My Fairly Dangerous Godmother

by Janette Rallison

  I kept my gaze on the path that led to the gazebo. If anyone came that way, I’d pull myself back to the water before they reached me.

  “Chrissy!” I called again. “I want to make another wish!” She had to come. She had to help Jason.

  I saw no telltale sparklers going off. Only rain plunked down, tapping at the edges of the gazebo. I laid my head next to Jason’s, dejected. “I’m so sorry about this.” He couldn’t hear me, but I had to say it anyway.

  “There you are.” The Irish brogue came from behind me, clipped with irritation. I turned to see Clover, dressed in green with a matching bowler hat perched on his head. He held a green umbrella, shaking the rain off it. “What problem is so terrible important, that you needed to drag me away from me poker game and have me trolling about in the rain searching for you?”

  “What problem?” I pulled myself up on one elbow. “The problem is that Jason is injured, unconscious, and I’m a mermaid.”

  Clover snapped the umbrella shut. “Yes, well, it’s been a bad day for all of us. I’d a full house. Aces high.” He vanished from the spot where he’d stood, just disappeared.

  I looked around the floor, wondering if he’d left altogether. “Clover?”

  “The lad’ll be fine.” Clover had reappeared by Jason’s head and was lifting the side of the bandage to see the wound. “He has a thick noggin. It’s a common enough condition among celebrities. Comes from having a big head.” Clover dropped the side of the bandage and stepped toward me. “He’ll have a right terrible headache, but outside of that, he’ll be back to his own arrogant self by tomorrow.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. I hadn’t killed Jason Prescott. “And what about me?”

  “Ah now, you’ll still be a mermaid. It’s what you wished for.”

  I sat up straighter. “No, no, no.” These words were followed by so many more no’s that they transformed into a stream of N-n-n-n-n. “I never wished to be the Little Mermaid or any sort of mermaid. Not once did I ask for aquatic DNA.”

  I held up my hand to stop Clover from interrupting. “I know Chrissy is just training to be a fairy godmother, and everybody makes mistakes, so I can overlook this. Really, I’m sure one day it will . . . well, if not seem funny, at least it will blur into a jumbled memory of panic and squid tentacles. What I’m saying is have Chrissy put Jason and I back in the twenty-first century, and we’ll start over again with the wish thing. I’ll be super specific about what I want next time.”

  Clover let out a huff of exasperation, like I was the one being unreasonable. He reached into his breast pocket, and pulled out a scroll, small even by leprechaun standards. He tapped it with one finger and the scroll grew bigger, doubling size and then doubling size again. When it stopped growing, he took hold of the top edge and let the rest fall to the ground. It unrolled as it went across the floor. “No one ever reads the contracts when they should. You lasses are in such a blasted rush to make your wishes, you’ll not even glance at the fine print. It’s only after requiring me to traipse around the ruddy Atlantic Ocean that you want a better look at the deal. Alright then...It’s in here somewhere...The first party, hereafter known as Chrysanthemum Everstar, fairy godmother in training, hereby agrees to grant the second party, hereafter known as the Doomed, three wishes—”

  “What?” I twisted to better see the contract. “What was that part about the Doomed?”

  Clover tilted his chin down. “Now you’re regretting you didn’t take the time to read the contract like I told you. No one ever listens to the leprechaun.”

  I put one hand to my throat. “I’m doomed? It says that in the contract?”

  He let out a small chuckle. “I’m only pulling your leg—or in this case, your fin.” He turned the contract so I could see it. “In all truth, you’re known as the pitiable and wretched damsel, Sadie Ramirez.”

  I squinted at the scroll. Yep, my name was penned next to the words pitiable and wretched.

  Clover skimmed through the contract, letting the top part fall to the floor, “Although with Chrysanthemum Everstar as your fairy godmother, doomed is implied. Ah, now, here it is—your first two wishes: I wish to have such a beautiful voice I’m famous, adored for generations, and loved by Jason Prescott.”

  “Two?” I sputtered. “It was one wish.

  Clover held up a finger. “Number one, you wanted a voice so beautiful you’re famous and adored for generations.” He held up a second finger. “Number two, you wanted to be loved by Jason Prescott.”

