by Liz Kessler
“Don’t you worry about that,” he said, turning to me as he spoke. I really wish he wouldn’t do that. Dad can’t drive without talking to you all the time. And he can’t talk without looking at you. Which makes being in a car with him fairly dangerous, if you think about it. I try not to.
Watch the road! I urged silently.
“I’ll get you there on time,” he added. “Don’t want you arriving after everyone else and standing out, do we?”
I stifled a laugh. Dad was trying to make sure I didn’t stand out? What kind of a planet did he live on where bright yellow vans and hyperactive dads and hippie tie-dyed moms didn’t make a girl stand out?
I’d never say anything, though. I could just imagine his face crumpling if I did, and I didn’t want to upset him — or Mom. It was OK; the van wasn’t that bad. If you closed your eyes. And your ears.
We arrived at school just after the bell rang. I’d missed attendance. I jumped out of the van and was about to close the door and say good-bye when Dad shut the engine off.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I don’t want you getting into trouble. I’ll come in and talk to your teacher. I’ll tell her it was my fault.”
“But it wasn’t your fault!” I screeched, horrified. He wasn’t really going to come in and talk to my teacher in front of the whole class, was he?
“It was, sweetheart. Your mother and I are responsible for you. We shouldn’t have slept in. It’s up to us to make sure you get to school on time. We’re your parents!”
“But Dad —”
He shook his head. “No buts; I’m coming in.” And with that, he closed his door, locked the van, and walked over to join me. It was only then that I realized something completely awful.
Dad was wearing his pajamas.
“Dad! You can’t come into school like that!”
“It’s fine,” he said, waving a hand casually to bat my horror away. “No one will know they’re pajamas. Hey, I think they look trendy, like the kind of baggy pants the kids all wear today. Don’t you?”
There were so many reasons why what Dad had said was wrong. I couldn’t even begin to go into them, so instead I said nothing. I just hoped I’d be able to think of something before we actually got into school. He couldn’t, in all honesty, be proposing that he walk into my classroom with me, in front of everyone, and talk to my teacher in his pajamas, could he? I mean, he couldn’t. Even my dad wouldn’t go that far.
“So, like I said, it wasn’t Philippa’s fault at all, and it won’t happen again.”
Dad smiled widely at Miss Holdsworth, totally oblivious to the fact that the entire class was staring at him. Some were just looking at him in shock. Others were whispering. I heard one boy say, “Tell me that guy isn’t in his pajamas.” I didn’t hear the reply. I didn’t want to. What I actually wanted more than anything in the world at that precise moment was to crawl under my table and transport myself to a different world. A world where I didn’t have any parents. Or if I did, they were normal.
There was something else, too. Seeing everyone’s eyes on Dad like that, all of them snickering behind their hands, brought something up. A memory. The worst memory.
No! I wasn’t going to think about that. I’d never think about that again.
I dragged my mind back to the present — which was only marginally better. Dad turned and winked at me as he left. “See you tonight, pumpkin,” he said.
I couldn’t reply. My face was about to blow up from the heat it was generating. Had he really, truly, honestly just done that? Had my dad really just come into my class in front of everyone, in his pajamas, talked to my teacher, and called me pumpkin on the way out?
I turned to Daisy on the off chance that I might receive some kind of a sympathetic look. She looked at me with no emotion on her face at all. She must have been the only person in the class not laughing or looking mortified. Maybe Dad’s kind of behavior was normal where she came from. Maybe it was standard practice in the fairy world for people to walk around in their pajamas.
I glanced at Lauren and Beth. Surely they’d give me a bit of support. But both of them were looking down, arranging and rearranging the books and pencils on their desks. They both looked almost as embarrassed as I did.
Miss Holdsworth clapped her hands. “All right, then, 6B, let’s get down to some work, shall we? Open your French books to chapter seven.”
We’d only started French this year. Part of getting us ready for high school, they said. I didn’t normally like it, but today I was grateful for anything that would take my mind off what had just happened.
