When I arrive at the banquet hall, Winnie and her husband, holding hands, are intimately engaged in conversation at the table in the corner. At another table, What’s-His-Name is with Hook. My spirits rise a little—at least, he’s not sitting alone for once.
Elz is at our usual table with Sasperilla and their mother, whose back is to me. As I head over to them, I overhear their conversation.
“Sasperilla, what in heavens happened to your nose?” asks their mother, sounding more disgusted than concerned.
“It’s all Elzmerelda’s fault!”
“It was an accident,” protests Elz. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
“Did so!”
“Did not!”
“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t leave a scar because no prince is going to marry a marred woman,” says their mother, cutting their argument short.
Elz is relieved to see me. She introduces me to her mother, Lady Germaine, who bears a striking resemblance to Sasperilla. She’s tall and bony with a pointy, aristocratic nose and sharp, jutting chin that could probably cut through glass. Dressed in an austere high-neck gray dress that matches the color of her upswept hair, she nods with a coldness that sends a chill up my spine. Her eyes fixate on my bandaged finger before shifting back to her daughters.
“I’m beginning to think I’ve sent you two to an emergency room, not a rehabilitation center,” she says, her voice brimming with contempt.
Sasperilla pushes a few peas around her plate with her fork.
“Why aren’t you eating, Sasperilla?” Lady Germaine asks.
“Mother, I’m having an issue with the food here. I’m eating less and less but getting bigger and bigger.” She gives me a hard kick under the table. “Jane, don’t you agree I look fat?”
“Yes!” I say, unable to resist. Truthfully, she’s scary-skinnier than ever.
“I knew it!” Sasperilla shoves her plate away. “I’m going to have to stop eating altogether!”
Seriously, how much skinnier can she get? My imagination doesn’t get far. Hook, as dapper as ever, swaggers up to our table. Sasperilla fixes her curls, then grimaces when she catches him winking at me. Luckily, Elz doesn’t notice. Her face radiates with excitement as she introduces Hook to her mother.
Lady Germaine runs her frosty eyes over him. They stay glued on his hook.
“So, Captain, exactly what royal army do you command?” she asks, her tone haughty and suspicious.
“Lady, I am a pirate,” he replies, full of macho pride.
Lady Germaine puckers her face in disgust while Elz gazes at Hook adoringly.
“Mother, when I get out of here, I want to sail away with him.”
Lady Germaine arches her brows. “What are you talking about, Elzmerelda? Have you gone completely mad?”
“Yes, Mother,” jumps in Sasperilla. “She’s totally lost her mind. She should be permanently confined to a mental institution.”
“Elzmerelda, you know perfectly well that I have spent considerable time and money grooming both you and your sister to marry a prince.”
“Mother, I’m perfect marriage material.” Sasperilla smiles smugly.
“Actually, I do know of one available prince. His name is Gallant. His wife died several years ago, and now he’s ready to remarry. We’d better hurry because I’ve heard there may be a princess-in-waiting ahead of you.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Sasperilla leaps up like a frog. “Sign me out of here!”
“Actually, I thought he would be perfect for Elzmerelda.”
Sasperilla’s beady eyes narrow. “You always favor her!”
“No, she doesn’t,” protests Elz.
“Don’t lie, Elzmerelda. You were always Mother’s favorite.”
“Was not!”
“Was so!”
“I don’t even want to marry a prince!” Elz’s words shoot out like a burst of flames.
Lady Germaine gasps. Her pale skin flushes.
Fueled by her newfound determination and courage, Elz pushes her chair away from the table, stands up, and squarely faces her mother.
Go for it, Elz, I root silently.
“Mother, I’m tired of you shoving your agenda down my throat. You can’t control my life!”
Lady Germaine tries to say something but can’t get her lips to move. Her face grows redder.
“Mother, did you ever think that’s why Sasperilla doesn’t eat? Food is the one thing you can’t shove down her throat. The one thing you can’t control.”
Sasperilla’s eyes bug out. Ha! Elz has hit on a nerve. Don’t stop, roomie.
