by Liz Kessler
“Thought so,” she said. “Well, I’ve got news for you, so you’d better listen.”
“I am listening,” I said in a whisper. My throat hurt. Why was she being so mean?
“It’s my job. OK? It’s just a job. I’ll be here for as long as it takes to get my assignment done — and I plan on getting it done in record time, since I’d rather not hang around here too long. Do you get it?”
I nodded. I didn’t get it at all, though. What did she mean — it was a job? What was the assignment? I didn’t dare ask. I didn’t want her to bite my head off any more than she already was doing.
“And I’ll be living in here for the duration of the assignment. Any problems with that?”
I shook my head. I felt happier about that — she might not be my very own fairy, but she was living in my tree house. She’d be right here for as long as it took for her to do her assignment, whatever that meant. There really would be a fairy living in my backyard!
“No problem,” I said, suppressing a smile.
“Good. I’m glad that’s all clear,” she said.
“Can I come up, then?” I asked.
Daisy shrugged. “You might as well.”
I climbed up the remaining rungs and pulled myself through the trapdoor. As I did so, Daisy pointed to the envelope sticking out from under my sweater.
“You haven’t opened it yet?” she asked.
I shook my head. “That’s why I came to the tree house. I wanted to do it here.” I pulled the envelope out and put it down on the tree-house floor between us.
“OK, go ahead,” Daisy said. I know I could have imagined it, but I’m sure she sounded nervous. Her voice wobbled slightly as she added, “Open the envelope, and let’s get this assignment started.”
Colors leaped from the envelope as soon as I opened it, exactly as they’d done in my bedroom. Pink, purple, turquoise, yellow — every color you could imagine swirled like a living rainbow around the tree house.
I reached inside the envelope and pulled the contents out. Three shiny pieces of paper. At least, they looked like paper, but they felt more like satin. Smooth and shiny, they were as colorful as the lights dancing all around us, shimmering and glittering in my hands. There was something written across each one. When I looked closer, I could see a line of strange symbols.
“What are they?” I asked.
“Turn them over.”
I did what she said and looked at the first one. Right in the center of the dancing colors were two words in swirly pink lettering:
I looked up at Daisy. “I don’t understand,” I said.
“What is there not to understand?” she asked in the same irritated tone that she seemed to use to say everything.
“What are they for?”
Daisy rolled her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? Honestly, you’d think 3WD would be the most straightforward department in the air! Not with you, it isn’t!”
“What’s 3WD?” I asked.
“The Three Wishes Department, of course!” Daisy said, her voice rising in volume and pitch with every word. “That’s what I’m here for. You’ve got three wishes, OK?”
I stared at Daisy, then looked back down at the vouchers in my hands. Really? I have three wishes? “Are you joking?” I asked in a near-whisper.
Daisy inhaled heavily through her nose. “No. I am NOT joking,” she said very deliberately. “Although you are starting to really annoy me!” she added under her breath.
“But why? Why me? Why now?”
“We have categories of need. You qualified for 3WD because you were so sad.”
“Because of Charlotte going away?”
Daisy nodded. “Almost everyone has a fairy godmother at some point in their lives.”
“Really?”
“Of course. Not that they thank us for it. Ungrateful things, you humans.”
“But — but I’ve never heard anyone say they had a fairy godmother before!”
“Of course you haven’t! People don’t usually know about it. Fairy Godmother Code states that you should never reveal yourself to a client. You can get into serious trouble if you do.”
“But you revealed yourself to me!”
“I know. I shouldn’t have; it was very unprofessional of me. I’ll probably get hauled over the clouds for it. You made me so angry, though. I mean, what were you thinking, throwing me out the window like that?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, lowering my head with shame and regret. “I never would have done it if I’d known you would —”
Daisy brushed the rest of my sentence away with her hand. “Forget it,” she said. “It’s done now. But for future reference, it’s not a good way to get a fairy godmother on your side.”
I glanced up to see what looked like the tiniest hint of a smile at the edge of Daisy’s mouth. Was she joking? Maybe she’d forgiven me!
My face broke into a wide grin — until she added, “So don’t be getting any ideas that we’re going to be buddies, because we’re not. Remember, you’re just a job to me. Nothing more. Nothing less. An assignment. OK?”
My face fell back into the miserable expression it had worn for most of the last couple of days. “OK,” I said limply. “But just tell me this — is it really true that everyone has a fairy godmother?”
“Pretty much,” Daisy replied. “Some people have one just for a short job like this one. Others have one by their side for years. It depends on how long her life cycle is.”
“Life cycle? What’s that?”
“You materialize as something from nature for each assignment. And whatever you come from in nature determines how long you have to do your work.”
“So you mean you have as long as a daisy’s normal life span? That’s the whole summer, isn’t it?”
“Well, not exactly.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve been picked. It’s the life span of a picked daisy.”
“A picked daisy? But that’s hardly anything!”
“I should get a week and a half if I’m careful — that’s plenty of time for 3WD.”
“And what happens if you don’t get your assignment done in time?”
“That’s not a question you want to ask. It’s certainly not something I’d want to put to the test.”
“Why?”
