When Fawn came over to say hello, they all shook hands. And then they all raised their wands and touched them together. They shouted, “H.E.A. forever!” Then Isabelle asked both girls for an update. (This was her way of burying the hatchet and accepting their apologies.)
Angelica said, “Even though my first practice princess lost her big race and her boat, she was a good sport. She immediately started saving for a new boat, and then she challenged my second practice princess to a rematch.” She thought about it for a minute. “I think they’re going to be friends, too.”
Fawn thought Isabelle and Angelica got off easy. “My snowstorm was terrible. But I guess, like your wishes, it brought a lot of people together.”
Together, they tried the edible flower lollipops, five kinds of cheese, and a slice of tropical-fruit pizza. Even when fairy godmothers conserve sparkles, they are very good in the kitchen. Isabelle made a big plate of food and went to look for the Worsts.
They were at their back table, complaining as usual.
For them, the food was too fresh. The theme was too obvious. The whole fortitude and focus experiment still made them mad. Plus they were always cold. The draft from the back door still hadn’t been repaired. They didn’t even say thank you for the plate.
But none of that mattered because Minerva was there. “I’m so glad to see you,” Isabelle said.
“So you heard I didn’t grant her wish,” Minerva said.
Isabelle nodded. “Do you know what’s going to happen next?”
She said, “Not a clue, and I don’t care. They’ll probably put me on what they call ‘secret’ probation.” She put air quotes around secret since probation wasn’t secret at all.
This was a lot of gusto for one old godmother—especially a Worst. “What did they ask you to do?”
Minerva told her, “They wanted me to grant the wish of the missing relative of my first practice princess—to bring them all together. But since I have known the family a long time, I knew this would mean trouble. If I had intervened, everyone would have found out that my first long-ago princess wasn’t born a princess at all. And that neither were her descendants.”
“Wait a minute,” Isabelle said. “I thought I got the first regular girl.”
Minerva shook her head. “Isabelle, the history of fairy godmothering is a long one. It is also filled with new rules, broken rules, and sometimes, forgotten secrets. There are plenty of princesses who started out as regular girls. They just don’t like to talk about it in training.”
Isabelle figured she’d better get reading. But right now, she was more worried about what was going to happen to Minerva.
“Isabelle, a lot of us have been thinking. We love being godmothers, but the system works against us. We really aren’t Worsts.” She pointed to Grandmomma and the Bests. “Do you really think we’re ever going to get a shot at a really good princess?”
At the podium, Grandmomma held up her hand so that everyone would stop talking. “Welcome, friends! I am so glad to see all of you.” As always, she introduced the Bests, numbers one through four.
Then all the godmothers who needed princesses joined Grandmomma onstage. It was very exciting when Clotilda (who could have chosen anyone) passed on a very easy-to-please princess and instead chose a difficult princess who had already stumped four fairy godmothers.
“I’m up for the challenge,” Clotilda told the room full of cheering godmothers.
Minerva whispered to Isabelle, “And so am I!” She stood up slowly—not to clap, but to do the limbo. She arched her back until it crackled and popped. “Just in case this is my last Extravaganza, let’s make it a doozy!”
Isabelle went to find Clotilda. First she congratulated Clotilda on her excellent taste in difficult princesses.
Then they did the limbo. Then Grandmomma stopped the music. It was time for a class picture. (She didn’t want Isabelle to miss this one.) Isabelle stood in front of the tree with Zahara, the Bests, and her classmates for an official Level Two graduation picture.
“Congratulations,” Grandmomma said.
“Sparkle power!” they shouted together.
After three servings of food, four conga lines, three electric slides, and sixteen (or so) rounds of the chicken dance, Isabelle was ready to go home. She asked Clotilda, “You want to come up and say hi to the girlgoyles?”
It had been a long time since Clotilda had joined her with the girlgoyles—maybe since before Clotilda started training. “Sure,” she said. “Let’s do it.”
