I grinned. ‘‘You know this is probably for the best,’’ I said. ‘‘I think I’m going to stay local for school, anyway.’’ And there the decision was, made without my even having realized it. I’d miss Elliott if I left anyway. I couldn’t abandon him to brussels sprouts.
She hemmed and hawed a little bit, but she was as eager to be gone as I was to have her leave. She turned to go back into the house and get their things. Lisa almost ran her down.
‘‘I’ll send movers for the rest!’’ Lisa called in passing, and threw her bag in the front seat of a taxi I hadn’t noticed pull up. It pulled away with tires squealing.
Mags and I shared a wry look. She wasn’t so bad when she wasn’t bewitched. Dru and Daphne were, but Mags wasn’t.
‘‘Your young man is waiting,’’ she said, and nodded back to where Dave stood with Elliott and his sticky-fingered pals.
‘‘Oh, he’s not—’’ I said, turning back to face her, but the door was already closing.
I shrugged and walked over to Dave. He was young enough, I supposed, maybe twenty? If one ignored the unfortunate bowl haircut, he was even borderline cute.
‘‘So, thanks,’’ I said. ‘‘I think everything’s going to be o—’’
‘‘Brandie, guess what?’’ Elliot interrupted.
‘‘What?’’ I said absently.
‘‘Dave plays the banjo.’’
‘‘Yeah?’’
Dave blushed. Scratch borderline. He was cute.
‘‘Yeah. And he does this puppet show, and he’s doing it tonight at the library.’’
‘‘Really?’’ I said, fascinated. I’d never met a banjo-playing puppeteer before. Dave was turning out to be way more interesting than high-school boys.
‘‘So can we go?’’
‘‘Do you mind?’’ I asked Dave.
He shrugged. ‘‘No, of course not. I mean, it’d be nice. If you want to—’’
‘‘I do want to,’’ I said.
‘‘I’ll get the keys,’’ Elliott said happily, and ran into the house.
‘‘Cool kid,’’ Dave said. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants.
I smiled. Who would have thought?
Even a misspelled fairy tale ends with Prince Charming.
Narrator: And they all lived happily ever after. (I’ve always wanted to say that.)
SHANNAN PALMA is a writer, filmmaker, and academic. She was involved creatively in the production of over forty short films before deciding to move toward a more eclectic career integrating all three of her passions. Since eclectic careers take time to establish, over the years she has racked up a number of odd jobs in her ongoing quest to Pay the Rent—including flower seller, secretary, kitty litter cleaner, shoe seller, make-up artist, and court-reporting instructor. She currently lives in Atlanta, Georgia, and is working on her Ph.D. in women’s studies. She has previously published nonfiction and poetry.
After years of fielding anxious phone calls from family concerning what could safely be substituted in recipes, including the now-infamous query, ‘‘Are green pork chops still okay?’’ JULIE E. CZERNEDA decided to toss matters into the hands of other authors for a change. Misspelled is the wonderful result. When not engaged in long-distance cooking salvation, Julie is a full-time science fiction and fantasy author and editor. Her eleventh novel, Reap the Wild Wind was published by DAW Books in July 2007, along with her most recent anthology, Under Cover of Darkness, coedited with Jana Paniccia (February 2007). Polaris—A Celebration of Polar Science was released in January as part of the International Polar Year by Star Ink Books. She’d put more about herself in this biography, but her latest kitchen experiment appears to have grown legs and be running out the door . . .
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Misspelled Page 29