Whatever After #4: Dream On (3 page)

I
squeeze Robin’s hands again and again. “Robin, wake up! You have to wake up!” I whimper.

Her eyelids don’t even flicker. Robin is out cold.

Lottie frowns. “Her fault. She should have been more careful.”

I can’t help but agree.

“What’s going on?” Jonah asks, chewing his bottom lip. “Why is she asleep? Where are we?”

I keep hand-squeezing as I answer. “We’re in the story of
Sleeping Beauty
. And Robin pricked herself on the pointy part of the sewing contraption! And she’s, obviously, sound asleep.”

“Does that mean we messed up the story?” Jonah asks.

“I don’t know,” I snap. Just because Jonah didn’t pay attention to our nana’s stories doesn’t mean I should have to explain everything to him all the time. “Let’s try and wake her up. ROBIN, WAKE UP!” I yell again, an inch from her face.

“You two better be quiet,” Lottie snaps. “The princess is about to come in here and she needs to prick her finger.”

I ball my hands into fists. “We need to help our friend! Do you know how to wake her up?”

“She’s not my problem,” Lottie retorts. “And you need to get out of the way.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” I insist, putting my fists on my hips. No way am I leaving Robin.

“Then you better hide so the princess doesn’t see you. And be quiet!”

I grab Jonah by the hand and we crouch between the curved wall and the bed.

“Who’s Lottie?” he asks.

Who
is
Lottie? “If we’re in
Sleeping Beauty
and Lottie is a villain, then she is probably … the evil fairy?!” I squeeze my brother’s hand. This could be dangerous.

“What makes the evil fairy evil?” my brother asks. “Can you tell me the whole story, please?”`

I sigh. “Okay. A king and queen were having trouble having a baby. But eventually a princess was born. They invited twelve fairies to a party to celebrate her birth. All the fairies in the kingdom except for one.”

He shakes his head solemnly. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“It certainly wasn’t,” Lottie pipes in. “In fact, it’s
extremely
rude. And hurtful.”

Jonah nods in agreement. “At school you can’t just leave one kid off your birthday list. You have to invite the whole class.”

Lottie squares her shoulders. “That is a
very
good rule.”

“They didn’t invite her because they had only twelve sets of gold plates instead of thirteen,” I say. “I don’t know why they couldn’t just use paper plates. But anyway, each fairy gave the princess a magical gift.”

Jonah’s eyes widen. “Like what? Real crocodiles that know karate?”

I snort. “No. Useful things like courage and kindness. Intelligence and beauty. The ability to play the piano.”

“I can already play the piano,” Jonah remarks.

“‘Chopsticks’ does not count,” I counter.

He juts out his chin. “Does so.”

“Enough,” Lottie says. “You guys are way too loud.”

I tell the rest of the story in whispers close to Jonah’s ear so Lottie can’t hear.

“The eleventh fairy had just given her gift when the thirteenth fairy — Lottie, I guess — stormed into the party all mad at being overlooked. She said she had a gift for the princess: When the princess turned fifteen, she’d prick her finger on a spindle … and die.” I pause, realizing something. “Oh. Right. That’s what the pointy part is called. The spindle.”

“That’s the worst birthday present ever,” Jonah whispers. His breath smells like marshmallows. Did he not brush his teeth after the s’mores? Apparently my brother needs a lesson on proper dental hygiene. Where was I? Oh, right.

“Luckily, the twelfth fairy hadn’t had her turn yet. She said she couldn’t undo the older fairy’s spell — the thirteenth fairy was really old and powerful — but she could soften it. She said that instead of dying when she pricked herself, the princess would fall into a deep sleep. After a hundred years, a prince would wake her up. The king and queen still didn’t want that to happen, though. So they banned all spindles from the kingdom.”

“Not all of them.” Jonah motions to the one in front of us.

“Good point,” I whisper back. Then I try to stretch my legs. My feet are tingling. “Seems like this one slipped through their fingers. Anyway. One day when Sleeping Beauty was fifteen, she was exploring the palace. She went into a tower and saw the spindle. She pricked her finger by accident and fell into a deep sleep, and everyone in the castle fell asleep, too. No one took care of the palace and it became overgrown with vines and leaves. A hundred years later a prince cut through them all and found Sleeping Beauty. He kissed her and woke her up. Everyone else in the family woke up, too. And they lived —”

“Happily ever after,” Jonah said. “I figured. So what do you think is going to happen next? Is Sleeping Beauty going to show up now and accidentally prick her finger and then fall asleep next to Robin? The bed is pretty small.”