“Well, what happens at the end of someone’s life cycle?”
I thought about it. “They die?” I said, hoping I wasn’t stating the obvious.
“Exactly,” Daisy said sharply.
“You’ll die?” Surely I’d heard that wrong.
Daisy shrugged, but her face had turned a little paler, her mouth a little tighter.
“Comes with the territory,” she said matter-of-factly. “Now, can we move on?” And with that, the subject was clearly closed.
I wanted to ask more. The stakes were so high! It felt like too much responsibility. I’d have to make sure that I made my wishes as quickly as I could.
“So you were saying,” I prompted her, to change the subject in the hope that she would stop being so snappy. “Everyone has a fairy godmother?”
“Pretty much.”
“Even my mom and dad might have had one?”
Daisy picked up her bag and took out her cell phone. “Hang on,” she said, pressing a few buttons. As I watched over her shoulder, I could see that it wasn’t a cell phone at all. It had about twice as many buttons as a phone, and the screen flashed and sparkled just like the vouchers had.
“What’s that?” I asked.
Daisy looked up. “This? It’s my MagiCell.”
“What’s a magisell?”
“MagiCell.” Daisy spelled it out for me. “It’s a fairy godmother’s most essential piece of equipment. It gives me all the information I need for my assignment. Any background information or reference points — I can get them all on this. And about a trazillion other things besides. I’m just looking up your parents.”
Daisy pressed a few buttons. “Ah, got your mo
m. No, she hasn’t had one yet. Well, not really. Seems she had a sighting a long time ago.”
“A sighting? What’s that?”
“She stumbled upon some fairies practicing a new spell and overheard part of it.”
I thought of the song Mom had sung with me when I was little. Was that it? Surely not!
“Luckily, she only learned one verse, not the whole thing,” Daisy continued. “But it looks like the song might have helped fast-track you through the FGD.” Daisy looked up. “Fairy Godmother Department, that is,” she added. “That would have helped you get such a good department to help you with your sadness. Some people have to be thoroughly depressed for years before they get 3WD.”
It was true, then! The song. Of course — it all made sense. We’d sung it so many times — and I’d been singing it to myself right before I’d picked Daisy. I’d been singing a real, actual fairy song!
Daisy was pressing more buttons on her MagiCell. “Hang on — I’ll check your dad.”
I watched in silence while she frowned and pressed more buttons. “Yeah, your dad had one, way back. Fifteen years ago, it says here. Oh, he had someone from 1GTD.”
“1GTD?” I asked. “What does that mean?” It sounded like a license plate number.
“One Good Turn Department,” Daisy said. “It’s where a fairy godmother does you a good turn in exchange for one that you’ve done for them. I haven’t got much information here. It just has key words: apple, beggar, hut.” Daisy looked up. “Mean anything to you?”
I thought for a second. Apple, beggar, hut — what did that mean? Then I realized. The beggar! But hang on — that was an old man!
“Can fairy godmothers be male?” I asked, feeling foolish.
“Of course. Fairy godmother is a generic term. And anyway, like I said before, we materialize in whatever form is appropriate for the task.”
“Wow!” I said. “That’s how my dad met my mom. And he doesn’t even know?”
“Nope. They never do. Well, usually. OK, look — to be perfectly honest with you, I’ve never actually worked with humans before. 3WD is a hard assignment, since you have to find a way to give your clients their vouchers without them knowing. I’m sure I’ll get better at it — if they let me do it again.”
Daisy’s voice had softened. It felt as if she were opening up a bit, and I didn’t want to say anything that might ruin the moment and chase her away again. I sat looking down at the vouchers. “How do they work?” I asked finally.
“Self-explanatory,” she said. “Each voucher gives you a wish. Three vouchers, three wishes.”
“As simple as that?”
“Nearly. You have to make them at the right time, or the results can be unpredictable.” She pressed a few more buttons on her MagiCell. “Do you have something you can put the vouchers in?” she asked without looking up.
I rummaged around on the floor and picked up a wooden box with swirling orange and yellow patterns on it. “Will this do?”
Daisy glanced up. “Perfect.”
I emptied out the contents. The box was full of plays that Charlotte and I had started writing together and notes we’d left each other. I felt a pang in my chest. Would I hear from her soon?
“Got it,” Daisy said, pulling my attention back to the wish vouchers. “First chance is tomorrow night — 11:11 P.M. precisely.”
“What happens then?”
“It’s the next shooting star. It’ll come from the east,” she said, pointing to the window that looked out toward the woods. “Over there. You have to make your wish at the time of the shooting star.”
“What’s so special about a shooting star?”
Daisy spluttered as if she were about to choke. She reached over to her bag and pulled out a bottle of water. Pulling the lid off, she took a few large gulps. “What’s so special about a shooting star?” she said, wiping her mouth. Her voice had regained the sharp edge it had been starting to lose. “It’s only the moment when all the wishes in the world are being gathered and taken back to ATC!”
“What’s ATC?”
“Above the Clouds. It’s the top level of fairy-godmother control. All sorts of things take place there. As far as you’re concerned, it’s where the wishes are turned into reality. That’s where your wishes will go when you make them.”
