Survival of the Sparkliest!

by Sarah Aronson

  She walked around the room so that each trainee could bow her head in her direction.

  “During Level One, we watched you learn to think on your feet and develop your signature styles. In Level Two, we tested your strength and dexterity, and you persevered through unusual circumstances … with less than optimal materials.” Then she stopped walking and pointed her wand at the Grands. “And you taught us a lot, too, ladies. About fairness. And experience. And how some habits and rules that worked for a while can get very stale if they are not revisited.”

  “So, with that in mind,” Raine said, “we are delighted to tell you that during this level, there will be no tricks or advantages.”

  Kaminari added, “All of you will be given the most optimal situations and complete access to maximum sparkles.”

  This was exactly what the trainees had been wishing for!

  But then it came.

  The but.

  Of course, from none other than Clotilda. “But that doesn’t mean Level Four is going to be a cakewalk.” She cleared her throat. “With maximum sparkle power comes maximum sparkle responsibility. You have to stay on your toes. You have to correct your mistakes. You have to speak up if you are confused.”

  As Clotilda continued to ruin the mood, Isabelle doodled an unflattering picture of her sister in her notebook. She didn’t like when the Bests talked about mistakes, because it meant that everyone was thinking about Mom.

  Thinking about Mom made her collar itch more than ever. Her feet felt hot. She tried to loosen her hair, but Clotilda’s magic was impossible to overcome. Every time she tugged on a pin, it tightened even more.

  “Isabelle?” Luciana prompted. Her eyes looked like fire. “Are you with us?”

  Obviously, she wasn’t.

  Luciana looked peeved. “Your sister just asked how you would approach your first princess today.” Before Isabelle could slump lower into her seat, Luciana asked, “Since you are wearing a Number One jewel, you can go first. Tell us, if you could do it all over again, what would you do differently?”

  Isabelle scratched her neck. “Well, since Nora became my princess before she had ever made a wish or even realized that fairy godmothers were real, I would definitely wait and listen longer before going to meet her.” She sighed, because she hated waiting—since you never knew how long it would last. She also hated Rule Three C (as well as all the fine print) and was about to ask why they insisted on keeping this rule, but then she didn’t—they were never going to change it. So she made another suggestion. “Can we change out of these dresses? I’d really like to wear clothes like yours.” She tried not to look at Clotilda (who was probably furious). “This topknot is unbearable!”

  Luciana shrugged. “That’s not a terrible idea.” She flicked her wand and changed their dresses into comfortable clothes.

  Isabelle couldn’t help herself. She jumped up and shouted, “Thank you, Luciana! You’re the best!” Then she gave the Number One fairy godmother a kiss on each cheek.

  For the record, in the fairy godmother world, jumping up and kissing the cheeks of the Number One fairy godmother was pretty much unacceptable—even more so than daydreaming in class. Everyone started snickering.

  Raine tapped her wand until order had been restored. “Waiting for your princess to make a great wish is particularly important because today, more than ever before, princesses have power. They have influence. They hold important jobs. Most of all, they care deeply about causes that require great thought.”

  “You mean I was right?” Isabelle said. She started to twirl—and maybe give Luciana another unnecessary kiss on the check—but then she stopped. She sat back down.

  Angelica gave her two thumbs up. Then she raised her hand. “You know what they say: Sparkly things come to those who wait.”

  As the rest of the godmothers pondered the joys of listening and patience, Isabelle drew a big swirl in her notebook. Listening and waiting. Waiting and listening. No matter how much sparkle they promised, they always said the same thing.

  Fawn jumped in next. “It’s also our job to use this time to look ahead, to think about everything that might happen once a princess’s wish comes true. We must listen to what our princesses want and also listen to the world, so we can see what they need to make the world a better place.”

  Isabelle popped to attention. “Making the world a better place was what Nora wanted, too.”

