My Fair Godmother (11 page)

“Uh, nothing.”

Oh no. That was a lie. And there was the consequence, already growing between my teeth. I rushed to the nearest large bush so Jane couldn’t see what came out of my mouth. The whole time I ran I was afraid that if I didn’t make it in time, whatever it was squirming around in my mouth would try to crawl down my throat.

When I got to the bush, I leaned over and spit up a gecko. And yes, I knew it was a gecko because I recognized it from the TV commercials.

As I stood there gagging, Jane walked over. “So this is your new method of making me feel guilty? You’re pretending to be bulimic?”

“I am not pretending to be bulimic.”

“Oh. You just throw up every time I’m around, then?

That’s a real subtle message.” Even though Jane was being unnecessarily snotty, I decided to tell her everything. First of all, it would save me from spitting up more geckos every time I talked to her. Plus she was smart enough to possibly find a solution to this problem.

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So I did. Right there in the backyard I told her about Clover and how I needed to find him because he knew my fairy godmother and I needed advice about undoing wishes.

The whole time I spoke she folded her arms and gave me this humorless stare. When I finished she just nodded and said, “Okay, don’t tell me what you’re looking for. I don’t care.” Then she turned on her heel and went back inside.

I sighed and looked around the lawn again, trying to fend off the overpowering feeling of helplessness. How did one contact a leprechaun? They made a point of staying hidden, and it’s not likely he’d walk into a trap—that is, unless I made it an especially tempting trap.

I went to the store and bought a package of Ding Dongs and some Barbie doll furniture. Then I went back home, took my dad’s gopher traps out of the garage, and hauled them inside. I set up furniture in all the traps complete with Ding Dong slices and little cups of milk.

Just for good measure I threw a flash drive into each of the traps. If a few computer gremlins were lured into the traps along with the leprechaun, all the better.

I put one trap by the computer in my room, one by the computer in Jane’s room, and the other in the family room where my parents’ computer sat. Maybe he’d come 145/431

by for another poker game soon. If he was still around at all.

I checked the traps after dinner. Nothing. I went back to the computer in my bedroom and looked up information about leprechauns and fairies. After almost an hour of sifting through sites of artwork, craft projects, party ideas, and historic origins of mystical creatures, I heard the doorbell ring. Jane answered it and I heard Hunter’s voice.

I tried to tune out Jane and him and concentrate on Web sites. Somewhere among the thousands of references, there had to be someone who’d dealt with magical creatures. Surely someone out there could help me.

I heard Jane and Hunter walk into the family room and realized I should have told my family not to mess with the traps I’d set up. I hurried toward the family room but Jane and Hunter were already there.

They stared at the Barbie furniture I’d set up in the trap and spoke in low voices to each other. Hunter shook his head. When they heard me walking toward them they fell silent.

I lowered my voice as well. “Stop looking at me like I’m crazy because I’m not—and don’t stand so close to that. You’ll scare off the leprechaun.” Which perhaps was not the best method of proving my sanity, but there was no point in defending myself.

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I’d either keep looking like an idiot or I’d start covering the carpet in reptiles. I turned and left the room.

I went back to my computer to look up more Internet sites. And there in the middle of the trap eating a Ding Dong was Clover T. Bloomsbottle.

He wasn’t the sole occupant of the trap. Behind him, two creatures that looked like two-inch pale gray bats had pulled my flash drive apart. They sat beside each other grunting and chewing on the contents.

As I approached, Clover looked up at me—first with agitation, then with complacent disregard. “Oh, it’s just you.” He waved a finger in my direction. “You can’t have me gold, so don’t even ask.” He shoved another piece of Ding Dong into his mouth, getting cream filling all over his beard, then shook his head happily. “These are much better than those dried-out crackers and boxes of cereal you have around.” He took another bite. “Which reminds me, that Cap’n Crunch fellow cheats at cards. As for the Pillsbury Doughboy—aye, there’s a sop for you.

You really could do with a higher class of magical folk in the kitchen.”

