Keep Calm and Sparkle On! Read online

“I promise I’ll read the rule book,” she shouted. “And I’ll never embarrass you again.” She kept at it, yelling and banging and making promises that she couldn’t guarantee, until she felt a cold, bony hand touch her shoulder.

  It was Grandmomma. She was wearing a plush pink-and-lavender bathrobe (complete with gold trim around the edges) and a white-and-pink shower cap. “I heard you made a very beautiful tree.”

  This was the best compliment Grandmomma had ever given her.

  “Did they also tell you I fell asleep?” Isabelle asked.

  “They didn’t have to.” Grandmomma pulled a twig out of Isabelle’s hair. Grandmomma had a magic spyglass. She used it to watch things that were happening all over the fairy godmother world.

  “I presume you’d like to talk?” Grandmomma asked Isabelle as she held open the door to her office.

  Grandmomma’s office was filled with all kinds of fairy godmother bling, including photos of past princesses and godmothers, shoes, and a spinning wheel. Isabelle tried avoiding the vintage mirror, but to no avail. (It was hard not to look.) And when she did peek, Isabelle saw that her hair was worse than ever, and that there were still a few twigs and leaves stuck to her dress.

  She also saw a suitcase, and it looked packed. Ready to go.

  “Where are you going?” Isabelle asked, without a tremor in her voice, even though she was very nervous she wasn’t going to like the answer.

  Grandmomma looked very stern and serious. “If you ever become a great fairy godmother in charge of Official Training, the rule book, and much of the fairy godmother world, you will understand that sometimes you can’t be everywhere at once.”

  Isabelle was 99.9 percent sure she would never be in charge of anything, but she didn’t say that. “You can’t send Luciana?”

  Grandmomma shook her head. “No. I can’t. This matter is too important.” She looked very serious—even more so than usual. “Isabelle, why don’t you let me worry about my job and you worry about yours. Focus on your studies. Luciana and the Bests will do a great job in Level Two.”

  “Well, they’re not,” Isabelle said. “Luciana hardly gives us any sparkles. She and the Bests made us work in teams. She brought back Zahara. And she let her sit in your chair.”

  Grandmomma winced for a second. “I brought back Zahara,” she said. “I thought you, in particular, would benefit from her experience.”

  “But then why is Luciana being so stingy with the sparkles? Why does she keep saying ‘under the circumstances’ like something terrible is happening?”

  Grandmomma took off her shower cap, wiggled out of her slippers, and sat down behind her desk. “Isabelle, can I trust you with some very important information?”

  Isabelle nodded. She said absolutely nothing.

  “Recently, I began to notice some slight irregularities in the world of princesses and in our overall inventory of sparkles.”

  Isabelle tried not to look nervous. She said absolutely nothing at all.

  “At first, it didn’t seem that terrible,” Grandmomma said. “Maybe it was even a coincidence. One princess tripping while making a grand entrance is never cause for alarm. But then another was late for an important date—right after making a wish. And another very smart princess insulted an entire nation for absolutely no reason at all. And then Melody took a bad spill.”

  “Is she all right?” Isabelle asked. Melody was Clotilda’s princess. As far as Isabelle knew, she was nearly happily ever after.

  “Just a little shook up. Nothing she can’t handle.” Grandmomma paused. She looked into Isabelle’s eyes. “I don’t need to explain to you that the happiness of the fairy godmother world relies on the happiness of the princess world. And that we can’t take any chances with shenanigans like this. When sparkles are being made to make mischief, things can get out of hand very fast. We don’t want anything bad to happen. To the princesses. Or the practice princesses. Or any of you.”

  Isabelle was too young to remember the time when the unhappy princess gave up being a princess (and Mom had been banished). But she knew she didn’t want to go back to that time, even though she missed Mom. “You’re sure sparkles are involved? And that you have to go?”

  Grandmomma stood over Isabelle and told her that she’d have to trust her on that—and other things. “Isabelle, Luciana is an excellent teacher. She may not test you the way I tested you, but she will want to see that you have the best interests of our princesses in your heart. And Zahara can teach you a lot about accessories. I’m sure all of you will enjoy that.”

