The Magic Mistake

by Barbara Brauner

  I have one more question for Gina: “Are you still going to call my parents and tell on me?”

  “Not this time. But if you girls ever try anything like that again, you’re grounded for life. Got it?”

  Sunny and I both nod. Whew!

  The second I open the door of my house, Madison runs up to me in tears. “Somebody stole it!”

  “Stole what?”

  “Barbie’s Ski Cabin! I came home and it was gone! They even took the hot tub!”

  That’s strange.

  Mom’s paying bills at the dining room table. “Madison, you know you’re not supposed to leave your toys in the backyard. Now, go brush your teeth and I’ll be right in.”

  “But, Mom! My ski cabin!”

  “We’ll look for it tomorrow. Brush your teeth.”

  Madison sniffles loudly and trudges away.

  Mom asks me, “Did you have a good time with Sunny? What did you girls do?”

  “Uh…” I pause, not wanting to lie. Mom knows I was spending the evening with Sunny and Gina—I texted her—but I left out the part about the emergency room. Finally I say, “Yes, we had a good time. We even got Gina out of the house!” Every word of that is true.

  “That’s great, sweetie. I told you she’d get better.” Mom turns back to the bills, and I walk down the hall toward my bedroom.

  When I find Julius crouched in front of my closed door, I sit down on the floor and scoop him up into my lap. Poor kitty. Every time I get mixed up with Katarina, he gets kicked out of my room. I hug him and say, “I still love you, Julius. You can go back in my room when this is all over.”

  He seems to understand, because he purrs and kneads my sweater. It’s nice for me to have a little break, too. Fairy-godmothering is exhausting!

  Suddenly, Julius’s ears twitch. He hops off my lap and tries to peer under my bedroom door.

  I put my ear to the door and hear faint, excited, wheee! sounds, kind of like preschoolers at the park. What the heck?

  Julius claws at the door, desperate to get in and eat whatever’s whee-ing. (He’s definitely an attack cat.)

  I gently push him away and slip into my room, closing the door behind me.

  Inside, there’s a sliver of light coming from under my closet door. As I walk up to it, the wheeeeees get louder.

  I open the door—and see that the pinch gnats are having a party.

  Splash! A couple of pinch gnats take turns diving into a Barbie-size hot tub full of strawberry Fanta, while others doze all around Barbie’s Ski Cabin. Katarina ignores them as she sits on a Barbie lounge chair filing her nails.

  I can’t help laughing. “You’re working hard.”

  “It’s not as easy as it looks!”

  “Geez, there are a lot of gnats! Are there more now than this morning?”

  Katarina doesn’t bother answering. She looks really cranky, like a mom who’s been babysitting a whole flock of bratty kids. Which, when you think about it, is pretty much what she’s been doing.

  I tell her, “I’ll sit with the gnats for a while if you want to watch TV or something.”

  “I’m fine! Remember, I’m babysitting them for you—to give you time to work! Is Gina married yet?”

  “No!”

  “The clock is ticking! Tick! Tick! Tick!”

  “I have until Friday! And I got a lot done today.”

  Katarina picks up her notebook and pen. “What, exactly?”

  “Well, I got Gina out of her house. And I found out that Dr. Harrington isn’t her true love.”

  “That’s all? There are seven billion people on this planet. You can’t eliminate them one by one!”

  “I’m looking as hard as I can! I thought you were going to give me hints.”

  “I’ve spent my whole day in a closet, and you expect me to give you hints? Wait, here’s a hint: look harder! Now, close the door and stop bothering me!” She puts down the notebook and goes back to filing her nails. Wow, she’s ultra cranky.

  Another pinch gnat dives into the hot tub, and both Katarina and I get splashed.

  “Watch it, you vermin!” Katarina yells. But she can’t resist licking the sweet strawberry soda off her hand.

  I wash the Fanta off my face in the bathroom I share with Madison. The door to Madison’s room is open, and as Mom tucks her in to bed, Madison says, “But, Mommy! I know I didn’t leave the ski cabin in the backyard!”

  “We’ll worry about it in the morning. Go to sleep now.”

