“Don’t worry, Priscilla, I’ll take Boing-Boing,” Lenny said gently. Priscilla let him hold the cat, who stared balefully up at the boy. “I love cats!” Lenny said brightly. “ACHOO! ACHOO! AH-AH-AH-AH-CHOO! It’s just that . . . ACHOO! I’m allergic to him.” He handed Boing-Boing back.
Everyone now was sorry for Priscilla, especially Marigold, who wished she could help her friend. “Give Boing-Boing to me.”
“Really?” Priscilla said, surprised. “You’re not allergic to him?”
“Not at all.” Marigold had always wanted a cat, and she knew that Lightning would love Boing-Boing as much as she did.
The cat purred in Marigold’s arms, and Priscilla looked much relieved. But there was still something that worried Marigold about Priscilla, because she had not been successful in finding the girl a nice little cottage in the woods. “Are you sure you want to return home, Priscilla? You won’t be too lonely?”
Just then they flew over the park with the picnic area where they’d found Priscilla. She shook her head. “When my old next-door neighbor moved, I thought I would never find another friend as good as her. I had hopes when a new family moved in because there was a boy my own age.”
The carpet curved around a chimney.
“There’s my house!” Lenny shouted. They settled in the front yard, and Lenny sprang off the carpet.
So did Priscilla. She stood before Lenny grinning. “But the new boy never came outside.”
“You live here?” Lenny pointed to the house next to his with disbelief.
“Mm-hm. See you tomorrow?” Priscilla said a little shyly.
“See you tomorrow,” Lenny replied.
The door to Priscilla’s house opened. “Priscilla!” someone shouted, and the girl ran to them. Marigold watched Priscilla hug her mom and dad and her little brother, and her heart ached for her own family—even her little sister, Petal.
“Goodbye!” Winnie called to Priscilla and Lenny.
“Goodbye!” Marigold called as well. Priscilla waved.
“Lenny?” Marigold said hesitantly.
“If I was speaking to you, Marigold, I’d say goodbye right now, but since I’m not speaking to you, I won’t say goodbye.” Lenny turned and made his way to the front door of his house. Marigold felt so bad about what she had said and wished she could take it all back. She was so impressed by how brave he had been, walking into the tent full of girls he didn’t know—she knew how much courage it must have taken. . . . Probably more courage than it would take for her to stop being afraid to fly.
“Magic flying carpet, take Marigold and me home!” Winnie commanded. Right away, the carpet zoomed upward into the sky. It swooped in a long arc back in the direction from where they’d just come, but Marigold had never felt worse. She had hurt Lenny’s feelings. She watched the back of the boy making his way up the walk, his figure growing smaller and smaller the farther away they flew. Lenny’s words echoed in her ears: “Just leap when you say the word ‘fly.’ Don’t be afraid!”
He was almost at his door. He’d been such a good friend. He’d had so much belief in her—more than she’d had in herself. She couldn’t let him go—not like this. She just had to say she was sorry.
“Spoket! Spoket! Magic poket! Fly!” Marigold leaped into the air with all her might, flying off the magic carpet just at the right moment to get back to Lenny. She was flying! “Lenny!” Marigold yelled as loudly as she could. In what seemed like seconds, she was at his side and speaking breathlessly. “I’m sorry, Lenny—I never meant to hurt your feelings. . . . Do you forgive me?”
“You flew,” Lenny whispered.
“I didn’t mean what I said about superheroes being stupid,” Marigold said earnestly.
Lenny’s eyes lit up. “You didn’t?”
“No!” Marigold exclaimed. “I was just frustrated that I couldn’t fly—and you kept telling me I could and—”
“Oh. My. Gosh.” Lenny stared at Marigold.
“W-what?” Marigold stammered. “Is something wrong?”
“We’re having a peak experience of higher consciousness,” Lenny said with growing wonder.
Marigold had no idea what he was talking about.
“Okay, okay.” Lenny raised his eyes and held his hands out palms down, as if he had to stop everything in order to explain this important point. “Look, you said that superheroes were stupid, right?”
