My Fairly Dangerous Godmother

by Janette Rallison

  I gulped nervously, grasping for an explanation to his presence here. “I called Donovan and told him about my audition disaster. He was in the area, so he stopped by to make me feel better.”

  It was a good thing I could lie now, since I had a feeling I was about to do a lot of it. “Donovan lives in Hamilton, Ohio,” I added to fill the silence. “I made him miss his bus back home, so he was checking to see when the next one left.”

  Mom finally came out of her shock. She smiled stiffly and set the grocery bag on the bed. “Well, it’s always nice to meet Sadie’s friends.”

  She eyed Donovan more thoroughly, clearly wondering at his Renaissance era clothing. The scabbard and sword at his side probably didn’t reassure her that he was a guy her daughter should be kissing. “So,” she said slowly, “how did you two meet?”

  Despite what Chrissy thought about my proficiency in lying, I couldn’t think of a plausible explanation.

  Thankfully Donovan spoke before I had to. “We met online at a forum for people auditioning for America’s Top Talent. We’ve been texting and calling each other for, um . . .” He turned to me to supply a time period. He had no idea how long I’d planned on auditioning for the show.

  “Weeks,” I said.

  “Weeks,” he agreed. “It seems longer.”

  Mom sat in the corner chair, her eyes sharp on us. I was afraid there was disapproval in that sharpness. If she didn’t like Donovan now, she wasn’t going to be happy when she found out he had a police record. “You sang at the auditions too?” she asked him.

  “I did a magic act.” He gestured at his clothes as though this explained them. “I make things disappear, do a little sword play, that sort of thing. I didn’t even make it into the finals.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Mom didn’t sound it. She sounded worried. “Are you planning on going into show business?”

  “No,” he said. “This was more of a bucket-list thing. I’m going to college in the fall. Business major.”

  Mom brightened at the word college. “That’s nice. Where are you going?”

  “Wherever Sadie decides to go.”

  Mom arched an eyebrow at me. “Are you going to college?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  And I was as sure about it as I sounded. After everything I’d gone through, I didn’t feel the rush to jump into the spotlight. Or maybe I just didn’t need the validation anymore. I could take a few years to find out who I was before I let the music industry define that for me.

  “I still want a music career,” I said, “but college will be a good thing. Maybe sometime I’ll want to teach music.”

  Donovan nodded. “You should take accounting classes. You’re going to need to know how to handle all the money you’ll make.” To my mom, he added, “She has the most beautiful voice.”

  “I know.” Mom sat back in her chair, finally relaxing.

  It was probably Donovan’s endorsement of college and my change of heart about getting a degree that brought about the change. She had decided he was a good influence on me.

  “I keep telling Sadie this audition doesn’t mean anything,” Mom said. “She won’t even remember it in a few years.”

  “Oh, I’ll remember it,” I said, and laughed.

  Mom smiled and then laughed too. I knew she thought Donovan had accomplished what the ice cream could never do—made me feel better about bombing my song on camera.

  But it wasn’t just Donovan. I had swum to the bottom of the sea and met merpeople. I’d walked through trees made of silver, gold, and diamonds. I’d learned to waltz, been a princess, and danced for fairies. I’d almost drowned and I’d fallen in love.

  A few minutes ago, I thought I’d never see my world again, and now I was back. It put a viral video in perspective.

  Mom dished out ice cream for us, and we talked until it was time for Donovan to catch his bus. Mom and I drove him to the station parking lot. She waited in the car, while I walked Donovan inside and said goodbye.

  When we reached the line at the counter, I pulled my wallet from my purse. “You’ll need money for a ticket.” Gold and silver filled his pockets, but he couldn’t use that here.

  Donovan shook his head. “Don’t stress it. I’ll use the invisibility cloak to get on the bus.”

  I took money from my wallet and held it out to him. “I’ll worry less if I know you’re traveling the legal way.”

