If the Shoe Fits (Whatever After #2) (5 page)

BOOK: If the Shoe Fits (Whatever After #2)
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I
wake up to the sound of screaming.

“My foot! Ouch, my foot! What happened to my foot?”

I bolt upright to see Cinderella clutching her left foot and howling.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“My foot is wrong! Look at it!” She thrusts it in my face.

I have never seen a foot quite like this.

It is black.

It is blue.

Her toes are the size of marshmallows and the entire thing is bloated.

Is it a foot or a balloon?

“Is that from dropping the glass slipper on it?” Jonah asks.

“No, it’s from playing the piano with my toes,” she replies sarcastically. “Of course it’s from dropping the glass slipper on it! It’s completely swollen. And it hurts!”

I shake my head. “I knew we should have put ice on it.”

She tries to stand up, but then grimaces and falls back down onto the straw. “How am I supposed to do my chores? I can barely stand.”

“Cinderella! Cinderella! Where are you? Are you still sleeping?” yells a voice from downstairs.

“Oh, no,” Cinderella wails. “That’s Betty! My stepmother! I must have overslept! I have to make breakfast!”

Excuse me for a second. Betty? Her stepmother’s name is Betty? That doesn’t sound right. Betty sounds like a nana. Or someone who bakes cakes. It doesn’t sound like an evil stepmother.

Cinderella tries to stand up again, but she winces as she puts weight on her foot. “I need to get dressed. And you two need to get out of here. I’m not allowed to have guests.”

“Where are we supposed to go?” I ask. “We have to find the mirror that takes us home.”

“You tried all the mirrors here,” Cinderella says. “Go try other ones.”

“But we don’t know where else to go!” I say. “If the mirrors here don’t work and the mirrors at the palace don’t work, which mirrors will?”

Cinderella shakes her head. “I am not a mirror expert!” She hobbles over to the closet, opens the door, and stands behind it for privacy. When she closes it again, she’s wearing a long-sleeved gray dress. “Now where did I put my shoes?”

“Your glass slipper?” Jonah asks.

“No, my work shoes. There they are.” She spots a pair of loafer-like shoes at the door and limps toward them. She slides the right one on, no problem, and then tries to put on the left shoe. “Oh, crow, my foot is too swollen. I can’t get the shoe on. I’m going to have to go barefoot.”

Uh-oh.

I steal a look at the broken glass slipper that’s lying by the wall. It’s the right shoe.

Which means the prince has the left shoe.

If the loafer doesn’t fit her left foot, then the glass slipper won’t, either.

Crumbs.

If the glass slipper doesn’t fit Cinderella, she isn’t going to be able to prove she’s the girl the prince danced with at the ball. They won’t get married. She’ll be stuck here forever.

I look at Jonah. He looks at me. He knows. He knows I know.

We did it again. We landed in a fairy tale and we messed things up.

Now what?

“Uh-oh,” Jonah says. “Her foot is a basketball.”

“Everyone shush!” I say. “I need to think. We need to fix this.”

Cinderella waves her hand in the air. “Fix what? I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me here. Can you fill me in?”

I really don’t want to.

“Your foot isn’t going to fit the glass slipper,” Jonah blurts out.

“It won’t fit
today
,” I say. “We’ll take her to a doctor. Or it could still heal in time. We don’t know when the prince is coming. Maybe he’s not coming for another week. Her foot won’t stay like this forever. It’ll heal. It’s probably not broken. It’s probably just a sprain.”

“Abby,” Jonah calls out pointing to the wall. “It’s okay! Look!” He’s pointing at the slightly broken slipper on the shelf.
“We can show the prince’s assistant that one. Cinderella will try it on her good foot and it will fit and our problem is solved.”

Oh! Yay! “Jonah, you’re right! Shoe problem solved!”

“Cinderella!” the voice from downstairs yells. It’s getting closer. “You missed breakfast! We had to butter our own bread and brew our own tea! Where are you?”

“I’m coming!” Cinderella calls. “It’s my stepmother!” she hisses to us. “She can’t come in here! She’ll see you!”