I was so happy to see him I didn’t know where to begin or what to say first. I ended up saying, “I didn’t realize we had magical tenants living in the cupboards.” He took another bite. “And I don’t care what you Yanks say, cheese should not whiz.” 147/431

The gremlins looked up and said something too, but it all sounded like clicks to me.

“What did they just say?” I asked Clover.

“Ah, don’t mind them. The only ones that can understand them is magical folk and computer programmers.

They’re just complaining that your flash drive is stale.

They like the newer versions. More of a challenge for them.” He leaned back in his chair. “Now, are you going to let me out of this trap or are you foolish enough to try for me gold?”

I bent over to be on his eye level. “I don’t need your gold, just your help.”

“My help, eh? You already got three wishes from a fairy. What else could you need help with?”

“The wishes from the fairy. See, she sent a friend of mine back to the Middle Ages and won’t bring him back.”

Clover wiped Ding Dong filling off his beard and didn’t look at me. “Why in the world did you wish for something you didn’t want?”

I told him a condensed version of the story. I wasn’t sure he paid attention, though. He kept shoving Ding Dong pieces in his mouth and making “Mmmmm” noises while I spoke.

“So is there anything you can do to help me?” I asked.

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“You can’t have me gold so don’t . . .” He didn’t finish his sentence. He was too busy eating again.

“Are you even listening to me? You know, I have you trapped in there. Doesn’t that mean you have to help me?”

Now he waved a finger at me. “You mortals are all the same. We bestow favors upon you but it’s never enough.

You always want more, more, more.”

“Oh, right. This is all my fault. I’ve been cooking and cleaning in the Middle Ages for nearly a month, and now I have lizards springing out of my mouth. Do you have any idea what that’s like? How am I ever going to make it through a job interview, or . . . or meeting my in-laws, or—what am I thinking?—
high school
tomorrow? A person just can’t do those things without telling a few white lies. And on top of all that, my sister now thinks I’m insane.”

Clover broke off another piece of Ding Dong. “Well, that will keep her on her toes then, won’t it? She’ll think twice before pilfering the next lad from you.”

“The point is, I don’t want magical help with my life anymore. I just want to bring Tristan home.” I bent even closer to him. “You understand magic. There’s got to be something you can do to help me. Please?” He shook his head and looked away from me. “Oh, don’t turn that pretty-lass expression on me. I’m a 149/431

leprechaun, not a unicorn. We’re unmoved by that type of thing.”

Which let me know he wasn’t. “Please?” I said again.

“I really need your help.”

He finished off the last bite of Ding Dong and wiped his hands together, brushing away the crumbs. “It’s not my way to get involved in the problems of mortals. They have so very many. They multiply faster than mice, they do.” He rubbed his beard, seeming to consider my situation. “But I might be able to help you if you’d help me in return.”

“And how would I help you in return?” One thing that I’d learned when I was on the Internet was that leprechauns have a reputation for being wily creatures, so I was immediately cautious.

“I want to go back to Ireland, back to me beloved Lis-doonvarna. You see to it that I do.” Well, this was a problem. It’s not like I could buy an airplane ticket for a man who was five inches tall.

He must have taken my hesitance for reluctance because he waved another finger at me. “Ah, see, your kind are all the same. Always wanting something from the magical folk, but let us ask a favor and all we’ll receive back is blank stares. Your greed and selfishness will be the downfall of your kind, it will.” 150/431

The Internet said nothing at all about leprechauns being so touchy, which is just one more reason you can’t always trust what you read there. “It’s not that I don’t want to help you,” I said. “I just don’t know how to send you there. I can’t just put you in a box and drop you off at the post office.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because it takes a few days to get there and don’t you need things like air, and food, and water?” He patted his stomach, which did indeed seem bigger than the first time I’d seen him. “Just pack me away with a few of those Ding Dongs and I’ll be fine.” Which is how Clover T. Bloomsbottle and I came upon our agreement.

Once we’d worked out the details, I let him out of the trap. I made the computer gremlins stay for the time being, because I didn’t want them anywhere near my computer.

