Whatever After #4: Dream On

by Mlynowski, Sarah

  Thirteen women appear in the tower, including Shaznay and Lottie.

  They don’t look like fairies. They look like regular ladies. Mostly. They all have something slightly odd about them. One has bright-blue hair that’s piled on top of her head. One is wearing platform heels. The platforms are a foot high — they look like stilts. One fairy is so small that she’d probably fit into my clothes, and I’m only ten.

  Well, not only ten. Ten is pretty old. I glare at Jonah. It’s a lot older than seven.

  As soon as the sparkles disappear, all the fairies start squealing and hugging one another. Except for Lottie. She’s standing by herself by the door, looking lonely and sad.

  “Michelle! How are you?”

  “I haven’t seen you in ages!”

  “You look smashing!”

  “Claire, where have you been hiding?!”

  Their voices fill the room. Jonah’s fake tenth birthday party is clearly a fairy reunion.

  “Where’s the birthday boy?” the fairy called Michelle finally asks.

  “Here I am!” Jonah calls out, waving his arms. “I’m turning ten!”

  I roll my eyes at Jonah, but he avoids my glare.

  The fairy in the high heels pinches his cheeks. “Happy birthday!”

  “Happy tenth!” says the one with blue hair. Jonah grins, blushing a little. Oh, please. He’s so loving the attention.

  “Ten is the best!” chimes in Shaznay.

  “And you must be his sister,” says the teeny, tiny fairy.

  I nod, brightening.

  “How old are you?”

  “I’m t-twelve,” I lie. Well, why not? If he can claim to be ten, I can be twelve.

  On the other side of the room, Bri is pouring the tea. Tom is walking around with a plate of sandwiches.

  The fairies are flitting about, eating, drinking, and checking out the wigistry.

  “Lottie doesn’t look happy,” Jonah whispers to me.

  She’s standing by the celery and she’s definitely scowling. What’s her problem? We invited her, didn’t we? Her lips are pursed like she just sucked on a lemon, and her arms are crossed in front of her chest.

  She’s not hugging or saying hi to anyone.

  Maybe she doesn’t like tea sandwiches.

  “Should we say something to her?” I wonder.

  Jonah shakes his head. “No! What if she puts a mean spell on me?”

  “She’s going to cast a spell for you eventually. We may as well act nicely toward her now. Let’s just go over and say hello. She doesn’t seem to know anyone … maybe she’ll be happy to have someone to talk to. I bet she’s not really that bad.” I march over to her.

  “Hi, Lottie,” I say.

  “Hi,” she says grumpily.

  “So … have you seen Jonah’s wigistry?” I ask.

  “I have,” she says tightly. “But I don’t like to give people things off their wigistry. It’s so impersonal.”

  “Oooookay,” I say. “But that is why people create a wigistry, you know. So others don’t have to guess what they like. This way, people can be given stuff they need.”

  “Oh, he needs what I’m giving him all right. Wait and see.” Then Lottie cackles.

  Uh-oh. I take a deep breath. Don’t be a curse, don’t be a curse, I mentally plead.

  Just then, Felix runs across the room. Most of the fairies see him coming and move out of the way, but Lottie doesn’t. Felix plows right into Lottie.

  She yelps.

  I hold my breath.

  “It wasn’t me!” he hollers.

  With narrowed eyes, she trains her wand directly on Felix.

  Who was it, then?” Lottie asks, her wand still pointing at Felix.

  Felix looks back and forth between her and her wand. “All right,” he admits, “It was me. Do you want to play Karate Crocs? It’s fun.” He waves it in front of her face.

  Lottie hesitates. She slowly lowers her wand. She looks suspiciously at the game. She shrugs. “Okay.”

  Okay? Really?

  Lottie offers Felix her hand and to my surprise Felix takes it. The two go sit at a table. I can see them playing what used to be Jonah’s game.

  My brother pouts.

  I’m just happy she didn’t turn Felix into a croc.

  “It’s time for the wifticals,” Bri calls out.

  All the fairies gather around.

  Jonah’s pout turns into a smile. “I hope I get the things I asked for, really, I hope I do.”