  After Mom leaves, I hear Madison sniffling into her pillow.

  Feeling guilty, I walk into Madison’s room, sit down on her bed, and wipe away her tears. I think about telling her I’ve got the cabin, but it’s too dangerous. She’d just blab to everyone, and there would be a lot more questions I wouldn’t want to answer. Instead, I say, “I’m sure you’ll find your ski cabin soon.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  I don’t want to promise that—the pinch gnats will still be using it. “Not tomorrow. Probably in four or five days. Saturday morning at the latest.”

  “But I want it now! I promised Barbie she could go skiing!” Madison tears up again.

  “Don’t cry,” I say. “Maybe tonight you’ll dream about Barbie and the cabin.”

  “No, I won’t. I only ever dream about ballet class and puppies.” Tears slide down her cheeks.

  I tell her, “Close your eyes and think ski thoughts.”

  After making sure her eyes are closed, I pull the wand out of my pocket and softly chant, “Dreams we’ll be havin’ in our own ski cabin.” Then I toss the spell.

  “Okay, Madison! Open your eyes!” When Madison opens them, her room has been transformed into a real cabin. The walls are wood, snow falls outside the window, and a fire burns in the stone fireplace that sits where her dresser used to be. I can’t help it—I’m impressed with myself. I ask her, “What do you think?”

  “This isn’t Barbie’s cabin. Barbie’s cabin is pink.”

  True. Also plastic. Five-year-olds are hard to impress.

  But Madison looks around the room and then snuggles down under her covers. “This is nice, too. I like this dream. And I’m glad you’re dreaming with me.”

  I sit with Madison in the mountain cabin until she falls asleep. While I wait, I think about what the fairies have asked me to do. What if I don’t pass the wedding test? Will my family hate me, too, just like everyone else in the world will?

  And if I do pass the wedding test, in four days I’ll get sent away for a hundred years. How will that work? Will the fairies make it so Madison won’t even remember me? And Mom and Dad, and Sunny, and Paige? Oh, and Julius, too. It will be like I was never born!

  Maybe I can visit them in their dreams. Madison will dream about a ski cabin with snow outside and a cozy fire, and a sister she loved once but has now forgotten. And the sister in the dream will sit holding her hand, just like I am now.

  I wipe away more tears from Madison’s sleeping face. Only they’re not her tears, they’re mine.

  Tuesday morning, I leave Katarina in the closet babysitting the pinch gnats again, and Sunny, Paige, and I walk to school together.

  I tell the girls, “I don’t know what to do! It’s never this complicated in the fairy tales. All the fairy godmother has to do is make dresses and find coaches. The prince just shows up—why can’t it be like that?”

  Paige says, “Well, maybe there’s a prince right under our noses.”

  Sunny crosses her eyes and looks down toward the tip of her nose. Trying not to giggle, she says, “I don’t see a prince.”

  The problem is, neither do I.

  All day in school, I think about finding Gina a prince. And all day, I give wrong answers in class.

  In math, “Maybe a fireman” is not the correct answer to the story problem about two trains leaving Chicago.

  In World Cultures, “Maybe that cute guy at the yogurt store” is not the correct answer to “Who is the prime minister of Australia?”

  In F
rench, “Monsieur Smith, are you married?” is not the correct translation of “Òu est la bibliothèque?”

  Finally, I make it to PE, which is my last class today. At least there won’t be any questions here for me to answer wrong. But there could be something worse—if I play as badly as I usually do, I may get remedial practice from Mrs. Brinker after school.

  So, just before I walk out on the gym floor, I chant, “Ready, get set, nothing but net,” and toss the spell at myself, and I’m good to go.

  I’m more than good! I’m great! I make every shot, even the ones where I’m barely looking.

  So I’m surprised—and unhappy—when Mrs. Brinker pulls me aside. “Lacey, I want you to stay after class today.”

  Oh, drat! How good do I have to be not to get remedial practice?

  All the other kids file out, and Makayla gives me an extra-big smirk as I make one last, desperate attempt to get out of staying after school. “But Mrs. Brinker, I’m getting better!”

  “Just stay here,” Mrs. Brinker says. She leaves the gym without another word.