“Cinderella, I’m coming in,” the voice says.

“Hide!” Cinderella whispers to us, her eyes wide with fear.

I look around the room. Hide where? There is nowhere to hide! There is just straw! No beds! No curtains! No nothing.

Oh, wait. There’s the closet. We can hide in there. We’ll be super quiet. She won’t even notice us! We’ll be invisible! Like mice! Instead of bothering to motion to Jonah, I jump up, grab his arm, and hustle toward the closet.

We can make it! We can make it!

The door to Cinderella’s room swings opens just as Jonah and I are scrambling into the closet. I’m about to close the closet door behind us when —
Bam!
Jonah bumps his head into my back, I lose my balance, I fall against the wall, I extend out my arms try to stop myself from crashing to the floor, I knock
over the tin bucket that’s sitting on the shelf — and
clang! Smash!

The tin bucket knocks over the only-slightly broken glass slipper. The only-slightly broken glass slipper crashes to the floor and smashes into a million pieces. It’s now a VERY broken glass slipper.

Crumbs.

Shoe problem unsolved.

C
inderella, what are you doing —” Betty stops in mid-sentence. “Excuse me! Young man! Young lady in the Floom flag! Who are you people?”

She’s taller than I expected. Taller than Kayla. And scarier. She’s wearing a long brown skirt and a tucked-in green blouse. She has thick straight gray hair that falls past her shoulders, straight bangs across her forehead, a narrow nose, thin lips, and beady brown eyes.

Betty definitely does not look like a Betty. A Betty would smile at me and offer me milk and cookies. Or maybe some
brownies. A Betty would never glare at me like I was some sort of cockroach dashing across her floor.

Think fast, Abby, think fast. Why are we here? I know! When in doubt, be polite! “Hi,” I say. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“It is?” Jonah and Cinderella both ask.

“Jinx,” Jonah calls.

Betty takes a step closer to me. “Who are you?”

“I’m Abby,” I say, “and this is my brother, Jonah.”

“We’re from Smithville,” Jonah adds.

Betty frowns. “And you are here, why?”

“Be-because …” Hmm. Long-lost cousins? I glance back at the bucket that unsolved my shoe problem and get an idea. “We’re Cinderella’s replacements!”

Betty clicks her tongue. “Do tell, why are we replacing Cinderella? Is she going somewhere?”

“As a matter of fact I am,” Cinderella says haughtily. “I am going to —”

Oh, no! She can’t mention the prince! “She’s going to need help —” I interject while pinching Cinderella’s arm.

“Ow!”

“— since she busted her foot. We’re not really replacements,” I add. “We’re more like helpers.”

Betty’s beady brown eyes nearly bug out of her head at the sight of the overstuffed toes. “How did that happen?”

“Well,” Cinderella begins. “Last night I dropped a glass sl —”

Nooooooo! “Sled,” I interject, pinching her again. “She dropped a glass
sled
on her foot.” Oops. That just came out.

“What is a glass sled?” Betty asks.

“You know,” I say, stalling. “A sled. For sledding?”

“Down a hill!” Jonah adds. “I love sleds! We have one at home! It’s wood, though. But I bet glass ones are slippier.”

“Yes,” I say. “Exactly. Much slippier.” I really can’t believe the words that are coming out of my mouth.

“But there’s no snow outside. Where was she using a sled?” Betty asks. “And where did she get it?”

Right. Good points. “She found it in the neighbor’s trash,” I say. “Now we know why they were throwing it away. Dangerous things, these glass sleds. Especially when used down staircases.”

Betty stares at me.

“Obviously she would have used it outside if there’d been snow,” I add. “But there isn’t.” That kind of makes sense, doesn’t it?

Do I sound as ridiculous as I think I do? Cinderella is bright red. Jonah is twisting his bottom lip. So yeah, I probably do.

Betty scans the attic. “Then where is said sled now?”

She’s got me there. No. No, no, no. I will not let her win this! Where is the glass sled now? I know! “After it busted Cinderella’s foot, I had to throw it out. Like the neighbors did. Wise people, those neighbors.”

