“Directly in front of you.”

Only if he was invisible. “No, you’re not.”

“I’m here on the ruddy bed, lass.”

I still didn’t see him. Was this a joke? I ran a hand through my hair, nearly getting my fingers stuck in the hairspray. “Look, I’m sorry about this whole room mix up, but I’ve had a really bad day and I’m not in the mood for—”

And then I saw him. A man who couldn’t have been more than six inches tall. He stood on the end of the bed waving his hand to get my attention. He wore a green suit and bowler hat that he tipped in my direction. “My name is Clover T. Bloomsbottle. And don’t be asking for me gold, as I’ll not be giving it to you.”

A leprechaun.

I let out a startled scream, stumbled backward, and smacked into the dresser. I looked at the pink-haired girl and screamed again. A pair of shimmering butterfly-like wings had opened across her back. Not costume wings. These were real moving wings with intricate glimmering veins running from their center.

Impossible. I put my hand to my mouth and took frantic breaths. This couldn’t be happening. I was having some sort of post-traumatic psychotic episode. If I blinked, it would go away.

I blinked. It didn’t go away.

“You’re not real,” I sputtered. “Now leave. Leave. Leave. Leave.”

The girl let out a humph and gripped her phone harder. “Do you hear that?” She gestured in the leprechaun’s direction. “Clover has already done something wrong. He spoke to Sadie for all of two seconds and now she’s hysterical.”

Not only were magical creatures in my hotel room, they knew my name. I didn’t know why a fairy sat on my bed talking to someone about ogres killing people, but I wasn’t about to stick around and find out. Ogres were never good news. I backed toward the door, heart pounding in overdrive.

As I reached the door, a shower of sparks zoomed past my side in a burst of light and glitter. At first I thought the fairy had shot something at me and missed. I yanked at the doorknob, trying to get out before she shot again.

The knob didn’t move, didn’t even turn. She’d locked me in. I pulled at it uselessly, then pounded on the door. “Help!” I glanced over my shoulder to see if the fairy and leprechaun were closing in.

Clover still stood on the bed, tilting his head and rubbing his beard as he considered me. The fairy shoved her cell phone into a pink sequined purse and let out another humph. An air of frustration accompanied every flutter of her wings. “I can’t work under these conditions. What is the FGA thinking?”

“Maybe it isn’t the FGA,” the leprechaun said. “Maybe it’s the damsels you’re choosing. They seem a wee bit bockety in the head.”

Choose? Choose for what? For ogres to kill? I rattled the knob again. It was still locked. I slammed my hand into the door. “Somebody help me!”

The girl stood up from the bed, gripping a silver wand with exasperation. “We’re trying to help you, but it’s hard to do with you screaming and flailing around. Honestly, haven’t you ever heard of a fairy godmother before?”

I stopped pounding on the door. “Fairy godmother?” I repeated, only slightly calmer. My breaths were coming out deep, fast. “Is that what you’re supposed to be?”

The leprechaun let out a laugh. “It’s what she’s supposed to be. Unfortunately for you she’s only a fair godmother. Her grades weren’t high enough to get into Fairy Godmother University.” He hooked his thumbs into his belt. “But she’ll keep practicing on the likes of you until they let her in.”

“Shut up!” The girl flicked her wand in the leprechaun’s direction and a stream of sparks shot out, hitting him in the chest. He flew backward into the air and landed on the bedspread with an “Umph!” His hat tumbled from his head, flipping over.

The little man sprang to his feet, grabbed his hat, and stalked back toward her. “It’s a breach of the Magical Creatures Treaty to attack a leprechaun. I’ll be reporting you to the FGA!”

The fairy tossed her long pink hair off her shoulder. “Good luck with that. They obviously don’t read their reports because if they did, you’d be doing time with the Keebler elves.”

She turned her back on him and glided to me, moving with the grace of a dancer. Her wings had a pearl-like shine that made everything in the hotel room look cheap and rundown. “So anyway,” she said with a smile, “I’m your fairy-godmother-in-training, Chrysanthemum Everstar. You can call me Chrissy for short.”

“You’re my fairy godmother?” I repeated. “You’re not going to let ogres kill me?”

“Well, not on purpose.” Her wings flapped lazily. “I did mention I was still training, didn’t I?”

I twisted the doorknob again. Still locked.

She let out a sigh took hold of my hand, and led me away from the door. “You don’t need to be so nervous. I’m here to grant you three wishes. It’s a good thing.”

I gulped, unsure I’d heard her right. “You . . . you want to grant me wishes?”

The Leprechaun eyed me, shaking his head. “She keeps repeating everything you say—a sure sign her brain is banjaxed. Blame me all you please for the troubles in our last missions, but I tell you this: you can’t grow lilies from a scrub brush, now can you?”

Chrissy smiled at me again. “Ignore Clover. That’s what I usually do when we’re forced to work together.” She dropped my hand and tapped her wand against her fingers. “Now let’s talk about your wishes. As I understand it, you want to be a star. I could whip you up something along the lines of singing and dancing talent.”

I kept staring at Chrissy in disbelief. She was real. Standing in my hotel room. Talking to me. “I have a fairy godmother?”

Clover gave Chrissy an I-told-you-so look, then pointed in my direction, and mouthed, “Scrub brush.”

“I’m not stupid,” I told him. “I’m in shock. I didn’t know people actually had fairy godmothers.”

“Most people don’t.” Chrissy said airily. “Usually you have to do a selfless good deed to a beggar who happens to be a fairy in disguise. You, however, qualified for help on the FGA’s pitiable and wretched damsel outreach program.”

“Oh.” It’s never good news to hear your life has become so wretched that other species feel sorry for you.

Bits of glitter fell from the tip of Chrissy’s wand, fluttering onto the floor. “I guess I should warn you that when the show airs, not only does it show you splattering the stage, the next three people who get Xed express their disappointment by imitating your event. By the end of the show, the judges pretend to vomit every time they think an act is bad. You go viral.”

Oh no. I put my hand to my throat. “How many people are going to see it?”

Chrissy looked upward, calculating. “Do you mean when the show airs or after the segment hits the internet and people make remixes of your audition?”

My legs felt weak. I sunk onto the nearest bed.

Clover disappeared from his spot and the next moment reappeared next to me. He patted my arm with his tiny hand. “Look on the bright side, lass. You always wanted to be famous for your singing.”

“And,” Chrissy added, opening her purse, “your crush said you were pretty. So, you know, that’s cool.”

Well, it might have been if he hadn’t also said I had no talent and then watched me puke on my shoes.

Chrissy dug around in her purse until she pulled out what I thought was a lipstick tube. It grew longer and thicker, becoming a scroll of ivory paper covered in elegantly scrawled handwriting. “You’ll be able to improve your life with your wishes.” She took hold of one end of the scroll and unrolled it. “Just as soon as you sign this waiver.” The scroll kept unrolling until the end lay on the ground. “It’s the standard fairy godmother contract.”

Fairy godmothers had contracts? Somehow I’d missed that part of the Cinderella fairy tale.

“Make a careful reading of it,” Clover muttered.