My Fairy Godmonster (10 page)

“How generous, Otis,” says Weasel in a flat
voice.

His phone rings. “Excuse me.”

I hold my breath, hoping he doesn’t go in the
same direction as Faro. My eyes twitches and I can’t seem to get my
foot to stop tapping the floor.

He goes into the dining room.

I breathe a sigh until I see Fairy Godmonster
glide across the ceiling on silent skates. She winks and flicks her
red tail before disappearing into the living room. I gag on a
mouthful of oatmeal. Cough until I’m red and shake so much that
David pats me on the back.

“Relax, Win. Take a deep breath,” he
says.

I gasp for air and wonder who is going to
spot Fairy Godmonster first. My brain swims in dizziness.

Weasel pushes away from the table. “I would
like to schedule …”

David and John jump up.

“We’ll be with the horses, if you need us,”
says David.

Claire rises. “I’ll see if the limousine is
here.”

“I want to go!” whines Daria. “Please,
Mommy.”

“Oh, all right. Behave yourself.”

Daria runs after her sister. “Wait,
Claire!”

The kitchen is silent and I’m left alone with
Weasel. I practically swallow the rest of my breakfast whole. I
stumble up and head for the back door, barely able to walk.

Weasel’s eyes tighten to slits. “Just a
minute.” Her voice is sickeningly sweet. I cringe. “Daria told me
you are playing tricks and trying to scare her.”

“She was sneaking up on me.”

“You will leave my little girl alone. If
there are anymore incidents, your father will hear about this.”

“What are you going to do, lock me in the
attic?”

The air cracks with tension.

“Don’t ever talk back to me again.”

Her voice is like acid burning into my soul.
I don’t dare look at her or I might die on the spot.

I escape out the kitchen door saying, “I’ll
be with the horses all morning.”

She follows me. “Charles took the cell phone
and gave me the number. He is only a call away.”

With that threat, I escape out the door. Why
can’t Fairy Godmother turn Weasel into a toad instead of letting
her drive me crazy?

David is showing John how to snap the last
horse to the hot walker when I make it to the exercise arena.

John says, “Wow, this is some
contraption.”

The walker looks like a flat umbrella without
the covering. The spokes stick up from a five-foot base. The
horses, hooked to four, spaced arms, can walk at variable speeds
from a belt drive. The direction can be changed to exercise each
side of the horse.

David pulls a buzzing cell phone from a
pocket.

“Hello? Yes it is. What?” He looks at his
watch. “I’ll be there in about three hours.”

“What’s the matter?” John asks.

“There’s trouble with the shipment of
benches. The train derailed and they won’t make it in time for the
wedding. I have to go to Salem to find more.”

“When?” I ask.

“Now.” I don’t know when I’ll be able to come
back.”

“What about the horses?”

“You’ll have to show John how to do it. I’ll
tell Claire. Be good.” He kisses my cheek and is gone.

My heart sinks. I’m stranded with
strangers.

John smiles. “I bet you’ll be glad when the
wedding is over.”

“Yeah.” I can’t tell him I wish it wasn’t
even happening. Now, I’m saddled with everything. John is nice, but
I’m not going to ask him to help me with the housework.

“I’m going to ride a mare, John. Can you
watch the horses on the hot walker?”

“I’m a city boy. What happens if they act up
while you’re gone?”

“There shouldn’t be any trouble. Turn off the
hot walker if there is. I’ll be back in a half-hour to help you
switch them out.”

“Will do.”

“Thanks.”

I take Sunshine from her stall. She moves
reluctantly. I bridle her, but don’t put on her saddle. She likes
to puff out her pregnant belly and the saddle slips when she
relaxes. Guess I wouldn’t want anything around me if I had to carry
a baby for eleven months.

Leading her to a mounting block outside, I
glide onto her back. She’s a palomino, dark gold. The sun makes her
corn-silk mane look silver. We walk down one dirt path to the
forest. Her muscles move rhythmically under her golden body. We
turn a corner and I look back at the house.

Fairy Godmonster is standing on top of the
roof. Her hot pink dress flows with the breeze. It covers every
inch of her body and she still looks sexy. I frantically signal her
to get down before anybody sees her.

She waves back at me.

I make a ‘cutting-throat’ motion and she sits
down.

