Isabelle thought about Nora and the election. Maybe James was right. Maybe it wasn’t wrong for people to hand out snacks. Even though Nora’s ideas were excellent, she didn’t always have to lecture. Maybe she could listen more. Or have more fun.
As she wondered whether Nora would ever take this advice, Isabelle watched the old godmother. She watched the way she held her wand like a pencil. And how she smiled at the princess like a mother. And how she didn’t seem to mind waiting.
And waiting.
And waiting.
Isabelle had to face the facts: This was a dead end. The unhappy princess was definitely not here.
Even more obvious, there was no way that Mom could have left her clues. She wasn’t going to magically point her in the right direction or send her a sign or even show up.
It was time to try something else—to visit the castles and lands that the unhappy princess had visited when she was happy, but where her classmates wouldn’t be. She couldn’t be sure if they would keep her secret.
She visited an ancient castle made of stone, built on the edge of a cliff, and now completely empty.
She visited a Middle Eastern castle, where people now prayed. And she visited the most famous castle of all—Buckingham Palace. She watched the guards with big bearskin hats stand at the door. She tried to make them smile (without magic). But they were good. They didn’t even blink.
It was fun. All these places were interesting, but none of them got her any closer to Mom.
Also, no matter how interesting the castle, she could still hear Nora. Complaining. Bossing her friends around. Sighing and putting herself down when she thought no one could hear her.
This was too much.
If Mom had really wanted to help her, she should have whispered more loudly. Or maybe she should have shouted. Or maybe she should have put Isabelle and Clotilda and the fairy godmother world before her unhappy princess!
Maybe Clotilda was right.
Maybe she should forget about Mom.
She had forgotten about them. Right?
When Isabelle was feeling this low and confused, there was only one godmother she could talk to. She was the godmother who didn’t mind breaking a few rules. She was the godmother who could keep a secret from the Bests. She was the godmother who wouldn’t judge her.
No surprise. It was Minerva.
Isabelle opened her Wish List to look at the entry on Minerva’s princess. Her ancient friend was busy making the great-great-great-great-granddaughter of her very first princess happily ever after. From the very first level of training, Minerva had made it clear that she was loyal to her first princess’s family and was going to dedicate her life to making this young girl happy.
Isabelle raised her wand and flicked it three times. She hoped she’d have time for an interruption.
She did. Minerva loved gossip.
“What are you doing here?” Minerva asked. “We were told you were sent straight to the Home.”
Isabelle knew Grandmomma didn’t want her to spill the beans. But she had already broken one rule (to visit Nora). Also, she knew she was getting nowhere quickly. Minerva was very wise and would probably have a better idea about what she should do.
So she told her everything.
She told her about the voice and Grandmomma being tired and the true story of the unhappy princess—even though it obviously proved that Mom really was the worst fairy godmother ever, or at least pretty bad.
Minerva, however, surprised Isabelle. She understood why Mom did what she did. (In Level Two, she put her princess’s wishes above the rules.) “So that’s why they got rid of her,” Minerva said. “But at least you know she’s still out there.”
Isabelle agreed. “I’m 99.9 percent sure that Mom can still hear the princess, wherever she may be, and that if she wishes, Mom will appear, and I will talk to her and take her home.”
“That’s a great idea in theory,” Minerva said. “But in reality, it’s not going to be easy! Your grandmomma was right about your mom. She was a powerful fairy godmother with stronger magic than anyone else I ever saw. That princess could be anywhere! Even right here!”
Isabelle frowned. This was not the pity party she needed. “What would you do, if you were me?”
Minerva thought about that. “Because the connection between you and your mother is very strong, I would definitely pay attention to everything you see or especially hear.”
Paying attention was just another word for doing nothing. And waiting. Isabelle sulked. “You mean, just sit here and wait for a whisper?”
“No.” Minerva shook her head. “You have to do something—something that will make her whisper.”