“Mother, your agenda is not mine. I don’t want to live out your dream! I want to marry someone who loves me for who I am!”
Lady Germaine clutches her chest. She hyperventilates, chokes, and finally keels over. Her head hangs limply in her bowl of salad, and her spindly arms dangle by her side. Cripes! She’s barely breathing.
“Mother, Mother! Wake up!” shouts Elz. She shakes her mother like a rattle, but there’s no response.
“Can’t someone do something?” scoffs Sasperilla.
Hook yanks up Lady Germaine’s head and presses his lips against hers, rhythmically blowing air into her mouth. “I saved a near-be-drowned matey this way,” he manages to say between breaths.
The three of us don’t blink an eye as he breathes life into Lady Germaine.
“What’s the matter?” asks Sasperilla impatiently.
Hook comes up for air. “The matter is she’s dead.”
“Elzmerelda, you killed her!” hisses Sasperilla.
“Oh God!” wails Elz. “What have I done?”
I’m speechless.
Still in her dress-up clothes, Elz is curled up in a ball on her bed. I’ve tried to convince her that she’s not responsible for her mother’s death. It hasn’t helped. She cannot stop crying.
Without asking, I crawl into her bed, lay my head down on her tear-soaked pillow, and cradle her shaking body in mine. Her sobbing grows softer. Neither of us says a word.
“Jane,” she says at last, “I’ve never asked you about your mother.”
“I don’t remember her,” I lie. The truth is I don’t want to remember her.
“Is she dead?”
“Yes.” Another lie. Okay, it’s a half-lie. In my heart, my mother is dead. I don’t know what became of her. What’s more, I don’t care.
“I’m sorry, Jane.”
Don’t be. I tell Elz she needs to get some sleep. In fact, we both do.
“Sweet dreams, Jane.”
“Sweet dreams, Elz.” How odd to say that after what’s happened tonight.
I’m lulled to sleep by Elz’s soft sobs and the rhythmic heaving of her body. In the middle of the night, I wake up screaming and drenched with sweat. I’ve just killed my mother in my dream.
CHAPTER 12
Lady Germaine is buried the next morning in a simple ceremony just outside The Enchanted Forest. Everyone at Faraway attends, staff and inmates alike. Winnie’s husband is also there. All activities, including therapy sessions, have been suspended.
Winnie and I flank Elz, holding her up by the arms for support. Her face is spotted, and her eyes are swollen-red from crying. She looks awful. Sasperilla stands by herself, twirling her curls. She looks bored.
In his eulogy, Dr. Grimm calls Lady Germaine “a beautiful, kind woman who loved her daughters more than anything.” Maybe, he never met her.
“Would anyone like to say something?” he asks at the conclusion of his tribute.
Elz bursts into tears once again. “Poor Cinderella lost her mother, and I was so mean to her. Do you think she can ever forgive me?”
Sasperilla furrows her brows. “Puh-lease. She should be apologizing to us for screwing up our lives!”
Grimm smiles. Seriously, how can he be smiling at a time like this?
“Elzmerelda, by acknowledging your dysfunctional behavior and asking for forgiveness, it shows you’re on your way to
a full recovery. You’ll be ready to leave Faraway soon.”
“I just want my mother back!” Elz wails.
“Get over it!” snaps Sasperilla. “Mother was a bitch, and you know it!”
“How could you say that?” Elz croaks. “Everything she did, she did for us.”
Sasperilla breaks into jeering laughter. “You’re so pathetically naïve, Elzmerelda. Everything she did, she did for herself!”
Elz presses her hands against her ears and sings “lalala” as loud as she can, attempting to drown out Sasperilla’s voice.
“I know you can hear me,” taunts Sasperilla. “Honestly, do you really think Mother wanted us to marry royalty so that we could live happily ever after?”
Elz sings louder.
“Duh! She only wanted to keep herself out of the poorhouse.”
Poor Elz is close to collapsing. I can’t hold back any longer. Someone’s got to protect Elz from her despicable sister.
