Fairy Mom and Me #3 Page 3

  * * *

  —

  That weekend it was very sunny. Mom, Ollie and I went for a picnic with Aunty Jo. We drove out into the countryside and sat on some grass. All the fields around us had animals in them. One had sheep, one had pigs and one had two horses. I gave some carrots to the horses over the fence. I tried to give a carrot to a sheep, but it ran away.

  “Have a sandwich, Ella,” Mom shouted, and I hurried back to the picnic blanket. But just as I took a bite, it started raining.

  “Oh no!” I said. “What about our picnic?”

  “Don’t worry!” Aunty Jo said. “Fairy to the rescue!”

  She looked around to check that no one could see us. Then she stamped her feet three times, clapped her hands, wiggled her bottom and said, “Sherbet lemon,”…and POOF! She was a fairy with shining wings and a beautiful diamond crown.

  She held out her Computawand, pressed a code—bleep-bleep-bloop—and shouted, “Umbrelleridoo!”

  Suddenly a great big floating umbrella appeared above us. It had green and white stripes and was so enormous it kept the rain off us all. Aunty Jo is very good at magic.

  While we ate our picnic, I told Aunty Jo all about my dancing lessons. I even got my bag out of the car and showed her my pink ballet shoes. I told her how much I wanted to do a twirl. Then Aunty Jo turned to me. “You need the Twirleridoo spell!”

  At once I felt excited. A Twirleridoo spell sounded really cool!

  But Mom did not look happy. “Jo, Ella needs to learn dancing through hard work, not through magic.”

  “Oh, I know,” Aunty Jo said. “Of course. Hard work and all that. But why don’t I just show Ella the Twirleridoo spell? Look, the rain has stopped.”

  Aunty Jo Fairy walked into the middle of the field, pointed her Computawand at herself, pressed a code—bleep-bleep-bloop—and shouted, “Twirleridoo!”

  I gasped, because ballet shoes appeared on Aunty Jo’s feet, and she started whizzing around on one leg. She was much faster than Sally the ballerina. Every time she slowed down she shouted, “Twirleridoo!” and started twirling again.

  I clapped and cried, “Amazing!” I wanted to ask if I could do it too, but I knew Mom would say no.

  Just then I glanced up at the sky. It was blue again. The sun was out and there was a rainbow. At first I thought, A rainbow—yay! Then I remembered about the Rainbow Effect.

  “Mom!” I said quickly. “Watch out! There’s a rainbow!”

  “A rainbow?” Mom looked up. “My Rainbow App said it would be tomorrow. Jo!” she called. “Watch out! Rainbow!”

  “Aunty Jo!” I shouted. “Rainbow!”

  But Aunty Jo couldn’t hear either of us. She was saying, “Twirleridoo!” and whizzing around.

  Mom ran toward Aunty Jo, pointing at the sky and yelling, “Jo! RAINBOW!”

  At last Aunty Jo heard. She stopped saying “Twirleridoo” and slowed down. “It’s fine,” she panted. “No harm done. Everything’s fine, everything’s normal.”

  But everything wasn’t fine and everything wasn’t normal.

  “Look!” I gasped. “Look!”

  I was staring at the sheep in the nearest field. They were all twirling around on one foot, just like Aunty Jo. They were wearing purple ballet shoes and saying “Baaa!” while they twirled, as though they didn’t understand what was going on.

  “Dancing sheep?” Mom asked when she saw them. “Jo, what have you done?”

  “It’s not my fault!” Aunty Jo said. “It’s the Rainbow Effect.”

  “Look, dancing pigs!” I said, pointing to the next field. The pigs were twirling too, in little piggy ballet shoes, only theirs were blue.

  “Weezi-weezi-weezi!” said Ollie, and he pointed at the horses. They were both twirling and tossing their manes. All the animals were dancing in different-colored ballet shoes. Even the squirrels in the tree were twirling on the branches and looking very surprised.

  I couldn’t stop laughing, but Mom looked worried.

  “The Rainbow Effect is very special and powerful,” she said. “It can’t be undone with a spell. We’ll just have to wait for it to wear off.”

