Survival of the Sparkliest!

by Sarah Aronson

  Beakers lay smashed on the floor.

  The walls were streaked with dust.

  All of the signs and slogans and photos from the last Extravaganza had fallen to the floor.

  Worst of all, her favorite sign, HAPPILY EVER AFTER: THE LAST LINE OF EVERY GREAT STORY, was ruined, splintered right down the center.

  Luciana picked up the pieces of the sign and tossed them into the trash. She looked more like an evil stepmother than a godmother in charge of training.

  “Are you sure we can’t use magic to clean up this mess?” Isabelle asked.

  Unfortunately, Luciana was not a fairy godmother who ever used sparkles when slow, hard, painful work could get the job done. “No. You have wasted enough sparkles for one day. You need to clean this up the old-fashioned way.”

  So Isabelle picked up the broom and started sweeping. And sweeping. And sweeping. And it wasn’t easy.

  When she pressed hard on the broom, the soot streaked. It got stuck in every crack. When she used a lighter touch, sparkles swirled into the air like a cloud. And when she pressed somewhere in the middle, not much happened at all.

  It was really discouraging.

  But since there was no point in complaining, she did the best she could.

  She swept up as much as possible into a dustpan, then she started again, and another time after that. When she got down to a thin layer of streaky, colorful soot, she used a wet mop, and when she got tired of that, she wiped off all the surfaces and counters with a sponge.

  As she worked, she thought of all the famous princesses who had also been cleaner-uppers. She couldn’t understand what the appeal was. All this work didn’t make her want to sing. Or dream. Or make a wish other than to be done and go to bed. If a bluebird wanted to rest on her shoulder, she would not have been amused.

  When she was finally done—when the center was as clean as it had been before class began, and her arms were sore and her hands ached—she called to Luciana, Raine, and Kaminari to come inspect.

  They all wore white gloves.

  None of them were pleased.

  Isabelle bowed her head. “I have learned my lesson.” When they didn’t move, she added, “Next time, I will read the entire document before I start my magic. I will not be distracted by any old books or notes or anything else that doesn’t make sense. Next time, I promise I will make you proud.”

  Every time she said “Next time,” Luciana flinched. Raine shook her head. Kaminari muttered, “For all that is sparkly,” but didn’t finish her sentence.

  “This isn’t working for us,” Luciana said. “Even though we wanted to believe that you could become an official fairy godmother, it is now clear that we were right all along. We can’t trust you, not with a wand. Not with a princess. And definitely not with sparkles.” She paused so it could all sink in. “Isabelle, we are sorry to say we have to say good-bye and good luck. Be assured we did the best we could.”

  “What are you saying?” Isabelle said.

  Luciana held out her hand for Isabelle’s wand. And then she ripped the Number One pin (with the secret sparkles) from Zahara off Isabelle’s collar and put it in her pocket. “Isabelle, using red and black together is not a forgivable offense. Therefore, we must officially pronounce that you have flunked out of the Official Fairy Godmother Training Center. We hope you find a better purpose at the Fairy Godmother Home for Normal Girls. Pack up your books and go.”

  Isabelle walked out the door and down the path to Grandmomma’s castle.

  She was, understandably, not in a rush.

  There would be no easy way to tell Grandmomma she was going to the Fairy Godmother Home for Normal Girls. It was where, if Isabelle were being honest, she’d always believed she would end up. It was where trainees who didn’t concentrate or read the fine print or follow the rules belonged.

  She walked down the path as if this were her last time. She noticed the flowers and the birds and all the small, cute animals that lived in the fairy godmother world. She noticed how beautiful the front of the castle looked. And as she walked through the foyer, up the stairs, and down the hall to Grandmomma’s office, she noticed, maybe for the first time, how many beautiful paintings hung on the walls. Last but not least, she admired the doorknocker, a lion with its mouth wide open. Today, it didn’t look angry. Instead, it looked as sad as she felt.

