Yes, I decide. There’s always more to learn. And I turn to page one.
Using a separate piece of paper, follow the prompts below to write your own fractured story.
One day, you’re relaxing on your couch, re-reading your favorite story of all time, when suddenly the book is like a vacuum cleaner and it sucks you inside. AHHHH! What and who do you see?
You’re not going to mess the story up. You’re not going to mess the story up. You’re not going to … OOPS. You messed the story up. How did you mess the story up?
You’ve got to fix the ending! Or maybe you don’t?! What do you do?
It’s taco night at home and you do NOT want to miss it. How do you get back home?
On a separate piece of paper, make a list of words using the below prompts.
Plural noun
Noun
Body part
Body part
Article of clothing
Body part
Adverb
Body part (plural)
Room
Verb
Adjective
Number
Noun
Adjective
Noun (plural)
Now, read the passage aloud using the word that matches each letter in the story.
* From Whatever After Book 1: Fairest of All
Too Many (o)
Thump.
I land facedown on (a). There’s a (b) in my (c). Blah. I pick it out and wipe my (d) on my (e).
“I think I just broke my (f),” Jonah mumbles.
“Seriously?” I ask.
“No,” Jonah says. “I’m okay.”
Good. I’m glad he’s okay. Now I don’t have to feel bad when I yell at him. “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?”
“What do you mean?” he asks (g).
I leap to my feet and tick off the answers on my (h). “Exhibit A: You drag us to the (i). Exhibit B: You (j) on the (k) mirror. And exhibits C, D, and E: You then proceed to knock (l) more times on the (k) mirror, and when it tries to suck us in? You. Said. ‘COOL!’”
“’Cause it was!” he exclaims. “Come on, Abby! That was so awesome! That was the most awesomest thing to ever happen to us.”
I shake my head. I’m not sure what even happened. Where are we?
I sniff. It smells like (m). I push myself up onto my elbows and look around. I see:
1. (n) (o).
2. More (n) (o).
3. Even MORE (n) (o).
Um, why are there thousands of (n) (o) in my (i)?
Wait. My (i) does not have (o).
I turn to Jonah. “We’re not in the (i)!”
Fill in the Blanks #2
Word
Word that rhymes with the word you chose for (a)
Noun
Game
Body part
Room
Adjective
Noun
Body part
Adjective
Noun
Noun
Adjective
Sound
Adjective
Verb ending in -ing
Body part (plural)
* From Whatever After Book 9: Genie in a Bottle
The Evil (c)
“I can’t believe Aladdin would actually help that guy,” Jonah says. “Um, hello! Hasn’t he heard the term ‘(a) (b)’?”
Jonah and I watch as the evil (c) studies the kids playing (d), a frown on his (e). He’s clearly looking for someone.
Oh. Right.
He’s looking for Aladdin. So he can bring Aladdin to the (f) and make him find the (g) (h).
But Aladdin isn’t here, because I gave him a (i) bleed.
Oops.
“Um, Jonah?” I say.
“Yeah?” says Jonah.
“I think we — well, I — messed up the story.”
Prince wakes up with a bark, as if he’s heard me.
Quickly, I explain to Jonah how Aladdin WON’T be able to help the (c) now, due to the bloody (i) I gave him.
“But maybe that’s a (j) thing!” Jonah says. “We don’t want Aladdin getting mixed up with the evil (c) anyway, right?”
I shake my head. “But Aladdin needs the (k) if he’s going to end up with the (l). We have to make this (m)!”
(n) (n) (n)! Suddenly, I have an idea. The story never says why the evil (c) picks Aladdin to get the (h). Maybe it can be any kid.
Maybe it can be … us.
“Hey, Jonah,” I say. “What if we get the (h)? Then we’ll give it to Aladdin later!”
Jonah looks at me like I’m (o). He does that a LOT. “How?”
“You go up to the evil (c). Start (p) to him. Then he’ll take you!”
Jonah’s (q) bug out. “Me? You’re sending ME over to the evil (c)? Have YOU ever heard of (a) (b)?”