  Isabelle definitely wanted to learn about accessories. But she was more worried about Nora’s sparkles—and the possibility that they had fallen into the wrong hands. She was also worried about Grandmomma. And if she was being honest, she was nervous for herself, too. “And you’re definitely coming back?”

  “As soon as everything is settled, I’ll be back in my chair.” Even though she wasn’t the hugging type, she gave Isabelle a quick squeeze. “Right now, the best thing you can do is work hard. Pass your training. Make me proud. If you have concerns, talk to your sister. I promise you—I will be fine.”

  When fairy godmothers (and regular people) say that they will be fine, it usually means that something isn’t quite as fine as the word might imply. So it usually doesn’t make the person who asked feel any better about things.

  But in this case, fine would have to do. Grandmomma was not going to say anything more. So Isabelle went to her room, gathered some blankets, and headed to the girlgoyles. There, she set up a tent between them, even though the girlgoyles still hadn’t changed their minds about pity parties.

  But for the first time, Isabelle didn’t just feel alone. She felt lonely. There was a difference.

  She wished the girlgoyles were real friends rather than statues. She wished that Angelica and Fawn—but especially Angelica—didn’t look at her like she was always about to mess up. She wished that she could talk to Nora. (And that the sparkles were still safe in her memory box.)

  More than anything, she wished she could talk to Mom. She wished with all her heart that Mom wasn’t the one causing problems.

  The problem was, Isabelle was a fairy godmother. Not a princess. And a fairy godmother’s wishes never came true.

  For the next two days, Isabelle tried to be the best trainee ever. She also tried to stay out of Angelica’s way. But this was not easy because the Bests kept putting Angelica and Isabelle together.

  So, together, Angelica and Isabelle turned rags into dresses. They turned ripe fruit into all kinds of baubles and decorations (mostly useless, but nice). They even managed to make a flower grow as tall as the room. Isabelle wasn’t sure if Angelica was covering for her or if she was getting stronger, but the magic was working, so at least for those two days, she didn’t complain.

  The fourth morning of training, Zahara told everyone to join her in a circle. She waved her wand and a big box appeared on Grandmomma’s desk.

  “I’d like each of you to choose one item,” Zahara instructed the trainees. “Then we’ll make some magic.”

  Angelica asked, “Does that mean team challenges are over?” When Zahara nodded, everyone looked relieved. Angelica pumped her fist. Then she reached into the box and pulled out a really old and dusty necklace. “This looks a million years old.”

  Zahara smiled. “It belonged to one of my princesses, a mighty queen named Cleopatra. So it’s more like 2,085 years old, give or take a decade.”

  Minerva grabbed an old shoe with a broken buckle. Fawn chose some matchsticks. Irene took a tarnished oil lamp, and MaryEllen took a tattered piece of cloth. By the time Isabelle had a chance, the only thing left was an old spoon.

  Next, Zahara asked them all to hold out their hands so that they could receive a sparkle to place on the tips of their wands. Technically, it was a fourth of a sparkle, and all they were going to get to complete this task.

  Isabelle’s hand shook. When she tried to put the tiny sparkle on her wand, i
t fluttered to the ground. Then somewhere between her fingers and her wand, it stuck to her sleeve. A third time, it settled on Minerva’s head.

  Isabelle carefully plucked the sparkle off a white strand of Minerva’s hair. “Sorry,” she said nervously. But finally, she was ready to go.

  Zahara swished her wand like a conductor. “For a moment, I want you to think about your first practice princess. Did she have mementos? Things that you could turn into magical accessories?”

  Thinking about Nora’s memory box made Isabelle think about the missing sparkles. It also made her think about lost mothers, particularly her own. She wondered why she didn’t have anything to remember her mother by. Did Clotilda have something? Was Grandmomma keeping it hidden? Why hadn’t Isabelle ever asked? She hoped Grandmomma didn’t think she didn’t miss Mom.

  Then Isabelle heard Zahara say her name, along with the instructions to pay attention, please. “Use these memories to help you figure out what might have made your last assignment easier,” Zahara said.

  This was confusing. So the Bests demonstrated what she meant.