  Before she could knock, Grandmomma said, “Come in.”

  Isabelle opened the door.

  Clotilda and Grandmomma were standing behind Grandmomma’s desk with their hands on their hips. They were clearly waiting for her.

  “Did you tell Grandmomma what happened?” Isabelle asked.

  Her sister’s cheeks were almost the same color as the tiara right before it exploded. “Do you realize how embarrassing this is? For me? And Grandmomma? For the entire fairy godmother world that trusted you with this opportunity and didn’t once complain that you had already messed up a whole bunch of times?”

  Isabelle wished she could simply pack her bags and go. “You don’t have to say it. I’m as bad as Mom. Maybe even worse.”

  When no one disagreed, she noticed something else. The office looked different. At first she wondered whether Grandmomma had magically made it bigger. But then she noticed the dark shadows on the floor.

  The magic mirror was gone. So was the spinning wheel. And so was the spyglass.

  “Did I get you in trouble, too?” Isabelle asked. Grandmomma loved her spyglass. Her mirror and spinning wheel were important fairy godmother antiques.

  This day was getting even worse than worst!

  Before either sister could say anything, Grandmomma asked Clotilda to leave. “Isabelle and I have a lot to discuss. I hope you understand.”

  Clotilda glared at Isabelle on her way out the door. “Of course, I understand.” She didn’t have to add: She was the good sister.

  Grandmomma stood still until it was clear that Clotilda was not listening from the other side of the wall. Then she gestured for Isabelle to come closer.

  “I promise I’m not going to scold you.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “If you do what I say, everything is going to be fine.”

  Isabelle knew that fine was another word for “not great.” Or “fairly awful.” But since it also meant not totally disastrous, she took a deep breath and sat down.

  “Did they take your things because of me?” Isabelle asked.

  “They did not,” Grandmomma said.

  “Do I need to pack for the Home right now?”

  Grandmomma looked at her sternly. “No, you do not. Unless that’s where you want to go.”

  “What do you mean, ‘unless’?” Isabelle asked.

  Grandmomma warned Isabelle that what she was about to say could never be repeated, even to Clotilda. And that if anyone—especially Clotilda—found out, she would know that it was Isabelle who spilled the beans, and she would regret it.

  “Do we understand each other?”

  Isabelle, of course, said, “I understand.” This was Grandmomma—with the emphasis on grand. (Also, she was really scared.)

  “Then let’s go to the basement. There is something important I need to show you.”

  Getting to the basement was always a little bit of a production, but it took even longer because Grandmomma moved slowly. She dressed slowly. She walked down the spiral stairs slowly.

  But, slowly but surely, they got there.

  “What do you have to show me? What did you do with your stuff? What do you mean, I don’t have to go to the Home?” Honestly, there was nothing worse than waiting!

  Grandmomma tapped her wand on the wall. Right away, her desk appeared. So did the rickety chair for Isabelle.

  “How much do you know?” Isabelle asked.

  “Everything,” Grandmomma said. And she didn’t raise her wand.

  Isabelle tried to relax. “So you know about the voice I heard? Does that mean it was you?”

  Grandmomma shook her head. “No it wasn’t.” Then she
sat forward in her chair. “Let’s talk about that voice. Did she sound nice? Young? Funny? Sad?”

  Isabelle thought about that. “Actually, the voice seemed gentle. And smart. And sweet. But not as sweet as Clotilda.”

  “So then why didn’t you listen?”

  Isabelle sighed. “I thought it was a trick—that the voice was trying to fool me. I was so sure it was part of the test. That the old rule book had all the right answers.”

  Apparently, Grandmomma had heard enough, because she told Isabelle to stand. Then she said the one thing Isabelle was not expecting to hear.

  “That book belonged to me.”

  “You?” Isabelle said. “Are you saying you sabotaged my sparkle? That you wanted me to fail?”