“You don’t really know what a self-centered, wicked mother is!” I lash out.
“And you do, Miss Know-It-All?” sneers the skinny bitch. “Why don’t you tell us more about Mommy?”
I’m trapped by my own words. I don’t want to talk about my mother. Not now! Not ever!
But Grimm gloms on to the idea. “Yes, let’s talk about our mothers. Who would like to share?” His eyes jump from face to face before landing on mine.
A giant knot forms in my stomach. I’m not sharing.
To my relief, Hook steps forward. “I loved my mother.” His trembling voice surprises me. “She deserved a better life.”
“Why is that?” asks Grimm.
Hook’s eyes wander into space and grow watery. Can Mr. Macho actually be on the brink of tears?
Shrink swoops in and looks straight at him. “You grew up in a noble house that seemed normal. But inside, it wasn’t, James; was it?”
Hook lowers his head. “My father drank.”
“A lot?”
Hook nods.
“And what did your father do when he drank?” she asks.
Silence.
“Answer me, James.”
“He hit my mother,” he says at last, his lips quivering.
“So, your father abused your mother. Like you do to others.”
His voice rises with anger. “I don’t abuse anyone!”
Yes, you do, you swine! I want to shout out. Admit it! The loving, compassionate look on Elz’s face makes me bite my tongue. Shrink jumps into the silence.
“James, let me remind you. You’ve made countless people walk the plank. You kidnapped an innocent young Indian maiden named Tiger Lily and threatened her. You even tortured a helpless little fairy.”
She must be referring to her twin Tinkerbell. Do I detect some feelings?
Hook fiddles nervously with his hook.
“And let’s not forget the fact that you crashed your ship because you were drinking and almost killed your crew!” she adds.
“Who told you that?” Hook barks.
“Your shipmate, Mr. Smee. You should thank him. He’s the one who let us know you needed help and had you committed to Faraway.”
Hook’s face reddens with rage. “So that’s who landed me here. That traitor!”
“Hook, you’re in denial,” says Grimm, taking over. “Your deviant behavior is a natural progression. You learned it from your father.”
Like father like son. A horrible thought occurs to me. Like mother like daughter? Am I just an extension of my wicked mother? Nausea slithers through me as Grimm perseveres.
“What happened to your mother?”
Hook descends into darkness. “She died when I was ten.”
“How did she die?”
A tear escapes his eye and rolls down his swarthy face. “She jumped into a river.” He swallows hard. “A crocodile attacked her.”
That explains Hook’s morbid fear of crocodiles. It goes way beyond his missing hand. More tears spring from his eyes. I almost feel sorry for him.
Grimm pushes on. “How did you feel?”
Hook’s eyes turn to steel. “I wanted to kill my father!”
Sasperilla suddenly interrupts. “This is all so fascinating, but can’t we wrap things up? It’s cutting into my grieving time.”
“Shut up, Sasperilla!” shouts Winnie, ready to pounce on her.
Sasperilla crinkles her bandaged nose and winces.
John proudly puts an arm around his outspoken wife. The Badass Fairies give her a collective thumbs-up. Thanking her, Grimm plows ahead with Hook.
“Who do you see when you make people walk the plank?”
Hook’s face contorts. “Who do you think, you idiot? My father! He destroyed my mother. The bastard deserved to die!”
I’m eager to find out if Hook’s father is still alive, but Grimm takes his questions in a different direction.
“So, why did you want to destroy Peter Pan?”
“Because he cut off my hand.” Hook bitterly flings his iron claw at Grimm. “What does Peter Pan have to do with my mother?”
“Dig deeper, Hook. Why did you really want to kill Peter Pan?”
Silence. Hook’s anger dissolves into despair.
“I wished I could be a boy like him. And have Wendy,” he says at last, his voice hoarse and tearful.
“Yes, Hook. By eliminating Peter Pan, you could have Wendy for yourself. To take care of you like a little boy. Admit it, Hook, you wanted Wendy to be your mother.”
“It’s true,” he says, choking on his words. “I wanted her to be my mother.”