  A gust of wind went through the gazebo, and I shivered even though I didn’t feel cold. It was bad enough my wish had gone horribly wrong, but now Clover was telling me I’d used up two wishes? “Jason’s love wasn’t a second wish. I only wanted to make sure he was included with the group of people who adored me for generations.” I waved a hand in frustration. “The phrase was a clarification. It’s one wish.”

  “It’s two separate action items, making it two wishes. And count yourself fortunate Chrissy didn’t consider it three. Famous and adored for generations could be construed as two different things.”

  I let out a humph. I only had one wish left. One. Using magic for something altruistic was quickly slipping on my list of priorities. I needed to figure out a wish that would get me out of being a mermaid, bring Jason and me back to the right time period, and still leave me with something worthwhile.

  Out above the trees, a streak of lightning lit up the sky, followed quickly by a protest of thunder. Jason opened his eyes and stared blankly at Clover. “Hey, tha’s a little person. Or two. It keeps moving around.” He reached a hand in Clover’s direction, grasping at the air.

  Clover stepped further away from Jason, rolling up the contract as he did. “You have the voice, you have the lad. We’ve fulfilled our part of your first two wishes.”

  Another bolt of lightning split the sky, this time closer. “Chrissy didn’t change my voice,” I said. “It’s exactly the same.”

  Jason’s gaze moved from Clover to me. He didn’t seem shocked to find himself lying in between a leprechaun and a mermaid, which probably meant he wasn’t completely conscious. “You look fery vamiliar,” he told me.

  Clover finished rolling up the contract. “If you doubt Chrissy’s handiwork—and I don’t blame you for that—give us a song. If your voice hasn’t changed, then contractually you’ll have a leg to stand on . . . so to speak.”

  I wanted more than a leg. I wanted two.

  Jason squinted at me, trying to clear his vision. “I know ya from somewhere, don’ I?”

  Clover shrunk the scroll and tucked it into his jacket. “You likely recognize her from her movie. She’s famous and adored for generations.”

  I took a deep breath and sang the opening notes of the song I’d done for the show. I hoped more than anything my voice would be the same wavering one that had messed up the audition. Instead, the melody lifted effortlessly from my mouth. The notes sounded stronger, clearer, with a resonance that flowed through the gazebo with aching perfection.

  Jason pulled himself up on one elbow, wobbling, and stared at me. “Whoa.”

  I kept singing, almost as entranced as Jason. I couldn’t fault Chrissy for my voice—couldn’t claim she hadn’t changed me.

  Clover folded his arms with satisfaction. “Beautiful voice: done.”

  “The wish still isn’t valid.” I pointed at Jason. “He doesn’t love me.”

  “Yet,” Clover said.

  Jason smiled, clearly loopy. “Oh, I could love you, baby.”

  Clover made a gesture like he was checking an item off a list. “Done.”

  I lowered my voice. “Jason said he could love me, not that he does. And besides, it isn’t real love if he says it while he’s got a head injury.” I patted Jason’s arm. “Trust me on this. I’m not your type. For example, you might want a girlfriend who isn’t part fish.”

  Jason reached out to brush a strand of hair away from my face. At least I think that’s what he was doing
. He missed the first time and had to wave his hand around a bit before he found my face. “I’m not that particular when it comes to beautiful girls.”

  Clover nodded smugly.

  “Oh come on,” I told Clover. “That’s clearly the loss of blood talking.”

  A cloud of sparkles erupted a few feet away from us, shining in the air like bits of a falling star. When the light cleared, Chrissy stood beside us in the gazebo, wand in hand and wings fluttering. Her hair was pale blue this time, which perfectly matched her blue beach dress and sequined sandals. A pair of white sunglasses was tucked on top of her head. Whatever beach she’d been on, it must have been sunnier than this one.

  “So how are you enjoying your fairy tale—or in this case, your fish tail?” She smiled at her own joke, then noticed Jason laying on the ground beside me. “You’ve already rescued the prince? That was fast.” She cast a glance at the sky. “I didn’t think the storm had hit the ship yet.”

