Jane looked at me then said, “I see,” in this prim sort of way like she was psychoanalyzing me, but I didn’t even care.

• • •

The next morning while I poured myself a bowl of cereal, my mom walked by and caught sight of my hands.

She took hold of my wrist and her eyebrows drew together in concern. “What happened? How did your hands get like this?”

“Um . . .” I’d hoped no one would notice them until after they’d healed. I stuttered for another moment then said, “I guess I forgot to wear gloves a few times while I weeded the backyard.”

As soon as I said it, I felt something cold and slippery filling my mouth. How could this be? I thought the whole no-lying rule was only for the Middle Ages, but something was definitely squirming on my tongue and 135/431

Mom was just not going to understand if I upchucked a snake on the kitchen floor.

I sprinted past her to the guest bathroom, slammed the door shut, leaned over the countertop, and spit out a toad. There is nothing as repulsive as having a live toad sitting in your mouth. I’ve heard they’re not really as slimy as they look, but tell that to my tongue. I spent the next few minutes spitting into the sink and trying to wash the amphibian taste out of my mouth. The toad hopped around the counter and repeatedly tried to jump through the mirror.

My mom knocked softly on the door. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

From the kitchen I heard Jane say, “Well, what did she expect after she ate all of that junk last night? No one can fill up on pastrami and ice cream and not have it take its toll.”

Thank you for those words of advice, Jane.

I cupped the toad in my hands—and even this was gross— rushed past my mother to the back door, and then before she could follow me to see what I was doing, I dropped it on the lawn.

It sat there blinking up at me. I hurried back inside and went into the bathroom to wash my hands. While I 136/431

did this, Mom and Jane peered in through the doorway at me.

“Why did you just run outside?” Jane asked.

I didn’t answer her question.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Mom asked.

“Yeah.” I wiped my hands on a towel. “I’m just going to go upstairs and brush my teeth.” Multiple times.

My mother let the subject drop, but Jane kept sending me sharp glances like she thought I was plotting some sort of revenge.

To tell you the truth, though, I wasn’t thinking about the whole Jane and Hunter drama even though she was with me again—a constant reminder of her betrayal. It seemed like I’d dated Hunter so long ago. When my mind turned from the wonder and comforts of my world—and I was seeing everything around me like I’d never seen it before—it was only to think about the fact that magic still existed here too. I’d proved that when I’d spit up a toad.

The fairy spell was still on me and would be until Chrissy fulfilled her part of the bargain and got some princely guy to ask me to prom. In between working on my homework, I daydreamed about this mystery guy.

Maybe tomorrow as I walked to school some sleek Trans Am would pull up and the studly young driver 137/431

would ask me for directions to the high school because he was going to start school there.

At 4:30 Emily called me. “Did you hear about Tristan?”

Tristan. I hadn’t thought about him or the swimsuit incident in so long. It was odd to think that in this world it had just happened yesterday. “No. What’s up with Tristan?”

“He disappeared last night. He was in his room and when his parents went to tell him to turn off the light he was gone. Vanished. Just like that—from his own house.”

“Disappeared?” A sick, horrible feeling gnawed at my stomach.

“His parents have called all his friends and no one knows what happened to him. Tristan’s room is on the second floor and his parents were downstairs in their living room the whole time with the doors locked. So the police say he must have climbed out the window on his own—I guess it would have been hard for a kidnapper to scale the wall and carry him off that way, but still—can you imagine Tristan running away?” No, Tristan wasn’t the type to run away. I’d never heard that he didn’t get along with his family. In fact, they came to every track meet to cheer him on. And Tristan was so responsible. He cared about his grades.

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Did a person who’d put that much effort into school just take off without explanation?

It didn’t make sense.

Then I remembered that Chrissy had volunteered to turn Hunter into a frog. She hadn’t said the same about Tristan, had she? Had I even told her about Tristan and the swimsuit thing? I couldn’t remember.

After I hung up with Emily, I stood in the middle of my room and hissed out, “Chrissy!” several times. I was afraid that she wouldn’t come for days and by that time Tristan could have been eaten by—well, whatever unfortunate creature in the food chain was designated to eat frogs.

Nothing happened. I kept calling Chrissy’s name, all the while hoping that Emily would call me back and tell me Tristan had come home, it was all a mistake, he hadn’t been missing at all. That didn’t happen either, but after a few minutes a fountain of sparkles erupted in my room, and then there she was, decked out in a black cocktail dress complete with spiky black heels and a sequined handbag.

She put one hand on her hip and eyed me over in a disappointed fashion. “You really need to develop some patience. Do you think princes just appear spontaneously every time you make a wish? These things take time, you know.”

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“I didn’t call you here to talk about princes.”

“Good, because frankly I was getting tired of all that whining.” She smoothed down the front of her dress.

“What do you think of my new outfit? It’s to die for, isn’t it—and you’ll never believe the bargain I got on these shoes. They were such a good price I had to buy some in yellow too, and I don’t even own a yellow dress. Well, not yet anyway.”

“Look, do you know anything about Tristan Hawkins disappearing? Because I distinctly remember telling you that I didn’t want you to turn anybody into a frog.”

“Oh, that.” She flipped her hair off her shoulder in an unconcerned manner. “Of course I didn’t turn him into a frog. He was much too nice for that.” The way she said it confirmed my fears. I grasped hold of the front of my shirt in an attempt to keep my heart from pounding its way out of my chest. “But you turned him into something else?”

“Not yet; I’m still in the process.”

“In the process?”

“Of turning him into a prince.”

“What?”

She straightened her purse strap on her shoulder as though she were about to leave. “You gave me a long list of things you wanted in a guy and he fit them all, except for the fact that he’s a commoner. So I sent him back to 140/431

the Middle Ages with the instructions that I would bring him back after he became a prince. Your orders.” She gave me a bemused shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t understand it. He’s been there for months and he’s not even a knight yet. I really expected more of him.”

“He’s been there for months?” I gasped out.

She let out a sigh. “I’ve explained the time thing to you before. One hour here equals a week back—”

“Yes, I understand the concept. What I meant was that you’ve got to bring him back right now. You can’t just zap people from their bedrooms and drop them into the Middle Ages.”

“I can if you ask me to,” she said with a smile.

I shook my head. It felt like the room was closing in on me. “I never asked you to do that.” She opened her purse, pulled out the scroll and unrolled it. “You said you wanted a prince type of guy. That leaves emperors, czars, and dictators. I thought it would be easiest just to turn him into a prince.”