Everyone rummaged around in their bags and desks, getting out their books, until Miss Holdsworth clapped her hands again. “Settle down, 6B,” she said sternly. Normally, that was enough to get everyone listening. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of one of her tirades. But the stern voice wasn’t working today. A snorting, giggling, muffled sound was inching around the room. I looked to my side without lifting my head. I still couldn’t bear to show my face to the class. Everyone at the next table had their hands over their mouths, stifling giggles.
It was only when I opened my book that I realized why:
“Chapter Seven: The Family.”
There was a picture of a mother and father with their son and daughter. And the father was wearing a pair of striped pants almost exactly like the ones my dad had been wearing.
Tyrone Goulden put his hand up. “Miss, what’s French for blue-striped pajamas?” he asked, at which the entire class burst out laughing. The entire class except for my table, that is. Lauren and Beth looked embarrassed, Daisy responded with the same haughty expression she had for most things, and I just wanted to die on the spot.
Even Miss Holdsworth had to suppress a smile. “Come on, now, 6B,” she said. “Let’s get down to some sensible work.”
I spent the rest of the morning trying to figure out ways that I could avoid having to show my face at school ever again. I drifted off into my own little world, which is what I usually do when something’s making me unhappy.
I created some imaginary parents for myself in my imaginary world. My dad was an accountant who went to work in a suit and tie. He drove a normal car, maybe a Ford Mustang or something like that. He didn’t have a special horn added to the car. He had normal conversations with people about things like the weather or the state of the economy. Other than that, he kept to himself and didn’t attract attention. He played squash with his boss. He got up on time. In fact, he did everything on time. He never, ever embarrassed his daughter.
My imaginary mom had a totally normal kind of job, too. She could be the personal assistant to the manager of a local law firm. She didn’t make tofu rolls, and she didn’t think that toasted sunflower seeds were a treat. She made all my favorite meals! She gave me chips and ham sandwiches for my lunch box, and we always had tons of chocolate cookies in a tin in the kitchen. She wore stylish clothes with designer labels, not hippie tie-dyed pants and baggy T-shirts with political slogans on them. She was tidy and cared about my education more than playing the fiddle or mending policeman outfits, and she didn’t sit around in her nightgown for half the day.
If only.
Then I remembered. The wishes! I shook myself out of my dreamworld and looked at Daisy. She had a blank expression on her face that, for once, wasn’t all that different from anyone else’s expression. Miss Holdsworth was talking about matching verbs and nouns and gender, and half the class looked as lost as Daisy. As I watched her, I noticed her face looked slightly gray this morning. Was she OK? I hoped she wasn’t ill. It might ruin my wishes! Then I felt really bad for having such a selfish thought.
I nudged her. “Daisy!” I whispered.
She turned to face me. “What?”
“I’ve got my first wish!” I said. “I know what I want to wish for!”
“Well, thank the clouds for that!” she said. “Finally we can get the assignment started. The sooner we get going
, the quicker I’m out of here, and we can both get on with our lives.”
“Yes, OK,” I said, probably snapping a little more than I intended. Did she have to remind me how much she didn’t want to be around me? It wasn’t exactly what I needed to hear.
I wasn’t going to let anything get to me today. Not Daisy with her bad mood and her angry response to everything I said. Not the rest of my classmates, who snickered behind their hands every time I caught anyone’s eye.
“Got the time, Jack?” Trisha Miles said loudly to her friend Jacqui Anderson as they passed me.
Jacqui stuck her arm out to look at her watch. “Ten o’clock in the morning,” she replied.
“Oooh, really? Better get into my pajamas, then,” Trisha replied, and they went off down the corridor hooting and laughing and falling all over themselves. Yes, ha, ha. Very funny. How original.
Even Lauren and Beth seemed to be avoiding me. Well, I didn’t care. I didn’t have to worry about my parents anymore.
At least, I wouldn’t have to after tonight.