  “It hasn’t,” I muttered. “Jason tried to get away from the sailors and he fell off the boat.” I touched his makeshift bandage, making sure it was tight enough. “He hit his head and nearly drowned. He could have died.”

  Chrissy’s wings spanned open. “But besides that it’s going well?”

  Clover tucked his hands behind his back and let out a grunt. “You know as well as I do that mortals are a perpetually unsatisfied lot. Sadie decided she doesn’t want to be a mermaid.”

  “Really?” Chrissy asked, although she didn’t seem surprised. “Not many singers are as famous or adored as the Little Mermaid. I mean, you’ve got product tie-ins that span generations.”

  I sat up as much as I could. I didn’t like being stuck on the ground, legless, while she looked down at me. “Yeah, about that—am I in the story version where the prince marries someone else and I die heartbroken?”

  Chrissy flicked her wand around lazily, and specks of glitter dropped on the floor. “Well, you never asked for Jason to marry you.”

  A sharp inward breath lodged in my throat. It was every bit as bad as I feared. “So you put me in the tragic version?”

  Chrissy shrugged. “A story is what it is. I don’t create versions. And speaking of the story, you’ve already stayed here too long. The prince is supposed to get a fleeting, romantic glimpse as you serenade him. You’re not supposed to be here so long that when the two of you part you feel the need to sign each other’s yearbooks.”

  Jason tried to sit up, winced, and lay back down again. “Wait, who’s doing what tragically?”

  I ignored him. I was breathing in and out so fast I was in danger of hyperventilation. “This isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted to be famous. Fame doesn’t matter if you’re dead.”

  She shrugged again, unconcerned. “Most famous people are dead, and the ones who aren’t are going to die someday soon. That’s just part of mortality.”

  This wasn’t an accident. This wasn’t a mistake Chrissy made because she was in training. She did this on purpose. I blinked at her, stunned. “What sort of a horrible fairy godmother are you? You said you wanted to help me, and then you took me from my time period and put me in a story where I die?”

  Chrissy lifted her chin and sniffed, clearly offended. “I just grant your wishes. What you wish for is your affair.”

  Jason held his hand in front of his face, and stared at it perplexed. “Have I always had six fingers?”

  Clover made tsking noises as he regarded Jason. “And a charming affair it is. Who wouldn’t want this fine fellow?”

  I slapped my tailfin against the floor angrily. “I won’t go along with this. I’m not selling my voice to the sea witch.” Another slap. “What’s the point of singing beautifully if I’m mute as a human?”

  Chrissy’s wings slowly slid closed. “I don’t know why you’re so concerned with losing your voice. It’s not like you ever said much in your own defense anyway.”

  I bristled. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  She rolled her eyes and let out a martyred sigh. “I know I’m your fairy godmother, and therefore, it’s my job to help you have epiphanies, insights, and what not. Really, I don’t mind trudging through your little mortal life, even though up to this point it’s been as exciting as watching flowers wilt. But is it truly necessary to review it with you? I mean, you were there. Habitually silent. Wrapped up in your own world. Shall we talk about how your parents know nothing about what goes on in your life? Or would you rather discuss how you never defend yourself to the Macys and Brooklyns of the world?”

  “I . . . I . . .” I stammered. She wasn’t right about me, was she? Okay, maybe I would rather write songs than hang out with kids from school, but that didn’t mean I was wrapped up in my own world. And ignoring bullies was the best way to deal with them, wasn’t it?

  “At least as a mermaid,” Chrissy went on, “you can make some waves.”

  I didn’t comment on that, just glared at her. Whether I liked it or not, she wasn’t going to undo any of this.

  Chrissy lifted her wand. “Now then, are you ready to use your last wish or would you rather continue on with this story and work your tail off?”

  Clover wiped bits of stray rain from his jacket. “We’re waiting with baited breath.”

  Apparently everybody loved ocean puns. “I haven’t decided what to wish for next.” I needed more time to think. I needed to find a loophole.

  Chrissy stepped around to my side, fiddling with her wand. “Did I mention that you’ve stayed here too long?” She gestured to my hair. “Anemones can only be out of the water for so long before they dry out.”

