And for a while, my plan works. I run away from the ball like it’s going to bite me.
I get guarded by this really big kid who looks like he should be in college, not middle school. (I take that back. He looks like he should be in jail.) He’s about nine feet tall—ten feet once you add his blond Mohawk—and has beady little eyes that look straight through me. Even if I wanted to get the ball, Mohawk Boy would make that impossible.
Uh, almost impossible. Because right before the end of the first quarter, Dylan Hernandez throws the ball at me and I catch it. (So there goes my never-get-the-ball plan, right out the window.) I dribble the ball down the court, and Mohawk Boy slams into me. Ooooff! I stagger, but—just barely—manage not to fall down.
The ref blows his whistle and calls an intentional foul. I try to tell him I’m fine and that we should keep playing the game, but it’s hard to talk when all the air has been knocked out of your lungs.
The ref doesn’t make me shoot a free throw—he makes me shoot two. And I miss them both. (I’m pretty impressed when one of them actually hits the backboard.) The crowd groans. Wow. I’ve never disappointed a hundred people at once before.
The buzzer sounds, and Scott rushes up to me. “Lacey? Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m really sorry.”
“That big jerk should have gotten kicked out of the game. Let’s talk about how you can work around him.”
I don’t have time to discuss how to work around Mohawk Boy—I need to go check on the wedding. But Scott pulls me into a huddle with the rest of the team, and the two-minute break between quarters is over before I know it. I sure hope that the minister has shown up.
The game’s second quarter doesn’t go any better for me than the first, but because of Scott’s coaching, the score is surprisingly close. Toward the end of the quarter we’re actually up by a point. Then, for the third time tonight, I get the ball and try to make a basket—and hit Mohawk Boy right on the head.
He clutches his face and stumbles around the court like I’d hit him with a sledgehammer. Then he collapses to the ground with a loud thud.
I can’t believe I hurt him! I’ve hit loads of people on the head with basketballs, and this never happened before.
Dr. Harrington sprints off the bleachers and kneels next to Mohawk Boy—who gives me a mean little smirk. That faker!
Dr. Harrington says, very loudly, “I’m worried about you, son. I think we’ll have to shave your head and do a brain scan.”
Mohawk Boy miraculously recovers and sits up. “I’m all right. Don’t shave my head, dude!”
Dr. Harrington gives me a wink and goes back to his seat. So I wasn’t the only one who knew Mohawk Boy was faking.
But the ref’s not doing any winking. He calls another intentional foul, and because of me, the Wolverines get two free throws. Mohawk Boy makes them both, which puts us a point behind.
The buzzer sounds for the fifteen-minute halftime. I can hardly look at my teammates as the cheerleaders take the floor, with Paige in the lead. “Don’t be finkin’—root for Lincoln!” Paige cheers. I’m finkin’, in more ways than one.
From across the gym, Scott tries to flag me down as the rest of the team gathers around him. I pretend not to see and run as fast as I can toward the cafeteria.
If you’re ever in charge of a wedding, don’t schedule a basketball game at the same time.
I hurry into the cafeteria shouting, “Is he here? Is he here?”
And then I see him: a minister in a black suit and a white collar, standing next to Sunny. Thank goodness!
I run up to him and give him a big hug. (You’re probably not supposed to do that, but I can’t help myself.) “Thank you so much for doing this!”
The minister clears his throat and looks uncomfortable. “I’m happy to perform the ceremony, but I’m on a very tight schedule. Friday is bingo night, and I have to be back by eight.”
“No problem! Let’s get going.”
Sunny says, “Little tiny problem.”
“What is it?”
“We can’t find my mom.”
“What do you mean, you can’t find your mom?”
“She was behind the big flower arrangement. But when I went to get her just now, she wasn’t there, and the side door was open.”
I can’t help myself. I SCREAM.
The minister jumps and looks at me like I’ve gone bonkers, which I pretty much have. He checks his watch and starts backing away.
“No, wait!” I say.
Coach Overdale wanders over and says dreamily, “Can I do ‘I do’ now? Because I do. I really do do.”