It took them a little while to get comfortable, but eventually, they squeezed in tight. For a while, they counted constellations. Then they watched a star shoot across the sky. Behind one of the girlgoyles, Isabelle discovered a half-eaten bag of pretzels. They ate them all up even though they were really stale.
If there was one thing stronger than the magic of sparkles, it was the magic of sisterhood. It even made stale pretzels taste delicious.
“So tell me the truth. Did you think it was Mom?” Isabelle asked.
Clotilda shook her head. “Never. No way. Mom wasn’t like that. People can say whatever they like, but I knew her. She would never do anything to hurt a princess—or a regular girl.”
That made Isabelle feel a little better, but now that she had her sister cornered and squished, she also had a lot of other questions. Like: “Why couldn’t she take us with her?” and “Do you think Grandmomma really didn’t find her?” and “Why didn’t she leave us anything to remember her by?”
Clotilda didn’t know where their mom was. And she liked being a fairy godmother. She told Isabelle she wouldn’t have wanted to leave, either. Then Clotilda pointed out the same special star that Isabelle always looked at when she wanted to think about Mom. “You were too young to remember, but before she left, she told us that when we missed her, we should throw a sparkle in the air. Like a shooting star. And that she would see it. She said that shooting stars always made wishes more powerful.”
“She taught us that?” (Isabelle thought she’d made that up herself.)
Clotilda laughed. “You think Grandmomma would teach us to waste sparkles? That is not her style.”
That was true. And sort of funny. And at the same time, really sad. “You want to do it right now?” Isabelle asked. (She had exactly two extra sparkles left in her wand.)
So they each took one. And they launched them high into the sky. And even though they didn’t say anything more, they both thought about Mom. They didn’t have to say they’d always stick together. But Isabelle knew they would.
After a while, Clotilda stood up. (The cozy space was really too cozy for two fairy godmothers. It was really only right for one.) She said, “Don’t stay too long” and “Like I always say: Be calm. Grandmomma has a big day in store for you tomorrow.”
Isabelle said good night. “I’ll be just a minute.” She wanted to be alone, especially because now she didn’t feel lonely.
Also, she thought she saw something sparkly on the claw of one of the girlgoyles. When Clotilda was gone, Isabelle reached for it. It was a little yellow-and-green ring.
Isabelle was pretty sure Clotilda had left it for her. For good luck. A keepsake. Maybe it had even been Mom’s.
Isabelle put it on her finger and looked up at the big, bright star. It seemed to be twinkling now, like it was saying: “I am out here. Don’t forget me.” And of course, “Make a wish.” Since what else can you do with a twinkling star, even if you are an almost Level Three fairy godmother and you don’t have a fairy godmother of your own?
So Isabelle held her hand and her ring to her heart. And she made a wish. Of course, this was Isabelle we’re talking about, so it was a complicated wish. That was because she wanted too many things. And because she was still too disorganized. She would have to talk to Grandmomma about that tomorrow.
She wished that:
a) Nora and Samantha would stay happy. And that they would continue to be friends. And that maybe, somehow, she could
see them again. But if not, she was all right with that.
b) If there were regular girls who were princesses in disguise, that it should be one of them. She also wouldn’t mind getting another regular girl in Level Three.
c) Minerva would come back to training. And not be on probation.
Of course, Isabelle also wanted to see her mom and make it through Level Three and finally be really good friends with Angelica and Fawn (in other words: the kind who worked together and needed each other), but that was getting ridiculous and mushy, so she just added d) all of the above and everything else.
What she didn’t know (but probably should have):
Rings don’t appear out of nowhere, even in the fairy godmother world. When rings (or other jewels) show up, it means that there is strong magic happening. Or as fairy godmothers like to say, something is afoot.
It’s as dangerous as giving sparkles to a regular girl. Anything can happen.
If there is one thing stronger than the magic of sparkles, it’s the magic of story and what happens when you forget your fears and try something totally new and exciting. I hope this book is as fun to read as it was to write!
