Beauty Queen

by Sarah Mlynowski

  Crunch.

  We land with a thud on grass and twigs and leaves. Ouch.

  I sit up and look around. There are trees everywhere, with pretty orange, red, and yellow leaves. Unlike at home, where it’s winter, it must be fall here. It’s cool. Not cold, but there’s a definite chill in the forest air.

  I spot Jonah standing beside a tree. He’s not moving.

  “Jonah?” I ask. “Are you okay?”

  He looks at me and shakes his head.

  I jump to my feet. “What’s wrong? What happened? Did you hurt yourself?”

  He shakes his head again.

  “Why aren’t you talking, then?”

  He opens his mouth and then closes it. Then he opens it again and yells, “ABBY, WHAT IS HAPPENING?”

  “We’re in a fairy tale,” I explain patiently. “I told you. See? There IS a magic mirror in our basement! Next time when I tell you something, you should believe me.”

  He nods. His eyes are the size of frying pans.

  I put my hands on his shoulders. “Did going through spark any memories?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  “Jonah, can you hear me?” I speak directly into his face. “You didn’t bang your head on your way in, did you?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Do you remember anything else?” I ask.

  He shakes his head again.

  “Crumbs,” I say. “Well, hopefully, something here will make you remember.”

  Jonah twists and chews on his lips. “B-b-but … what … how … Where are we?”

  “In a fairy tale,” I say again. “We just have to figure out which one. Let’s see. We’re in a forest. That’s a clue. But lots of fairy tales take place in forests. Maybe we’re in Hansel and Gretel?”

  Jonah stops chewing his lips and licks them. “Mmm. Is that the one with the house made of candy?”

  “Yes, exactly!” Then I shoot him a sharp look. “But, Jonah, if we are in Hansel and Gretel, you can’t actually eat the house.”

  “I can’t?”

  “No. If you eat the house, you’ll upset the witch. That’s what happened in the original story. Hansel and Gretel upset the witch, and then she tried to cook them. And we always have to try not to mess up the stories.”

  “How would I mess up a story?” Jonah asks, leaning over to pick up a twig.

  I count the ways on my fingers. “If you told Snow White not to eat the poisoned apple, you would mess up the story. If you wore your soccer cleats when you were climbing up Rapunzel’s hair, you would mess up the story.”

  He nods, his eyes still big. “Okay.”

  Hmm. How do I explain the rest? Fairy tales are complicated. “But sometimes we want to mess up the stories. If they have unhappy endings. Like in The Little Mermaid. In the movie, she gets married, but in the real story, the Little Mermaid dies!”

  Jonah gasps, horrified.

  “I know. That’s why we changed it. Anyway, we should get moving. What time does your watch say?” I ask.

  He looks down at his bare arm. “I’m not wearing my watch.”

  “What? Why not? I told you, you need to wear your watch whenever we go through the mirror!” Doesn’t he listen to anything?

  “But … but … but … I didn’t believe you!” he cries.

  I groan. “Well, then, we have no way of knowing what time it is back home. We have to be back before Mom and Dad get out of bed at seven. If they find our beds empty, they’ll have panic attacks. So we can’t stay too long here. Just long enough for your memories to come back.”

  “Ruff, ruff!” Prince runs ahead of us among the trees.

  “Wait, Prince! Hold on!” Jonah calls. He starts running after Prince. Then he turns around, and for the first time since we got here, he gives me a smile.

  A second later, he trips over a broken tree branch and falls on his flannel butt.

  “Jonah, you have to be extra careful here, okay? You don’t know what’s just around the corner! We don’t even know where we are yet!”

  “I’m fine,” he shouts, popping back up and continuing to run.

  I follow him and Prince until we see a gap in the trees.

  “Wow,” Jonah says.

  Wow is right. In front of us is a huge, beautiful, storybook castle. It’s made of yellow stone and capped with a blue roof and pointy blue turrets, and it’s even surrounded by a moat. The water is sparkling and multicolored, reflecting the autumn leaves around us.

  “Hey, Abby?” Jonah calls. “Which fairy tale has a castle in it?”

  “A lot of them,” I say.