  Just then, a farmer in an old brown jacket came walking across the grass.

  “Oh no!” said Mom. “I hope he doesn’t notice anything wrong.”

  But as soon as the farmer looked into the first field, he stopped. “What’s happened to my sheep?” he demanded. “They look like whirligigs!” Then he saw the pigs. “What’s happened to my pigs?” he gasped. “They’re dancing too! Pigs aren’t supposed to dance!”

  “Er…maybe they got bored?” Aunty Jo said.

  Then the farmer saw the horses, and I thought he was going to fall over in shock. One of the horses was holding the other horse by its hooves, and they were both twirling around.

  “Dapple!” the farmer shouted. “Beauty! What do you think you’re doing? You’re not blooming ballerinas—you’re horses.”

  “I think they’re stopping,” said Mom after a moment, and it was true.

  Gradually all the ballet shoes disappeared. The sheep started eating grass again, like normal sheep. The pigs started rooting around in the mud. The two horses trotted off.

  I was sad—I had loved watching the dancing animals.

  “Awayeridoo!” Aunty Jo shouted, pointing her Computawand at the floating umbrella, and it disappeared.

  The farmer’s mouth fell open. “What’s going on?” he said. “Are you aliens?”

  “No,” said Aunty Jo Fairy. “We’re fairies.”

  “Aunty Jo Fairy!” I said, shocked. “You told him!”

  “Yes,” she said, winking at me. “But he won’t remember.” Then she said, “Blueberry pie!” and at once she was just Aunty Jo again.

  Then Mom took some Fairy Dust out of her bag and threw it over the farmer. For about ten seconds he was completely still, as if he had gone to sleep.

  “Go!” Mom said, and he woke up.

  He smiled politely at us all. “Hello,” he said. “Are you having a nice picnic? Did you see that lovely rainbow?”

  “Oh yes,” said Mom. “We certainly did.”

  * * *

  —

  When I arrived at my next dancing lesson, I kept thinking about the twirling sheep. I decided I would try to twirl exactly like them.

  As I put on my ballet shoes, I noticed that they looked strange. They were gleaming as if a rainbow was shining on them. I didn’t understand why, but I put them on and went into the class.

  I stepped onto one foot and started to turn—and just for fun I said, very quietly, “Twirleridoo!”

  To my surprise I did a perfect twirl! Then another one!

  I couldn’t understand how I was twirling. Then I looked down at my shiny rainbow shoes again and realized that it was the Rainbow Effect! There was some left in my shoes!

  “Look at Ella!” a boy named Callum cried. “She’s really good!”

  I twirled around again and again. My legs were just doing it by themselves!

  I didn’t know how, but they were! I could see Zoe staring furiously at me, but I didn’t care. I felt like a real ballerina.

  “How come you can do that, Ella?” she shouted. “You’re only a beginner!”

  I hoped my shoes would stay magic forever, but already the rainbow light was fading. I did one last twirl—and then it was gone. The magic was over. The next time I stepped onto one foot, it didn’t know how to twirl anymore. It felt all heavy and strange.

  “Do it again!” Callum said.

  “I can’t,” I said.

  Just then Miss Evans came in. Everyone rushed up and told her how I had been twirling.

  “Show me, Ella,” she said with a smile.

  But I said, “I’ve forgotten how.”

  “Never mind,” she said kindly. “I’m sur
e you’ll learn again.”

  “I’m sure she won’t,” Zoe said, looking at me with her small, angry eyes. “Anyway, her twirls weren’t that good.”

  “Zoe,” Miss Evans said. “That is not polite.”

  The whole room was silent, and Zoe turned pink.

  “In this class,” Miss Evans started, “we say kind things to our classmates.”

  Then we started our lesson and I tried my hardest. We didn’t do twirls, but we did snowflakes. I tried to be a very light snowflake—except I was too busy looking at Miss Evans and crashed into Callum by mistake. He said, “Snowflake! Not snowstorm!” and we all laughed.