Fill in the Blanks #3
Color
Color
Food
Food
Food
Food
Food
Body part (plural)
Adjective
Evil character
Verb ending in –ing
* From Whatever After Book 10: Sugar and Spice
We Want (d)!
Up ahead, through some trees, is a totally adorable cottage.
It’s light (a) with a light-(b) roof.
“That’s not our house,” Gretel says. “Our house is half the size and mud brown.” She stares at the cottage. “The doorknob looks like a (c). I’m so hungry my eyes must be playing tricks on me.”
It does look like a (c). A chocolate-chip (c). Because it is a chocolate-chip (c). It’s the (d) house!
We found it! I bend down and scratch behind my dog’s ears. Good job, Prince!
Jonah lifts his nose and sniffs the air. “Do you smell (e)?” he asks.
“And (f)?” Hansel says.
“And (g)?” Gretel says.
“Yup, yup, and yup,” I say, smiling. “You’re all correct. This, my friends, is the (d) house.”
Gretel’s (h) almost pop out of her face, slinky style. “It’s real?” she asks.
“Told you so,” I say smugly. Take that, Gretel!
Hansel and Gretel start running down the hill. Hansel reaches the house first.
“It smells so (i),” Jonah says.
“It does,” I say as the (i)iest-smelling breeze ever wafts toward me.
“I don’t see the (j),” Jonah says. “We’ll be careful. Let’s just take a closer look. We have to. It’s a (d) house! It’s THE (d) house.”
Well … we’ll have to be careful … but … if the (j) doesn’t see us …
My stomach is (k). And I could really use some dessert. And … it’s the (d) HOUSE! I run down the hill.
Sarah Mlynowski with her friend and fellow author Emily Jenkins. Which one is the real rabbit and which is the fake one? ☺
Emily: Hi, Sarah.
Sarah: Hi, Emily. Thank you for asking me questions for the back of my book. You’re the best.
Emily: Of course. Here we go. You’ve written eleven books for the Whatever After series so far. Have you always loved fractured fairy tales?
Sarah: Yup. Even as a kid, I loved to twist the original tales. I wrote “Snow White and the Seven Kittens.” “Little Blue Riding Hood.” “The Princess and the M&M.” Because aren’t M&Ms so much yummier than peas? Also, all of my stories always ended with the line, “The moral of this story is to never eat crackers in bed.” I have no idea why.
Emily: What’s your favorite fairy tale and why?
Sarah: My favorite fairy tale is Cinderella. I have always wanted to go to a ball. Also the writer in me loves a ticking clock. It’s midnight or bust!
Emily: Lewis Carroll, who wrote Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, was playing around with famous nursery rhymes, like “The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts …” Did you grow up with nursery rhymes? Tell us one that you like!
Sarah: I used to love “Humpty Dumpty.” I would sit up on the tippy-top of the livin
g room couch, call out the Humpty Dumpty rhyme, and tumble onto the cushions at the “had a great fall” part. My parents were not huge fans of the game … especially when I taught it to my little sister.
Emily: Who’s your favorite Wonderland character and why? Mine is the Cheshire Cat.
Sarah: The Mad Hatter. As a kid, I expected him to be uber angry and always yelling at people. I was thrilled to discover that mad could also mean bonkers. Also, I really liked hats. Sunhats. Baseball hats. Shoe boxes I decorated and wore on my head.
Emily: The Queen of Hearts and her court are a pack of cards. What’s your favorite card game and why?
Sarah: Rummy 500. I just taught my eight-year-old daughter how to play. I like a game that you can clean up and then start again a few days later, and it takes us a good week to reach 500. The only problem is when we lose the score sheet. Luckily, my daughter always remembers the score. At least when she’s winning.
Emily: Will Jonah ever get into Jack in the Beanstalk?
Sarah: Absolutely. Promise! Eventually. Of course, the story will be very, VERY different from what Jonah expects. But before Abby and Jonah meet Jack, they’re going to meet a certain princess who’s having trouble sleeping … look for Whatever After #11: Two Peas in a Pod coming next!
Emily: Will the moral of the story be to never eat crackers in bed?