  Grandmomma looked very offended. “I would never sabotage a sparkle. But I did give you that book with the bad advice. And I will also admit that I wanted to see what would happen if you found yourself in trouble.” Grandmomma rolled her eyes. “But it’s not my fault you fell for it.”

  “But why would you do that?” Isabelle asked. “Did you really not want me to be a fairy godmother?”

  In the dim basement light, Grandmomma looked more exhausted than grand. “I did it because I wanted to see whether your mother would attempt to come back to help you. I wanted proof that she was watching you and that if you got in trouble, she would save you. But judging by what you’re telling me, she can’t do it. Maybe she’s grown too weak. Or maybe she doesn’t have enough sparkle left herself.”

  Isabelle couldn’t believe it. “That was my mom?”

  Grandmomma nodded. “That was her. Smartest godmother I ever raised.”

  Isabelle felt slightly dizzy. All this time, her mother had been watching and trying to help her. It wasn’t just her imagination. “But I thought Mom couldn’t come back—that you took all her sparkles.”

  Grandmomma looked very serious. “Technically, we did, but it isn’t that hard to steal sparkles—if you really want them.”

  Isabelle had to admit that stealing sparkles was pretty easy. She also remembered when Grandmomma left training during Level Two. “You were looking for her then?”

  Grandmomma nodded. “Isabelle, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but fairy godmothers are never vengeful or spiteful or mean.” She opened her Wish List and paged through the book. “I’m sorry I had to disrupt your training, but I had to try.”

  Isabelle totally understood. “So now that your plan didn’t work, can you tell Luciana? So I can go back to training?”

  Grandmomma shook her head. “No. I’m sorry. I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” Isabelle asked.

  “Because you have a more important job to do. Now that you are out of the system, we can work together—in secret. We can find your mom and bring her home. We can end the unhappy princess’s story the way it should have ended—with a real happily ever after.”

  This sounded spectacular! But also difficult.

  “How are we going to do that?” Isabelle asked.

  Grandmomma pointed her wand at one of the large boxes in the corner. Immediately, the top opened up and a small box marked with a V emerged and sailed across the room onto her desk. “Open it. This is all we have to go on.”

  Inside were three bags of unsealed sparkles and a photograph.

  The first bag contained the brightest sparkles Isabelle had ever seen—so bright she needed sunglasses to examine them! They looked like sunlight and moonlight and every star in the sky. An entire prism of color all contained in one sparkle.

  “Wow.”

  Grandmomma agreed they were amazing to look at, but after all this time, useless. (So she shouldn’t bother pocketing them.) “Starlike sparkles make very strong magic because they encompass the entire spectrum of light. When you use sparkles with this much power, there is no turning back.”

  “What do you mean?” Isabelle asked.

  “These sparkles create a bond that can never be broken.”

  Now Isabelle felt a bit let down. “A bond that couldn’t be broken” didn’t sound so bad! But it must have been, because Grandmomma pounded her fist on the table. She told Isabelle to take this seriously. She added, “When you use sparkles this strong, there is no turning back.”

  Grandmomma showed her the second packet. This one held old aquamarine sparkles, also out of date.

  Isabelle peeked in her book. “Those sparkles are for healing.”

  Grandmomma nodded. “They work especially well on a broken heart.”

  The third held a few remnants of black and red.

  “Can you guess why your mother might have had these?” Grandmomma asked.

  “I bet she wanted to override Rule Three C.”

  “That’s what I thought at first,” Grandmomma said. “Hypothetically, knowledge and power could do it. But she didn’t combine knowledge and power and healing for that. She did it for selfish reasons.” Grandmomma paused. “For herself.”

  “What do you mean, for herself?” Isabelle asked.

  “Your mother might have been powerful and talented, but she was also proud. She refused to let anyone else even try to help her make that princess happily ever after. When it was clear that she had failed, she used those sparkles to hide the princess away so none of us could hear her. Or find her. Or help her. So that the princess couldn’t find happiness from anyone but your mother.”

