Into the Wild(50)

Coming around one of the pillars, a woman in a bathing suit and sunglasses waved at her. “Ah, there you are!” The woman bounced toward her, her toes barely touching the floor. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Girl frowned. After two surprises, she now had practice in pinpointing the emotion’s source: she was surprised at “expecting you.” “How could you be expecting me?” she asked. “I didn’t plan to come here. I just ran.”

For an instant, the woman faltered, and her smile slipped from her face. Then the smile was back beaming so quickly that Girl thought she must have imagined it. “You can’t go to the ball looking like this.” The woman tsked. She took Girl’s hand and pulled her inside the tree. Butterfly wings fluttered on the woman’s back between the straps of the bathing suit. Girl twisted to feel her own back. She was wingless.

The fairy godmother waved her free hand, and a wand popped into the air in front of her. She plucked the wand out of the air and pointed it at a marble pillar. A picture of a golden ball gown appeared on the marble. It sashayed across the face of the pillar. The fairy lifted her sunglasses. “Mmm, no,” she said. She pointed at the next pillar, and a silver dress shimmered and curtsied. On the third, a ball gown studded in rhinestone stars spun in a slow circle. On the fourth, a dress composed entirely of feathers descended from the top. Its skirt poofed until its hem touched the base of the pillar. “Yes,” the fairy said to the feather dress. “You will do.” She waved her wand at the pillar.

Girl felt wind spiral up from her feet. It circled up her legs, up her torso. She lifted her arms in the air, and the wind cycloned over her head, pulling her hair up into a twist, and then it was gone. When she looked down, she was wearing the feather dress.

The fairy clasped her hands. “Perfect as a princess!”

Girl stared at herself. From her neck to her waist, the dress was an intricate pattern of tiny green and gold feathers, each as brilliant as a jewel. From her waist to the floor, she wore sweeping plumes of black, white, and navy. Peacock feathers draped down her arms. “How did you . . . How am I . . .” She touched the feathers, awed. Each one shimmered.

“Don’t ask questions,” the fairy said. She tapped the marble floor with her wand. A mirror with a crown of leaves sprouted in front of Girl. “Oh, wondrous beauty that I see,” the mirror said. “The fairest of the land stands before me.”

Girl gawked in the mirror. Amazing. She was . . . I’m beautiful, she thought. I look like a . . . like a . . . the phrase “fairy-tale princess” popped into her mind. Yes, that was it. In wonder, she touched her hair, which had been swept into a tumble of curls. The feathers flowed around her as she moved. “Wow,” she said out loud.

Taking her arm, the fairy propelled her across the hall toward a blank marble wall. Girl resisted, wanting to look in the mirror longer. At the tap of the wand, a door opened in the marble. “Now, remember: it all changes back at midnight.”

“What . . .” Girl began as the fairy godmother guided her through the door. “Down you go,” the fairy said, “and have a lovely time!”

She shut the door, and Girl was alone in darkness. “Come back, please,” she said. She knocked on the door.

What ball? Where was she supposed to go? The questions made her head spin and throb.

Candles flickered to life around her. As the light grew, she saw that she was pounding on a solid wall. The door was gone. She was bewildered. Her head began to pound harder. None of this made sense!

Did it matter that it didn’t make sense? she asked herself. She couldn’t answer that. With an inward shrug, she gave up on her questions.

Instantly, her head felt better. It was much more pleasant not to question.

She looked around her. Behind her, a staircase descended into shadows. Down you go, the fairy had said. Lifting the skirt of her feather dress, Girl started down the stairs. Her shoes clinked with each step. Stopping, she raised her skirt higher to peer over the feathers at her feet. She was wearing glass shoes instead of bright yellow sandals. They must have changed with the clothes. She twisted her feet, admiring them. They sparkled with the amber light of the candle flames.

At the end of the staircase, she found herself in a forest of silver. Wide-eyed, she looked around her. The trees shimmered—the leaves and bark were solid sterling. Gone was the daylight of the huntsman’s forest. A fat, silver moon hung low in the leaves and bathed her and this forest in a pale light. It was beautiful. She’d never seen anything so beautiful. Had she? She reached for a memory, but it felt like trying to catch air. She abandoned the effort.