  Raine pointed her wand at a teacup. Pop! Pop! Pop! “My cup offers wisdom to anyone who drinks from it.”

  Kaminari aimed her wand at an old key. Pop! Pop! Pop! “This key will not open a door that endangers a princess.”

  Clotilda was about to demonstrate, but Minerva told her not to waste the sparkle. She was ready to go. Faster than Minerva had ever moved before, she stepped up and pointed her wand at the old shoe. Right away: Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! And then … hiss! The buckle on the strap turned orange, and the shoe itself looked new.

  Minerva stood up straighter than usual. She said, “This shoe finds friends.” That was a twist. Throughout fairy godmother history, shoes usually led to love.

  “What happens if the person isn’t a friend?” Isabelle asked without raising her hand. She had to know!

  “Why, they get blisters, of course,” Minerva said, winking. She handed the shoe to Isabelle. “Should we try it?”

  Zahara didn’t think that was a good use of time. She grabbed the shoe and handed it back to Minerva. “Fawn, why don’t you go next?”

  “Okay,” Fawn said, pointing her wand at the book of matchsticks. At first, nothing happened. No pop. No hiss. Not even a pfffft. But then Fawn straightened her elbow and her wand turned bright pink. Two pops and a tiny puff of snow-white dust came out of her wand.

  Fawn smiled at Kaminari. She shook out her hand. “That made my fingers tingle.”

  Zahara picked up the matchsticks. “And they’re still hot,” she said as she handed them to Fawn. “Nice job. What do they do?”

  Fawn looked very excited and proud. “The matchsticks light the way when a princess is lost.”

  Isabelle raised her hand. She wanted to try them out. She wondered if the matchsticks worked for long journeys or just short ones. But Zahara thought she was volunteering.

  “Go ahead, Isabelle,” Zahara said. “Since you’re so anxious, let’s see what you can do.”

  Isabelle put her spoon on the table in front of her and raised her wand. She straightened her elbow and pointed her wand and thought about Nora. She didn’t know how a spoon could’ve made things easier. But she did remember how her stepmom made all sorts of good foods to make Nora happy. And then a teeny, tiny puff of chocolate-colored dust appeared.

  “This spoon will make everything taste yummy,” Isabelle announced.

  When no one looked impressed, Zahara magically filled a bowl with something that looked a little like broccoli, a little like Brussels sprouts, and smelled a lot like it had been sitting around for a few days.

  “Let’s test it,” Zahara said. When Luciana looked annoyed (she hadn’t tested the others), Zahara added, “I’m hungry!” Then she handed the spoon to Angelica.

  Hesitantly, Angelica took a taste. Then she spat the nibble into a napkin. “Yuck! Did you do that on purpose? That food tastes disgusting. It’s way too sour.”

  Just to make sure Angelica wasn’t joking, Zahara dipped the spoon in the bowl and took the tiniest of tastes. “She’s right, kid,” she said to Isabelle. “But it was a good sentiment. And not for nothing, this would be great at keeping princesses away from evil potions.”

  Angelica raised her hand. “Can I take my turn?”

  She pointed her wand at the ugly necklace, and right away, sprays of sparkly black-and-red dust shot out of her wand, sending everyone (especially Zahara and Minerva) into coughing fits.

  “It looks like someone’s been practicing,” Raine said approvingly.

  Angelica didn’t deny it. She said, “The jewels on this necklace will turn red if someone has a secret.” Then she slipped it around her neck to test it out.

  When Angelica faced Fawn, nothing happened. When she faced the Worsts, the jewels turned pink. But the Worsts were old. Of course they had secrets. They were probably really old secrets, too.

  Then Angelica faced Isabelle, and the necklace turned bright red. “I knew it!” Angelica said.

  Isabelle didn’t want to lie—but confessing was out of the question. She didn’t want to get in trouble or get Nora or Grandmomma in trouble—and she was pretty sure that all of them would. Most of all, she didn’t want to give Angelica the upper hand. Not today. Not when Grandmomma had just trusted her.