The minister stares at the coach, then hurries toward the door. “I’m sorry, but this all seems rather irregular. And I have bingo.”
“Please, don’t leave! Please! I’ll find Gina. She’s probably just in the bathroom or something.”
“Call me next week. Perhaps we can reschedule.”
Next week’s too late! What am I going to do? I pull out my wand and chant the first spell I can think of: “No more bingo till Gina wears a ring-o.” And then I zap him.
The minister stops in his tracks and turns around with a smile. He says, “Who cares about bingo? Gina needs a ring-o.” He walks under the orange-blossom arch to wait.
Katarina’s been hiding from the minister, but now she flies down and lands on his head. She snaps at me, “This is just great! Now everybody’s under a spell. Girls, go find the bride, and let’s finish this fiasco.”
The coach says, “I’ll help!” He starts calling, “Sunny’s mother! Where are you!”
Katarina flies over and flutters in front of his face. “Buster, sit down and shut up.” Her face really does look mean.
The coach sits down without another word.
Sunny and I run out the side door and search up and down the halls of the school, looking for Gina.
“Mom! Mom!” Sunny calls.
“Gina! It’s time for the wedding!” I yell.
But we can’t find her anywhere.
When we walk by the gym, we hear Mr. Griffith talking to the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for you to vote on the two finalists in the mascot competition.”
“What’s he talking about?” I say. Then I remember—halftime is when we’re supposed to be doing our Bridemonsters runoff. Only, we’re not doing it. So what is Mr. Griffith talking about?
We poke our heads inside the gym—and Sunny clutches my arm, horrified. “OMG! It’s Mom!”
Sure enough, Gina stands in the middle of the floor next to Mr. Griffith, and the kid in the grizzly-bear suit towers over both of them. Mr. Griffith says, “It’s time to choose! Should we be the Lincoln Grizzlies—”
The grizzly kid ROARS and claws the air. The audience applauds.
“—or should we be the Lincoln Bridemonsters?”
Gina looks confused and says quietly, “I do?” (Now it’s the audience’s turn to look confused.)
Paige, who’s been standing with the cheerleaders, runs over to us. “There you are! I didn’t know how to stop it!”
“What happened?” I ask.
“Gina walked in during halftime, and Mr. Griffith saw the dress. He asked her if she was supposed to be the Bridemonster, and she said, ‘I do! I do!’ He said she was just in time for the mascot runoff.”
On the gym floor, Mr. Griffith looks at Gina and the Grizzly and says, “Okay, mascots. Knock our socks off.”
Gina just stands there sweetly, but the Grizzly runs up to the bleachers roaring and shouting, “Go, Lincoln!”
Sunny calls, “Mom—the minister’s here. It’s time to get married! Come on!”
Gina smiles and trots toward us.
But her path is blocked by the Grizzly. ROAR!
She tries to go around him on one side. ROAR!
She tries to go around him on the other. ROAR!
She tries to be polite. “Excuse me, but I have a wedding to go to.”
And he ROARS lou
der than ever, and raises his paws to block her way.
Gina loses it. She turns red and shrieks, “Get out of my way, bear! This is my special day! AND YOU’RE RUINING IT!”
The Grizzly doesn’t back down. He ROARS again.
Gina attacks. WHAM! She tackles the Grizzly and knocks him to the ground. She punches him with both fists (good thing it’s a padded costume). And while she’s punching him, she shouts, “I’ve been waiting and waiting! I have the dress! I have the fiancé! I have the minister! And nothing, not even you”—punch-punch-punch—“will stop me from getting married!”
The Grizzly whimpers and tries to crawl away, but now Gina jumps on his back and starts biting his ear. (Good thing to know: if you get between an enchanted bride and her wedding, she turns into a Bridemonster.)
Martin Shembly sees us from the bleachers and shouts at Sunny, “Your mom is AWESOME!”
The stunned crowd seems to agree with him. Everyone starts applauding, cheering, whistling, and stomping.