Jonah wags his finger like he’s talking to a dog. “Bad sled. Bad, bad sled.”

“But how did you two end up here?” Betty asks.

How did we end up here? Good question. I’m guessing that the magic mirror explanation isn’t something I should share.

“She delivered the newspaper,” Cinderella offers.

Way to go, Cindy! “Yes!” I cheer. “I was delivering the newspaper. Exactly. And I heard Cinderella scream when she landed at the bottom of the staircase.”

“That makes no sense. Why is her foot swollen? You don’t get swollen feet from falling down the stairs. You get a broken back or a concussion or —”

“Um, because when she picked up the sled to throw it out, she dropped it on her foot.” There. Whew. “And then she screamed a second time, and I came running in. Your door was unlocked, by the way. Not a safe practice.” Oh, I’m good! “She told me she had chores to do, so I offered to help her until she gets better.”

Betty looks at me suspiciously. “Where are the rest of the newspapers?”

“We gave them out,” I say quickly. “And then we came back.”

Betty throws up her hands. “But why are you helping her? What’s she giving you in return?”

“We’re helping her because we’re nice,” Jonah says. “We don’t mind. That’s what nice people do. They help each other.”

Betty’s beady brown eyes narrow. She’s not buying it. She doesn’t understand what nice is! I need to speak her language. “Also,” I add, “she’s teaching us to speak English.”

Betty raises an overly penciled-in and slightly uneven eyebrow. “It sounds to me like you already know how to speak English.”

“She’s teaching us to speak gooder,” Jonah pipes up.

“Cinderella is a … a … a …
dortun jombi
,” I say. “That’s means ‘good teacher’ in Smithvillian. That’s the language we speak in Smithville. Also —”

“Okay, I don’t care,” Betty says, looking bored. “If you want to help Cinderella while her foot is out of commission, knock yourself out. We’re going to be busy, anyway. Since you delivered the paper, I assume you’ve all read the news?”

“Absolutely,” I say, nodding. “Can you just remind us what it says?”

“Only that the prince has announced that he will marry whoever fits the glass slipper he found at the ball. His assistant will begin to visit all the households in the kingdom later today. So you three had better get started cleaning the house. Start in here. There’s glass all over the floor.”

Oh, no! Today already?

I look at Cinderella’s foot.

Uh-oh.

“We have a
relamo
,” Jonah says, after Betty leaves.

“A what?” I ask.


Relamo
is Smithvillian for problem,” he says.

Hardy har har.

W
hat are we going to do?” I ask.

“This really
is
a
relamo
,” Cinderella says, frowning. “If the prince’s assistant comes today, my foot is definitely not going to fit in the glass slipper.”

“Right,” I say.

“What should the Smithvillian word for ‘trouble’ be?” Jonah asks. “
Dessinsty
?”

“Jonah,” I say. “Try to focus.”

“Maybe he won’t come today,” Cinderella says wistfully. “Maybe he’ll come tomorrow.”

I check out the state of Cinderella’s foot. “I don’t think it’s fitting tomorrow, either.”

“So what do I do?” she asks. “I need it to fit!”

“You could always cut off one of your toes,” Jonah says. “Like in the Grimm story.”

Cinderella gasps. “That is, indeed, a grim story.”

“Jonah, that’s disgusting!” I say.

“I was just kidding,” he says. “That would hurt. Although it would be really cool.”

There has to be a solution. “Oh! I know!” I say. It’s so easy! “You have a fairy godmother, right?”

Cinderella nods.

“So ask her to fix it! That’s what she’s there for. To fix things.”

“I guess I could do that,” Cinderella says.

“How do you get her to come?” Jonah asks. “Do you just call her?”

“Call her? Yes! Exactly. I call her name and she comes.” Cinderella tilts her head toward the chimney, “Farrah! Farrah! Yoo-hoo, you there?”

“She’s like Santa!” Jonah says.

A second later, a big puff of yellow is sparkling in the center
of the room. Then the sparkle slowly trickles to the ground, and I see her — the legendary fairy godmother.

