Maybe all along, she’d been stupid. Had the Wild been watching her the whole time, sabotaging her? Had the Wild made Boots take her to the griffin, knowing the griffin would dump her into the water? Had it made Boots pick up the ogre’s wand after she won the ring so that she couldn’t use it now? Or was its interference even further back? Was everything a setup? Was this why she had found Boots with the bikes—so the Wild could possess him? Was this why Boots had been able to avoid his story ending? Had the Wild preserved him to be a pawn? She kept walking.
“You can’t escape,” it said. “Inside me, you play by my rules.”
Over her shoulder, she said, “Yeah? Well, so do you.” Suddenly, Julie had the answer. She almost laughed out loud. It was absurd, but it just might work. After all, the Wild had to play by its own rules! As far as she knew, its rules did not include fairy-tale princesses breaking their royal promises. “Cindy, I’m calling in your promise! I could use that ride now!”
She only half expected it to work, but pine needles crackled as Cinderella’s carriage rolled through the forest and broke out of the bushes onto the path in front of her. The frog-faced coachman reined in the mouse-horses. Cindy opened the door to the pumpkin and waved. “Joo-lie! Quick, hop in!”
Inside the carriage, orange goop dripped from the ceiling. Julie sat, and pumpkin slop spurted out from underneath her with a farting sound. Opposite her, Cindy settled her dress in the mush. In place of her normal glitter, she wore a ball gown covered in diamond drops and pearls. The coachman cracked his whip. Neighing, the horses increased speed, and the pumpkin coach bounced through the forest. Julie saw trees whip past them like highway guardrails. He drives like Cindy, Julie thought. Good. She’d get there faster.
Face pinched and worried, Cindy twisted her gloved hands in her lap as if strangling her knuckles. Julie had never seen her look so unhappy. “I can take you most of the way—at least to the center of Northboro,” Cindy said. “Beyond that, the Wild will force this carriage to the ball.”
Alarm bells rang in Julie’s head. “It won’t force me, will it?” Could she have walked into a trap?
“I won’t,” Cindy said. “I’m Cinderella. I don’t do that sort of thing.” Her voice sounded bitter. Julie didn’t think she’d ever heard Cindy sound bitter. The coach bounced, and Julie knocked into a wall. Cindy caught herself on the window. “You’d best steer clear of fairies, though. Especially godmothers.”
There was a lot she needed to steer clear of. How on earth was she going to make it to the motel on her own? She swallowed the lump in her throat. She shouldn’t have left Boots behind. No matter how the Wild used him, he was still her brother. “You’re sure you can’t go farther?”
“You were lucky you called me when you did. In a few hours, I’ll finish my story and won’t remember you. I’ll simply be Cinderella again and again and again,” Cindy said. She stared out the window at the blur of green. “It’s worse this time, being back here. Before, we didn’t know for sure there even was a world beyond the Wild. We guessed there was, when the Wild grew and we saw new faces, but we didn’t know.” Her hands were a tight knot on her lap. “It will make them more cruel if they remember what they’ve lost.”
“Who?” Julie asked.
Cindy gave her a sad smile. “Not many people know this, but my stepsisters didn’t need the Wild to force them to be cruel. Every time they regained their memories, they hated me anew for their blinding. And I took it, all the work and all the hatred, because how could I blame them? After hundreds and thousands of cycles, there’s no way to know what came first: how they treated me or how my birds pecked out their eyes. Now, this time, my new stepsisters will have lost even more than their eyes. Do you know how awful it is to realize that the best-case scenario is that we all forget?”
Julie didn’t know how to answer that. What could she say? Flighty, perky Cindy. Julie had never seen her so . . . so defeated.
“The birds tell me that most of us have already forgotten. Mary. Harp. Gretel.” Cindy wilted with each name. At what point would her mother’s name join that list? Julie wondered. Sometime soon, a witch would visit Mom in the tower and then a prince . . . Julie had a horrible thought: was another prince going to displace her father?
“Goldie!” Cindy said. Her eyes brightened as if she had a cartoon lightbulb over her head. “Goldie hasn’t lost herself yet,” Cindy said, excitement in her voice. “She hasn’t found three bears to finish her story. Some Pied Piper trumpeter has all the bears dancing. Goldie can help you!” Leaning on the carriage window, Cindy whistled.