My horse picks up my nervousness and
crow-hops. I force myself to be calm and a few minutes later, I cut
the walk short because Sunshine decides she’s had enough exercise
and turns for home. Normally, I wouldn’t let a horse get away with
this kind of behavior, but I have a lot more to do before lunch and
I give her some leeway because she’s pregnant.

The rest of the morning goes smoothly. I show
John how to switch the horses on the hot walker and how to groom
them. Then I exercise the others. I miss lunch.

I’m ravenous when I enter the kitchen and
grab a banana. Everyone’s gone, but I hear loud voices coming out
of Dad’s bedroom.

“You might have told me about Claire staying
in Oregon.” Weasel’s voice slithers out through the open door.

I move closer to eavesdrop.

“I am sorry. It wouldn’t have made it any
easier on you. All mothers have to give up their children someday.”
Mr. Dudley’s voice is soothing. I wonder how he ever

married a woman like Weasel.

“You could have made the money conditional on
them staying in Boston.”

“Erminia, a gift is unconditional.”

“You know why I don’t want Claire in
Oregon.”

“It’s a big state. You’ve kept her birth
mother a secret so far.”

“Ssh!” Someone might hear. I don’t want
anyone to know about Melinda.”

Whoa! They know who Claire’s real Mom is? I
back away from the door as fast as I can. I don’t want to be caught
here.

Footsteps sound like they’re coming right at
me. I slip into my brother’s bedroom next door and bump into Fairy
Godmonster. I grab my mouth to keep from screaming and almost pee
my pants.

“What are you doing in here?” I whisper.

“You’re back.” She licks her fingers.
“Claire’s perfume is yummy.”

“Ssh. Weasel is next door. What if someone
hears you? Or worse, sees you?”

“There are only two people in the house. A
cinch to avoid them. You have some interesting food in your
refrigerator.”

“You’ve been in the kitchen? Please, you have
to go back upstairs.”

“Oh, all right. I’ll just borrow a few of
these bridal magazines. Life around here is boring.”

I peek out the door to see if we can get away
without being seen. I hear mumbling behind Dad’s now-closed door.
“Come on.”

Fairy Godmonster strolls out of the room and
leaps gracefully up the stairs. I’ll never have legs like hers.

“Come and tell me about your morning. Lapilla
isn’t good at conversation. He only wants the food in my
refrigerator.”

“I don’t have time. This is what I have to do
before the wedding, besides taking care of the horses,” I say.

I snatch the lists out of my jeans and shove
them into her hands. “And now David is gone and I don’t know when
he’ll be back.”

She reads the lists quickly. “I’ll see if my
whip works.”

A spark of hope flitters into my chest. I
need some magic. I unlock the attic door.

Lapilla brushes past me.

“Come back!” I yell, running after him.

He lopes down the hall just as the cat
strolls out of the bedroom.

HSSTTT! Godzilla arches her back, twenty
pounds of spitting black fur.

Lapilla stops for a second. Growls and
leaps.

“No!” I scream.

Fairy Godmonster does a triple, triple.
Tackles Lapilla midair. They crash to the floor.

The cat zips down the stairs.

Lapilla starts to roll over with Fairy
Godmonster on his back. She punches him in the face and he
collapses.

I can’t stop shaking.

“Winifred, are you all right?” calls Mr.
Dudley from downstairs.

“Hide,” I whisper.

Fairy Godmonster hauls Lapilla to the attic
by the scruff of his neck.

“Winifred?” I hear Mr. Dudley footsteps on
the stairs.

I shake all the way to the stairs and peer
down. “I’m fine, Mr. Dudley. You don’t need to come up. The bedroom
door was open and Daria’s cat got out.”

“She’s supposed to be locked in,” grumbles
Mr. Dudley, heading back down.

I return to the attic, heart pounding. My
head aches.

Lapilla is lying on my bed, unconscious.
Fairy Godmonster is polishing her claws.

I stare in disbelief. “How can you do that?
We almost had a catastrophe!”

“Chill. Everything is under control. Ooohh. I
wrecked the polish on this claw.”

“Are you taking this job seriously? You don’t
act like a Fairy Godmother.”

She glares at me. “I’m a Fairy Godmonster.
There’s a big difference.”

“Mr. Dudley could have seen both of you.”