I cannot say thank you enough. Honestly, there are days when I’m sure it’s not real! What a joy these books are for me!
First and foremost to my amazing team at Scholastic, especially Anna Bloom, AnnMarie Anderson, Abby McAden, Maeve Norton, and extra special kudos to the copyeditor, Jessica White. I’m pretty sure I owe you dinner out. All of your feedback and patience and enthusiasm helped me find this next chapter in Isabelle’s story and get it right. As always, I owe my agent, Sarah Davies, so much for all her support, trust, wisdom, and well-timed humor. VCFA, the Highlights Foundation, SCBWI, and writers.com: Thank you for all the opportunities and communities you have provided.
I wouldn’t be writing this without the continued support of friends from my writing world and the regular one, too. (You know who you are!!!) Every day, I feel lucky that we’re in this together!
Huge thanks to my writing sisters, Tami Lewis Brown, Elly Swartz, and Tanya Lee Stone, as well as my daughter/on-call idea consultant, Rebecca Aronson, who helped me sift through good paragraphs, clunkers, as well as everything else life offers. My critique group has been a great source of inspiration and creative chutzpah! Thank you, Carolyn Crimi, Jenny Meyerhoff, Mary Loftus, Brenda Ferber, and Laura Ruby, for giving me the weekly doses of confidence I’ve needed.
Thank you to my family, especially my husband, Michael, and son, Elliot, who tell me every single day that I can do this.
It has been wonderful to be given the chance to write and share stories about fairy godmothers and happiness. I am so grateful to have this opportunity. Most days, I have to pinch myself!
Sparkle on!
Sarah Aronson has always believed in magic—especially when it comes to writing. Her favorite things (in no particular order) include all kinds of snacks (especially chocolate), sparkly accessories, biking along Lake Michigan, and reading all kinds of stories—just not the fine print!
Sarah holds an MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults from Vermont College of Fine Arts. She lives with her family in Evanston, Illinois.
Find out more at www.saraharonson.com.
Author photo by Lynn Bohannon
Isabelle’s sparkle gets its start in The Wish List #1: The Worst Fairy Godmother Ever!
Dear Trainee, Please read and review all the rules before the first day of training. We appreciate your cooperation. —The Bests
Isabelle didn’t have to be told she’d be better off studying.
She knew she wasn’t ready for the first day of Fairy Godmother Training: Level One—not by a long shot. She didn’t need her older sister, Clotilda, to tell her that.
But that didn’t stop Clotilda. All day long, she asked things like: Why aren’t you studying? Can I give you a quiz? You didn’t fall asleep on your book again, did you?
This was the problem with older, smarter sisters who were perfect at everything. Clotilda wasn’t just annoying. She was also right.
“Why can’t you take this seriously?” she asked Isabelle. And then the clincher: “You don’t want to embarrass Grandmomma, do you?”
Grandmomma (with the emphasis on grand) was the current president of the Fairy Godmother Alliance, one of the authors of The Official Rule Book for Fairy Godmothers, 11th Edition, and the sisters’ grandmother.
More important, Grandmomma ran the official fairy godmother training program and helped select practice princesses for every new trainee. She was a godmother with very high standards and a very short temper. Trainees who couldn’t cut it were banished. Probably to the dreaded Fairy Godmother Home for Normal Girls.
Isabelle did not want to go there.
At the Fairy Godmother Home for Normal Girls, there were no princesses. There were no wands. There were definitely no sparkles. Instead, normal girls learned to do one of the non-magical jobs of the fairy godmother world. “It’s an honest life,” Clotilda had told Isabelle at least a hundred times. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, but let’s be honest, being a fairy godmother is so much better.”
So, no, Isabelle didn’t want to embarrass (or otherwise irritate) Grandmomma. But she didn’t want to study, either. The problem with studying was that there was always something better to do.