“I guess so.”

Clomp, clomp, clomp
.

Lottie perks up.

“Someone’s coming up the stairs!” Jonah exclaims.

“SHHHH!” Lottie hisses in our direction.

“So what do we do?” Jonah asks. “Do we let her prick her finger like she’s supposed to?”

“I guess so,” I say. “She gets a happy ending. Might as well leave it as it is.”

Clomp, clomp, clomp!

Jonah and I both duck.

The door is thrown open and a teenage girl bursts into the room. She has straight blond hair, pale skin, pink cheeks, and big blue eyes. She’s tall but delicate looking. She looks a lot like the Sleeping Beauty on my jewelry box, except here she’s awake. She’s wearing a red dress cinched at the waist with a sparkly gold sash. She’s also wearing a gold crown. She has a determined look on her face.

“Hello!” Lottie says to the princess super-casually. Her pretend smile returns, looking just as fake as it did before. “You must be the princess. Come on in.”

Any second now, the princess is going to approach the spindle and accidentally prick her finger. Then the story can go on the way it’s supposed to. We’ll just have to figure out how to wake up Robin.

The princess opens her mouth to speak.

I expect her to say something like “Oh! What could that be?” or “I’ve never seen that before. Maybe I should touch it!”

But instead she says, “Finally! A spindle!”

“Huh?” Lottie mutters.

I am thinking the same thing.

Sleeping Beauty ignores Lottie. She rushes right to the sewing contraption and stops short an inch away.

“Future life, future prince, here I come,” she says dreamily, reaching her hand out toward the spindle.

What does she mean? She
wants
to touch the spindle on purpose? She
wants
to prick her finger?

“Ouch!” she cries as the needle pierces her skin. A speck of blood pops up on her finger.

Here we go! I stay in my hiding spot and wait for her to swoon into a deep sleep. Then we can get back to the task at hand: waking Robin.

I continue waiting.

And wait some more.

Sleeping Beauty just stands there.

She is not falling asleep. She is not even yawning.

Uh-oh.

I know what this means.

We messed up another fairy tale.

Y
ou’re supposed to fall asleep!” Lottie shouts at the princess. She jumps off her bench and stomps her foot against the hard floor, looking very annoyed.

Jonah and I exchange a glance. I don’t know what to do. Should I speak up or stay hidden behind the bed?

“I don’t understand, either,” Sleeping Beauty says, rubbing her forehead. “Since the day I turned fifteen I’ve been searching
everywhere
for a spindle.
Everywhere
. Behind chairs. In closets. Under stairs. Now I finally find one, I prick my finger on it, and I don’t fall asleep? How is that possible? I’m supposed to fall asleep for a hundred years and be woken up by my prince in the future!” She shoves her finger back at the spindle and pricks herself again. “Why. Isn’t. This. Working?!”

I thought she was the clueless princess who wandered into the attic and touched the spindle by accident!

“Um. Hi,” I finally say, rising from my hiding place. “Don’t be alarmed. We’re just two kids who happen to be in our pajamas. We’re confused about what’s happening here. You know about the curse?”

“Of course I know about the curse!” she hollers. She’s clearly too upset to be curious about who we are. “My parents are obsessed with the curse! They’ve been warning me about spindles for years. Don’t go near them; don’t touch them; be careful, if you prick your finger you’re going to fall asleep for a hundred years, blah, blah, blah. They won’t stop talking about the dangers of spindles.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “Then why did you touch one?”

The princess’s face turns even pinker. “Because it’s my destiny! Because living a hundred years from now will be amazing. I bet in a hundred years you won’t have to climb a thousand stairs to get to an attic. You’ll just get inside a small box, press a button, and be pulled to the top!”

“You mean an elevator,” Jonah says, standing up, too.

The princess frowns. “I don’t know what that is. And I don’t understand who you two are. Or you,” she says, motioning with her pricked finger to Lottie. “But I do know that a prince is supposed to wake me. And that would just be the beginning. My life was going to be perfect.” She closes her eyes and wears a pained expression.

“What could be wrong with your life now?” I wonder aloud. “You’re a princess!”

“A
cursed
princess,” Jonah adds.

“Still,” I say. “There are way worse curses.” Then I glance back at Sleeping Beauty. “But you are right. Your prince was going to wake you, and you were going to get married and live happily ever after.”