“And I’m totally sorry now, Lenny—”
Lenny waved her apology aside. “Now I see that you only said that because of your fear of not measuring up to the standard of superhero awesomeness because of your inability to fly. Now that you can fly, you see I was right: superheroes aren’t stupid.” Lenny stopped to see if Marigold was following his train of thought.
She wasn’t.
He continued. “Alternately, I see that you really didn’t mean what you said, but hearing you call superheroes stupid made me so angry that it pushed me to march into that tent full of Brownies, thus overcoming my fear of people.” Lenny ran a hand shaking with excitement over his forehead. “It’s a catharsis!” He stood gazing at her with admiration and joy. “For both of us!”
“For both of us!” Marigold exclaimed, still not sure what a catharsis was but just happy that they were back to being friends again.
Winnie zoomed up to Marigold with her flying carpet.
“And one more thing.” Lenny held out his watch to show Marigold the time. “Don’t worry that it’s after midnight. . . . It’s this thing about being a superhero? Just when you think all is lost . . . it isn’t. There’s always the all-important secret twist at the end that you’d never expect.”
Marigold scrunched up her nose. “The secret twist?”
“Yeah—you’ll see. The important thing for a superhero to remember is to never lose faith.” Lenny saluted Marigold.
It might have been the cape, but she wondered if the comic book–loving boy had been right after all, because for the first time she felt like a real superhero. Then again, with a friend like Lenny, how could she not?
She waved goodbye to Lenny, and he waved back. Then she turned to Winnie, who sat with Boing-Boing on the flying carpet. It seemed to vibrate with energy.
“Get on,” Winnie ordered.
Marigold had to laugh. “You know, Winnie, you really ought to try to be less bossy.”
Winnie laughed too. “Okay, but don’t think you’re getting your magic wand. I know you’ll go right back to Bramblycrumbly, and I’m having way too much fun with you right here!” With that, Winnie commanded the magic carpet to take them home.
Marigold’s smile faded as she checked “laughter” off the list now too. Clearly it was going to be a struggle to get her magic wand back. A tingle of dread slithered up Marigold’s spine to think of what would happen if she didn’t.
14
Advice and Sorrow
Zooooom! Fizzz!
They shot up into the sky.
Boing-Boing snuggled between Marigold and Winnie under the warm blanket. They flew through the night and watched the moon go down. By the time the tall, lonely mountain came into view, it was morning. As the first rays of light appeared over the horizon, Marigold braced herself for the task ahead, and hoped with all her heart that Winnie had not yet officially turned nine years old. The carpet circled Winnie’s house and flew in through the same window that was still open from the evening before.
No sooner were they back in Winnie’s bedroom than her mother appeared at the door. “Happy Birthday, Winnie Binnie!”
“Quick, Winnie!” Marigold pleaded. “Ask her what time you’ll turn nine today.”
Winnie made a face. “What’s so important about having to know what time I’ll turn nine today?”
“Oh, it’s very important!” her mom exclaimed. “I remember the day and time you were born like it was yesterday!” She smiled to herself. “I’ll never forget because the doctor said, ‘Good, I have fourteen minutes to get to my Zumba class at seven thirty! So, y
ou were born exactly at seven sixteen at night.”
“Seven sixteen?” Marigold did a cartwheel. “There’s still time!”
Winnie stood with her hands on her hips. “Are you sure you didn’t just see that?”
“See what, sweetums?” her mother asked.
Winnie exhaled loudly. “A girl? With flowers for hair? Just did a cartwheel right under your nose?”
“You are a silly girl.” Her mother turned to leave. “Seven sixteen, nine years ago,” she said. “Feels like it was yesterday.”
Marigold was beside herself with joy. She still had time to complete the spell, get her magic wand back, and save Bramblycrumbly. “Advice” and “sorrow”—those were all she had to share with Winnie and the spell would be complete!
Winnie watched Marigold suspiciously. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m just happy!” Marigold did another cartwheel.
Winnie tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
“Um, because it’s your birthday today,” Marigold replied. She didn’t dare tell Winnie the real reason—the small print from the Invis-O-Friend Spell had warned her not to.