  He tilted his head in disbelief. “I just chopped you out of a killer bush, saved you from evil fairies—and now you’re worried about whether I’ll be okay on a bus?”

  “Yeah.” I kept holding the money out.

  He took hold of my free hand and gave it a light squeeze. His hands felt rough in mine, rough and warm. “You don’t have to worry about me. I have a lot of experience taking care of myself.”

  “I know, but I’m going to worry about you anyway.”

  He finally took my money. “Okay.” He tucked the bills into his pocket, then lowered his head so his forehead touched mine. “And by the way, I love you too.”

  I glanced up at him, surprised. “What?”

  “Nothing . . .” he said with a grin, “that we can’t talk about later.”

  I took hold of his hand again. “I think now is later.”

  He laughed, pulled me closer, and gave me another kiss.

  Chapter 30

  The video of my audition went viral faster than I’d imagined. I had one day at home, one day of normal life, before the show aired. After that, the internet went crazy. At first it was a montage of my performance. Then a meme popped up, and people tacked the footage of me heaving onto other videos so it looked like I was throwing up in response to a myriad of things. Political opinions. Celebrity fashions. Jason’s latest music video.

  Donovan actually made that one. He took a clip of Jason singing, “Do you want me, baby? Do you think I’m the one?” and then cut to me throwing up in front of Jason. The video had a million views by the end of the day. I didn’t know whether to laugh or yell at Donovan for thinking the whole thing was funny.

  It was easy for him to see the humor in my ill-gotten fame. He didn’t have to go to my school. For a couple days, it seemed like the entire student body had nothing else to do except make comments about my performance or walk around the school pretending to vomit.

  I tried to be a good sport. I said things like: “Just doing my part to put our town on the map,” and “The judges got it wrong. Projectile vomiting was my talent.”

  A few people were extra nice, which sort of surprised me. The girl at the locker next to mine hadn’t spoken to me all year, but when she saw me, she said, “Don’t listen to the jerks here. At least you had the courage to walk out onto that stage. Most people at this school wouldn’t do that.”

  I nodded philosophically. “Which is why most people at this school still have their dignity.”

  She laughed, and didn’t look away. “You’ve got a good sense of humor. I don’t know why you’ve always been so quiet.”

  Because I’d been afraid I would say the wrong thing. Because I’d been afraid people would criticize me. Because it was easier not to draw attention to myself. The upchucking video pretty well blew that strategy out of the water. Now I had to speak up for myself. And I found I wasn’t that bad at it.

  After a few days had passed and everyone else had moved on to other entertainment, Macy and Brooklyn strolled up to me in the hallway.

  “How’s your singing career going?” Macy asked.

  I kept walking to my class. “Better than yours. At least people know who I am.”

  “I’d rather not have that sort of fame,” Macy said.

  Brooklyn wrinkled her nose. “I wouldn’t want a singing career.”

  “Then you’re in luck,” I said. “You’ll never have one,” and I turned to walk into my class.

  That day after school, The Tonight Show called my parents and asked if I could perform my song on Friday’s show. It was ironic that such a horrible
experience on one show led to an invitation from a bigger one. I wasn’t sure whether Jimmy Fallon wanted to give me a chance to redeem myself or whether he was expecting me to fail again in an equally entertaining way.

  I accepted without hesitation.

  I flew to New York with my parents and spent the next afternoon rehearsing with the band. The musicians were really nice. After they introduced themselves, one of the guitarist said, “Hey, I know you’d rather be famous for something else, but don’t feel bad about those videos. A lot of singers would pay for that kind of exposure.”

  “Then it’s too bad I couldn’t sell it to them.” I only half meant it. I knew I would come through all of this stronger. I already was.

  The guitarist took extra time to talk with me during rehearsal and suggested changing a few notes and adding some chords in my song. He was right. The song was better that way.

  With his permission, I jotted down the changes so I could add them to my music back home. “I guess I still have a lot to learn about song writing.”