Clover made me promise that I would in no way ever try to trick, manipulate, sway, maneuver, or influence him for magical reward and that at no time would I ever touch, steal, take, borrow, embezzle, or abscond with any of his gold. Seriously, he made me put it in writing and sign it. Right after I wrote down in our contract that I would send him and his personal effects to Lisdoon-varna, Ireland. Personally, I didn’t think I needed to 151/431

sign anything. He knew I was telling the truth because nothing slimy dropped out of my mouth while I spoke to him.

My stipulations were that he would help me get Tristan back and that he would take the computer gremlins with him. I went downstairs and came back with several Ding Dongs and a medium-size box.

Clover saw it and shook his head. “That will never do.

The box needs to be bigger, and much sturdier.” I brought up two more boxes but Clover vetoed them both. Finally I brought him one of my parents’ sturdy green Rubbermaid containers. “We can just tape it shut and put the label on top,” I said. “And look, it has handles for carrying.”

He nodded and said, “That should do for me gold.”

“Your gold?”

“Aye, you didn’t think I’d be leaving it here, did you?”

“I didn’t think you had it with you.” From on top of my dresser he stomped one foot and glared at me as though I’d insulted him. “What kind of leprechaun do you think I am?” A bad-tempered one. Only I didn’t say that out loud.

Instead I said, “Sorry. I guess I should have known you’d be sending your gold home, too. Is there a lot of it?”

His glare increased.

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“I’m not trying to take any. I only asked because of the postage. Gold is heavy, you know.” I realized I’d said the wrong thing again because he folded his arms tightly. “Gold is twenty times denser than water. If you had a gold bar the size of a bread loaf, you’d never be able to lift it. Are there any other gold facts you’d like to know?”

“Yeah,” I said. “How heavy is this package going to be when I take it to the post office?”

“About seventy pounds.”

“Seventy pounds?” My mouth dropped open. “That’s going to cost me a fortune to send to Ireland.”

“Aye, well you should read and understand contracts thoroughly before you sign them.” I let out a sigh and tried not to be too upset. After all, even if I had known the bargain included sending his gold back, I still would have agreed. What other choice did I have?

“Okay, fine,” I said, “I’ll come up with the money somehow to pay for postage. Now, can you please tell me how to get Tristan back home?”

“Read and understand contracts thoroughly,” he said.

I waited for him to say more. He didn’t. Instead he jumped down into the box and walked around, examining it.

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“I did read our contract thoroughly,” I said through gritted teeth. “And you promised to help me get Tristan back.”

“Not
our
contract,” he said with exasperation. “The
fairy
contract. The one you signed with Chrysanthemum Everstar. Now hand over another of those Ding Dongs. I need to keep my strength up to make the trip.” That was it? It would end up costing me hundreds of dollars to mail him back to Ireland and all the help he was going to be was to tell me to read my contract?

“Where am I even going to get a copy of that contract?” I asked. “Chrissy didn’t give me one.”

“Of course she did. That’s part of the agreement.

Check your magic files under
C
for contracts.”

“I don’t have any magic files.” He actually rolled his eyes at me. Even standing less than half a foot tall I could see him do it. He pointed over to the computer sitting on my desk. “And what do you call that?”

“A Macintosh.”

More eye rolling. “Run a search for magic,” he said,

“and then check
C
for contract. Really, you don’t think those things were built without the help of magic, did you?”

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Actually, I thought they were built with the help of technology, but perhaps those things were closer together than I’d realized.

I sat down at my desk and turned on my computer.

And the weird thing was that sure enough, when I ran a search under the keyword “magic” a file came up. I hit the Print button and the contract emerged from my laser printer in the same long parchment form it had been in when I’d signed it for Chrissy. I read it while Clover dragged Ding Dongs around the Rubbermaid box, effectively turning them into Hostess furniture.

After searching halfway through the contract and not finding anything of use for getting Tristan back, I glanced over and saw a black pot—about the width of a cereal bowl but with much higher sides—had been added to the box. It was filled to the brim with golden coins. Clover must have put it in the box through magic, as there was no way he could have lifted it. I let out a sigh. It was too bad he couldn’t just use magic to return it to Ireland. Postage rates being what they are and all.