  “Does Jack and the Beanstalk have a castle?” he asks.

  “Yes, but I don’t see a beanstalk,” I say. Then I laugh. “You always ask about Jack and the Beanstalk.”

  “I do?”

  “You do. Maybe we’re in The Princess and the Pea,” I say as all three of us walk across the drawbridge. “That’s the one where a princess has to feel a pea under twenty mattresses.”

  “But how could she feel a pea?” Jonah asks. “Wouldn’t it get squished? They should have used a bowling ball.”

  There’s a large silver knocker in the center of the blue door. I lift it and let it bang.

  We wait. No one comes to get us.

  “Hello?” I call loudly. “Anyone here?”

  There’s no answer.

  “It looks deserted,” Jonah says.

  Prince barks three times and then runs around the side of the castle.

  “Wait, Prince!” I call.

  We follow Prince and pass an open window. I peek inside.

  It’s a big dining room. The table is set with fancy plates and all kinds of food.

  I hear a growl next to me, but it’s not Prince. It’s Jonah’s stomach.

  “I’m hungry,” he says.

  “Me too,” I say. The food smells amazing. Like fried onions and garlic and cheese.

  Jonah licks his lips again. “Do you think it’s for us?”

  “Why would it be for us?” I ask. “They’re not expecting us.”

  “I don’t know how fairy tale land works.” He sticks his nose inside. “Maybe they’re serving French fries and ketchup.”

  “Let’s keep looking,” I say. We wind our way around another bend and suddenly we’re in a garden. A rose garden. Great. Just what I want to be reminded of. Roses. Big, blooming, gorgeous red roses.

  Prince dashes across the garden.

  “Prince! Careful!” I don’t want him digging everything up.

  “Flowers!” I hear Jonah say behind me. “Perfect!”

  Prince lowers his nose and starts sniffing around. He’d better not touch anything.

  “This one smells good,” Jonah says. “And this one. And this one. Ouch! I just cut my thumb on a thorn!” He sticks his finger in his mouth and sucks on it.

  I hear a booming voice behind me. “Where did you come from?”

  I spin around.

  Standing in front of the garden is …

  Well …

  He’s …

  He’s at least seven feet tall and hulking. His hands and face are covered in brown fur. He reminds me of a dog. But a human dog. His face is wrinkly, like a pug. He has big, shiny black eyes.

  This — creature — is looming ominously over Prince. Oh! He was talking to Prince! He hasn’t seen Jonah or me yet!

  I motion for Jonah to kneel down next to me and hide behind a rosebush.

  “Wh-what is that?” Jonah whispers, his face pale.

  “I don’t know,” I admit. Is it an animal? No. It talked. Animals don’t talk. Well, sometimes they do in fairy tale land.

  I notice that the thing is wearing black pants. And a buttoned-up white shirt and a black jacket and a purple bow tie. But no shoes. Just furry feet.

  Huh?

  It comes to me.

  It’s not a thing.

  It’s not an animal.

  It’s half animal, half man.

  It’s a beast. It’s the beast.
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br />   We’re in the story of Beauty and the Beast!

  We have to save Prince,” Jonah whispers. “It’s going to eat him!”

  “Shhhhh! Stay hidden,” I say. “It won’t eat him.”

  “How do you know?” Jonah asks.

  “It’s not an it,” I whisper. “It’s a he. We’re in the story of Beauty and the Beast.”

  Jonah looks confused for a second, but then he nods. “Is he Beauty or the beast?”

  I giggle and almost fall over. “Seriously? Guess.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Beast?”

  “Good guess,” I say, patting my brother on the head. “And the beast is not actually that scary in the original story. He’s pretty sweet.” I peek my head out from behind the shrub. The beast is scratching Prince behind the ears. Aw. I hide again.

  “Can you tell me the story?” Jonah asks. “I saw parts of the movie, but I don’t remember much.”

  “You want me to tell you the story right now? We’re kind of in the middle of something here.”

  “Shouldn’t I know what’s happening?” Jonah asks.

  My nana used to read Jonah and me the original fairy tales, which are pretty different from the movies. I listened all the time. Jonah not so much. I peek out once more. The beast and Prince are playing fetch with a gardening shovel. They seem fine. I motion Jonah closer to me.