“How will I know if I’ve done it at the right time?” I asked.
“Don’t worry; you’ll know. You can’t miss it. You’d better keep the vouchers here. I don’t think it would be a good idea to do it in the house. They can be noisy. And very colorful! If you watch carefully, you might even see your wish join the others as they whiz across the sky. It’s quite something to see.”
“Wow,” I said. It was probably not the most intelligent or exciting thing I could have said at that point, but to be honest with you, there just weren’t any other words in my mind. I looked down at the wishes, then I looked up at Daisy. The colors, the sparkling, it was all still going on around us and had been doing so throughout the whole conversation, gently flowing and floating on the air while we talked.
I tried to think of something smart to say. “Wow,” I said again.
I lay in bed, nowhere near asleep. Mom and Dad had gone to bed ages ago. The house was silent, sleeping, too. It felt as though the whole world were asleep except me.
What was I going to wish for? I had a day to decide. My head was spinning with possibilities. Then I remembered something Mom had once told me. When she can’t sleep, she says, she gets out a piece of paper and writes down everything on her mind. Once it’s on paper, it stops racing around in her head, and she usually goes back to sleep. It was worth a try.
I flicked on the light and crept out of bed. Pulling my planner out of my book bag, I grabbed a pen and climbed back into bed. Then I made a list.
THINGS I COULD WISH FOR
1. WORLD PEACE
Too corny. I mean, don’t get me wrong. World peace would be good. Well, it would be really, really good — amazing in fact. But to be honest, I wasn’t convinced that world peace could suddenly come about from a wish of mine, and I didn’t want to waste any of my vouchers.
2. WINNING THE LOTTERY
OK, there were a couple of problems with this one. The first was that I was too young to play the lottery, so I’d obviously never bought a ticket. The second was that Mom and Dad didn’t believe in it, so they’d never bought a ticket, either. So that one was kind of out as well.
3. WINNING A MILLION DOLLARS BY SOME OTHER MEANS
This one had potential. I chewed the end of my pen and considered it for a moment. What would I do if I had a million dollars?
Well, first I’d give half of it to Mom and Dad so they could pay off the mortgage and maybe even get a new van that wasn’t quite so embarrassing, and Mom could give up working at the shop, so I’d never need to worry about her turning up at school in costume again. Then I’d buy lots of games and books, and I’d buy the best tricks you could get, so I could do amazing magic.
Except for one problem. Charlotte was the only person I ever did my tricks in front of, and she wasn’t around. So, I decided against the million dollars idea.
I sat looking at the page for a while, thinking about the next possibility. I knew what I wanted to write. I just wanted it too much even to write it down.
4. CHARLOTTE MOVING BACK
There — I’d written it. It was what I wanted more than anything. But I knew I couldn’t really wish for it. It wasn’t fair. Charlotte had been so excited about her family’s new life. I knew she missed me; I didn’t doubt that. But she wanted to live on a farm, and she had always adored ponies more than anything in the world, and she desperately wanted a puppy, too, and now she was going to have all of it.
I couldn’t take it away from her, never mind destroy her parents’ dream. No. I wasn’t wishing for that. I tore a page out of my planner. It was time I tried to get in touch with her.
Dear Charlotte,
I miss you sooooooooooo
oooooo much.
I paused. What could I say next? I’ve discovered that I’ve got a fairy godmother and she’s granted me three wishes? Charlotte would die laughing. And for once, I didn’t want to make her laugh. This was serious.
I put my pen down and closed my eyes for a moment. Before I knew it, my planner had fallen on the floor, the wishes had turned to wings, my bedroom had become a cloud, and I was flying. . . .
I drifted off into a deep sleep.
Someone was shouting from down on the ground. I turned over on my cloud, pulling its fluffy corners over my face.
They kept calling. The cloud drifted away. I was falling down, falling fast — thump!
I landed on my bed.
I opened my eyes, rubbing them as I looked around at my surroundings. I wasn’t on a cloud at all. Just in my ordinary bedroom.
Mom was calling me. Her voice drifted into my consciousness, and I forced my eyes open. Why was she calling me in the middle of the night? And how come it was light outside?
I glanced at my bedside clock. It was nearly eight thirty. I’d overslept.
“Philippa, are you up, honey?” Mom’s voice was coming from outside my bedroom.
Her face poked around the door. Her hair was tousled and her cheeks red and creased. “Darling, you’re going to be late for school,” she said, her voice groggy and heavy. “I’m so sorry; we slept in.”
Of course they slept in. They always do if I don’t wake them!
“I didn’t hear my alarm,” I replied sleepily. “I’ll be down in a second.”
“I’ll get you some muesli,” Mom replied. “Hurry up, now.”
That was a treat! Mom fixing my breakfast, that is, not the muesli itself. If you’d ever tasted our muesli, you’d know it could never be described as a treat.
Dad drove to school like a maniac, breaking the speed limit and running a couple of red lights.
“Dad, it’s OK if I’m a few minutes late,” I said gently, hoping he’d understand that actually I meant I wanted him to slow down and be more careful so that I could at least show up at school alive.