Like eating cinnamon pies and chocolate twigs and running so fast she could almost fly. Or building puffy cloud castles that floated up into the deep-blue sky. Or going to her secret hiding place near the top of the castle tower. Isabelle always had great ideas when she sat in the cozy space between the girlgoyles (her word for the gargoyles, since they looked like girls). The girlgoyles weren’t magical—they never came to life or told jokes or helped her out in any real way—but they didn’t nag her, either. Sometimes, when she was feeling extra lonely, she pretended that one of them was her long-lost mother. Even though she was a tiny baby when Mom went away for good, Isabelle felt close to her when she was with the girlgoyles. She missed her all the time. She definitely did not believe what everyone said. Her mother was not the worst fairy godmother ever.
If only Clotilda would leave her alone, she’d go there right now.
But Clotilda would not leave her alone. Not for one second. Not when she could be telling her what to do.
“A great fairy godmother believes in happiness,” Clotilda recited. “She knows just what to do when her princess finds herself in an emergency.”
That didn’t sound so complicated. “Okay,” Isabelle said, “go ahead and test me.”
Clotilda turned to the first practice quiz at the back of the book. “Question Number One: What must you possess to pass your first level of fairy godmother training?”
Isabelle groaned. These questions! They were never as simple as they seemed. Plus, she could smell gooey pumpkin cakes baking in the kitchen below. Also, a bluebird had landed at the window and was singing a magical song.
“A ton of sparkles? A brand-new wand?” she tried, looking past Clotilda and out to the beautiful sunny day beyond her.
Clotilda pulled the curtains shut. “Isabelle, you should know that no one’s going to trust you with more than a teaspoon of sparkles until at least Level Two. Wait for the choices. I bet once you hear them, the right answer will click.”
Isabelle hated waiting. She hated the choices, too, because they were always confusing. Most of all, she hated feeling jealous of her sister. Clotilda had passed all four levels of training, as she would say, lickety-split. Or as Grandmomma would say, faster than any new godmother ever, she “couldn’t be more proud.”
Clotilda was a picture-perfect godmother. She was loving and kind (just not always to her sister), cheerful and smart, and skilled in the fine art of fairy godmother gift-giving. Isabelle had watched her turn a raisin into a sleek black convertible and an old trunk of rags into a fabulous wardrobe. She knew which magical blessings to offer new babies, and when blessings were not enough to ward
off evil, she could snap her fingers and put a princess into a long sleep to protect her. Clotilda even looked like Isabelle’s version of a perfect fairy godmother. She had pretty ears, dainty feet, and shiny long hair. She wound it into a bun in the morning, and it stayed put all day.
Isabelle’s hair never stayed put. No matter how many pins she used, it always looked messy.
“I’m sorry,” Isabelle said. “Give me the choices.”
Clotilda spoke very, very slowly. “It’s either a) kindness, b) determination, c) gusto, or d)”—she paused dramatically—“all of the above.”
Isabelle liked the sound of the word gusto, but she wasn’t sure what it meant. “Determination?” she guessed.
Clotilda said nothing.
“Kindness?”
When Clotilda scowled, she looked a lot like Grandmomma. “The right answer is d) all of the above.” She started to read Question Number Two, but then she stopped halfway through. “Isabelle, snap to it! Training starts in two days. Don’t you care about becoming a great fairy godmother?”
“Yes! I mean, no. I mean, what was the question?” Isabelle hadn’t been listening. But that wasn’t because she didn’t care. The truth was Isabelle cared a lot. She cared more about becoming a fairy godmother than almost anything else in the fairy godmother universe.
She just didn’t like tests. There were too many rules.
Every time she opened the rule book she fell asleep.
For Isabelle, the answer to the question “What do you need to pass your first level of training?” was not all of the above. It was none of the above. She had to be more than
a) kind,
b) determined,
c) full of gusto (whatever that was), and
d) all of the above.
No matter how scary it seemed, she was going to have to e) be brave, f) take some risks, and g) get all of the answers by whatever means possible.
Keep Calm and Sparkle On! Page 9