  She might have said more about Nora but then Minerva stood up. The last time she did this, a strike started, so this time, everyone immediately gave her the floor. “Patience is also an essential element of trust—the foundation of the relationship between godmother and princess.” She looked to Irene, who added, “Just like our time together helps all of us trust each other, our time with our princesses assures them that they can trust us.”

  “So when things get tough,” MaryEllen said, “they do not lose all hope.”

  Luciana clapped her hands. “As one of my favorite princesses once told me: ‘If you don’t study the mistakes of the past, you are doomed to repeat them.’ ”

  That sounded scary. (It was supposed to.)

  Clotilda said, with a smile on her face, “So let’s get started. Today we are going to give you one of the most difficult wishes in fairy godmother history. And we want to see how you would grant it.”

  In other words, testing was about to begin.

  When everyone was dressed in head-to-toe protective gear, gold papers just like the one Grandmomma gave Isabelle appeared in front of each trainee.

  Luciana said, “What you have in front of you is the beginning of the story of a very famous princess. I will add that this wish could have gone terribly wrong, but thanks to the kindness, determination, and gusto of her fairy godmother, this princess became happily ever after.”

  That was exciting.

  It meant this princess was definitely in the book.

  Raine said, “Today, we would like each of you to come up with a plan of action for granting this historic wish.” Kaminari pointed around the room to their books as well as a wall of classic and modern accessories and the science station, where they could find the spectrum of sparkles in vacuum-sealed containers.

  Clotilda looked straight at Isabelle. “Before you begin, do you have any questions?”

  Isabelle had a gazillion questions. Like how long they had to complete the task, and whether it mattered who finished first. (She was thinking about the Survival of the Sparkliest banner.) She also wanted to know if there was anything they couldn’t do besides use orange sparkles. And if they messed up, how many times could they start over? But when neither the Grands nor Angelica nor Fawn raised their hands, she didn’t raise hers either.

  Clotilda smiled. “Okay, then. Let’s begin. May the best godmother win!”

  Isabelle turned the page over. She was happy to see that there was no fine print and that the story was short.

  Once upon a time, there was a king, a queen, and a princess named [Name Redacted].Even though she was the smartest and most admired princess in all the lands, she was most unhappy. Also, she had magical powers of her own.

  Isabelle took her time. She wrote down:

  Only child.

  Very smart.

  Lots of responsibility.

  Magical princess. Must have lived a long time ago.

  Then she kept reading.

  The king and queen gave her everything she asked for, from ponies to long vacations, to books and snacks and festivals in her name. But she remained miserable. They were convinced she was unhappy because she was lonely. Unfortunately, every time they introduced her to anyone, she turned the poor prince or princess into a frog or a lizard or other random amphibian.

  When word got out about the amphibians and reptiles, no one wanted to go near the castle. No one wanted to speak to the princess. As time passed, no one would even work at the castle. The grounds were ignored. Ivy covered the castle. No one would go in or out.

  The entire world wa
s afraid of the princess.

  So her mother, now very old and all out of answers, called the fairy godmother.

  Maybe the story was too short.

  Isabelle thought it over. It seemed obvious that the princess wanted to rule the world more than she wanted friends—that power (and power alone) would make her happily ever after.

  In other words, the old book was spot on. Black and red sparkles would definitely do the trick!

  But that seemed awfully easy.

  Like trick-question easy.

  So Isabelle thought about it some more and then even longer, until the words looked blurry and her legs felt stiff and she couldn’t sit another second. Maybe this wasn’t a trick. Maybe the king and queen were wrong about their daughter.

  Who were they to judge?

  She was just about to stand up and gather some sparkles when she heard someone whisper her name. But she must have been mistaken, because when she looked around, everyone was busy reading or taking notes or gathering sparkles. No one was even looking at her.

  Maybe she was just nervous. Imagining things.

  But no. When she stood up, there it was again. This time louder.

  “Isabelle! Stop!”