“He didn’t. People only see what they expect
to.”

I lean against the wall, drained.

“Get rid of him,” I say, pointing to
Lapilla.

She picks her whip up from the bed. I move
out of the way as she swirls it around her head. CRACK. The end
fizzles.

“Oh, pooh.” She shakes it. It hangs there
like a limp noodle.

Hope gone, my temper gets the better of me.
“What good are you?”

Her yellow eyes turn black. “At least, you
are not up here all alone.”

“You’re right about that. I have two monsters
for company.”

Her eyes flare orange. “I thought we talked
about your sarcasm. Would your mother have allowed this kind of
behavior?”

“She’s dead. I never knew her.”

Her eyes soften to pale yellow. “I’m sorry.
Tell me about her.”

“She was beautiful. Dad and David won’t tell
me anything. The only things I have of hers are in this room.” I
look around. “Well, in your NTMT.”

“Those beautiful trunks are hers? I bet we
can find out about her.”

“No!” I panic thinking about Mom’s
things.

“What are you afraid of?” asks Fairy
Godmonster.

“Those are private and I want you to stay out
of them.”

She stares at me with concern in her eyes.
“Until FIMM is fixed, how can I help

you?”

“Do you plan to do my chores while everyone
is asleep?” I ask.

“The thought hadn’t occurred to me.”

“I didn’t think so. You cause more problems.
And I have enough. On top of everything, Daria will never try to
stop finding a way to get in here.”

Frustrated, I start to run out of the
room.

“Where are you going?” she asks.

“I have work to do.” I run downstairs.

Weasel is on the telephone in the living
room, so I start dusting and do the kitchen and the dining room.
When Weasel is gone, I start working on the living room. On my
hands and knees, I get the dust bunnies under the couch that I know
the vacuum won’t reach.

HISSTTT! MEOWRRR!

I look up. Godzilla is perched on the top of
the couch peering down at me. She makes a horrible retching sound
and throws up on my head.

Gross! I grab the stuff so it doesn’t drip
into my eyes. Yuck! I almost throw up from the smell. I hurry
upstairs to shampoo my hair, rush into the bathroom and trip on a
box of cat litter that wasn’t there this morning. Wet clumps and
poop spray across the floor. Along with the cat vomit. I wildly
grab the counter to avoid slipping into the mess when a
bloodcurdling scream streaks through the house.

Chapter 16: Caution - Tread Softly

I’m shaking so much, I can hardly wash my
stinky hands. I stumble out of the bathroom. Running downstairs, I
pray Fairy Godmonster is still in the attic.

Hysterical screams come from the kitchen.
Breathing hard, I stop in the doorway. Weasel jumps up and down on
the table, shrieking in horror and waving her hands around her
head.

She looks so funny, I laugh. The wrong thing
to do.

She screams, “YOU DID THIS!”

“Did what?”

“You wretched girl. Kill them!” She points
down. “On the floor!”

Several mice scatter across the floor. I
snicker. “It’s only a few little mice.”

Godzilla jumps out from under the table and
slides across the floor after one. Her paw snags a tail. The mouse
disappears in a little flash of light.

Did I see right?

The cat crashes into the cupboard, regains
her footing and streaks around the floor after the others.

Weasel screams again.

As soon as Godzilla touches them, the mice
disappear. The cat meows and twists around in confusion. Right on,
Fairy Godmonster.

Mr. Dudley rushes into the room and the cat
zooms away.

“What in heaven’s name is the matter?” he
booms.

“She put mice in the refrigerator!” Weasel
points to me. “She’s a vindictive, spoiled brat.”

I stare at Weasel in shock. “I didn’t.”

“Of course you didn’t,” says Mr. Dudley.
“Never been in a farmhouse that didn’t have an occasional
mouse.”

“They
flew
out of the refrigerator,” she
screeches, “and landed in my hair!” She shivers in
revulsion.

Mr. Dudley frowns, “Maybe you need to lie
down, Erminia. You’ve been working too hard.”

“I know a flying mouse when I see one!” she
screams at him.

I laugh.

“She did it, I tell you. Mice don’t get in
refrigerators.”

“Unless you leave the door open too long,” I
add, giggling.

Mr. Dudley chuckles. “You do look pretty
funny on the table, dear. Let me help you down.” He reaches for
her.