  “I hope you do, too.” I say. “Especially the ones we need.”

  The blue-haired fairy steps up. “Today, in honor of Jonah’s tenth birthday —”

  I roll my eyes.

  “I bestow on him —”

  Wake up Robin, wake up Robin!

  “The power to fly!”

  Seriously?

  Jonah cheers. “I wanted that! I really did. Here comes SuperJonah!” My brother stretches his arms in the air. “Should I try right now?”

  “No, Jonah. We’re kind of busy.”

  “But I really want to try.”

  “Focus, Jonah!”

  Another fairy steps up. “Today, in honor of Jonah’s tenth birthday —”

  Do they need to say that every time? It’s enough already.

  “—I bestow on him the ability to play the trumpet!”

  Huh?

  “That wasn’t on my wigistry,” Jonah whispers.

  “They don’t have to choose things from your wigistry,” Bri reminds him. “A wigistry is just your suggested list. They can give you whatever they want.”

  “But we need them to choose the important stuff,” I say, growing worried. “And he doesn’t even have a trumpet.”

  “I can get one,” Jonah muses. “I’ll add it to the list.”

  I whack his shoulder. “Just stop.”

  Lottie leaves Felix to play Karate Crocs by himself and steps up next. My mouth goes dry. What’s she going to do?

  “On the occasion of Jonah’s tenth birthday —”

  I swallow. Hard.

  “—I grant him a new pair of socks. His have holes in them.”

  Socks? Hurray! He can totally use new socks.

  Jonah wiggles his toes. “I don’t want new socks. Can wifticals be exchanged?”

  “No. Just be glad it’s not a curse,” I hiss.

  The teeny, tiny fairy steps up. “On the occasion of Jonah’s tenth birthday —”

  Blah, blah, blah.

  “— I grant his request to allow Princess Brianna to sleep for a hundred years and to be woken up by a prince.”

  I perk up. One of our real requests! Bri is going to go to sleep! Hurray!

  Everyone smiles. Even Bri.

  Everyone except Tom.

  His face tightens and he looks like he’s blinking back tears. He looks like his heart is breaking in two.

  Oh.

  Oh!

  His heart is breaking in two.

  Tom loves Bri! He’s not just her best friend. He LOVES her. It’s so obvious now. And it’s such a shame—he’s such a sweet and funny guy. And he’s going to lose her any minute.

  “Should I lie down?” Bri asks, oblivious to Tom’s feelings. “Is it going to happen right now?”

  “Not this very second,” the teeny, tiny fairy says. “All the wifticals go into effect as soon as Jonah blows out the candles on his cake.”

  We have the cake, but I don’t think we took out birthday candles. “Bri, where are the birthday candles?” I ask.

  She bites her lower lip. “We don’t have any!”

  I motion around me. “There must be some somewhere. Your parents have at least seven of everything.”

  She shakes her head. “They don’t have any birthday candles. Trust me. We don’t celebrate birthdays in our family, just in case. Birthdays remind my parents of wifticals. We have no birthday candles. They’re terrified of them.” She buries her head in Tom’s arm. “What are we going to do? We don’t have time to go buy them. We�
�re doomed!”

  Think fast, I tell myself. Think fast! “We’ll just … make them.” Yeah! We’ll make them! How hard can that be?

  Bri blinks. “We can’t make birthday candles. At least, I can’t make birthday candles.”

  “Of course you can,” Tom says, turning toward her. “You can make anything you want. You’re really creative. I remember the amazing towers you used to make with twigs and glue! You once built the entire royal court. It was really good,” he says to me. “She made mini-roses and everything.”

  “I was six,” Bri says. “I was just playing around.”

  I rub my hands together. “We can do this. All we need is wax and string.” I grab my brother by his pajama top. “Jonah, run upstairs to the sewing contraption and get us some yarn for the wicks. Also, make sure Robin is still there.”

  He salutes us and takes off.

  Bri stares out through the window. “Maybe we can take one of the bigger candles from Rose Abbey, melt it, and turn it into birthday candles.”

