My Unfair Godmother(13)

Chrissy glanced at a diamond-studded watch on her wrist. “Now I have four minutes until my job interview.” I found the signature line and signed my name. Chrissy was my fairy godmother. She wouldn’t ask me to sign something that could hurt me.

Chrissy took hold of the end of the scroll, yanked it downward, and the whole thing rolled up like a window shade. It must have shrunk back down to its original size, because as she put one end into her purse, it disappeared. “All right then, on to the first wish. What will make you happy?”

The way she phrased the question made me stop and think. I had been about to wish for a huge bank account—enough money to not only keep the library open but to name it in my honor. Would that make me happy though? It wouldn’t change being an outcast at school on Monday morning. It wouldn’t change my father’s disappointment in me. I’m not sure what money would change, except instead of 53/356

moving in with Grandma, I could stay here and live with people who thought of me as a snitch or a criminal.

For a moment I considered wishing for Kendall’s play to close so she, Mom, and I could go back to living in New York. But I couldn’t bring myself to take away my sister’s dream.

I sat down on my bed. “I’m not sure …” Chrissy glanced at her watch again. “Wealth is always a popular wish.”

I picked at my pillowcase dejectedly. “Money won’t buy me friends.”

“If you wish for enough, it will,” Chrissy said brightly. “People like to say they can’t be bought, but they really can.” It sounded sort of horrifying when she put it like that. I didn’t want friends who were only interested in me because I was rich.

I shook my head.

“Revenge, then? You can wish to change city hall and the police station into toadstools.”

I laughed at the image that presented. I could see Officer Frisk-meister, a half-eaten doughnut in one hand, staring with a baffled expression at what used to be the police station. Better yet, I could see Mr. Handsome Undercover Cop trying to figure out who’d stolen the building.

Unfortunately, if I zapped away the police station and city hall, it would mean the mayor would have to take money from somewhere else to rebuild the buildings. Maybe they would close more programs.

“I could change a few police officers into ravens,” Chrissy chimed.

“Then they could be jailbirds.”

Clover looked at the ceiling. “As if the world doesn’t have enough birds with enormous egos.”



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Chrissy waved a dismissive hand at him, but I didn’t want to hurt anybody. And with that realization, thoughts of revenge fizzled in my mind. So how did I fix things? “The problem is we have a mayor who doesn’t care what we want. How do we fight the system?” As I looked around my room, my eyes rested on my bookshelf. I had a copy of The Adventures of Robin Hood sitting there, nestled among a few other novels Dad had put in my room. He had given me that one because it had been a favorite of mine when I was little. I had always loved the way Robin Hood stood up to the Sheriff of Nottingham to help the op-pressed people.

I was only thinking out loud, trying to figure out a solution to my unhappiness. I spoke so quietly that Chrissy shouldn’t have been able to hear it. “I wish Robin Hood were around today. He would know what to do.”

“Good choice,” Chrissy said. “He’s totally hot.” She swept her wand in my direction and a flurry of sparkles surrounded me, hundreds of tiny lights zinging everywhere.

“Wait!” I sputtered.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she called, her voice sounding far away. “I wouldn’t let you meet him looking like that. I’ll throw in a free makeover.”

When the light cleared, she and Clover were gone. And there in my bedroom stood a dozen scraggly-looking men.



Chapter 4

For a moment, I just stared at the men. They wore tunics and leggings, with bows and arrows slung over their shoulders. A couple were older, with gray in their hair and beards, but most were young with muscled arms and tanned faces. I guess I had never considered what a bunch of men who lived in the forest and never showered would smell like, but in the confines of my bedroom, the smell of sweat, dirt, and unwashed clothes hit me with nose-curling strength. I tried to breathe through my mouth.

The men looked around my room, drawing swords and knives, then turned to me with fierce expressions.

“Chrissy!” I hissed, both panicked and elated—panicked because a dozen scary men were brandishing weapons, and elated because—talk about superstar sightings—Robin Hood and his Merry Men were in my bedroom.