The entire morning, Marigold followed Winnie around and tried her best to get the girl to give her some advice. She asked Winnie about the weather. Did she think it might rain? Did she think it called for a raincoat or an umbrella? Boots or galoshes?
“How should I know?” Winnie answered.
Marigold persisted. Did she know a good cure for hiccups? Or where to buy a toothbrush? Oven mitts? Gumdrops? Winnie just shrugged. Marigold tried harder. What were easier to make: muffins or pies? How would Winnie spell the word “argyle”? Or fold a sweater? Underwear? A bathing suit? To which side of the plate would a glass go when setting a table?
“You’re driving me crazy!” Winnie shouted. “Stop asking me all these questions!”
But Marigold couldn’t stop—Bramblycrumbly depended on her getting advice from Winnie! How do you make a square knot? she asked. Sew on a button? Throw out a garbage can? But no matter what Marigold asked Winnie, she would not offer any advice.
This was going to be a lot harder than Marigold had previously thought.
All morning it seemed like someone from Winnie’s family called to say, “Happy Birthday.” First it was her grandmother, then an aunt. Two cousins called and an uncle. Marigold didn’t know if she was just tired—after all, she’d been awake all night—but by afternoon, even though she knew she should be happy to see Winnie enjoying the attention and being friendly (for she had improved much in that department), Marigold couldn’t stop worrying.
“Aren’t you exhausted?” Winnie asked. She lay down on her bed, tucked the magic wand under her pillow, and added, “Just so you know—I’m a light sleeper.”
Marigold was far too worried to sleep. Instead, she sat on Winnie’s bed, petting Boing-Boing and wondering if she’d ever be able to complete the Invis-O-Friend Spell in time. The longer she sat thinking, the more upset she became.
When Winnie woke up, Marigold was on the verge of tears. “Okay, so what’s the matter with you now?” Winnie asked.
Marigold appealed to Winnie one more time for her magic wand.
“Nonsense,” Winnie replied. “What you really need is a star!” She took the magic wand out from under the pillow and said, “Magic wand . . . put a gold star over Marigold’s head.”
TWINK!
But the star that appeared over Marigold’s head was all wrong. It was too small. It was dull.
Winnie tried again. “Magic wand . . . get rid of the star that’s over Marigold’s head and replace it with a bigger, brighter star!”
TWINKY! ZAP!
Even Boing-Boing was startled, and he ran to hide under the bed because this time the star was neon pink and not the right shape.
On the third try, the star was lopsided.
The fourth was much too big.
The fifth had green and yellow sparkles around it and didn’t look a thing like her old star.
No matter how detailed Winnie gave orders to the magic wand, the star turned out just not to be the same.
“Forget it,” Winnie finally said. It was one o’clock and almost time for her party.
Marigold took Boing-Boing out from under the bed. “All my friends in Bramblycrumbly will just have to call me Marigold Starless from now on.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Winnie replied. “You’re not going back to Bramblycrumbly—you’re staying right here to be my friend!” With the wand clenched in her tight little fist, she turned on her heel and hurried off to get dressed for her birthday party.
That afternoon, Winnie’s party was a rousing success. The Brownies came, and Norman and Meatball too. Marigold still hadn’t been able to get Winnie to give her advice—but Marigold continued to offer advice to Winnie, hoping that if Winnie had some friends, she wouldn’t mind it so much if Marigold went home.
“Say thank you,” Marigold said during the present-opening ceremony when Winnie unwrapped a plastic water bottle with the name of the local gas station on it.
“But it’s not even a real present,” Winnie whispered.
“It’s the thought that counts,” Marigold said. “Say thank you anyway.”
And Winnie did.
During the games, Marigold told Winnie to let someone else win.
“Why?” Winnie asked.
“Because it will be more fun for your guests,” Marigold said.
Winnie let two of the Brownies win, and she made sure everyone had enough cake because Marigold told her to check on that as well. Marigold was sure no one would ever call Winnie the most unfriendly girl in town ever again.