I didn’t really understand what was happening at first. I mean, these clothes are all strange to me anyway. I wouldn’t know someone’s pajamas from his dress clothes. Who cares what humans wear? It’s not my job to be bothered with things like that.
But there was something really weird going on in the class all day. I’d already gathered that Philippa’s group wasn’t the coolest gang around. That concerned me enough, to begin with. As it was my first human-contact task, it would have been nice to be paired up with someone in my league, like Trisha Miles or her friends. They were my kind of girls. Funny, witty, sharp, and, OK, yes, maybe a bit mean. But they didn’t really do any harm. It’s just a little fun, if you ask me — something to get you through the day.
It seemed that Philippa was having trouble getting through her day — without everyone in the school making fun of her, anyway.
Once I realized what had happened, my first thought was, Well, come on. What in cloud’s name was her weirdo father thinking? I mean, what else could she expect? It’s practically asking the whole school to make fun of you.
But this really bizarre thing happened to me as soon as I had that thought. It was almost a pain. A little stab. But not on my body. More — I don’t know; I can’t describe it. Almost like a little trip of a switch in my head that made me itch. A thought. A strange thought. The kind of thought I’ve never had before, so I didn’t recognize it. Or maybe a feeling. And I’m not really used to that.
I mean, obviously I have feelings. I’ve been angry quite a lot. When my friend died, I was furious with the human who did it. But this felt different. It was like being sad, only it was as if I were feeling someone else’s sadness, not even my own.
I guess I felt sorry for her. Not such a complicated emotion, really.
Crazy, huh? Girl throws me out of a window, gets three wishes — from me — and I feel sorry for her! What was happening to me? I was turning as nutty as her and her crazy parents.
So my next thought was: Just keep your head down, get the wishes done, and get out of this place before the life cycle’s up.
I could already feel it getting to me. I felt weaker than yesterday, and I wasn’t managing to get enough water. It wasn’t like in training. And if I was totally honest, real live humans weren’t quite as I’d imagined. At least, Philippa wasn’t.
At lunchtime I spent ten minutes guzzling nonstop from the water fountain in the hall, trying to revive myself, until I realized there was a line of people waiting. At least I felt a bit stronger afterward. Which was just as well, because in the afternoon things got even worse. It wasn’t just Philippa they were making fun of. They started in on our whole table. Me and those other girls, Lauren and Beth.
Hang on a minute! Don’t you be making fun of ME! I wanted to shout. I’m not like her! I’m not one of them! I’m Fairy Godmother 92751 from 3WD. A FAIRY GODMOTHER! I’m not some boring, geeky girl with crazy parents who does magic tricks on her own and who can’t even get her best friend to stay in the same town!
And then it happened again, as soon as I’d thought all that. The weird feeling. I could see Philippa out of the corner of my eye, pulling her brown mop of hair over her face as though she could hide behind it, afraid to come out.
It wasn’t her fault. I shouldn’t think mean thoughts about her.
For the second time in about half an hour, I shook myself. What was I doing, feeling sorry for her? I really had to get a grip before I became as soft as Philippa. And I really had to get out of here soon.
I picked up my reading book and propped it up on my desk so the teacher couldn’t see what I was doing. Then I got out my MagiCell and pushed a few buttons to double-check my life-cycle prediction.
EIGHT DAYS, it flashed. That took me to next Wednesday. Just a week and a half, and then I’d be out of here. Good.
Next Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough.
I ran out of school the second Miss Holdsworth said we could go. I didn’t say good-bye to anyone, not even Lauren or Beth. Or Daisy. Not that she’d care. She hardly talked to me all afternoon.
I raced across the playground before anyone else came out. I couldn’t go through it all again. As soon as they saw the van, they’d say something; I knew it.
I prayed that at least it would be Mom who would pick me up. Just one more time, that was all I had to get through. It would be different tomorrow.
The van was there, just outside the gates — and thank goodness, it was Mom.