  So I stand against the wall as the seconds tick away on the gym clock and the boys start filing in for basketball practice.

  Scott, dressed in a uniform so new that it still has the store creases in it, walks up to me smiling. “Lacey! Did you come to watch me practice?”

  “I’m waiting for Mrs. Brinker. Is today your first practice with the team?”

  “Yes. And there’s a game on Friday night, so I’ve got to be good!”

  “You’re going to be a starter, I know it.”

  “I hope so. You coming to the game?”

  I’m about to say yes when I remember that I’m going to be at a wedding. Luckily, I don’t have to say anything, because the tallest boy on the team, Dylan Hernandez, throws Scott a ball and they start shooting hoops.

  I keep waiting for Mrs. Brinker. Just when I think she’s forgotten about me, she shows up with Principal Nazarino and the tall, friendly-looking boys’ basketball coach, Mr. Overdale. Principal Nazarino bends down to take off her high heels, which aren’t allowed in the gym, and the coach holds out a hand to steady her.

  They all walk over and stare down at me for a moment like I’m a bug they’ve never seen before. Then Mrs. Brinker picks up a basketball and shoves it in my hands. “Lacey! Shoot!”

  Feeling like a bug, I just stare at her.

  “Don’t waste our time! Shoot!”

  So I throw the ball, and it swishes through the net with barely a sound.

  “Way to go, Lacey!” Scott shouts. I can’t help blushing.

  Coach Overdale claps his hands on my shoulders. “I have just one question for you. How would you like to try out for the basketball team?”

  “What?”

  Principal Nazarino says, “Try out for the team.”

  “But the girls already finished their season!” I say.

  Coach Overdale smiles. “Yes, they have. But Mrs. Brinker has told me how good you are. I want you to try out for the boys’ team.”

  “You’d be the first girl on a boys’ team in the entire state!” Principal Nazarino says.

  The three adults all smile and nod at me. And I have to admit it, being on the team would be pretty cool. Dad would be so proud of me.

  The coach blows his whistle and waves the boys over. “Lacey is going to practice with you! Let’s see what she can do.”

  I hear cheers and whoops, and see Scott giving me a big thumbs-up. I start grinning—and then it hits me. I can’t try out for the team. I have a wedding to plan! Besides, it would be cheating to get on the team by magic. So I say, “I don’t think—”

  “Don’t think, play!” Coach Overdale says. He shoves me toward the boys and tosses me the ball.

  Well, this shouldn’t be too hard. If I’m not any good, I won’t make the team.

  So, for the next ten minutes, I try to be bad, but I can’t. With the magic spell on me, and no matter how much I try to fight it, I’m the best player ever. I dribble like an NBA all-star. I make every shot I take. I’m so good the boys barely get to touch the ball at all.

  By the time coach blows his whistle to give us a break, all the boys are panting and out of breath, and I haven’t even broken a sweat.

  Coach Overdale shakes my hand. “Lacey, welcome to the team! I want you to suit up for practice every day this week—and you’re going to play in Friday’s game!” Mrs. Brinker and Principal Nazarino high-five each other.

  Oh, puke! This is just what I don’t need!

  I have to spend the rest of the afternoon playing basketball with my new team. And all this basketball practice is not going to help Gina one bit.

  It’s Meatloaf Madness Night at the Hungry Moose, and the dining room is packed when I get there. On MMN, it’s my job to refill the ketchup bottles, so I head straight for the storeroom.

  But before I get halfway across the room, Dad comes out of the kitchen wheeling a serving cart with a huge, round meatloaf on it. He’s used bacon to make stripes and to write out the word Spalding. OMG. It’s a meatloaf basketball!

  Dad sticks a sparkler into the meatloaf, lights it, and raps on the cart to get everyone’s attention. “Ladies, gentlemen, and sports fans! This afternoon I got a call from Coach Overdale, who tells me that my wonderful, talented, amazing daughter Lacey has just made the boys’ basketball team. So, tonight—free meatloaf for everybody!” There’s wild applause. I think it’s mostly for the free food.

