“What can I wish for?” I asked.

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Chrissy pulled a sparklerlike wand from her handbag.

“That’s what I like about today’s teenagers. They’re all business. None of that ‘Oh, thank you, Fair Godmother, for rescuing me from my pathetic life.’ Or ‘I’m unworthy of having such gifts bestowed on me.’ Or even ‘Tell me from whence thou came, Fair Godmother.’ It’s all ‘What will you give me?’ ”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said. “I’m not ungrateful.

I’m just not sure what to wish for.” She put her wand back in her purse, walked to my bed, and sank down onto it with a sigh. “All right then, let’s hear it. Tell me all about your pathetic life.” Which wasn’t what I’d meant. I’d meant that I wanted to know what the rules were before I flung wishes around, but since she asked, I told her about Hunter and Jane, including the most recent chapter in swimsuit humiliation.

Chrissy shook her head slowly when I’d finished.

“That’s so sad. I can totally relate to the whole prom thing.” She gave a tinkling little laugh as though mentally correcting herself. “Well, actually, I’ve always gone to prom with buff elf guys, but I mean, I can understand how horrible it would be not to go.” She sat up straighter. “So do you want me to change this Hunter guy into a frog?”

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“No,” I answered, aghast. “You can’t go around turning people into frogs.”

“Yes, I can.” She held her wand up. “Do you want to see?”

“No, no. I meant that wouldn’t solve anything.”

“Then what do you want?” She laid her wand across her knees. “Oh, that reminds me, you need to sign this before I grant your wishes.” She opened her purse, pulled out a scroll, and handed it to me. I didn’t see how it had fit in her small purse, and supposed fairy magic must have been involved. She pulled out a quill as well and handed it to me. “The contract,” she told me. “Sign at the bottom X where it reads: Damsel in distress.” I unrolled the scroll, which, besides being quite long, was written in a “thee, thou, and thine” sort of language.

“What does all of this say?” I asked.

“That you get three wishes and only three wishes, that all of them must pertain directly to you—like, you can’t wish for world peace. You can’t wish for more wishes either—everybody tries that, and your wishes must somehow be tangible. Meaning you can’t wish to be lucky or popular or some vague sort of happy. Your wish has to be specific enough that I can actually wave my wand and make it happen.

“Also, side effects may include dizziness, nausea, leth-argy, and an intense desire to eat woodland creatures if, 69/431

during your magical journey, you happen to be turned into a bear. Contact your doctor if symptoms don’t subside after a week, blah, blah, blah. We never had to do all this paperwork in the old days. I tell you, everything changes once lawyers get involved.” She smiled at me and her wings spread out like a butterfly’s. “And one more thing. Since you’re my extra-credit assignment, you didn’t earn your godmother the usual way—by helping poor strangers you met during a quest—so you’ll need to be completely honest until your wishes are finished.”

I shrugged. “Okay, but why?”

She let out a grunt like she couldn’t believe I was asking. “Haven’t you ever read any fairy tales? In the classic stories, maidens who come in contact with fairies and tell lies end up having a nasty enchantment. Reptiles and amphibians drop out of their mouths. It isn’t pleas-ant. I’m just mentioning it because you don’t want to get on the wrong side of magic.”

“Oh.” I put my hand to my mouth. “Thanks for the warning.”

Chrissy picked up her wand and a new wave of sparks shot out the end. “All right then, as soon as you’re done signing you can tell me your first wish.” I unrolled the scroll on my desk and signed my name across the bottom. Then Chrissy picked up the scroll, 70/431

tugged at the end, and it rolled itself up as though it were a window shade. She put it back in her purse and turned to me with a satisfied smile. “All right, what’s your heart’s desire?”

“Well . . .” Now that she asked, I wasn’t quite sure what to say. What did I want? My first thought had been to ask for Hunter to break up with Jane and fall in love with me again. But as soon as I opened my mouth, I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. It wouldn’t make me happy to have him back if he only cared about me because of a magic spell. I wanted someone who liked the real me, even if I was occasionally late and disorganized, and okay, I admit it—I don’t always take school seriously.

So what did that leave as my heart’s desire?

I guess when it came down to it, I wanted to be someplace different. I didn’t know where, just someplace where no one would judge me against Jane-like standards, and where I hadn’t proved to half the school that I was incompetent when it came to difficult tasks like identifying the right dressing room. But I didn’t know where that place was.

I sat down on my bed, suddenly miserable. I wasn’t happy and couldn’t even think of a way to change my life so I would be.

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Chrissy looked at me, her wings fluttering and the wand grasped in one hand. She checked her watch. “Is this going to take a long time? I hate to rush you, but I have a shopping trip planned with some mall pixies.” I fingered my pillow sham, thinking. “I just wish that somehow my life could be like a fairy tale. You know, with a handsome prince waiting for me at the ball, and that somehow when I meet him, everything will work out happily ever after.”

Chrissy checked her wristwatch again, hardly paying attention to me. “Okay, great. One Cinderella coming up.”

Before I could say another word—and I had planned to say, “Wait, that wasn’t my wish!”—white sparks surrounded me. The next moment I found myself in a cold, dark room.

Chapter 4

After the flash from Chrissy’s magic wand subsided and I could see again, I turned in a slow circle around the room. Rough-hewn stones made up the floor and walls.

A limp and dirty mattress with straw sticking out of each side lay at my feet, and a wooden chest sat underneath a narrow, glassless window. Nothing else occupied the room.

“Oh no,” I said, and then louder, “That wasn’t what I meant!” I turned around the room, looking for a telltale sparkler of light that would let me know she was here. I saw nothing. I called her name—even her full name—but Chrissy didn’t materialize.

Finally I pushed open a heavy wooden door and stepped out into a kitchen. Oddly enough, I could see the room in as much detail as if I were wearing my contacts. Perhaps since Cinderella had good eyesight, I did too.

A huge fireplace occupied one wall, with a pot hanging on a hook over the fire. Whatever was inside crackled and steamed, making the room smell good. A rickety cupboard pressed up against another wall. I could see dishes and pots stacked unevenly on its shelves. A 73/431

plump woman pounded a lump of bread dough on a wooden table in the center of the kitchen. Her hair, assuming she had any, was hidden under a dirty kerchief.

I walked into the room cautiously, my bare feet hardly making a sound against the cold stone floor. I had no idea what to say.

The woman looked at me. Her face had so many wrinkles and jowl lines that it gave the impression her face was melting off her body. She turned her attention back to the bread dough, smacking it into the table.

“You’re up late. And a poor day you chose for it too. The mistress is in a foul mood.”

I realized, with a mixture of relief and disappointment, that the woman knew me, or at least knew the person she thought I was: Cinderella.

I tried to guess who the woman at the table was. She was too old and shabbily dressed to be an ugly stepsister, and yet she wasn’t the mistress either. Perhaps this was one of those pumpkin-into-bloated-walrus mistakes and Chrissy had transported me into an entirely wrong fairy tale?