1 Dewitched (5 page)

 “Fattie!” screams Sasperilla, flicking crumbs off her frilly gown as if they’re deadly insects.

 Winifred’s freckles explode like fireworks, turning her whole face red. Clenching her fists, she looks ready to charge.

  Great. The party’s about to get bigger. The ugly troll is limping our way. His stony eyes fixate on me. What’s your problem, mister? On second thought, I
don’t
want to know. I’ve had it with these whackos.

“How’s everyone doing?” It’s Fanta. Her two big-butt sisters join her just in time to prevent a brawl between Sasperilla and Winifred.

“People, finish up,” says Flossie.

“It’s time for your morning meditation,” says Fairweather.

Meditation?
Now, what poison are they springing on me?

 Elzmerelda tells me that meditation teaches us to stay focused on the present while turbulent thoughts and emotions swirl through our heads. “Getting in touch with your inner spirituality is another part of the healing process."

Inner spirituality?
What the hell is she talking about? It gets worse. She rambles on, spewing more mumbo jumbo like “life affirmation,” “self-realization,” and “emotional awareness.” 

 “It’s a stupid waste of time!” snorts Sasperilla.

Reluctantly, the skinny bitch sits down on the grass with her sister, the fatty, and the catatonic troll in a cross-legged pose. Fanta leads them in some ridiculous “hang-out-in-the-light” incantation. I refuse to join in. 

 Flossie takes me aside. “Don’t worry, dear. Grass stains don’t hurt so please find a place with the others.” She gently takes me by the hand and then shoves me to the ground. The nerve of her! I’m going to file a complaint for excessive force.
Fairy brutality!
When they find out I’m a queen, they’ll shut this place down. And I’ll be free to go!

Right now, I have no choice but to chant along while Flossie keeps her stink eye on me. She’ll probably batter me with her wand if I don’t cooperate. And break my nose and knock out my teeth! I’ll never ever be
Fairest of All
again! Talking about turbulent thoughts! Chanting isn’t going to help me.

 “Close your eyes and repeat after me,” says Fanta. Waving her wand, she chants:

“I am here to be helped.

To share. To be one with me.

On whatever level, I can find myself

To become the me I need to be.”

I have no idea what these words mean. But when I say them, a peacefulness saturates my body and mind. I’m no longer on this planet. I’m in a higher place. A place where everything is possible. Even going back to my castle and forgiving my mirror.

“Isn’t Fanta amazing?” singsongs Elzmerelda when our meditation ends. “She and her sisters were once able to put an entire kingdom to sleep.”

 I hate to admit it, but I’ve never felt so good. I feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe, this place is some kind of spa after all. Okay, it’s a little run down and caters to a bunch of crazies, but nonetheless, it’s got spa potential.

Fairweather waddles up to me. She hands me a map showing the layout of the castle and grounds. “My dear, it’s time for you to meet your personal therapist.”

 
A therapist?
Faraway
is
a real spa! At last, I’m getting a massage. A facial and quick body wrap can’t be far behind. In no time, they’ll let me out of this joint. Renewed! Refreshed! Revitalized! Ready to reclaim my place as
Fairest of All.

***

Following the directions of the map, I find myself humping the never-ending spiral staircase of a towering turret. With every step, I get more and more winded. The massage room is located at the very top. What a stupid place to put it! Then again, maybe they deliberately want you to feel wasted to appreciate your massage. That’s
if
you make it. I may not.

 At last, I reach my destination. Breathing heavily, I stagger into a small circular room. It’s sparsely decorated with only a simple round wall clock and a single piece of furniture--a burgundy velvet chaise lounge. Although worn and faded, the chaise looks comfortable and inviting. This must be where I lie down and get my massage. Wasting no time, I sink into it. I’m so ready to surrender my body.

Just as I relax, a tiny winged creature zips in like a streak of lightning, drenching me in a shower of sparkling dust. I cough.
What the--

“Hello, Jane. I’m Shrinkerbell, but you can all me Shrink. I’ll be your personal therapist here at Faraway.”

What kind of massage therapist is this? She’s the size of a sparrow, with hands no bigger than a bird’s claws and thick round spectacles that make her look bug-eyed. Buzzing around the room, she’s as calming as a mosquito.