  Isabelle needed a moment to let it all sink in. “You can do that? With those sparkles?” Even she had to admit that seemed very selfish.

  Grandmomma sulked. “As I said, she was a very powerful godmother. If she would have asked for some help, she could have made many princesses happy.”

  Isabelle picked up the photograph. “So this is her?” she asked. “The princess?”

  The young woman in the picture didn’t look like the princesses from the Wish List. First of all, she wasn’t wearing a crown. Her clothes were plain. She looked as if she were trying not to look sad, but couldn’t completely hide it. Although Isabelle was sure she’d never seen her face before, she thought the woman looked weirdly familiar, but she couldn’t say why.

  Grandmomma shook her head. “I don’t know who that is. I don’t know if the picture means anything! All I know: It belonged to your mother. When we banished her, we found it with her sparkles.”

  Now Isabelle was annoyed. And confused. And curious. And excited.

  She was annoyed and confused because, obviously, this wasn’t going to be easy. The sparkles made sense, but the picture did not. She was also curious about Mom and how things had gotten this bad. And, of course, excited because for the first time ever, Grandmomma needed her. She trusted her to help find Mom.

  But there was one thing she needed to know. “Can you tell me the real story of the unhappy princess?” She added, “The whole story. And whatever you do, don’t leave anything out.”

  Grandmomma looked as if she didn’t want to tell this story. But she knew that Isabelle couldn’t help her unless she heard the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

  Grandmomma reminded her, “Everything else you learned from earlier books was wrong. Or tainted by gossip.”

  Just in case you don’t remember:

  Clotilda’s version blamed the princess in The Wish List #1: The Worst Fairy Godmother Ever!

  In The Wish List #2: Keep Calm and Sparkle On!, Angelica put all the blame on Mom.

  And in The Wish List #3: Halfway to Happily Ever After, Minerva skewered the system.

  Now it was time for the truth.

  Once upon a time, your mother became a brand-new fairy godmother. She displayed excellent skills with her wand. She was everything that a great fairy godmother should be. Kind. Determined. And overflowing with gusto. We had great expectations for her. We were sure she would soon be a Best.

  At the same time, a lovely princess came of age. Not only was she royal, but she was also a good person, the most beloved princess in all the land.

  Even better, this princess had
fallen in love. And made a wish.

  Easy peasy, or so it seemed.

  Right after your mom introduced herself, the princess changed her mind about what she wanted to wish for. And then she changed her mind again. And again! She wouldn’t settle on a single wish! But your mother was wise and powerful, and like all great fairy godmothers, she did not fret. While the princess tried to figure out what she wanted, your mother waited. She listened. When we asked what was going on, your mother defended the princess. She told us that the princess was only unhappy because she didn’t want to be pushed into making a decision.

  For a while, the Bests let them be. But eventually it was clear that the princess wasn’t just indecisive. She was unhappy. The regular world could see it, too. So we decided to replace your mother with a fairy godmother with more experience. We didn’t think it was that big a deal. Fairy godmothers helped each other all the time. In this case, we assured your mother that the best fairy godmothers would take over. Literally, the Bests! Luciana stepped up. So did Raine. And even Zahara. We promised your mother everything would work out perfectly.

  We still believed in her.

  We just thought she was in over her head.

  But your mother refused to give up! She insisted she could finish the job, that she was devoted to her princess and knew what she was doing, that they had become friends. And when we told her no, that enough was enough, your mother did something unforgivable.

  She made an illegal combination of black and red sparkles to make the princess forget who she was. And then she hid the princess away from family and friends and the fairy godmother world. She would not tell us where she was. When we demanded to know where the princess was, she said, “The princess is fine. I made her happy.” And “The story is over.”

  But of course, the story was just beginning. The whole regular world couldn’t help but notice that their perfect princess was gone. And because of that, princesses stopped believing in godmothers and wishes and sparkles.