  So she took a deep breath and said what is known in the business of fibs as a half truth. “My secret is that I didn’t read the rule book. Not any of it. I didn’t even open my Wish List until after I met Nora. I was so clueless that Clotilda had to scold me until I studied.” Then Isabelle apologized again to Angelica about the rose. And this time, Zahara urged Angelica to accept Isabelle’s apology.

  “Class dismissed,” Luciana said, shooing them out the door. “Practice your wand work. And see you in three days for testing. Clotilda? Can you hold on a second? I need to speak to you.”

  “And I want to talk to you,” Angelica said to Isabelle as they filed out of the training center. Unfortunately, there was no getting away from her.

  “What about?” Isabelle asked. She tried not to look nervous. “I already told you my secret. You already embarrassed me.”

  Angelica narrowed her eyes at Isabelle. “I want to talk to you because my necklace hasn’t changed back. So you must be lying. Or there’s something else you’re not telling us.”

  Isabelle thought about running. She didn’t want to get into a grudge match with Angelica. (There was no way she’d ever win.) She also didn’t want to be caught in a lie.

  “Well, maybe it’s just cooling off,” Isabelle said, trying her best to look nonchalant. “Or maybe your magic isn’t perfect.”

  Angelica gave Isabelle a look that said she was pretty confident her magic was the best. If not perfect, nearly.

  “Then why has everyone been acting so strangely?” Angelica asked, scowling in an unhappily-ever-after way. “Why do you think they keep putting us together? All the Bests know the only reason you’re still here is because of your grandmother. They all believe you’re going to end up in the Home. Or even worse. Just like her.”

  Isabelle was sure that if the Bests really felt that way, Clotilda would tell her. But maybe Clotilda had. Maybe that’s why she gave her that cheat sheet. “I’m sorry you think I’m lying. And that I’m not very good at magic.” Isabelle just wanted to go home. “But leave my mom out of it. She wasn’t really that bad, she was just misunderstood.”

  Angelica laughed in a not-nice way. “Misunderstood? The way I heard it, your mother was the most careless, irresponsible, worst fairy godmother ever. If it wasn’t for her, all of us would be much happier.”

  Isabelle knew that gossip in the fairy godmother world could get out of hand. She knew the truth. But still, she couldn’t help herself. “What did they tell you?”

  Warning: This is a very sad story. It is the story of a very unhappy princess and her fairy godmother, Isabelle’s mother. No matter how much we want it to end differently, it will always end
the same way—unhappily ever after. (If you want to see Clotilda’s version, see The Wish List #1: The Story of the Worst Fairy Godmother, According to Clotilda.)

  Once upon a time, a long time ago, before the fairy godmothers wised up and made themselves a rule book and a training program, there was a very simple princess who wanted simple things and a simple life. She had all the qualities that princesses desired: beauty, wisdom, and the admiration of the world. Even better, the sweetest, simplest prince in the world had already fallen in love with her.

  Happily ever after seemed like a slam dunk.

  That’s why the very powerful and bossy fairy godmother in charge of assignments deployed her daughter, a very new fairy godmother, to help the simple princess. You see, the fairy godmother had ambitions for her daughter. She convinced her friends that her daughter could do the job better than anyone else.

  At the time, it didn’t seem like a big deal. All of the best fairy godmothers were overworked. For this princess, they decided the newbie could get it done.

  Unfortunately, they were wrong.

  Very wrong.

  This fairy godmother was a terrible fairy godmother. She didn’t teach her princess to be independent. She didn’t listen to her princess’s wishes. She didn’t heed the warnings that sparkles should be used in moderation. She failed so many times, her princess begged her to leave or to give her a new fairy godmother, but she wouldn’t.

  The beautiful princess was so miserable she stopped being a princess. She gave away her crown and everything she loved, and settled into a life of complete and utter despair.

  The rest of the story everyone knows.

  Because everyone loved the simple princess so much, they stopped believing in magic. They stopped trusting their fairy godmothers. They stopped believing in happily ever after. And there is no ending worse than that.

  In Clotilda’s version, Mom had been a selfless fairy godmother. She loved her princess so much she granted every single wish and more! The problem had been the princess. She had wanted too much.