My Unfair Godmother(20)

Nick pressed his lips together, still questioning me. “Great fairy godmother you’ve got.”

Clover had said she was only fair. I was beginning to see his point.

“Well,” I said, “this means I’ve got to find Robin Hood myself. He thinks we have poor villagers who need his help. He’s probably out somewhere wondering why no one is thrilled to be the recipient of nickels, pennies, and a used nose ring.” Nick went through the stack of clean laundry on his dresser, putting some socks into a drawer. “Your dad isn’t going to let you go anywhere for a long time.”

“Then I’ll have to sneak out. This is important.” Nick let out an overlong “Ohhh …” as he turned back to me. “Now I get the whole Robin Hood angle. You have to sneak out to stop the Merry Men.” He picked up his jeans and put them into one of the drawers. “You’re creative, I’ll give you that. And you have a really impressive knack for getting guys to take revenge for you. First Bo 73/356

vandalized city hall, and now the Robin Hood dude is messing with the police. But as your little Frisbee there says, you think criminals are cool.” Nick shoved his T-shirts into another drawer. “I bet the city council totally wishes they hadn’t ticked you off now.” I didn’t appreciate his sarcasm, but what could I say? He didn’t believe me about the magical stuff, and the only proof I had was a pathetic-o-meter. “You won’t tell on me when I sneak out, will you?” I asked.

He grunted. “I’m not going to mess with you. You might set your battalion of evil boyfriends on me.”

“Thanks,” I said, and walked out of his room.

It wasn’t hard to sneak out. I went to my room and turned on my music loud enough so it seemed like I was in there, but not loud enough that my dad or Sandra would knock on the door and demand I turn it down. I didn’t know what to take with me, so I slung a small purse over my shoulder and put my cell phone, wallet, and the pathetic-o-meter inside. Since it was magic, I vaguely hoped it would be able to do something to help me, like contact my fairy godmother if my pathetic reading went high enough. At any rate, I didn’t want my dad to find it in my room. He would not be cheered by its pronouncement that I think criminals are cool.

Dad had bought a sheet of plywood and leaned it against my window. It moved easily enough, and I slipped outside into the warm September night. I went around to the side door of the garage. I couldn’t take one of the cars. I had grown up in New York with its sub-way systems, so I didn’t know how to drive very well. This left a bike as my only means of transportation. Bike riding isn’t the fastest way to track people, and it was probably a hopeless venture from the start, but I had to at least try to find Robin Hood and his men. I had brought 74/356

them here, and if I didn’t explain things to them, they would keep robbing people, and someone would get hurt.

I set out through the neighborhood, peering at people’s lawns as I rode by. Would Robin Hood try to find a place like Sherwood Forest?

We didn’t have any forests around, but a lot of trees grew in yards.

Maybe the men had climbed some and were hiding there. I looked up at every tree I passed but I didn’t see them. Maybe they had found a deserted building. I headed toward the center of town, riding through street after street, searching for any sort of clue.

Everything seemed normal.

Navigating around downtown was hard. Cars zipped past me impatiently, driving by so closely that I kept jerking away from them.

After a while, I headed into another neighborhood. There was nothing unusual there either, except for me, riding aimlessly around in the dark. I was getting tired. I stopped my bike to rest and took the pathetic-o-meter out of my purse. “Look,” I told it, “I need to find Robin Hood before he runs somebody through with a sword or the police shoot him. Can you help me?”

As I watched, the lettering changed on the dial. I held my breath, thrilled for the magical help, until I read the new sentence: Talks to inanimate objects.

I was now 83 percent pathetic.

“Great,” I said. “Just great.” I shoved the pathetic-o-meter back into my purse. “See if I ever speak to you again.” I didn’t check to see if yelling at inanimate objects had made the pathetic-o-meter go up. I might as well head home. I didn’t have the stamina to keep pedaling for much longer.

I rode back to town sullenly, mumbling Chrissy’s name every once in a while. I wasn’t sure how her job interview as a muse had gone, but she certainly wasn’t inspiring anything but stomach ulcers for me.



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