  This was very unnerving. And confusing, too. Isabelle wondered if the other trainees were hearing things, too. If so, this could be part of the test. The voice—whoever it was—could be misleading her or helping her. She didn’t know what she should do.

  The voice sounded desperate. “Before you settle on sparkles, look in your Wish List.”

  This was an undeniably good idea, so Isabelle went back to her seat and opened the book. She found the section on princesses who wished for power. But to her dismay, the section was long. Not only that, but there was a great deal of fine print and more than two hundred footnotes.

  In other words, a lot of princesses wanted power.

  Some princesses wanted power and love. Some wanted power and friendship. One princess needed a fuzzy pet to make her happily ever after; power wasn’t really all that important at all.

  But that was just the beginning.

  Princesses wanted knowledge and power for tons of reasons. In the old days, there was a lot of discovering new lands or leading revolutions. Some princesses wanted to make laws more fair. Helping others was a big motivation. So was scientific discovery. Others wanted to make beautiful art.

  Isabelle felt lost. She didn’t know what to do.

  So she did what she always did, but shouldn’t. She looked around the room to see what the other trainees were doing. (She was sure they’d all been given the same problem princess.)

  Angelica was using her wand to combine her sparkles in a tall drinking glass.

  Fawn had turned her wand into a giant needle and was sewing her sparkles into a beautiful gown. (That was so creative.) Isabelle could see that she’d taken a whole bunch of vacuum-sealed containers, including some darker colors and pink. From where she sat, it looked as though Minerva was baking.

  Isabelle couldn’t stop thinking about the old rule book. (Remember: Fairy godmothers did not believe in coincidences. Also: Remembering one line was a lot easier than reading any more fine print.)

  With as much confidence as possible, Isabelle headed to the table filled with sparkles and took two huge packages of red and black.

  Then, because her friends had taken other colors, she grabbed some extra orange and a handful of pink for humor, and a tiny bit of gold for determination—but only a tiny bit, because a girl who would turn potential friends into amphibians and reptiles was probably stubborn enough. She also got some light blue and some chartreuse, even though she still didn’t know how to pronounce it.

  She was just about to start mixing when the whisper told her, “Not so much red. Put the black sparkles down.”

  Isabelle wished the whisper would go away. She figured it had to be a trick. She remembered the warning: She wasn’t here to make friends.

  When Luciana told them, “Ten more minutes,” Isabelle finalized her plan: She was going to infuse the sparkle power into the tiara and give it (hypothetically) to the princess.

  As Clotilda would say, easy peasy lemon squeezy!

  Or as the voice said, “No, Isabelle! The old book is wrong! Don’t!”

  But Isabelle wasn’t listening anymore.

  As quickly as she could, Isabelle added the sparkles to her colorimeter and stirred the combination together.

  It made a sizzle sound. And a pop.

  Isabelle loved it! Her sparkles felt alive!

  Next, she packed as many of those sparkles as she could into her wand. When her wand was sealed and ready to go, she pointed it straight at the tiara for maximum sparkle power. And then she thought very deeply about happiness. And power. And of course, strength, knowledge, and friendship. And then she thought about how great it would be to be the best godmother in the class, and how she couldn’t wait to see Nora. And right away, the tiara glowed and shined and began to spin in the air.

  Isabelle felt a bit smug.

  But Fawn looked scared. “Isabelle! Your tiara! What did you do?”

  Angelica stepped out of the way. “That doesn’t look safe!”

  At first, Isabelle was sure that Fawn and Angelica were jealous, but then the tiara wouldn’t stop spinning. Instead of slowing down, it began to swell and steam as if the sparkles were hot and wanted to escape.

  Isabelle grabbed some potholders and tossed the tiara into a safety cabinet. She slammed the cabinet door shut. She hoped that after a few moments, the magic would settle down and that no one else would notice.

  But just in case it didn’t, she motioned to her sister. “Clotilda, I think I stuffed my wand with too many sparkles!”