She frowns at me. “How do you know?” she asks. “Are you from the future?”

“Kind of,” I say. “Where I live, we know your whole story from beginning to end.”

Lottie nervously bites her thumbnail. “I can’t believe it didn’t work,” she mutters. “My mother is going to freak.”

Huh? “Who’s your mother?”

“Carlotta!” she replies. “The thirteenth fairy!”

Sleeping Beauty gasps. “The thirteenth fairy!”

What?
“Lottie’s mother is the thirteenth fairy?” I guess she isn’t the villain herself, but daughter of a villain is close enough.

“Yes,” Lottie says. “I’m Carlotta the Second. Lottie.”

“But you’re so old! How old is your mother?” Jonah asks. “A hundred?”

“No,” Lottie titters, and nibbles her pinkie nail. “She’s seventy. Since her retirement, I’ve taken over her wand and all her fairy responsibilities. Including you.” She nods toward Sleeping Beauty. “This is terrible. Absolutely awful. I have to tell my mother what happened at once. She’s going to be very upset.” With a poof of sparkle, Lottie disappears.

“Wait!” Sleeping Beauty calls out, but it’s too late. “Now what? Why didn’t the spell work?”

I look at Robin and then back at Sleeping Beauty. Robin is asleep. Sleeping Beauty is awake. I clear my throat.

“I’m sorry, but I think my friend Robin accidentally used up your spell.”

“Who?” Sleeping Beauty asks, but then she notices Robin lying on the bed with her eyes shut. “Is that Robin? Why is she sleeping? Who is she? And who are you people? Can someone explain what’s happening?”

“I’m Abby,” I say, standing up straight. “And this is my little brother, Jonah. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Hey, there,” Jonah says. “Is your real name Sleeping Beauty?”

“No,” she says. She sits down on the bench and slumps. “It’s Princess Brianna.”

Jonah nods. “Can I call you Bri?”

“Sure,” Brianna says. “I like it. It sounds almost …”

“Like a cheese,” I say. A delicious, fancy cheese — but still a cheese.

“Like a name from the future,” she finishes, brightening. “Brianna is such an old-fashioned name. And I am all about the future.”

“Maybe you should try the spindle thing again,” Jonah says.

Princess Brianna pokes her pinkie against the needle and winces. “This finger is a lot more sensitive than the other one. And it still didn’t work!” She glares at Robin. “Did that girl really use up my spell?”

“Seems that way,” I say sheepishly.

Her shoulders sag. “Does that mean she’s going to marry my prince, too?”

“Oh, um, no,” I say. “No way. She can’t stay asleep for a hundred years. She needs to wake up. Soon. We need to get home. Her mother is picking her up at ten.”

I glance down at my watch. Then I realize I am not wearing it. Argh. I took it off before bed. I was not expecting to go kingdom-hopping tonight.

“Never mind. What time is it
here
?” I ask.

“It’s just after lunch,” Bri says. “Around twelve forty-five.”

Time back home is always slower than time in fairy tale kingdoms. When we were in the kingdom of Mustard, every hour at home was a day in fairy tale land.

Hmm. Maybe a hundred years here isn’t long at all. Maybe a year here is only a day at home. Or maybe a year here is only a minute at home. So a hundred years will pass in a hundred minutes. That’s less than two hours.

“If only we knew what time it is back home,” I sigh. I gaze out the skylight and into the clouds. It’s getting gray out there.

“It’s a quarter to one back home,” Jonah says.

I look down at him. “How do you know that?”

He waves his electronic game in front of me. “This tells the time.”

“Wait. You’ve had that with you all along?”

He nods. “It was in my pajama pants between my tummy and the elastic band.”

I grab the game and see that it does indeed tell the time. Twelve forty-seven, to be exact. “You’re lucky you didn’t lose it.”

He snorts. “You’re lucky I know what time it is.”

I shove the game back at him. “If it’s twelve forty-seven during the day here and twelve forty-seven in the middle of the night
there
, then, even though there is a twelve-hour time difference, time is passing at the same speed here as it is back home.”

“So a hundred years here is a hundred years there,” Jonah says.

My stomach sinks. “What are we going to do?” I turn to Robin and shake her by the arm. “WAKE UP, ROBIN, WAKE UP!”

Instead of waking up, she lets out a tiny snore.

What now?