“And when she rejected you, you tried to kill her.”
“Stop it!” Hook breaks down in tears, his shoulders heaving. I feel his pain. We’re cut from the same cloth.
Elz dashes over to the broken pirate and hugs him. “Thank you for sharing. You wanted your mother back. Like me.”
Hook bawls in Elz’s arms. Like a little boy.
Sasperilla’s veins pop with jealousy. “I’ve had it with all this nonsense!” She stomps off.
“Mama, mama!”
What’s a baby doing here? Wait a minute! I recognize that voice. It’s What’s-His-Name. He’s crawling on the ground like a one-year old!
“Me R-rumpelstiltskin,” he says in a baby-talk voice.
Can it be? What’s-His-Name has remembered his name! Grimm and Shrink exchange a smile. We’re free to go.
Hook spends the rest of the day with Elz. Winnie spends it with her husband John, who must go back to their children in the evening. Rumpelstiltskin spends it telling every living and non-living thing alike his name. And I spend it hopelessly plotting my escape.
Thank goodness, I didn’t have to talk about my mother. It’s only a matter of time before I’ll be forced to expose everything. Every painful thing! I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to!
CHAPTER 13
Sunday. A day of rest. There are no scheduled activities or therapy sessions. Thank goodness. After the past two days of breakouts, breakthroughs, and breakdowns, I’ve had enough. Finally, I can focus on my escape plan.
At breakfast, Fairweather reminds us that today is talent show day. “The show must go on!” she declares.
Dragonballs!
“We all feel it’ll be therapeutic. What everyone needs right now is a little fun!” says Fanta. Flossie adds that the three of them will be available to assist anyone who needs help with their act.
The only act that interests me is making myself disappear. I’ve been here almost a week and still haven’t come up with a single idea that works.
As I pop a boysenberry into my mouth, I have an unexpected breakthrough of my own. Boysen. Poison. Duh! I’ll find some poisonous berries and feed them to Shrink, Grimm, and those three blubbery fairies. Kind of like my old Snow White trick! Why didn’t I think of this before? With all the berries around this place, there’s got to be a few lethal ones; I mean, I only need five of them. Oh, yeah, and one for that armed guard Gulliver.
&n
bsp; My eyes dart from bush to bush. How will I figure out which berries are poison? It’s not like I can go on a tasting spree. With the way my luck’s been going, the first one I sample will be poisonous, and I’ll be the one to go. I know. I can try them out on Sasperilla. The skinny bitch deserves to die. There’s just one big problem. Sasperilla won’t eat a thing!
Just another lamebrain idea. I’ll never get out of here.
Over lunch, Elz is eager to discuss our plans for the talent show. She’s surprisingly chipper given all she’s been through. Hook, who’s seated between us, probably has something to do with it. I’m still not sure I trust him even after his emotional breakthrough yesterday. In fact, I’m surprised he’s not wrought with anger after what Shrink and Grimm put him through. Maybe Elz is the quick fix he needs.
Elz tells us she’s going to sing; Winnie’s going to juggle, and Rump, who hasn’t stopped saying, “R-rumpelstiltskin is my name,” is obviously doing some kind of jig. He’s already practicing in the corner. The clickity-click of his clogs grates on my nerves.
“What are you going to do?” Elz asks me.
“I have no clue.”
Hook eyes me lustfully. “Maybe you and I can do a little number together.”
I’ve changed my mind. I definitely don’t trust him.
Elz, who’s missed Hook’s come-on, offers to sing along. A trio.
“I can’t sing,” I say. Honestly, I have one of the worst singing voices in the world. My “lalas” scare off forest critters.
“I bet you have some other secret talent,” Elz insists.
“Her only talent is trying to look like me!” says Sasperilla, pushing her way into our conversation. “Have you noticed how little she eats?”
I eat more than I’ve ever eaten around this place, but it’s not worth arguing with the skinny bitch. But she’s reminded me that I do have a talent! I can look like other people. I’m a master of disguise! I fooled my very own stepdaughter in those hag get-ups. Every one of them was brilliant.
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