My Fair Godmother
Janette Rallison
Walker & Company
New York
To everyone who still believes in the magic of reading A special thanks to Emily Easton, my editor, for helping me to make this a better book Table of Contents
For Master Sagewick Goldengill
How I Used Magic to Grant Wishes, Make Mortals
Happy, and Rescue them from their Dreary Lives
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
5/431
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
For Master Sagewick Goldengill
Dear Professor Goldengill,
Thank you for allowing me to raise my semester grade through this extra-credit project. First off, let me say that I was a little worried about the whole thing. When I went into the Fairy Godmother Affairs office to get my assignment, the lady behind the desk wouldn’t even tell me which of the sisters, Jane or Savannah, was supposed to get the wishes. She gave me a condescending look and told me that as a fairy godmother my first task was to figure that out.
Then she handed me this huge report to read and said, “I do hope this mission is more successful than your last.”
Personally, I think the main problem I hadwith my last assignment was the leprechaun assistant FGA gave me. I mean, I know we have alot of free time during these projects, buthalfway through the job he wandered off to playpoker with card sprites and I never saw himagain. So I told the lady that I wanted to workwith, you know, some really hot elf guy or at 7/431
least a unicorn, but she flipped through her papers and said, “You’ve been assigned Clover T.
Bloomsbottle.”
Which is the same leprechaun I had last time.
I asked the lady, in a very calm manner—despite what she might tell you—“What in the world is FGA thinking?” She told me, “FGA is aware of Mr. Bloomsbottle’s shortcomings on the last mission. That’s why he’s been relegated to twenty-first-century America until he can prove he’s willing to use his magic in accordance with the Unified Magical Alliance guidelines. FGA believes in giving everyone a chance to redeem themselves.” So let me say right now that this would have gone a lot smoother had I been given an assistant who actually assisted with something.
Here is the sixteen-page report I put together about the troubled teenage souls involved, so you can see how I used my magic to solve their problems, thus proving I have mastered the magic necessary to pass apprentice level and pur-sue my education at Godmother University.
Where, I might add, I will totally apply myself.
I’ve also added side notes to this report in order to show you how much I’ve already learned 8/431
about human culture.
Sincerely,
Chrysanthemum Everstar
HOW I USED MAGIC TO GRANT
WISHES,
MAKE MORTALS HAPPY, AND RESCUE
THEM FROM
THEIR DREARY LIVES
by Chrysanthemum Everstar
Subject One: Jane Delano, eighteen years old Place: Herndon, Virginia, early twenty-first century Boys weren’t a problem for Jane. They only paid attention to her while asking for help with homework. She always knew the answers. See, no problem at all.
It wasn’t because she wasn’t pretty enough. She was.
She had long dark hair the color of milk chocolate, hair that she usually wore pulled back into a ponytail because it took her two minutes to do and didn’t fall into her face while she looked down at her schoolwork. Her eyes were warm and large, even behind the glasses she always wore. It was, unfortunately, her air of extreme competence that scared boys away. In fact, she didn’t seem to be a teenage girl at all. She was somebody’s 10/431
mother, just waiting to happen.
Fairy’s side note: Many perfumes promise to lure men to women. None of them smell of motherhood. None of them proclaim the wearer to be tidy, thrifty, and sens-ible. At least not in high school. Those traits become attractive much later on, when guys finally realize they’re not living somebody else’s life.
So there was Jane, walking out of the school building with a backpack, which was heavier than it needed to be, because it couldn’t hurt to read over her Shakespeare assignment one more time. As happens with most life-changing events, she was not thinking about anything important at all. If she had thought of Hunter Delmont that day, those wishes, those half-formed sighs of long-ing had faded as soon as calculus ended. He had picked up his books and tucked them under his arm without a glance in her direction.
Not that she’d expected otherwise. Her seat was at the back of the class. He sat in the front. He had no reason to turn around. Which was why it was so odd when she looked up and saw him leaning against her family’s Taurus in the school parking lot.
She stopped midstride, looking like a Jane statue someone had created on the edge of the sidewalk. Not 11/431
really such a farfetched idea, actually. The way the teachers loved her, they could have erected a statue in her honor. They would entitle it The Student the Rest of You Should Have Been.
Jane forced herself to take another step. She analyzed the situation. He was either resting against her car because . . . she couldn’t fill in the blank. He must want to talk to her. Her. HER.
It didn’t matter that she already knew it would be about homework. What mattered was he knew she existed. This was clearly a gift from the universe. A whiff of magic and hope that had suddenly blown in.
As she walked to the car her steps gained bounce. He was one of the smartest guys in the class. He didn’t need help with homework. He wanted to talk to her.
She smiled as she approached him; a greeting started to form on her lips, waiting for a kick of courage to spring it into action.
Hi, Hunter. What can I do for you? Actually, let me answer that question. In fact, let me send you a résumé.
Only she didn’t say it. Courage is a fickle creature.
Just as you need it, it often makes excuses and rushes out of the room.
He looked at her and stood straighter, his expression friendly but unreadable. Jane tried to read it. She tried 12/431
to read her entire future in that gaze. What did the arch of his dark eyebrows signify?
“Are you Savannah’s sister?”
“Yes.” Her footsteps faltered, but not enough to be noticed, at least not by a guy who’d never glanced at the back of the calculus classroom.
“Jane?” he asked, as though it might have been Jenny or Jamie.
She said, “Yes.” But her mind said, “What does Savannah have to do with anything?” His attention shifted to something behind her and he smiled, a sudden dab of sunshine reflecting in his expression. She turned and saw her sister striding toward the car.