Sunny, Paige, and I run out onto the gym floor. It takes all three of us to pull Gina off the terrified Grizzly. As we lead her out, the room thunders with a chant of “BRIDEMONSTER! BRIDEMONSTER! BRIDEMONSTER!”
Paige has to stay behind in the gym to cheer, so Sunny and I bring Gina back into the cafeteria. Katarina sits on the coach’s shoulder, still guarding him.
Katarina sees Gina’s red face and smeary makeup and asks, “What happened to her?”
“She got in a fight with a grizzly bear,” I say.
Katarina doesn’t even blink. “Grizzlies can be worse than trolls.”
The coach looks at Katarina and asks, “Little fairy lady, may I leave the chair now?”
“Yes.”
The coach jumps up, runs over, takes Gina in his arms, and whirls her around and around. He says, “Oh, darling! Never leave me again.”
The minister watches, his head swaying with each whirl.
Katarina says, “Let’s get moving! We’ve got a bride! We’ve got a groom! We’ve got a minister!”
I say, “Wait a second! Shouldn’t we fix Gina’s makeup?”
Katarina shakes her head. “The coach wouldn’t notice if she was covered in slime.”
That’s kind of sad—but completely true.
I say, “Before we get started, I do want to do one thing. The maid of honor needs a dress.”
I zap Sunny’s clothes, which swirl around her and are transformed into a gown made of rich green velvet with a sparkling trim of real diamonds. They’ll disappear at midnight but they’ll sure look pretty till then. “Oooh!” Sunny says.
“Now we’re ready!”
Sunny gives me a hug. “Thank you, Lacey.”
The coach is still whirling Gina around, and they’re both looking queasy. “It’s time,” I say.
He puts Gina down and nods, glassy-eyed. “Must…marry…Sunny’s…mother.”
I give him a little push. “Go wait next to the minister.”
The coach weaves over to the orange-blossom arch.
I look at Katarina, hoping she’ll be impressed, but all she does is pull out her notebook and start writing notes. I don’t care if she doesn’t approve of the love spells. It was the only way to get this done.
“Will you walk your mother down the aisle?” I ask Sunny, who nods. As she slowly leads her mother toward the coach and the minister, I stand in the back of the room, breathing a sigh of relief. I got Gina her dream! I did it!
But…
Gina and the coach seem hypnotized. Even the minister seems hypnotized. Nobody’s eyes are really focused. To be honest, it’s a tiny bit creepy.
I watch Gina walking toward the coach, smiling a quiet smile. A little voice in my head reminds me that Gina has never been a quiet-smile kind of person. She’s more of a belly-laugh kind of person. But this is a wedding. It’s not a belly-laugh event.
Darn it, I’m doing the right thing! I’m sure of it: 100 percent sure.
Almost completely 100 percent sure.
The coach takes Gina’s hand, and the minister smiles and says, “Dearly beloved…”
…and I hear the faint sound of a buzzer.
OMG! The basketball game!
I run back to the gym just as the last quarter starts. The score on the scoreboard is Truman Wolverines 36, Lincoln Nothings 35.
“Lacey! Where were you? You missed the whole third quarter!” Scott cries.
“Sorry…I got trapped in the cafeteria.” Which is true.
“GO, LACEY!” Mom, Dad, and Madison shout from the bleachers. I wave and play as hard as I can. I don’t want to be the reason we lose this game. If I can just keep out of everybody’s way, we can still win.
But as the game winds down, it gets harder and harder to keep away from Mohawk Boy. Every time the ref turns his head, the big creep elbows me or gives me a push.
With five seconds left in the game, we’re still one point down.
And I’ve got the ball.
Oh, puke. I’m going to make us lose the game for sure. But I have to at least try…
I raise the ball to shoot—
WHAM! Mohawk Boy rams into me like a freight train—and this time he knocks me right off my feet.
I glide over the waxed floor like a hockey puck and slide under a stack of gymnastic equipment in the corner of the gym.
I lie there a second, the wind knocked out of me. As I try to catch my breath, I’m surprised to hear the sound of sobbing. I peer over and see Principal Nazarino leaning on the parallel bars as Mrs. Brinker pats her shoulder. “Gina, you’re better off without him,” Mrs. Brinker tells her.