Isabelle knew what she meant. “You mean I should get into trouble?”
Minerva thought it was the only way. “If you haven’t noticed, the regular world is huge. Your mom had sparkles of immense power.” She twirled her wand between her wrinkly fingers. “I assume your grandmomma is not going to give you unlimited sparkles.”
“Probably not,” Isabelle said. “Do you have any to spare?”
Minerva did not offer any of hers. Just more advice. “Have you heard anything odd lately?”
Isabelle shook her head. “Nothing.” Then she added, “Unless you count Nora bossing around her friends.”
Minerva smiled. “What’s up with her?”
Isabelle paced around the room. “Oh, the usual. Saving the world. Running for class president. Getting on everyone’s nerves.”
Minerva laughed. She understood.
“I want to help her, but I can’t get distracted,” Isabelle said. She told Minerva about the election. “Samantha is doing her best to be a good friend, but it’s not going well.” She was feeling worse by the second. “I wish I hadn’t read that old book. I wish I had studied, like Angelica and Fawn. I wish I still had that Number One pin!” She asked, “Do you know what they’re doing?”
Minerva whipped out a snow globe. “Of course I do.” (She was the nosiest fairy godmother ever!) “I made this after I got a look at your grandmomma’s spyglass.” She shook it hard. “In it, we can see everyone. Maybe it will give you some ideas!”
Isabelle loved snow globes. “Can I try?”
She shook it hard. There was Angelica in South America with Luciana. They were working hard to save the rain forest with an activist princess.
Isabelle shook the snow globe again so she could see Fawn.
She was in Japan helping a princess prepare for a big speech. Minerva knew all about it. “She helped her princess secure a spot on the boys’ soccer team and organize a march for women’s rights!”
When Isabelle sulked, Minerva told Isabelle to snap out of it. “I also heard your sister is about to be named Number Three.”
“She is?”
Minerva held out her hand for the snow globe. “Roxanne is officially happily ever after.”
Isabelle stared at the magic toy. She asked, “Do you think Clotilda will forgive Mom?” Although there were times when Isabelle wished she could remember anything about Mom (Isabelle was a tiny baby when she went away), she also knew that it might hurt more to have memories.
She remembered hugging her. And talking to her. And watching her do magic.
She remembered being left behind.
“Your sister is very smart,” Minerva said. “Like your mom, she is also proud and, no offense, a little stuffier than she needs to be.”
Isabelle nodded. “No offense taken!”
“But you don’t get to be a Best without having a huge heart. So this is what I think: There is only one thing your sister won’t forgive, and that’s not trying. Especially when you have the opportunity to do something great.”
Isabelle agreed. Even though she’d like to congratulate her sister right now—even though she’d like to sit with her between the girlgoyles—she knew she had a bigger job.
She shook the snow globe. Then she shook it again. And again. Maybe she could find her mom this way.
/>
But all she saw was fog. Light-blue fog. It was coming from her ring. The hint of green was gone.
“Did you hear her?” Minerva asked.
Isabelle sighed. “Nope. All I ever hear is Nora,” she said. “Right now, she’s talking to her stepmom.”
Minerva asked, “Do you have any other clues to go on?”
Isabelle reminded her about the sparkles and the picture of the mysterious woman who was not the unhappy princess. “That’s all I have.” She shook her head. “But I don’t think I can concentrate on anything when Nora needs me.”
Minerva put her hands on Isabelle’s shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes. “Then I think you’d better go help her. Get it out of your system.”
This was probably bad advice, but it was the bad advice Isabelle wanted to hear. “You don’t think I’ll get in trouble?”
“Of course I think you’ll get in trouble,” Minerva said, bursting into laughter, “if you get caught.”
Isabelle knew this was true. “Can you help me?”
Minerva shook the snow globe one last time. “I might be able to create a small sparkly distraction.”
“Another strike?”
