Page 34 of Switched

CHAPTER 11

Fairy Tales

I follow Kayla through the castle, my breath coming fast. Jack was telling the truth. Anna is being bullied by Stiltskin! My instincts were right: Anna is miserable and wants to come home.

We race past the pumpkin patch and the vegetable garden and beyond the magic carpet racetrack into a woodsy area close to the Hollow Woods. In the distance, I can see Prince Sebastian and Beauty’s castle. I don’t see a fairy hut anywhere.

Kayla stops near a cluster of trees. “Ready?” she asks.

I look around. “Ready for what? Where’s your house?” Instead of answering me, Kayla blows something glittery in my face. I start to cough as the scent of rosemary and lavender overwhelms me. My hands start to glow, moving from my fingers all the way to my feet. My body starts to tingle as the trees in front of me swirl like the mirror in my hands.

Kayla grabs my arm, and then I’m falling, falling, falling. Suddenly, I stop. My hands aren’t tingling. I’m still holding the mirror. My arms aren’t glowing. Holy gingerbread! I stare up at the tree I was just standing next to. It looks about a hundred feet tall! So do the blades of grass that surround us! We are standing at the base of the tree trunk, and somehow I’m now…

“Six inches tall,” Kayla says. “Cool, huh?”

Even the book and the mirror have shrunk!

Kayla knocks on the tree trunk, and a small door appears. “I didn’t tell you about the shrinking part because it freaks people out. You should have seen Headmistress Flora the first time she visited!” Kayla laughs. The door opens, and Kayla leads me inside a sitting area. “The secrecy is for our own protection after all that happened with You-Know-Who. Fairies can be full size or small, and for the time being, we’ve kept our house tiny. We save a lot on rent this way too. Mother?” Kayla calls. “I’m home! I brought Gilly.”

Kayla leads me through the house, where I pass doors marked with signs that say Fairy Garden, Herb Room, and Flying Training Room. As we near the kitchen, I smell the blueberry fairy cake Kayla was talking about earlier. Kayla’s mom is floating around the kitchen as pots whisk themselves. I watch as she drops a handful of spices into a pot, and it bubbles over. Then her mom wands the pot, and the bubbling ceases. Sensing me, she turns around. Her eyes are the same amber shade as Kayla’s.

“Gillian,” she says, pulling me in for an embrace. “I’m so glad you could join us for supper. How are you doing, dear?”

“I’m fine,” I say in surprise. Kayla’s right—it’s as if her mother doesn’t remember me helping her out of the forest the other night at all. A mother would have mentioned that sort of thing. “Thank you for having me, Ms.…”

“Please, call me Angelina.” She stands back and looks at me. “How are you holding up? Are you sleeping okay? Eating? Consumed with revenge?” I blink in surprise. “Kayla told me about your sister Anna joining the Stiltskin Squad. I can only imagine what you’re feeling—probably a lot like Kayla did without us. Not that I know or remember much.” She smiles. “But you will get through this test. That’s all it is, really. A test. We take many of them in life. Let’s get you fed, and we’ll talk all about it.”

“Thank you,” I say, slightly embarrassed by the fuss. My mind is still on the book and what it could mean.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Kayla’s mom can read me well. Fairies usually do. “Did your shrinking spell go okay?” She touches my ears. “Sometimes the ears get misshapen during the shrinking process, and you wind up with ears that look like mine.” She motions to her pointy lobes. “But yours look fine! They could use some earrings to liven up this dull uniform though.” She studies my face for a second. “How do you feel about silver half-moons?”

“Mother,” Kayla says impatiently. “There’s no time for ear piercing.” She motions for me to take the book out. I place it on the table. “When I got to Gilly’s room, she was reading this. Do you recognize this book? Is it the one you keep talking about? It looks sort of familiar to me.”

Kayla’s mom’s smile vanishes.

Immediately, her shoulders droop, and the wooden spoon in her left hand clatters to the floor. It’s like she’ll do anything to get away from us. She looks wildly for an exit, then flattens herself like a gingerbread man against the closed kitchen door. She seems unable to even speak, let alone scream. Then she starts to convulse. Kayla and I look at each other in alarm.

“Mother!” Kayla cries. “Gilly, get the book out of her sight.”

I try to grab it but feel a zap. The book is refusing to move again. Instead, its pages flutter open, whipping by at light speed even as the book whispers words and phrases I don’t understand.

Kayla’s mom is near tears as she continues to shake violently. Kayla and I try everything to get the book to stop, but no matter what we do, the book vanquishes the distractions.

Finally, Kayla’s mom grabs her own wand from the counter and points it at the book. Her arm is shaking, but her voice is clear. “Finireto!” she shouts, and the book closes. The glowing ceases, the voices stop, and the book becomes just a book once more. Kayla scoops it up and tosses it through the doorway into the living room. Her mom sinks to the kitchen floor, mumbling the same thing over and over.

“I remember! He knew, he knew! I remember!” she repeats again and again.

“I think she’s having some sort of breakthrough,” Kayla tells me. “I need to get my sisters and Professor Harlow. Can you stay with her?”

“Of course.” I lean down by Kayla’s mom. Her pointy, pale ears are turning a vibrant shade of pink. Her normally amber eyes are muddy black as if she’s been possessed. “Angelina?” I try. “You’re okay. Kayla is getting your other daughters.” She keeps mumbling. “And Professor Harlow. Remember the Evil Queen?” She stops and looks at me. “The book is gone. You don’t have to ever see it again.”

Angelina grabs my wrists hard. “That book is mine. I wrote it!” Any trace of kindness on her face is gone, replaced with something much darker. “It will always follow me because it holds the truth about him, and I’m the fairy tasked with recording it. He can’t know it’s here. Where did you find it?”

“He?” I’m confused. It dawns on me. “Do you mean Rumpelstiltskin?”

“Don’t say his name!” She presses harder, and it hurts. “Where did you find that book?”

“It was in the library,” I say, wincing.