  While we were getting ready to go home, Zoe stayed in the middle of the room doing twirls. I remembered what Miss Evans had told us about saying kind things. Zoe isn’t a nice person, but she is still good at twirls. So I went up to her and said, “You twirl really well, Zoe! You’re just as good as a sheep.”

  As soon as I said it, I realized I shouldn’t have said “sheep.” Zoe stared at me with her tiny, furious eyes. She shouted, “A sheep? Miss Evans, Ella called me a sheep!”

  Everyone started to laugh.

  “I meant it in a good way!” I said. “I was being nice!” But I could tell that Zoe didn’t believe me.

  “Ella called me a sheep!” she wailed, and she started crying loudly. (Though I think she was pretending.)

  “Ella,” Miss Evans said, coming over. “Why did you call Zoe a sheep? I’m very disappointed.”

  I felt as if I might cry myself. I didn’t want Miss Evans to be disappointed, but I didn’t know how to reply. Then, suddenly, I heard Mom’s voice saying, “I can explain!”

  “Really?” Miss Evans asked.

  “Oh yes,” said Mom. “Zoe, Ella didn’t mean to offend you. The truth is…we once saw a whole field of wonderful, graceful dancing sheep.”

  I gazed at her, astonished. Was she going to tell everyone about Twirleridoo and being a fairy?

  But then Mom added, “In a book. Of course.” And she winked at me.

  * * *

  —

  In the car on the way home, I told Mom about my twirls and took my ballet shoes out of my bag. I wanted to see if there were any shiny bits of the Rainbow Effect left in them, even a tiny speck. But they were just normal pink ballet shoes.

  “I wish I could still twirl,” I said. “I wish I still had the Rainbow Effect on my shoes. When I’m grown up I’ll do the Twirleridoo spell every day.”

  “I’m sure you will,” said Mom, nodding. She drove on for a bit, then said, “But that’s a long time to wait. What about for now?”

  I thought about trying to twirl.

  I thought about Sally whizzing around.

  I thought about how she practiced dancing every day. And I decided I wanted to be like her.

  “For now,” I said, “I’ll practice twirling every day until I can do it.”

  “Good idea, Ella,” said Mom. “That’s my girl.” And she looked over at me, and we both smiled.

  One day I was in the kitchen reading Mom’s Spell Book. It was written long ago by the Old, Old Fairies. Every fairy has one, even though lots of them use their Fairy Apps now. I was reading about Bad Magic. If you try to use magic to be lazy or mean or cruel, it is called Bad Magic and it won’t turn out well.

  Mom was making a cup of coffee.

  “Mom,” I said. “When I’m a grown-up fairy, I’ll never use Bad Magic.”

  “Good girl, Ella,” she said, smiling at me.

  Then Aunty Jo arrived. She was very excited. She said, “Have you heard about the super-cool new Fairy App? It’s called Auto-Spell! Let’s all watch the ad!”

  Aunty Jo loves buying apps for her Computawand. Mom says most of them are a waste of money, as they always glitch. (That means they get stuck or go wrong.) But even so, she opened FairyTube on her laptop and we all watched the ad for Auto-Spell. A fairy was holding her Computawand while her bicycle mended itself. She smiled and said, “Auto-Spell is the first Fairy App that can read your mind. It casts the spell you need even before you know you need it! Buy Auto-Spell now!”

  “This will make magic so easy,” Aunty Jo said. “I’m going to buy it.”

  Mom stared at the screen for a bit. Then she said, “I’m going to buy it too.”

  I was so excited. We were going to have a super-cool new app!

  * * *

  —

  When Auto-Spell arrived, it looked like a tiny gold coin. It wasn’t like a normal app that you can just buy from the app store. Mom fitted it into a special slot in her Computawand. She screwed the panel shut and turned it on. Then she stamped her feet three times, clapped her hands, wiggled her bottom and said, “Marshmallow,”…and POOF! She was a fairy.

  Meanwhile, I was looking at the instruction booklet. It had lots of pictures of fairies holding cups of tea and watching lawn mowers working. The writing said:

  Welcome to Auto-Spell! Simply relax and think your normal thoughts. Auto-Spell will read your mind and cast all the spells you wish for.