 “So that you know, Tinkerbell is my fraternal twin. She got the looks; I got the brains.” She runs one of her tiny hands through a messy pouf of blond hair. “Who do you think came up with the Peter Pan complex? Me, that’s who! It kills me that my in-your-face sister always gets the credit.”

Why is she telling me all this stuff? She’s taking precious time away from my massage. I’m going to demand an extra fifteen minutes if she doesn’t get going.

She swoops down from the ceiling. “Sorry for getting carried away with my issues.  We’re here to talk about yours. First, do you have any questions?” 

 “Yes. Can you go deep?” I read in one of those beauty magazines that a deep tissue massage can magically restore your beauty.

 “Yes, I like to go as deep as possible with all my clients. My goal is to find the underlying causes of their problems.” 

Great, because I feel like crap. I’m not sure if it’s the lack of coffee, the climb, or mirror withdrawal. I still have a pounding headache, and my body is aching all over. Plus, the damn dust is stinging my eyes.

 “Just one other little question. Can I borrow a mirror before we begin?” Someone around this joint has got to have one.

 “Ah, yes,” she replies.

Finally! A mirror!

“I’ve read your case history. Quite complex, indeed. Has anyone ever told you what you look like?”

“Actually, I had a magic mirror that did a pretty good job until this little shrew named Snow White got it distracted.” 

She zooms in closer and circles my head. Talking about someone being in your face.

“Your nose is too long; your lips are too big; your cheekbones are too high, and your eyes, although a lovely shade of green, are too far apart.”

Her words hit me like a cannonball. “Liar!” 

“Jane, having to face the truth is the start of recovery.”

“Give me a mirror!” I demand.

She pulls out a tiny glass object from a pocket.

“Give me that!” I grab for it.

She zips off before I can snatch it. “No, Jane, this is
my
magic mirror.” 

Clasping the small object in her tiny hands, she examines every inch of my face. I try again to snag the mirror, but her trail of fairy dust is blinding me.

“Ah! I’ve discovered a freckle.” 

A freckle!?
I bolt to a sitting position, clutching my stomach like someone’s punched it. I knew all the sunshine around this place would do me in. I’ll never be the fairest again! I’m ruined!

A mixture of rage and despair boils inside me. Grasping at air, I finally snatch the looking glass and hold it up to my face. I don’t see a damn thing. That’s because it’s a magnifying glass, not a mirror. I refuse to believe her. She’s deliberately messing with my head. She deserves to die! 

I hold out my hands and get ready to smoosh her between my palms.
Clap!
She flits off just in the nick of time.

I rub my prickling hands together as she flutters overhead out of reach.

“You have numerous imperfections, but they come together in an interesting, attractive way. Remember, Jane, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.”

“Are we done here?” I say, gritting my teeth.

 “No, Jane, we’ve just begun.” 

A chime from the clock sounds.

“Time’s up for today. I’ll see you here tomorrow at the same time.” 

Like a shooting star, she’s gone, leaving a streak of sparkling fairy dust in her wake.

I choke. Obviously, I’m not getting a massage.

***

 Every muscle in my body is twitching from that bogus therapist. She thinks I’m going to see her tomorrow? Not a chance in hell. I’m going to figure a way out of here. The good news is I’ve got a map. Following it, I head back to my room. I’ll take a quick nap to unknot my body and brain, then study it. Seriously, how hard can it be?

The moment I step foot inside the castle, Fairweather thrusts a bucket and mop at me.

“Ha-ha! It’s your day to do the floors,” snickers Sasperilla.

Flossie tosses her a feather duster. “You’ll be keeping her company.”

Scary-Skinny scrunches up her face in disgust. 

Rage is rising inside me. I demand to know what’s going on.

“Everyday, after morning meditation, we have castle clean-up,” explains Elzmerelda as she polishes a bureau. “The Good Fairies believe that hard work builds strong bodies and minds.” 

Is she joking? Haven’t those cheapskates heard of the word “servant”? 

“Jane, what are you waiting for? Get going!” snaps Fanta, jabbing her wand into my back.

 These Badass Fairies aren’t life coaches; they’re slave drivers.