  “Great idea,” I cheer. “We can do this!”

  Hopefully. It actually sounds kind of complicated.

  A minute later I hear Jonah call from a stair at the top of the tower, “Bri! Catch!”

  She catches the ball of yarn between her hands and we run, run, run to Rose Abbey.

  Once inside, we quietly search for a big candle. We do not want her parents to hear us.

  “That mini–royal court replica I made took me months,” Bri says. “Still, I can’t believe Tom remembers it.” She picks up one of four orange candles from the fireplace mantle. “How’s this?”

  “Of course Tom remembers it,” I say carefully. “He’s in love with you.”

  Surprised, she drops the candle onto the ground. “No he isn’t!”

  I bend to pick it up. “I’m pretty sure he is. Ninety-nine percent sure. Have you ever thought about marrying him instead of the prince?”

  She shakes her head. “No — he’s not the guy I’m supposed to marry. He’s a commoner. He’s just the buddy I hang out with while I wait for my prince to come.”

  “But, Bri, you don’t even know the prince. Why would you choose him over Tom? I don’t get it. Why would you rather live a hundred years from now when your life is so good right now?”

  “I’m not happy,” Bri says, grabbing a pair of scissors. “You heard Shaznay. The fairies didn’t give me happiness. But I’ll be happy in the future. When my real life starts.”

  I motion around me at the paintings and vases and carpets. “This is your real life!”

  “No! It isn’t. This is just … now.”

  I still don’t get it. “Why are you so sure you’ll be happy in the future?”

  “Because! I’ll have my prince. And there will be all kinds of cool stuff. Like … bikes! And phones!”

  “Bikes, cell phones, and princes won’t make you happy,” I tell her. “You have to make yourself happy.”

  Her face is bright red. “That’s what I’m trying to do,” she insists. “I tried to prick my finger. Once I sleep for a hundred years I’ll be happy!”

  “But you don’t need to wait a hundred years to be happy. Can’t you see all the amazing things that you have right in front of you?” I reach over and pluck a pink rose from a copper vase. “Smell it! It’s amazing!”

  She shakes her head and pushes me away. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Why don’t you go back to the party and make sure our brothers aren’t messing anything up? I can make the birthday candles myself.”

  She wants me to leave? “But Bri —”

  “Just go,” she snaps.

  Tears prick my eyes. I didn’t mean to upset her. But someone has to point out the truth to her if she’s too blind to see it.

  I arrive back at the tower just as Shaznay is granting her wish.

  “This is the last one,” Jonah tells me.

  “On the occasion of Jonah’s tenth birthday —”

  Grumble.

  “—I bestow a magical portal that will take him, his sister, and her friend back home to Smithville. This magic portal will be a window!”

  Hurray! At least there are plenty of windows.

  Although … maybe there are too many windows? How will we know which is the right one?

  Jonah is jumping on his toes. “Abby, we did it! They gave us all the important ones. Even waking up Robin! And I’m getting a puppy with magical powers! Superpuppy! And an invisibility cloak, which I didn’t even ask for but should have! Did you get candles?”

  “Bri is making them,” I say quietly.

  He nods. “Did you write my name on the cake?”

  “No.”

  “Shouldn’t my cake say ‘Happy Birthday, Jonah’?”

  “What was I supposed to write your name with? Ketchup?”

  He licks his lips. “That would be the best birthday cake ever. Abby! Look out the window!”

  “Why? Which one? Is the portal home opening now?”

  “No,” he says. “But I think I just saw a person coming toward us!”

  “Who? Where?”

  I finally see where he’s pointing. In the rose garden outside, someone is walking toward us.

  It’s the king.

  Oh, no! Is he going to stop us? I rush to the window and try to make out his expression. If he shuts down our party, we’ll never get our wifticals.

  “What’s wrong?” Tom asks, sliding up beside me.

  “The king is about to crash our party,” I rush to explain. “We have to stop him! Or at least serve the cake first. Jonah, you stay here.”

  “I never get to do anything,” he mutters.

  “Oh, hush,” I tell him. “Enjoy your tenth birthday party. You get only two.”