“Good day, hon?” she asked as usual. I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t even speak. How could I begin to explain what kind of a day I’d had?
Eventually, I muttered, “Mmm,” and thankfully that was good enough for her. She started talking about a man who’d come into the shop looking for an outfit to wear when he proposed to his girlfriend. Apparently the girlfriend was a big Superman fan, and he’d decided he was going to dress up as Superman to pop the question. They didn’t have any adult-size costumes, so he had to think again. I didn’t really hear what he decided in the end. I’d tuned out by then. I was too busy planning my first wish.
Nine thirty. Nearly two hours to go. What if I fell asleep? Daisy didn’t tell me when the next shooting star was after tonight. I couldn’t afford to miss this one. I simply couldn’t go through another day like today. The thought of it jolted me into alertness. I wouldn’t fall asleep. No way!
I decided to practice one of the tricks from The Magician’s Handbook while I waited for the next couple of hours to pass: “How to Magnetize Your Hand.” I picked up a pencil from the floor and held it out in one hand, wrapping the other hand around my wrist like it said in the book. I stuck out my finger, sneakily holding the pencil in place against my palm. From the other side, it looked like the pencil was sticking magically to my palm. Cool!
It wasn’t the same without Charlotte to watch, though. She was always so impressed whenever I had a new trick. I guess I understand why Dad enjoys doing what he does: It’s so great seeing people’s faces full of amazement when you impress them. Not that I’d ever perform in front of anyone ever again.
I put the pencil away. As I did, I noticed the daisy in my eggcup. The water had gone down a bit, so I added some more. “Come on, little daisy,” I said to the drooping flower. “I want you to stay alive.”
Now that I knew all about Daisy’s assignment, the flower didn’t just represent my friendship with Charlotte. It was also a reminder of Daisy’s life cycle. She would probably live as long as this flower did. She needed to look after herself to last as long as possible, and I would look after this little daisy, too. It would be a constant reminder of the urgency of Daisy’s task.
Ten fifteen. Only an hour to go. I picked up The Magician’s Handbook from the floor by my bed and was soon engrossed in the next trick: “How to Make a Calculator Predict the Future.”
It seemed like it was only five minutes later when I next looked at my clock, but it read five minut
es to eleven. Nearly time!
I put my book away and pulled on my bathrobe. I had to sneak down to the tree house without disturbing Mom and Dad. And I had to get there in the next ten minutes!
I softly opened my bedroom door and crept out onto the landing. The house was silent. Mom and Dad were in their bedroom, but I could see the light on under their door. I tiptoed past and slunk down the stairs, holding my breath. I hoped they wouldn’t hear my heart hammering in the silent house.
Five past eleven. Quick! I snuck across the kitchen and unlocked the back door. Once I’d shut it carefully behind me, I bolted through the yard and clambered up the ladder.
“Daisy?”
“I’m up here,” she called down.
I pulled myself up through the trapdoor.
“I thought you were going to miss it,” Daisy said sharply.
I was starting to get used to her saying things sharply; she didn’t seem to say them any other way.
“Here,” she said, passing me the box with the wish vouchers inside before I had a chance to answer her.
I took the envelope out of the box. Misty colors flapped around my hands, dancing on my fingers like a soft breeze. I stared, still not one hundred percent sure that any of this was real.
“Come on, you’ve only got two minutes,” she urged.
11:10. A minute to go. I held the wish voucher in my hand and looked at Daisy.
“That way,” she said, pointing out the window that overlooked the woods. That one faced east, the direction the shooting star was going to come from any second now. My heart galloped in my chest; my hand trembled as I held the wish out; my watch ticked the seconds away.
11:11. Please let this be true. Please make it work. I thrust my arm right out the window, holding the voucher in my hand, and prayed that the shooting star wouldn’t be late.
“Go,” Daisy said with a nod.
This was it! “I wish that I could change my parents!” I said out loud. “Make them exactly how I imagined them this morning!”