Sarah: No, the moral of the story will be to always check under the mattress for peas. But just for you, I’ll throw in something about crackers, too.
Thank you, Emily!
Emily Jenkins is the author of Brave Red, Smart Frog, a book of fairy tales, as well as the Upside-Down Magic series with Sarah Mlynowski and Lauren Myracle.
Don’t miss Abby and Jonah’s next adventure, where they fall into the tale of The Princess and the Pea!
Look for:
See how Abby’s adventures began! Go back to the beginning and start the series with Whatever After #1: Fairest of All. Here’s a peek at it…
once upon a time my life was normal.
Then the mirror in our basement ate us.
Do you think I’m joking? Do you think I’m making this up? You do, don’t you?
You’re thinking, Um, Abby, mirrors don’t usually go ahead and slurp people up. Mirrors just hang on the wall and reflect stuff.
Well, you’re wrong. So very WRONG.
Everything I’m going to tell you is the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I’m not making anything up. And I’m not a liar, or a crazy person who thinks she’s telling the truth but secretly isn’t. I am, in fact, a very logical person. Fair, too. I have to be, since I’m going to be a judge when I grow up. Well, first I’m going to be a lawyer, and then I’m going to be a judge, because you have to be a lawyer first. That’s the rule.
But yeah. I am an extremely logical, extremely practical, and extremely un–crazy ten–year–old girl whose life went completely berserk after her parents forced her to move to Smithville.
Still don’t believe me? You will when you hear all the facts. You will when you hear the whole story.
Let me start at the beginning.
The moment the recess bell rings, the kids in my new fifth–grade class decide they want to play tag. We eenie meenie miney, and somehow I’m it. Me, the new kid. Great.
Not.
I cover my eyes to give the other kids a ten–second head start (okay, five), then run toward the fence. Straightaway, I spot Penny, who is very tall. Well, taller than me. Although most people are taller than me. She’s also wearing a bright orange sweatshirt that’s hard to miss. I don’t know all the kids’ names, but Penny’s is easy to remember because she always wears super–high ponytails and I just think, Penny’s pony, Penny’s pony, Penny’s pony.
I dash over and tap her on the elbow. “You’re it, Penny’s pony! I mean, Penny.”
She looks at me strangely. “Um, no. I’m frozen.”
Huh? It’s not that cold. Plus, her orange sweater looks really warm.
“What?” I ask.
Penny wrinkles her forehead. “You tagged me. I’m frozen.”
“Noooooo,” I say slowly. “I was it. I tagged you, so now you’re it. Now you have to tag someone else to make them be it. That’s why the game is called it.” I blink. “I mean, tag.”
“The it person has to tag everyone,” Penny says. Her tone suggests she knows way more about tag than I do, and my cheeks heat up. Because she doesn’t. “When you’re tagged, you freeze, and the very last person tagged is the next it. It’s called freeze tag. Got it?”
The LAST person to get tagged gets to be it? If you’re the last person tagged, that means you’re the best player. If you’re the best player, you should get to do a happy dance while everyone throws confetti on you. You should not have to be the new it, because being it is not a reward.
My heart sinks. If I have to be it until every last fifth grader is tagged or frozen, this is going to be a very, very, VERY long game.
Here’s the thing. I am trying to have a fresh start and be flexible about my new school. But how can I when the people here do EVERYTHING wrong?
Please allow me to present my case.
Everyone in Smithville calls Coke, Pepsi, and Orange Crush soda. Ridiculous, right? Pop is a much better name. Pop! Pop! Pop! Coke pops on your tongue. It doesn’t soda on your tongue.
The people here do not know how to make a peanut butter and banana sandwich. The right way is to slice the banana up and then press the slices one by one into the peanut butter, preferably in neat and orderly rows. But the kids in my new school mash the bananas, mix a spoonful of peanut butter into the mashed bananas, and then spread the whole gloppy mess on their bread. Why oh why would they do that?
And now, instead of tag, they want to play “Ooo, Let’s All Be Frozen Statues While Abby Runs Around and Around and Around.”
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury:
I do not want to call pop soda.
I do not want to eat gloppy banana mush.