  It was too late! Before Clotilda could grab one of those sand-colored wands from a corner of the room (or even before she could say, “For all that is sparkly”), the cabinet doors burst open! The tiara soared into the center of the room and spit sparkles into every corner. Alarms blared. The tiara looked like fire. The room began to fill with sparkle dust!

  Kaminari shouted, “Duck for cover!”

  Luciana shouted, “Run for your lives!”

  In record time, the trainees and Grands ran toward the gnarly tree so they could wait for the magic to simmer down. The Bests stood like guards with their wands pointed at every window and door. They looked as though they were using every muscle in their bodies. Their wands shot protective sparkles at the building.

  Fawn covered her eyes.

  Angelica glared at Isabelle.

  The Grands said, “This does not look good.”

  Giant puffs of pink, red, and orange streamed out the windows. Streaks of sparkles bounced from one wall to another. The whole building shuddered and quaked and hissed with sparkle overload as if it had been hit by a gigantic sparkly rainbow.

  This wasn’t any sparkle mess. This was a sparkle disaster.

  Even worse, it was all Isabelle’s fault.

  The Bests wanted to know everything. Every move. Every decision. Every detail. This was standard procedure after a sparkle disaster.

  They asked Isabelle:

  “What sparkles did you use?”

  “How many did you take?”

  “How quickly did you combine them?”

  Isabelle told them almost everything. “Because the princess wanted to be left alone, I made a combination of mostly red and black sparkles, but I also used a tiny bit of pink and yellow and blue.” Then she thought about it. “And some gold. And the neat yellow-green one.”

  “You mean chartreuse?”

  Isabelle nodded. “Yes, chartreuse.” (Now she knew how to pronounce it: “shar-truce.”)

  Clotilda couldn’t stand still. “And nothing else? Are you sure about that, Isabelle?”

  Isabelle nodded again. “No. Nothing else.” She added, “Mostly, I used red and black.”

  When the Bests heard “mostly red and black,” they looked at each other with very grim expressions. They shoo
k their heads in dismay. “How much red? How much black?”

  Isabelle wished she could be exact, but she hadn’t exactly measured. She said, “Can there be too much knowledge and power?” When they frowned, she said, “There wasn’t much to go on.”

  Clotilda threw up her hands in utter despair. “Isabelle! What were you thinking? Did you even look in your books?” Then she said the worst possible thing: “You did what Mom would have done.”

  Luciana, Raine, and Kaminari agreed. “That’s exactly what she would have done.”

  “Why is that so bad?” Isabelle begged her sister to explain. “In the old book, it recommended that combination.”

  Luciana looked as red as the reddest sparkle. “In what old book?”

  Isabelle took the book out from under her protective gear. “It was a gift. For ending the strike.” But when she turned to the page with the handwritten notes, everything looked different. Now she read:

  WARNING!

  Extremely Important Notes on Using High Quantities of Dangerous Sparkles, especially Black and Red at the Exact Same Time Without Measuring.

  Clotilda walked away.

  “Isabelle,” Fawn said. “I don’t know what to say.” She tried to peek into the window, but there was too much dust for anyone to see anything.

  “She’s even worse than her mother,” Angelica muttered.

  Isabelle couldn’t take her eyes off the book. “But this isn’t what it said,” she told them. “I think someone’s played a trick on me.” But her friends didn’t seem to be listening.

  Luciana handed Isabelle a broom and a dustpan and some brand-new protective gear, including special gloves and a mask to cover her nose and mouth so she wouldn’t breathe in any sparkle fumes. She told everyone else to go home.

  Once they were gone, she pointed to the “not ready” door. “Isabelle, go inside and clean up this mess.”

  When Isabelle entered the center, she wanted to cry. (But she didn’t. She was determined to hold it in.) Every surface, from the floor to every table, chair, and display, wasn’t just covered with red, yellow, blue, and every other color of sparkle soot imaginable. It was buried in every color of sparkle soot imaginable.