Minerva shook her head. “I was thinking more like snow. A whole bunch of it.” She smiled. “But I can’t keep it up for long. Probably just until the magic hour.” (In other words: midnight.)
It would have to be enough.
“Thanks, Minerva,” Isabelle said. “No matter what Grandmomma says, you’re the best!”
She didn’t waste a second. She flicked her wand and went back to Nora’s house. By now Nora would be there.
Isabelle knew it was a risk, but she had to see whether she could help her.
When Isabelle arrived outside Nora’s house, the snow was already coming down hard. The streets were empty. Isabelle stuck out her tongue and ate a few flakes. (Peppermint flakes were better, but these were tasty, too.)
First, she checked to see whether any other godmothers were lurking around.
When she was sure she was the only magical person nearby, she knocked on the door. To her delight, Gregory answered. He was Nora’s little brother. She wasn’t sure how well Rule Three C worked on him because he was a boy. But since he was really young the last time they saw each other, it didn’t matter. He didn’t recognize her.
“Are you here to help Nora win?” he asked. “Or do you want to make snow angels with me?”
Snow angels sounded like a lot of fun, but then a huge gust of wind swooped by. Isabelle shivered. “I’m here to help Nora. But maybe we can make them tomorrow.”
“That’s what everybody always says!” Gregory said, opening the door wider so she could come inside and look around.
Nora’s house was covered in decorations like candles and blue streamers, and it smelled amazing. “What is your mom making?” Isabelle asked.
“Latkes,” Gregory said. “Three different kinds. One with carrots and zucchini. One with jalapeño peppers. And the classic—fried potato, served with applesauce and sour cream.”
Isabelle couldn’t wait to try them!
“Mom is also making chocolate ice cream out of snow!” Gregory added. “And doughnuts, too. With chocolate sauce for dipping.”
Chocolate ice cream! And doughnuts with dipping sauce. That woman was a magician! Isabelle forgot to be cautious and ran into the kitchen to introduce herself again to Nora and her stepmom, and hopefully grab a plate.
Nora was sitting at the table, drawing a poster. “Do I know you?” she asked.
“We were in the same class last year,” Isabelle said, talking quickly so Nora couldn’t ask too many questions. “I wanted to come by and help with your campaign because I think you’ll be the best president.” She smiled and flicked a blue sparkle toward her hand to help win Nora over. “Way better than James.”
The sparkle must have worked, or maybe Nora was simply facing the facts. All this snow meant that her friends were stuck at home. School might be canceled. She didn’t have the luxury of wondering too much about why Isabelle was here.
In other words, they got to work. “Are you good with lettering?” Nora asked. “I really need some nice signs. And maybe a few catchy slogans. And something else that James can’t make.”
Isabelle flinched. That sounded a lot like a wish. Luckily, no fairy godmother showed up to ruin the moment. “I can definitely make some signs. And also some bracelets!”
“That’s an amazing idea,” Nora said.
Even though it was dangerous, Isabelle showed her the bracelet Nora had given her in Level Three. “I could make one like this.” Then she had a great idea. “Or we could decorate them with glitter.”
Nora’s stepmom clapped her hands. “I love glitter,” she said. “My sister and I used to play with it all the time.”
Of course, Isabelle remembered Auntie Viv. She loved glitter so much that Isabelle had thought she might be magical!
But she couldn’t say that. So she said, “It makes everyone feel happy. It might even earn you some votes.”
Nora didn’t totally agree (or remember giving her the bracelet), but since she was outnumbered and in no position to argue, she made room for Isabelle and showed her the posters she had made so far. There were two.
The first said: TEN REASONS TO VOTE FOR NORA. The other said: TEN REASONS NOT TO VOTE FOR JAMES.
That didn’t seem very nice.
“You think it’s that bad?” Nora asked, seeing her expression.
Isabelle had to admit it was bad.