  “Okay. Well, there’s a prince. And one day he gets cursed by a fairy.” I wiggle my fingers for effect.

  “What did he do?”

  “The story doesn’t say. But it must have been something really, really bad, because the curse is really bad. The fairy turns him into a beast. And he can’t turn back into his regular self until someone agrees to marry him just as he is — as a beast. Skip ahead a few years, and a merchant — that’s a businessperson — is lost in the forest.”

  “The forest we just went through?”

  “I guess so. Anyway, the merchant comes to the castle and sees a feast laid out.”

  “Oh! We saw a feast laid out!”

  “Not so loud,” I say, shooting another glance at the beast and shuddering. Then I feel bad. The beast seems nice, but he’s still very, very scary looking. “Right. The merchant ate the feast but the beast didn’t care. He left the feast for other people. But then the merchant went outside and picked a rose from the garden for his youngest daughter. And when the beast saw him taking the rose, he got really mad. He had left all that food for the guy, and then the guy had tried to steal from him. He threatened to kill the merchant!”

  Jonah’s eyes widen. “Kill? Because he took a rose? Um … Abby …”

  I nod. “I know! That wasn’t so nice. But I guess the beast was really protective of his roses or something. Anyway, the merchant begged the beast to spare his life. He told the beast he had three daughters he wanted to live for. The beast told the merchant that he could swap his life for one of his daughters’ lives. The merchant had no intention of letting one of his daughters die, but since he wanted to go home and see them again, he agreed to it, thinking he’d buy himself some time. When he got home, his daughter Beauty insisted on honoring the deal and going in his place.”

  Jonah looks incredulous. “Why would she do that?”

  “I have no idea. Maybe she felt guilty because of the rose? Anyway, she moved in with the beast. He thought she was beautiful and loved her right away.”

  “Did she like him?”

  “No. At first, she was horrified by him. He was really nice to her, though. He wanted her to be happy. But he was lonely and a bit grouchy since no one wanted to spend any time with him. But every day that she got to know him better, his looks scared her a little less. He also set her up with her own wing of the castle and filled it with beautiful clothes and jewels. Every night, he would ask her to marry him and she would say no. She still really missed her dad. But then she discovered a magic mirror in her room!”

  “Like the one in our basement?”

  “Kind of. When Beauty looked inside it, she could see back home. One day, she saw that her dad was sick. She begged the beast to let her go home and promised to return in a week. He agreed. But her sisters were jealous of her and convinced her to stay longer so the beast would get angry. She did stay, and the beast got really sad.”

  “Aw.”

  “One night, Beauty dreamt that the beast was dying and she hurried back to his castle. When she got there, she saw that he really was dying — he missed her that much. She felt terrible and told him that she would marry him. As soon as she said the words, he turned back into a handsome prince! The end.”

  “That’s nice,” Jonah says as I peek back out at the real beast and Prince. They’re still playing. “So where are we in the story now?” Jonah asks.

  “I don’t see Beauty,” I whisper, “and the beast is still a beast, so I guess we’re near the beginning? Maybe before Beauty’s dad the merchant visits?”

  “So what do we do? Talk to the beast?”

  “Well … we don’t want to mess up the story, so we have to be careful. But maybe talking to a real live fairy tale character will bring your memories back,” I say excitedly. “And then we can use the magic mirror in his castle to go home. I bet we’ll just knock and it will slurp us right up.”

  “You’re not afraid to talk to him?” Jonah asks me.

  “Not really,” I say. “Look how sweet he’s being with Prince! He might look like a monster, but he’s got a good heart under that thick, gnarled fur.”

  I take a deep breath and step out from my hiding place. “Excuse me?” I say, my voice a bit shaky. “You must be Beast?”

  “Beast probably isn’t his real name, Abby,” Jonah whispers.

  “Oh. Um …” My stomach clenches. “What’s your real name, sir?”

  The beast stands up and makes himself tall. Very tall. He takes five huge steps closer and towers over us.

  “You will call me Mr. Beast,” he bellows. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Abby, and this is my brother, Jonah. That’s our dog you’re playing with. Isn’t he cute?” I squeak.