  Tom and I hurry out the door and close the door quickly behind us. Unfortunately we can still hear the party noises from outside.

  “Hello, Your Majesty!” I call out.

  “Hello there!” the king says. He doesn’t look mad at all, which is good news. “I was wondering where you all were! Is Felix in there, too? Are you guys having a party?”

  “No!” I say just as Tom says, “Yes!”

  Oops.

  “Not a party party,” Tom clarifies. “Just a small get-together.”

  He frowns. “Who’s here?”

  “Commoners,” I say quickly. “Just a bunch of commoners. Kid commoners. No fairies,” I add, but then cringe.

  “How nice,” the king says, and continues walking toward the door. “The queen and I are big fans of commoners. The queen is taking a rose-petal bath right now or I’m sure she’d want to come, too. Also, I need to fetch Felix. It’s almost bedtime.”

  Just then, Bri steps off the path holding what looks like candles. When she sees her dad she stops in her tracks and shoves her hands behind her back. “Dad! Hi.”

  “I’ll get Felix for you,” I rush to say.

  The king takes a step closer to the tower door. “Oh, that’s all right. I want to come in and say hi.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Tom says.

  It is?

  “The commoners would love to see you. But before you go in, Brianna told me about the new rug you got at the yard sale last week,” Tom continues. “I’m on my way home and I really want to see it before I go. And I heard you got some new paintings?”

  The king smiles with delight. “Of course. Follow me. Tell the commoners I say hello,” he instructs Bri kindly. “And tell Felix he can play a few more minutes, but then to return to Rose Abbey.”

  Tom leans over to us and whispers, “I’ll distract him as long as I can. Good luck.”

  “Thank you,” Bri whispers.

  “Good-bye, Bri. I … love you.” He blushes, turns away, and follows the king.

  He loves her! I knew it!

  Bri’s jaw drops.

  “See?” I say. “I told you!” Maybe she’ll realize that Tom is the one for her. That choosing a prince she’s never even met over her cute and sweet best fri
end is ridiculous. So what if he’s a commoner? He’s still her Prince Charming.

  Jonah opens the door and peeks outside. “Guys? The fairies want me to blow out my candles. Do you have them?”

  Bri stays frozen for a moment but then nods. “Yes,” she says. She opens her palm and I see that she’s holding eleven small orange birthday candles and a booklet of matches. The candles are lumpy and drippy but they’re candles! “Let’s do this. Time for cake.”

  She did it. I’m so proud of her.

  She marches inside. I guess she’s not going to change her mind. I follow behind. Just in time, too — a raindrop splashes on my head. I look up to see the clouds are dark again. It’s going to pour.

  “Time for cake,” Bri calls out again.

  “Bri, are you sure?” I ask, closing the door firmly behind me.

  Instead of answering, she lights the candles with a shaking hand. “Everyone, let’s sing!”

  She’s making a mistake! But what can I do? It’s her mistake to make.

  Everyone sings the Happy Birthday song to Jonah.

  “Are we ready?” Jonah whispers to me.

  “I guess so,” I say.

  Bri is gripping the top of a chair. Is she scared about falling asleep or nervous that she’s making the wrong choice? Is she just going to conk out when Jonah blows out the candles? Is Robin going to pop up, awake? Is the portal window going to work right away? Which window will it be? Is Jonah really going to be able to fly? Or make himself invisible?

  Jonah takes a big breath and blows.

  All the candles go out at once. All eleven of them.

  Here it comes….

  I look around.

  Bri is still awake.

  Jonah’s not flying or invisible.

  No one says anything. Everyone just stares at one another.

  The room is silent.

  “Nothing’s happening,” Jonah says at last.

  The blue-haired fairy frowns. “Young man,” she says. “Is it really your birthday today?”

  He reddens. “Um …”

  “It isn’t, is it?”

  “He doesn’t look ten,” another fairy whispers.

  HAH!

  “Birthday parties don’t have to be on your birthday,” Jonah grumbles. “Everyone knows that.”

  “Young man,” Shaznay says, “when is your birthday?”

  “July,” Jonah replies.