  “Nah,” he said. “Revisions are just part of the game. You’ve got talent. Keep using it.”

  He didn’t have to compliment me. I was only a high school kid here as a novelty. But it was nice that he did. It proved that not everyone in the business was like Jason.

  That night when the cameras turned on and the band started playing my song, I was still nervous— petrified really—but I knew I could do it.

  The intro music sounded smooth, professional. I took a deep breath, opened my mouth, and the notes flowed out clear and flawlessly. This time while I sang, I didn’t picture Jason. I saw Donovan’s cool blue eyes, his mussed hair, and his smile that tilted up at one side.

  My voice was strong and beautiful, even if I did sound a little too happy about unrequited love. I couldn’t get that wistful tone of longing that had been there when I practiced in front of Jason’s poster. I was too un-unrequited.

  When I reached the part of the song I’d choked on during the America’s Top Talent, the audience leaned forward in their seats, one collectively-held breath. My voice slid upward effortlessly, and I lengthened the note just to show I’d conquered it. The audience burst into applause, drowning out my next few words.

  With the band at my back, and the audience breathing in the music, singing felt magical. In a good way. I was wrong about not wanting the spotlight. I could live here.

  When I sang the last note, the audience cheered their approval. I didn’t care that they’d probably all seen my video and laughed at it. They were applauding now. They were clapping for everyone who’d made a fool of themselves and didn’t let it stop them from trying again.

  I took a bow and strode over—no heels to worry about today—to in the guest chair. My nerves came back in force then, throbbing through me. I’d known all along I could do the song. Talking in front of the camera was another matter. Donovan had spent an hour with me on the phone, practicing possible things to say.

  I shook Mr. Fallon’s hand. Smiled big. “Before you interview me, I want to make sure—you can edit out anything embarrassing I might do, right?”

  He waved away my comment. “Listen, you were so good, I think I’m going to throw up. It just seems like the thing to do.”

  The audience laughed, and my nerves melted away.

  I sat in the chair, ignored the cameras aimed in my direction, and answered his questions. It went by in a blur. There was more laughing, more clapping. He shook my hand again and said, “You’re a talented young lady. I can tell you have a great career ahead of you.”

  After the show broke for commercial, Mr. Fallon gave me the thumbs up. “You just killed it in front of eight million viewers. Not bad for someone who hasn’t graduated from high school.”

  He was right. This wasn’t bad at all.

  The next surprise happened that night at the hotel room. My parents and I had a luxury suite, compliments of the show. I’d just taken a book out to the balcony when Jason Prescott called my phone.

  “You’re alive!” he said as soon as I answered.

  “Yep. Last time I checked, that was my status.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was happy or just surprised. “I thought you were stuck back in the Renaissance,” he said. “I thought the fairies killed you. I’ve spent the last two days writing a song mourning your loss.”

  “Sorry. Still alive.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you’d escaped?”

  “Well, I don’t have your phone number. How did you get mine?”

  “I got it off the forms you filled out for America’s Top Talent.”

  Oh, that’s right. I had given them my personal information.

  “How did you get away?” Jason asked.

  “Donovan and Chrissy came back and rescued me.”

  “That’s good.” A pause. “She was hot, your fairy godmother.”

  Apparently Jason was progressing just fine in falling out of love with me. “I mean,” he went on, “I never pictured fairies that way, you know?”

  “I never pictured them like Chrissy, either.” I’d imagined them to be nicer. Like the harmless little old ladies in Disney movies. Chrissy, I was sure, would never use the words “Bibbidy-bobbidy-boo.”

  “I felt so bad about leaving you there,” Jason said, “especially when those videos came out mocking your audition. I told the show they shouldn’t air your segment, but they said the rest of the show wouldn’t make sense if they didn’t.”

  “Yeah, well . . . that’s the important thing.”

  He completely missed my sarcasm. “It’s their most watched episode so far. Although that might be because I was a guest judge.”