  I said, “Mom, should I read the instructions aloud?”

  But Mom said, “Don’t worry, Ella. I expect I can work it out as I go.”

  Mom never reads instruction booklets, but I like looking at them and coloring the pictures.

  Mom came over to the kitchen table and the chair pulled itself out.

  “Thank you, Auto-Spell!” she said, sitting down. Then the teapot lifted itself up and poured her some tea. Mom looked pleased.

  “Isn’t this wonderful?” she said to Dad. “Tea was exactly what I wanted.”

  Then the cornflakes box rose into the air and poured me a big bowl of cornflakes.

  “Thank you, Mom!” I said. “Thank you, Auto-Spell!”

  I wanted a nice big breakfast because I was going to the park with Tom and Lenka. Tom’s dad was going to teach us some soccer skills.

  At that moment Aunty Jo came in through the back door. She was breathing hard, as though she had been running.

  “Have you got the Auto-Spell app?” she asked. “Is it any good? Mine hasn’t arrived yet.”

  “Yes!” Mom said. “It’s amazing! It’s reading my mind. It’s doing everything I want.”

  Just then a big plate of pancakes covered in chocolate sauce and marshmallows landed on the table.

  “Mmm!” I said. “Thank you, Mom! Thank you, Auto-Spell!”

  Mom looked puzzled. “I didn’t want pancakes,” she said, just as a huge strawberry milk shake with a straw appeared in front of me.

  “Strawberry is my favorite!” I said. “And I love straws!”

  Mom stared at me. “Ella, did you imagine me having a cup of tea just now?”

  “Yes,” I said. “You always have a cup of tea for breakfast, Mom. And toast.”

  As I said the word “toast,” a toast rack floated down toward Mom. It was full of toast.

  Mom gasped in horror. “I think Auto-Spell is reading the wrong mind!” she said. “It has tuned into Ella’s mind instead of mine!”

  “Tragic,” Aunty Jo said, shaking her head. “Didn’t you read the instruction booklet? I always do.”

  “Ella, you must stop thinking of things,” Dad said as Mom grabbed the instructions. “Do you understand? Don’t think about anything.”

  “Okay, Dad,” I said. “I’ll try.”

  But it’s hard not to think about anything. Just then there was a neighing sound from the hall. A unicorn was standing at the kitchen door, looking in at us. It had a fluffy white mane, and its horn was glittering in the sunlight.

  “Ella, did you wish for a unicorn?” asked Mom.

  “I always wish for a unicorn,” I said. “All the time.”

  The unicorn came into the kitchen and I put my arms around it. It was so soft and gentle that I kissed it. I felt
so happy. I had a real unicorn!

  Then a chocolate fountain appeared in the middle of the kitchen.

  “Ella!” Aunty Jo exclaimed. “Stop thinking!”

  I tried my hardest not to think about anything—but I couldn’t. Soon there were lots of kittens all over the kitchen, mewing and licking their paws. There was a merry-go-round in the backyard, and I had a lollipop in my hand.

  Ollie was sitting in his high chair watching the kittens. He banged his spoon on his tray and said, “Weezi-weezi-weezi!”

  I thought, I wish Ollie could talk already, just like I always do.

  Then Ollie said, “Wow! I can talk now. Hello, Ella. You’re an awesome big sister.”

  I clapped my hand over my mouth. I had made Ollie talk!

  “Enough!” Dad said, looking shocked. “We have to stop this now!”

  “I’m trying to remove the app,” Mom said, “but I can’t get it out!” She was trying to open the panel on her Computawand with a screwdriver, but it seemed to be stuck.

  Suddenly Aunty Jo screamed. A huge, scary eye was looking in at us through the kitchen window.

  “Ella!” Aunty Jo said. “Don’t wish for a dinosaur!”

  “I didn’t!” I said.

  “Dinosaur!” Ollie cried joyfully. “I love dinosaurs!” He waved his hands at the dinosaur, and I gasped.

  “Mom! I think the app is reading Ollie’s mind now!”

  At that moment there was a roaring sound, and a little red steam train came puffing into the kitchen.