Nora.

  The girlgoyles seemed to understand. They always did.

  Isabelle understood new things, too. She felt something she had never felt before. It was part confidence; part hope; part something else. She didn’t know what to call it. Maybe gusto.

  She felt ready for Level Two.

  Also, she wouldn’t admit this to Clotilda, but her sister was right. As soon as she got those glasses, she was going to read that book. Every single rule.

  But mostly, Isabelle understood Mom. She knew why her mother had done everything she could to make her unhappy princess happy. She knew why she broke rules. She even understood why Grandmomma (with the emphasis on momma) had sent Isabelle to training and given her Nora instead of a princess who wanted a lost kitten.