Gina?
Principal Nazarino sobs, “I thought Brian loved me!”
What are they talking about?
You’ve probably figured it out already, but remember, I just got knocked halfway across the gym by Mohawk Boy. The wheels are turning in my head—but not very well. It’s more like they’re grinding and wobbling. I keep repeating to myself, “Gina?”
Scott pulls me out from under a pommel horse and back onto my feet. “Lacey, are you okay?”
“Gina?” I say out loud.
Scott decides that this means yes and pushes me toward the court. “The ref gave you two free throws because of the foul. There’s no time left on the clock—but you can still win the game for us!”
The wobbly wheels in my head grind to a stop, and then start turning back to the game. Free throws? I can’t make free throws!
As Scott walks me toward the center of the court, he says, “I’ve been watching you tonight, and your problem is in your follow-through. You can be a good player! Coach Overdale always says it’s all in the wrist!”
He walks away, and the ref hands me the ball. Two hundred eyes are on me as I look at the basket.
What a stupid piece of advice. Scott sounds a little like Katarina when she first taught me how to use the wand: Picture where you want the spell to go, and then toss it.
Wait a minute. Could basketball be that simple? Is throwing a basketball like tossing a spell?
I guess I’m going to find out, because I look right at the basket and picture the ball going into it. Then I throw.
SWISH!
It goes right in.
The crowd cheers, and Paige and the cheerleaders shake their pom-poms and chant, “Lacey Unger-Ware! She’s our man! If she can’t do it, no one can!” And out of the corner of my eye, I can see Dad jumping up and down like his feet are on fire.
The ref tosses me the ball for my second free throw. I take a few deep breaths to focus on the basket, and suddenly, for the first time since Mohawk Boy knocked me down, I see things clearly. I see everything clearly.
OMG! OMG! OMG!
OMG!!!!!!
I screwed up, and I screwed up big-time!
I’ve been fairy-godmothering the wrong Gina!
Let me say that one more time:
I’VE BEEN FAIRY-GODMOTHERING THE WRONG GINA!
It wasn’t Gina, Sunny’s mo
ther, who was supposed to get her dream wedding with her true love.
It was Gina Nazarino, Lincoln Middle School principal!
I didn’t even know she had a first name!
I’m so upset that I fling the basketball away without even thinking about it, and the ball swishes into the basket for the second time. The crowd goes wild—the game is over, and we’ve won.
But I barely notice, because all I keep thinking is that I’ve got to stop the wedding!
The clues come together in my head:
How Principal Nazarino was so interested in girlie-girl wedding dresses. How she got so mad this morning when she heard the coach was going to marry somebody else. How, at the Bat-n-Putt, the coach talked about love being in the air. And how he just happened to have an engagement ring ready to go.
They must have been dating all along and not wanted people at school to know.
I am so stupid. Last night the coach didn’t go to Sunny’s house to propose—he went to Gina Nazarino’s house to propose. I was wrong about everything.
As I race toward the gym door, all the boys on the team surround me, cheering.
Scott gives me a big hug. “You did it.”
When I manage to squirm away from the boys, more cheering people block my path. It’s like every single person in the gym wants to high-five me or slap me on the back.
Paige makes her way through the crowd, grinning from ear to ear. “Way to go, Lacey!”
But I just tell her, “I’ve got to stop the wedding—it’s the wrong Gina!”
Because the wheels in Paige’s head turn really, really well, she instantly gets what’s going on: “But you saw the coach with an engagement ring!”
“It wasn’t for Sunny’s mom, Gina—it was for Principal Gina Nazarino.”
“But you asked the love locator.”
“I asked the wand if the coach was Gina’s true love. I didn’t use last names.”
Paige turns pale. “Oh, Lacey!”
Just then, I see an opening in the crowd. “Come on, let’s go!”
Paige and I squeeze between, under, and around people. Every second counts when you’ve got a wedding to stop—and I’ve lost a lot of seconds!
We finally make it to the door. I hope we’re not too late.
The Magic Mistake Page 12