She is not what I expected. I thought she’d be plump.

But she’s not. Instead, she’s super skinny. And she has big wide eyes that are green and smiling. Her hair is wild and curly and perched on her head in a loose bun. Instead of wearing a twirly dress, she’s wearing black leggings and a yellow sweater. She’s like a human bumblebee. Or not human, exactly. Are fairies human? At least I think she’s a fairy. I don’t see any wings. She’s holding a yellow-and-black swirly wand that looks like a candy cane. If candy canes were yellow and black.

“You’re the fairy godmother?” Jonah blurts out.

“I am. And you must be Abby and Jonah.”

“How did you know?” I ask.

She laughs. “Word gets around. So, Cinderella, what can I do for you?”

“You need to fix her foot,” I say. “It’s busted. It’s never going to fit the glass slipper the way it is now. And if it doesn’t fit the glass slipper, then she won’t be able to marry the prince.”

Farrah looks at Cinderella. “Is that what you want? To marry the prince?”

“Of course that’s what I want!” Cinderella says. “Why do you think I wanted to go to the balls? For the pigs-in-a-blanket? I need the prince to rescue me and get me out of this place.”

Farrah blinks. And then blinks again. “Excuse me?”

“I need him to rescue me,” she repeats. “Marrying him will save me from this miserable life.”

“And if you don’t mind,” I pipe in, “can you please direct us to the nearest magic mirror? We need to get home. Thank you for your time.”

This is perfect. All of our problems will be solved with one burst of yellow sparkle! Farrah will fix Cinderella’s foot and then send us home with a poof.

Farrah crosses her arms. “No.”

“Exqueeze me?” Did I hear her right?

“No,” she repeats.

Cinderella blinks. And then blinks again. “I don’t understand. Why not?”

“First of all, I don’t like being told what to do,” Farrah says, glaring at all of us. “And second, Cinderella, I don’t like this attitude of yours. Not one bit. You need to learn to rescue yourself! You need to learn to stand on your own two feet!”

“But my foot feels broken!” Cinderella whines. “I can’t stand at all!”

“Well, you’d better learn. You can’t rely on a prince to save you. You have to be self-reliant!”

“What’s self-reliant?” Jonah asks.

“It means relying on yourself,” I explain.

“I’m self-reliant,” he says.

I snort. “Please. You don’t even make your own bed.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to fix my foot today?” Cinderella asks meekly.

“I am not going to fix your foot today,” the fairy godmother says. I can’t believe how mean Farrah is being. None of the fairy tale versions mentioned this!

“We really need you to fix Cinderella’s foot
today
,” I say. “If the slipper doesn’t fit, we won’t be able to prove that Cinderella’s the right girl! Isn’t that why you sent her to the ball in the first place? So she could snag the prince?”

“Noooo,” Farrah says. “I sent her so she could have a night out on the town!”

“You never thought that the prince might fall in love with her?” I ask.

“I’m fine with the prince falling in love with her — I just don’t want her to be so needy about it.” Farrah shakes her head at Cinderella. “You’re not my only charge, you know. I’m the prince’s fairy godmother, too. I’ve known him since he was a baby — no way do I want him getting stuck with a whiny damsel in distress. He needs a partner in his life. After all, a queen must be strong. If you can prove to me you won’t be hanging on to his shirttails, I’ll help you snag him. Got it? Show me you can stand on your own two feet and I’ll fix your foot. I’m willing to help you — but only if you help yourself first.”

“But it will be too late!” I say. “The prince’s assistant is on his way now!”

“The assistant is at the other end of the kingdom. He won’t make it here until Tuesday afternoon. I’ll give you until Tuesday at noon to call for me and prove your self-reliance. It’s Sunday morning. You have two and a half days. Make them count.”

But — but — but … “Wait! Farrah? What about us? Can you help us find a magic mirror so we can go home?” I ask.

It’s too late. She’s gone in a puff of sparkle.

BOOK: If the Shoe Fits (Whatever After #2)
13.39Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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