“During clean-up, we all take turns meeting with Shrink,” Elzmerelda tells me after they fly off. “Winnie’s meeting with her now. Then it’s Sassy’s turn, What’s-His-Name’s, and finally mine.” 

I’m hardly listening to a word she’s saying. I’m too busy squeezing water out of the mop.

Sasperilla tickles my nose with her duster. “Having fun yet?”

It’s bad enough I’m doing slave labor, but there’s no way I’m putting up with Skinny Bitch’s sarcasm. I toss the bucket of dirty water at her. She shrieks.

“Now, I am.” I smile. She looks like a drowned rat.

Before Sasperilla can retaliate, Fanta flies in, touching down between us.

“Look what she did to me!” screeches Sasperilla, wringing out her soggy curls.

“You can talk all about it with Shrink.” Grabbing her by the elbow, Fanta steers her toward the front door.

 Sasperilla turns her head and sticks her tongue out at me. I give her my always-effective icy stare. 

“Get back to work,” Fanta barks at me.

The Badass Fairy’s words echo in my head, and I’m suddenly a little girl again, scrubbing the gritty stone floor of the cramped, one-story flat I share with my mother. A chorus of voices coming from outside distracts me, and I peek out the window. Children are playing on the street. They’re laughing, singing, having fun. How I long to join them! “Jane, what are you doing?” yells my mother. Yanking me by my hair, she shoves my head into the bucket of dirty water. I hold my breath, counting the seconds, not daring to open my eyes to the sting of the septic suds. Thirty-one…thirty-two…thirty-three… Finally, she jerks me out. She throws a mop at me and hisses, “Get back to work!”

I mop the castle floor frantically to erase the memory.
I hate you, Fanta.

CHAPTER 6

All this dreadful mopping has worked up my appetite. I’m starving. Finally, Flossie reappears and announces lunch. 

This time our meal is indoors in a large banquet hall, if you can call it that. There’s nothing more than a few rectangular wooden tables with chairs and a buffet. The walls, like everything else in this dump, are painted yellow, and the floor-to-ceiling windows allow the sun to shine through brightly. There’s just no escaping the sun around this joint.

Fairweather toddles up to me. “Jane, you’re on table setting duty. The silverware is in the buffet. And tonight after dinner, you have clean-up. Now, get going!”

The nerve of her bossing me around! Hasn’t someone told these Badass Fairies that I’m a queen? Hello!
I
am the one who gives orders. Even in that dreary dungeon, they treated me with the respect I deserve. They didn’t make me do these awful fit-for-a-servant chores. And maybe the food wasn’t so great, but at least I got room service. If I don’t escape this joint, I’m going to demand a transfer back there.

***

 “Lunch is one of our best meals!” says Elzmerelda. Holding a plate full of assorted cheeses, salads and breads, she takes a seat at the last table I’m setting.

I fling the rest of the silverware on the table and head over to the lunch line. Ravenous, I pile up my plate. Miss Scary-Skinny is in front of me. She hesitantly puts a few greens on her plate. Miss Fat-and-Freckled, who’s behind me, eats for two, loading way more on her plate than me. She slyly sneaks an extra piece of bread into her pocket. Fanta catches her in the act and immediately confiscates it.

“Remember, Winifred, you are what you eat,” she chides.

Scary-Skinny directs a couple of pig-like snorts at the overweight woman.

“And the same goes for you, Sasperilla,” snaps the plump fairy. “You’re not leaving this room until you eat this piece of bread. And I’ll be watching every bite.”

 “See, I told you they were spies!” sneers Sasperilla. 

I’m beginning to believe her.

***

I take a seat at Elzmerelda’s table, between Sasperilla and Winifred. The troll, the last in line, teeter-totters over to another table and eats alone.

 “So, what are you here for?” I ask Winifred after a bite of a surprisingly tasty cheese.

The fat woman gulps down a mouthful of buttered bread. “I had what they call a psychotic breakdown.” She gazes down at her plate, shamefully. “I tried to kill my own children.” 

Cripes! And they thought I was evil. I merely tried to kill my stepdaughter. We weren’t even related by blood.

 “Ha! I bet she tried to eat them!” snickers Sasperilla as she expertly sneaks her bread under the table.