  “Hi,” Jonah murmurs.

  Mr. Beast keeps glowering at us.

  “We’re so sorry to have bothered you,” I continue, feeling more and more nervous. “You have really nice castle grounds. We didn’t mean to interrupt your day. We’ll be — we’ll be going home soon. If we could just use your magic mi —”

  Mr. Beast’s lips are pressed together. Hard. His hands are fists. He looks pretty angry. “You’re not going anywhere!” he finally yells. “You’re a thief!”

  My arms start to tremble. “Excuse me? We didn’t steal anything!”

  “You didn’t, but he did!” The beast is pointing right at Jonah. “He stole a rose!”

  I turn to Jonah. What is he talking about? And then I look down and notice that on the ground beside Jonah is a single red rose.

  Huh? Why is there a plucked rose next to my brother? “Jonah! Did you pick a rose?”

  Jonah’s cheeks are bright red. Redder than the rose. “I … um … Yeah. For Mom,” he admits. “For her birthday tomorrow. We didn’t get her a present!”

  He did WHAT? “Jonah! I painted her a picture in art class! I told you it could be from both of us!”

  He looks down at the ground. “I saw that. Abby, you’re, um, not a very good painter.”

  Humph.

  “Jonah!” I whisper-yell. “You can’t come into a fairy tale and steal things! This is exactly what I warned you about!”

  Mr. Beast raises an extra-hairy eyebrow.

  “But there are so many roses,” Jonah says. “I didn’t think anyone would notice!”

  I turn back to Mr. Beast. “He’s really sorry,” I say meekly. “He didn’t mean to. The rose is for our mother. It’s her birthday tomorrow. I made her a painting already, but apparently it’s not good enough for my brother.” I grumble the last part.

  “I don’t care what his excuse is,” Mr. Beast yells. “He has no right to take an
ything in my garden!”

  Mr. Beast shoves his giant, hairy finger in Jonah’s face.

  “You have stolen my rose, little man! Now you must pay.”

  Pay?

  “We didn’t bring any money,” Jonah says, his voice trembling. He turns to me. “Did we?”

  “No, we didn’t.” And I have a sneaking suspicion Mr. Beast doesn’t want money.

  “Pay you must,” Mr. Beast roars. “WITH YOUR LIFE!”

  Whoa! “Hold on there,” I say. I wedge my way between Jonah and Mr. Beast. “That’s crazy talk!”

  “Excuse me?” Mr. Beast hollers.

  My mind is racing. This is what happened to Beauty’s father! “You can’t hurt my brother!”

  “Why not?” asks Mr. Beast. He crosses his furry arms. “What will you give me in return?”

  “Um … ummm …” I don’t know what to say. I don’t even have a watch to trade anymore! I have nothing at all!

  Except …

  I do have something. I have information. “I know how to break your curse!” I announce, my hands on my hips.

  Mr. Beast gasps and then narrows his eyes. “You know about the curse?”

  I nod. “I do. And I know just the girl who will break it. Promise not to hurt my brother, and I’ll prove it to you.”

  Mr. Beast grazes his fangs against his lower lip. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

  “I am! I swear!” I hold up my hands. “We know your whole story.”

  “Jax must have told you,” Mr. Beast grumbles. He stomps his foot into the soil. “That purple-haired pipsqueak.”

  Who’s Jax? “It doesn’t matter who told me,” I say. “What matters is what I know. I know you used to be very handsome before you got cursed.”

  Mr. Beast furrows his brow. “Thanks, I guess,” he says gruffly.

  “And,” I continue, “I know that a girl named Beauty is supposed to come here. She’s beautiful. Just like her name! She’ll fall in love with you, and she’ll agree to marry you! And then you’ll return to your normal, nonbeastly self.”

  He crosses his hairy, beastly arms. “That’s all pretty hard to believe. No one wants to marry me. Trust me.”

  “It’s the truth. I swear.” I think fast. “Let us go find this Beauty for you. We’ll bring her here and you’ll see. She’s the love of your life. Your soul mate. The person who ends the curse. Come on, Mr. Beast. What do you have to lose?”