After the games, the cake, and all the presents, after everyone had gone home, Winnie said, “I never knew how much fun having friends could be!”
“See?” Marigold said.
“You were right,” Winnie said. “But you were wrong about something.”
They were sitting with the big orange cat under the black glittery chandelier on Winnie’s bed. Winnie held the wand, and it twinkled and shimmered spectacularly. With a flip of the wrist, she wrote her name in the air with glittery stars. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with this magic wand,” Winnie said with glee.
Marigold had to admit that Winnie was right. “How do you make it work so well?”
“You have to be clear, Marigold. You have to say exactly what you want. Remember that!” Winnie instructed.
“Thank you!” Marigold said. Not only had Winnie finally offered her some advice, it was actually very good advice. She finally was able to check it off the list because now they’d both shared some with each other.
Winnie noticed. “Why do you keep checking things off that list?”
“Because when everything is checked, the spell is complete. . . .” Marigold glanced anxiously at the clock on the nightstand. She still had an hour to share “sorrow.”
“And when the spell is complete, then what? Will you leave?” Winnie asked softly.
Marigold nodded. “But—I can’t without my wand.”
“Good! You’ll stay forever.” Winnie shoved the wand out of sight under her pillow.
Just then Winnie’s mother appeared at the door. “Oh, honey, I wanted to tell you I was a bit mistaken earlier. I remember it now so clearly. It wasn’t a doctor, it was a nurse who said, ‘Good! Now I can make my pilates’—not Zumba—‘class at six thirty!” So, it wasn’t seven sixteen when you were born, bunny rabbit. . . . It was actually six sixteen.” Her mother disappeared from the doorway. “You’re officially nine years old, Winnie Binnie!” she sang out.
“NO-O-O!” Marigold groaned, and fell facedown on the bed. Winnie couldn’t have already turned nine. Marigold hadn’t completed the spell yet and she didn’t have her magic wand back—which meant . . . at this very moment, Brambycrumbly was crumbling and turning to brambles! What had happened to her friends? Her family? Her dragon? She burst into tears.
Win
nie stared at her in bewilderment. “Why are you crying?”
Marigold got up on one elbow and took big gulping breaths. She could barely speak. “B-Bramblyc-c-crumbly has crumbled! A-and it’s all my f-f-f-f-fault!”
“What are you talking about?” Winnie said.
Marigold was too upset to explain. She scooped up Boing-Boing and climbed off the bed. “I have to leave right away, Winnie—please give me back my magic wand! I need to figure out what to do. Bramblycrumbly has crumbled. It’s nothing but b-b-b-b-b-brambles!” She hiccupped.
“How do you know?” Winnie asked. “Maybe you’re wrong.”
Marigold shook her head vehemently. “The spell book said so.”
“But maybe it’s wrong. . . . Maybe all is not lost,” Winnie said.
Marigold almost dropped Boing-Boing. She stopped crying and placed the cat back on the bed. “What did you just say?” she whispered.
Winnie’s mouth opened, and her eyes went wide as she tried to think of what she’d just said. “Um . . . the spell book? All is not lost?”
“The spell book—the lost pages!” Marigold wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand as she remembered Lenny’s parting words: Just when you think all is lost . . . it isn’t. There’s always the all-important secret twist at the end that you’d never expect. Maybe the lost pages in the spell book were the secret twist that Lenny was talking about! “Oh, Winnie, please give me back my wand.”
Now it was Winnie’s turn to cry. Her lower lip trembled. “If you go . . . can you come back?”
Marigold wasn’t sure. “I—I don’t know,” she said. She could feel fresh tears spring to her eyes because she had come to really like Winnie and couldn’t stand to think of never seeing her again.
Now they both cried, and Marigold would have checked “sorrow” off the list except it didn’t matter anymore. She and Winnie were officially friends, but it was too late.
Winnie blew her nose and handed Marigold a tissue. “Even if you never come back . . . can we stay friends forever and ever anyway?” She took the wand from under her pillow and clutched it to her chest.
Marigold Star Page 10