Nora was stuck. “But I don’t know what else to do! James is really popular. He is friends with everyone and plays three sports and has a great sense of humor. And even though he doesn’t seem to care about any of the problems in the school, he hands out candy. And pizza. So no matter what I say, everyone is going to vote for him.” She tore the posters into pieces. “Even my friends.”
So the three of them got to work. They made glittery signs (with a few sparkles secretly thrown in) that said VOTE FOR NORA. And NORA IS AWESOME. And NORA WILL MAKE THE SCHOOL HAPPILY EVER AFTER.
Nora liked that. In fact, with each new project, she seemed to be getting more confident and even happy. So when they were done, they made some bracelets for Samantha, Mason, and Janet to thank them for sticking with her even when she was grumpy.
When they were finished, Nora slumped on the couch. “I wish all of this was over.” She was tired of running for president. She admitted she’d been unkind to her friends, but she couldn’t stop herself. At the same time, she really wanted to win.
Isabelle made her another bracelet to keep herself from granting that wish. “Your friends will forgive you.” She assured Nora that the snow would clear and she’d be able to give her speech.
A very thick stack of papers sat on Nora’s desk. “That’s it,” Nora said. “I think it’s really good.”
It looked really long. Isabelle picked it up and paged through it. There were a lot of words on every page.
“Maybe we could shorten it?” Isabelle suggested.
Nora’s stepmom frowned. “Nora wants her chance to say everything she believes in. And I support that. Even if she loses, she should present all her ideas. I think that it’s hard to be happy when we are not our true selves.”
“Thanks,” Nora said to her stepmom—and Isabelle. “Even if it is too long and too boring, at least the signs and bracelets will be nice.”
When they were done packing up everything for tomorrow, Nora’s stepmom handed them plates of latkes with applesauce. She looked out the window. “The snow is really pretty. If school is canceled tomorrow, do you want to come over and snowshoe on the trail?”
Isabelle thought that sounded great. But hiking up the trail sounded like something that might encourage Nora to make a wish. Nora put down her pen. “My dad says that my mom loved that trail. When I’m there, I am sure she can see me.”
Her stepmom gave her a huge hug. “Nora, she can always see you. And she i
s very proud. And so am I.”
Isabelle, of course, had those same feelings when it came to her own mom. “What was she like?” she asked.
“I don’t really remember,” Nora said. “But Dad says she was just like me.” She smiled. “So I guess she really cared about a lot of things.”
Nora’s dad must have been eavesdropping, because he walked in the room. “Your mom was one of the best people I ever met. She was strong and brave and never backed down from an argument—especially when she knew she was right.” He gave Nora a squeeze. “But even when she got sick, she believed in magic, too. In happily ever after. She made so many wishes. For herself. And then for you. For your happiness.”
Happily ever after? Magic? Wishes?
This couldn’t just be a coincidence. (She knew that by now.)
Isabelle leaned forward. “What was she like?”
Nora’s dad handed Isabelle a big fat book. It was a photo album, sort of like a Wish List for their family. “After she died, I made this for Nora.”
Isabelle opened the book. She saw a picture of Nora as a baby. And Nora as a girl. And then, tucked into a back pocket, was something else. It was a picture of Nora with a woman who looked a lot like the woman in the picture that Grandmomma showed her.
“Was that your mom?”
Nora smiled. “That was her.”
Isabelle wanted to get up and twirl! (But she didn’t. She held it in.) This was the break she’d been waiting for.
Grandmomma was wrong. The picture that was with Mom’s stuff had to be the unhappy princess. She was Nora’s mom. It couldn’t be any other way!
Isabelle thought about everything she knew about the unhappy princess, trying to make the pieces fit. Nora’s mom was good. Everyone loved her. She believed in wishes, even after she got sick. That’s why Mom needed the healing sparkles.
She stuffed down one more latke. “I have to go,” she said, pointing to the wall clock. It was almost the magic hour.
Nora looked out the window. “So, do you want to come over tomorrow?”
Survival of the Sparkliest! Page 6