  I didn’t pay attention to her. I was drumming my fingers against the stone floor, running through different possibilities. “If I don’t make a bargain with the sea witch, then I don’t become human, and the prince will never grow to love me in any sense of the word. My wish won’t be fulfilled, and you’ll have to undo it.”

  Chrissy smiled, unworried. “I’d think about that carefully. If you change a storyline, you never know what might happen.”

  I slapped my tailfin against the floor again. “Would it be worse than dying?”

  A gust of wind rippled through Chrissy’s hair. The storm was picking up. “If you’re not happy here, use your other wish to go somewhere else.”

  “The last time I wished for something I got a death sentence. What’s going to happen next? Earthquakes? Floods?”

  “It’s possible. Or not. Life is all about decisions.”

  I heard shouts, close by, coming from the ocean. My head snapped in that direction. A longboat filled with half a dozen sailors paddled into the cove, cutting through the gray water. They must have seen where I’d gone and followed. Most of the men had their hands on the oars, rowing, but a sailor in the front wielded a sword and the man next to him held a net. He fingered it, getting ready to throw it.

  I had to leave. Could I reach the water in time? I pointed my torso that way and tugged the lower half of my body in the same direction. My tailfin flapped into Jason.

  “Ouch,” he complained, and then turned his head toward the boat. “Hey, look! It’s the guys. The smelly ones.” He waved at them weakly. “Did you get pizza?” The effort of raising his head seemed too much and he lay back down.

  There’s a reason why seals look ridiculous as they shuffle along the beach with their little useless flippers. It’s impossible not to look that way if you don’t have legs. I wobbled in break-dancing-like motion across the floor, only slower. Too slow. “Order the men to stay away,” I told Jason.

  “Okay.” Jason waved at the men again, “I need an order! I want pepperoni and sausage!” He laid his head back on the floor and mumbled, “I told ‘em before to bring me pizza, but they never did.”

  I kept making rocking motions with my body to push myself to the water. I was too far away. I wouldn’t make it in time.

  Clover eyed the boat warily. “You might want to hurry a bit, lass.”

  Chrissy said not
hing. She just absentmindedly twirled her wand, waiting.

  “Help me,” I pleaded.

  “Is that what you wish for?” she asked. “You want to escape from the net?”

  “No.” I wouldn’t waste a wish on something that would only help me for a moment.

  The men were almost in range of the gazebo. The one holding the net fingered it eagerly. “That wench standing with the mermaid is a fairy! Shall we catch her too?”

  “Nay,” another sailor insisted. “Nets can’t hold fairies. She’ll only curse you. Just seize the mermaid. She’s the one who took the prince’s soul. Look at him—laying there all soulless-like.”

  I turned to Chrissy, imploringly. “You’re my fairy godmother. Can’t you help me without using my third wish?”

  Chrissy tapped her wand against her fingertips. “I have helped you. I warned you twice that you needed to go. And when you said you were going to change the story, I told you it might not turn out how you wanted.”

  Clover put his shoulder on my tailfin and pushed. It made no difference in my shuffling speed. He was as nervous as Chrissy was calm. Clover let out a huff. “All right, miss high-and-mighty godmother. You’ve made your point. We all should listen to you. Now give the lass a hand and toss her in the water. I don’t care for the looks of those men. Not one bit. ”

  Chrissy didn’t move. Her wings opened slowly, her gaze intent. “Your wish?”

  I didn’t have a choice. A surge of anger ran through me. I didn’t want to use my last wish to just undo the first two. Now that I’d heard my singing voice, I wanted to keep it—needed to in a way I couldn’t describe. My songs would finally match what had been in my heart all along.

  I’d have to be careful how I phrased my last wish. I couldn’t leave room for interpretation that could keep me a mermaid.

  The man on the boat swung the net into the air. It flew toward me like a reaching hand and landed with a heavy thud. I pushed at the ropes, attempting to free myself from. It was scratchy and smelled of dead fish. As I struggled, the net tightened, tangling in my hair and catching on my tailfin.