My Unfair Godmother(14)

Chrissy didn’t come back.

“What devilry is this?” one of the men demanded.

“This has the look of magic to it,” another said.

Actually my room had the look of the JCPenney teen department.

Sandra decorated it before I moved in. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring you here,” I said, gulping. “There’s been a mistake.” A young man with shoulder-length blond hair, a pointed green cap, and a dark green tunic stepped toward me, sizing me up. His features were sharp and flawlessly handsome. His eyes were startlingly blue in his tanned face. Chrissy hadn’t been exaggerating when she said Robin Hood was hot.



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His gaze ran over me, and he raised an eyebrow. I glanced at my reflection in my closet mirror to see what he was looking at. I wore a velvet green dress that swept around my ankles. My hair was pulled up into a bun with loose ringlets. No sign of tears or mascara streaks remained on my face. In fact, I wore bright red lipstick and smoky green eye shadow. This apparently was Chrissy’s idea of a makeover. I looked like I was about to go to the prom.

“Who are you?” Robin Hood asked, his voice cautious. “Why have you brought us hither?”

“I didn’t mean to.” I lifted my hands up to show them I didn’t have a weapon. “It was an accident. I’m trying to get her to come back and fix it.” I glanced around the corners of my ceiling, hoping Chrissy might be floating around up there. “Chrissy, this isn’t what I meant!” Robin Hood sheathed his sword and folded his arms, but the other men kept their swords and knives drawn, which made them seem more menacing than merry. A burly man with a thick brown beard stepped forward. He stood at least six and a half feet tall, towering over everyone else. Little John, I guessed. “Who be this Chrissy you call for?”

I took a step back from him. He didn’t seem to have any concept of personal space. Or hygiene. “Chrysanthemum Everstar. She’s my fairy godmother.”

This caused a round of grumbling from the Merry Men. “I knew it was magic,” one of them growled, and then spat on my carpet.

“Hey,” I said. “You’re inside my bedroom. Don’t do that.” Robin Hood fixed me with a look. “And why, pray tell, did your fairy godmother bring us to your bedchamber?”

“Well, you see, I had a run-in with the police tonight.” When I didn’t see any recognition on Robin Hood’s face, I added, “The police work for the sheriff.”



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“The sheriff!” another man snarled, and spat on my floor.

I could see it sitting there all gooey and gross. I turned to Robin Hood. “Would you please make your men stop spitting on my carpet?”

“What dost thou mean by a run-in?” Robin Hood asked.

I ignored the spit soaking into my carpet. I would clean it up later.

“Basically, it’s where they hauled me into their headquarters and threatened me.” And then, because I really wanted someone to understand what I’d been through, I told them about the whole ordeal with Bo and the officer who tricked me.

Robin Hood and his men listened intently, and when I’d finished, Robin Hood nodded. “I see.”

“Then while I was talking to my fairy godmother about it, I sort of wished that Robin Hood was around.”

“To give the sheriff bigger game to pursue?”

“No,” I said, blinking. “I wouldn’t have wished you into the twenty-first century for that.”

Little John’s jaw dropped open. “The twenty-first century?” I shrugged apologetically. “It’s where I live.” The men turned their attention from me to my bedroom, examining it more closely. One used his sword to push the comforter off my bed, checking to see if it was hiding anything. Several others picked knickknacks off my dresser. They flipped through books, poked at my iPod, opened my drawers. Friar Tuck lifted a necklace out of my jewelry box.

“If you don’t mind,” I said, shutting my underwear drawer and standing in front of it, “this is my personal stuff. I don’t want anyone touching it.”

Little John pushed back my curtains and eyed the houses on the street with interest. “Robin, cast your eyes at those buildings. And be-hold the torches that light the road. They stand as tall as trees!” 58/356

Robin Hood strode over to the window while I tried to keep the Merry Men from tossing things they found uninteresting onto the floor. I was able to rescue my cell phone. My box full of nail polish wasn’t as lucky.

A man the others referred to as Will—I assumed Will Scarlet—took a book from my shelf, opened it, then held it upside down and shook it. His dark hair hung in greasy strands around his shoulders and his beard ended in a sharp point. “What odd, useless things you have in the future.”