  Dad gives me a huge hug. “I’m so proud of you, honey, and on Friday, I’m going to be in the front row, cheering louder than anybody! Coach Overdale says you’re the best natural player he’s ever seen.”

  Make that best unnatural player. But Dad looks sooo happy—I’ve got to let him down easy. “I’m not very good. I might not even get to play.”

  “That’s not what the coach says!”

  With a happy grin, he stabs a knife into the meatloaf basketball and starts to serve.

  “Your father gave you a meatloaf?” Katarina sits on my dresser smearing cold cream on her face.

  “Yes, with a sparkler on top.”

  “This modern age is ridiculous. In my day, fathers gave their daughters diamonds, tapestries, and real estate. Now you get ground beef. It’s a sad, sad decline, if you ask me.”

  “My dad makes the best meatloaf in town.”

  “I stand corrected. Chopped meat is much better than mere jewelry.”

  I’m not sure if Katarina’s insulting me or Dad—but it’s probably both.

  Katarina says, “How was your day?”

  “Terrible. I still haven’t found Gina’s true love.”

  “You’re just not very good at this, are you?”

  “No, I’m not.” Feeling tired and hopeless, I pull off my sweater and go to the closet to hang it up.

  Katarina stops me. “Don’t go in there!”

  “Why not?”

  “I just got the pinch gnats to sleep! They’ve been fussy all day. Oh, and we need more soda.”

  “I checked—we’re out of Fanta. I think we’ve got some ginger ale.”

  “Fine. They’re bugs—they’ll drink what I give them.” Katarina finishes with the cold cream and sits on the edge of the dresser. “While the little monsters are sleeping, let me give you some more unofficial advice.”

  I wish she could have given me this unofficial advice yesterday, but I guess she was too cranky.

  Katarina says, “Pay attention! Your wand isn’t just for spells, it can also function as a love locator. Tomorrow, when you see a man who might be a match, point your wand and say, ‘Shall this man be Gina’s true love?’ If he’s the one, your wand will tell you.”

  “It doesn’t have to rhyme?”

  “No, it’s a question, not a spell.”

  Wow, a test for true love. “Thank you, Katarina! If I can find Gina a man, all my problems are solved.”

  “No, they’re not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I
mean, have you found a church? A minister? Flowers? A dress? Please tell me you at least have the dress. You can have the shabbiest wedding ever, but if the dress is pretty, nothing else matters.”

  Wow. I’ve got a lot to do.

  I text Sunny and Paige: MEET ME AT THE FOUNTAIN BEFORE SCHOOL.

  Then I start Googling like a maniac.

  First thing the next morning, I make sure Katarina has a day’s supply of ginger ale for the pinch gnats. Then I kiss Mom and Dad good-bye and head out the door.

  Just like I expected it to be, the park is as quiet and empty as always when I meet Sunny and Paige there. I turn on my phone and tell them, “We need to choose a wedding dress. There were hundreds of pretty ones online, but I found three I loved.”

  Sunny looks confused as I flip through four pictures. “You said there were three.”

  “Madison picked one, too.”

  Paige points at a picture of a princessy dress with pink lace, a poufy net skirt, and huge embroidered roses all over it. “Madison picked this one. Kind of over the top, isn’t it?”

  “Madison loves over the top! She saw me looking at dresses and wouldn’t go to bed till I bookmarked her favorite.” I hold up the phone to show the dresses I like side by side. “That leaves three. Let’s vote.”

  Sunny points to a dress that has a huge hoop skirt and off-the-shoulder sleeves. “That one!”

  Paige’s favorite is a white dress that a Greek goddess might have worn: simple, elegant, and flowing. In the picture, the bride is even leaning against a Greek column.

  And I choose the third dress, which has beautiful lace at the neck, a long, long train, and a gardenia headpiece instead of a veil. “We’ve all picked something different,” I say. “How are we going to decide?

  Sunny says, “It’s my mom, so I get to choose.”

  Paige says, “I don’t want to sound like a snob, but I should choose, because I have the best taste.”

  And I say, “I should choose, because I’m the fairy godmother, and the fairy godmother knows best.”

  “So why did you even bother asking us?” Sunny says.