I do not want to be it.
“I’m pretty sure the way I play is the right way,” I say, my throat tightening. I’m right. I am.
“No,” she states. “I’m frozen. And you’d better get going, or it’ll just get harder.”
Tears burn the backs of my eyes. I don’t want things to get harder. I want things to be the way they used to be. Normal!
“No thanks,” I say in a careful voice that’s meant not to let my tears out but might sound a little squished. Or prissy. Or spoiled–brat–y, possibly.
“You’re quitting?” Penny asks. Her eyebrows fly up. “Just because you didn’t get your way?”
“No! I’m just … tired.” I’m not even lying. I am tired. I’m tired of everything being different. Why can’t things be like they used to be?
I go to Mrs. Goldman, the teacher on playground duty. I ask her if I can go to the library.
“You mean the media room, hon?” she asks.
I shrink even smaller. They don’t even call a library a library here?
But the second I step into the media room, the world gets a little better. I take a deep breath. Ahhhh.
Maybe in Smithville a room filled with books is called a media room, but it smells just like the library in my old, normal school. Musty. Dusty. Papery.
The books on the shelves of the school library — media room, argh — are books I recognize. They’re books I’ve gobbled up many times before. Many, many times before.
My shoulders sag with relief, because guess what? No matter how many times you read them, stories always stay the same.
I get my love of books from my nana. She used to read to me all the time. She’s a literature professor at a university in Chicago, the normal place where we used to live.
I feel a pain in my gut when I think about my old house. My faraway friends. My nana. Peanut butter and banana sandwiches made the right way.
And then I shake off those heavy feelings and run my finger along the row of books. My fing
er stops. It rests on a collection called Fairy Tales, where good is good, and bad is bad, and logical, practical fifth–grade girls never get stuck being it forever.
My chest loosens. Perfect.
Thank you, thank you, thank you to:
Everyone at Scholastic, everyone at the Laura Dail Literary Agency, everyone at Deb Shapiro and Company, everyone at Lauren Walters and Co.
Aimee Friedman, Laura Dail, Tamar Rydzinski, Deb Shapiro, Lauren Walters, Olivia Valcarce, Katie Hartman, Lauren Donovan, Jennifer Abbots, Abby McAden, David Levithan, Ellie Berger, Tracy van Straaten, Rachel Feld, Antonio Gonzalez, Robin Hoffman, Sue Flynn, Kerianne Okie, Melissa Schirmer, Lizette Serrano, Emily Heddleson, and everyone in the School Channels and in Sales!
Thank you to all my friends, family, supporters, writing buddies, and first readers:
Targia Alphonse, Tara Altebrando, Bonnie Altro, Elissa Ambrose, Robert Ambrose, Jennifer Barnes, Emily Bender, the Bilermans, Jess Braun, Rose Brock, Jeremy Cammy, Avery Carmichael, the Dalven–Swidlers, Elizabeth Eulberg, the Finkelstein–Mitchells, Stuart Gibbs, Alan Gratz, the Greens, Adele Griffin, Anne Heltzel, Farrin Jacobs, Emily Jenkins, Lauren Kisilevsky, Maggie Marr, the Mittlemans, Aviva Mlynowski, Larry Mlynowski, Lauren Myracle, Melissa Senate, Courtney Sheinmel, Jennifer E. Smith, the Swidlers, the Steins, Robin Wasserman, Louisa Weiss, the Wolfes, Maryrose Wood, and Sara Zarr.
Extra love and thanks to Chloe, Anabelle, and Todd.
And of course, thank you, Whatever After readers. You are all wonderful.
Sarah Mlynowski is the New York Times bestselling author of the Magic in Manhattan series, Gimme a Call, and a bunch of other books for tweens and teens, including the Upside–Down Magic series, which she is cowriting with Lauren Myracle and Emily Jenkins. Originally from Montreal, Sarah now lives in the kingdom of Manhattan with her very own prince charming and their fairy tale–loving daughters. Visit Sarah online at www.sarahm.com and find her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter at @sarahmlynowski.
Abby in Wonderland (Special Edition) Page 13