“But you escaped before!” Julie cried. “You stopped it before!”
“We didn’t,” Goldie said, harsh. “Why do you think the Wild was in your house? Your mother was the only one who knew how to stop it—that’s why she was responsible for guarding it. She wasn’t supposed to let this happen. She swore this would never happen.” Goldie buried her face in her hands. “I can’t go back there! I can’t! You don’t know what it’s like in there—I have no home, no friends, no family. I’m hungry. I’m tired. I’m cold. When Snow’s lost in the woods, the dwarves welcome her in. They love her. Me, I’m chased by bears! And there’s no reprieve, always chased, always hated . . .”
Cindy put her arm around her, and Goldie knocked it away.
Mom was the only one who knew how to stop it? Julie’s stomach flopped and, despite her sweater and the bike ride, she felt cold. Mom? Julie looked to Cindy. Was this true? No one else knew how to stop it? But . . . why? Why would her mother be the only one who knew?
Cindy wrung her hands. “Your parents were alone, and your mother never liked to talk about it.” Julie stared at her. What was she saying? Her parents were alone when the Wild was defeated . . . her parents were part of its defeat? “We didn’t press her,” Cindy said. “She never got over losing your father, you know. She still misses him.”
“But . . .” Julie said. She didn’t understand. She didn’t want to understand. Her father was there when the Wild was defeated . . .
“Your father died in there,” Goldie said. “He died getting us out.”
Holding out her hand, the fairy godmother forced a smile. “Come on, pumpkin. Take my hand.” Pumpkin. Mom always called her “pumpkin.”
Julie turned and ran into the crowd.
Chapter Seven
Linda the Librarian
Julie ducked into the library and collapsed against the book return box. Leaning around the box, she peeked out through the glass door. She didn’t see anyone on the sidewalk. Several policemen hurried by on the street. A squad car drove off in the opposite direction. She’d lost them. She was alone.
She suddenly realized how true that was. I am alone, she thought. Mom’s in the Wild, and I’m alone. Julie felt sick. Putting her head between her knees, she tried to take deep breaths. Cindy and Goldie wouldn’t—or couldn’t—help. And Mom and Grandma were in the Wild. In the Wild!
Your father died in there. He died getting us out. But how? Why such secrets? Why such terrible secrets? What had happened?
Shouldn’t someone know? Shouldn’t there be a story? Wasn’t that the way Mom had said it worked? Anything that happened in the Wild became a story in the real world, she’d said. So shouldn’t there be some book with the tale of their escape?
And wasn’t she in a library?
Julie jumped to her feet and ran to the children’s room. The librarian, Linda, smiled and waved at her as she came in. “Julie! How nice to see you,” she said.
Julie knew the exact shelf, the one beside the cage with the pet mice. She used to spend hours here, poring through every version of Rapunzel for hints of her father. In their cage, the three mice pressed their noses to the glass as Julie ran her fingers over the book spines. Bluebeard, Six Swans, Cinderella, Frog Prince, Snow White . . . It wouldn’t be in a traditional tale or she would have seen it before. It had to be part of an obscure tale, bundled in a collection. And it would be unique. Unlike other events in the Wild, the defeat of the Wild could only have happened once. There wouldn’t be hundreds of variations.
Julie pulled out anthologies of Perrault, Hans Christian Andersen, Jack Zipes, and Asbjornsen and Moe. She dropped down to the floor and opened them one by one. How to win a kingdom, how to defeat a dragon, how to annoy a fairy, how to please elves, how to do impossible tasks, how to rescue a princess . . .
Julie sprang up and pulled out the Andrew Lang fairy-tale books one by one. She flipped to the end of each tale. “Marriage, marriage, death, marriage . . .” She tossed the books on the floor as she finished with them.
Smile wavering, Linda picked up the books as they hit the floor. “Can I help you find something?”
“Aren’t there any more?” Julie asked. She took The Complete Grimm’s Fairy Tales off the shelf. Rapunzel appeared in only one story, the traditional tower story. It ended with Rapunzel wandering the desert until she found her prince, then crying to cure his blindness. Julie flipped pages. Nothing after “happily ever after.” Nothing about how she had escaped the Wild, reconciled with Gothel, and delayed Julie’s birth until she deemed it safe. Not even a hint. Julie snapped the book closed. “I need a story about the fairy-tale characters escaping the fairy tale,” Julie said.