  “Great.” I slouched in my chair. “Glad to hear it.”

  “Anyway, I’ve been bummed because I thought you died, and then—wham—the TV starts running ads about your appearance on The Tonight Show. Totally cool. How did it go?”

  “Really well. You can see it tonight.”

  There was a moment of silence. I decided that meant it was time to end the call. “Well, sorry you thought I died and everything. I’m fine. Thanks for checking.”

  “When is your prom?”

  “What?” The change in subject was so abrupt, I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right.

  “I promised Mr. Invisible I’d take you to prom.”

  I’d forgotten about that. “No need. Donovan is taking me.”

  Jason let out an offended huff. “You’d rather go with the invisible guy than me?”

  “He’s my boyfriend now, and he’s not invisible anymore.” Neither of us was. “But if you want to fulfill your promise, you could sing at my prom.”

  “You want me to perform while you dance with another guy?”

  “It would be good publicity for you,” I pointed out. “You came off kinda mean in those viral videos. You know, famous rock star crushes poor hopeful’s dream so brutally that she’s ill on stage.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” he said.

  “Actually it was exactly like that.”

  “I gave you constructive criticism.”

  “You told me I didn’t practice enough.”

  “That’s constructive.”

  I tapped my fingers against the chair rest. “You promised Donovan you’d do anything I asked, and I’m asking you to sing at my prom.”

  Jason let out a martyred groan. “Okay. Just this once.”

  “Well, that’s normally how many times people do prom when they’re seniors. However, I’m going to Donovan’s prom too. I’m sure the people at his school would also love to hear you.”

  “One prom,” Jason said.

  “My fairy godmother could always change you back into a frog, you know.”

  “Fine,” he muttered. “Both proms.”

  * * *

  My prom was first. Donovan got permission to come and rented a limo. Normally I would have told him not to spend the money, but it turns out pocketfuls of silver and gold are worth a lot. Donovan not o
nly had enough money to go to college, if he wanted, he could buy his own house near campus.

  His problem was he could only sell off a gold leaf at a time or people would wonder if his newfound wealth had come about by illegal means. It’s hard to explain where you suddenly got hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of precious metals from.

  I had my own souvenirs tucked away in my closet: gold and silver leaves Donovan had given me, the pearl bracelet, and a fallen wish that would only ever be a diamond. Someday I might sell them—maybe when I was a poor struggling musician—until then, I would keep them.

  When I stepped out of the limo in front of the hotel where prom was held, the paparazzi were waiting. Camera flashes went off around me, illuminating the area with splashes of light. Reporters jostled each other to get closer, holding mikes in my direction. “What do you think about Jason performing at your prom?” one asked.

  Another called, “Are the two of you friends now?”

  Then it seemed everyone was shouting questions at me. “Are you going to pursue a singing career?”

  “How has this affected your life?”

  For twenty minutes I answered them while kids from my school skirted around us, eyeing the cameras. Donovan stood by my side, protectively close. He kept his hand on my arm as though he thought he might have to bat the reporters away. Actually, I began to wonder if he would, since they showed no sign of letting us pass.

  Finally, Jason and his body guards came out to rescue us. Or maybe Jason came out because he wanted to ensure the reporters got pictures of him with his arm draped around me, demonstrating we had no hard feelings. It was difficult to tell those sorts of things with Jason.

  After a sufficient number of pictures had been snapped, Jason’s bodyguards cleared a path into the hotel. Once we went inside, the hotel security kept the paparazzi from following us through the lobby.

  We walked into the ballroom, Jason retook the stage, and the crowd cheered to have him back. I’d never seen so many starstruck people. Even the guys at my school who had sworn Jason was no big deal grudgingly clapped. Several girls looked nearly hysterical with happiness.

  Hard to understand, since Donovan was hands down the most handsome guy in the room. We danced song after song. We even waltzed a few times.