My Fairy Godmonster Read online

  I don’t like his tone. Nobody should look that good when they insult you. I explode inside and look Scott up and down. “A real city slicker.”

  John whistles. “See what you mean, David. She’s a firecracker.”

  I straighten my back, furious inside. Nobody should talk about you behind your back. Tears sting my eyes.

  “Where’s Dad?” asks my brother, the traitor.

  “Office.” My voice cracks.

  Scott snickers.

  I back up, ready to explode. WHACK. My foot hits steel. The pitchfork slams me in the back of the head. Concerned voices filter into my brain. I really see stars.

  “It’s nothing. I do this all the time,” I blab.

  Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. I run out of the stable, bright red and completely humiliated.

  Chapter 4: Yield - Parent Control

  Surviving the next two days is a bummer. Breaking dishes has become my new habit. Every time Scott comes around, I’m a klutz. He’s like a mosquito that won’t leave you alone. Instead of buzzing, he whistles. I think he does it on purpose to annoy me, because he doesn’t look very happy.

  Thank goodness David is helping with the after-dinner cleanup tonight or we’d have to buy new dishes.

  I ask him, “Are you practicing for husband duties?”

  “For what?” he asks.

  “Doing the dishes when you are married.”

  A red blush creeps up his neck. Hah. Glad I’m not the only one in the family who blushes.

  “Tell me about Claire,” I say.

  “I wasn’t sure she’d marry me.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  David hesitates. ”Er, you never know if a girl will accept a proposal.” He turns his face away from me.

  I can tell he’s hiding something. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Nothing!” he exclaims. “She’s the sweetest, most beautiful, adorable, intelligent girl I have ever known. She’s …”

  “Okay, I get it.” David looks like Dopey in Snow White. “Where did you meet?”

  He laughs. “I was riding my bicycle when a car clipped the back wheel. I crash-landed on Claire’s car hood.”

  “You never told us that. You could have been killed.”

  “It was the best day of my life.”

  That goofy look again. I wonder what kind of girl Claire is, to be able to turn my brother into mush. I check an imaginary list. “Nothing wrong with Claire. Must be her family. Give.”

  David frowns. “People from back east are different. They’re not always friendly and open with strangers. I wasn’t sure they’d accept me when I proposed to Claire.”

  “Why not? Except for the teasing and abandonment of your family, you’re a catch. Handsome, honest, trustworthy. Any girl would be lucky to marry you.”

  “Thanks, Sis, I think.” He laughs and hugs me.

  My heart doesn’t seem so squished. I miss his hugs.

  “There’s something I haven’t told Dad about her parents,” David says sighing. “You know how he is, everybody is equal in his eyes.”

  “Yeah, I know.” The Smith family motto. “Out with it. What’s wrong with them?”

  “Nothing. They’re rich. Mr. Dudley earned it all, but his wife wants you to believe they were born into it.”

  I suck in my breath, glancing at our simple country kitchen. “They won’t want to stay here.”

  David explains, “I’ve tried to prepare them. Claire’s mom wasn’t too sure about staying. Her dad is not a bad sort and he insisted they get to know our family.”

  “They should stay at a motel in town. Anything else?” I wonder.

  David stares out the window. “Claire’s little sister is a handful.”

  Before I can ask him more about her, David hurries out of the kitchen. My stomach does hip-hops. A problem child and rich people in my house. Great.

  I start to put a glass in the cupboard.

  Scott whispers behind my back. “Hi.”

  The glass slips from my hands. I try to catch it midair and miss. Scott grabs it before it hits the floor and puts it in the cupboard.

  “You sure drop a lot of dishes, cowgirl.”

  I glare at him. “Don’t call me cowgirl. I don’t ride western.”

  “Isn’t this the west, cowgirl?”

  I don’t like his arrogance. Or the sarcastic tone in his voice. Of course, I’m not used to talking with boys. Lonnie, the boy on the ranch next to us, only knows how to spit wads of gum farther than his buddies. At school, I don’t think Lonnie’s ever said anything to me except, “Get outta’ my way.” Scott is different. He seems moody, not really interested in much of anything around here except Kong and the horses.

  “For your information,” I answer, “I ride an English saddle. It’s way different. There isn’t a horn to keep you from falling off. It’s not for city slickers.”

  Scott almost smiles. I’m surprised. My heart flip-flops.

  Dad and John wander in for some coffee.

  Scott has a funny look on his face when he looks at my dad, kind of wistful and sad at the same time.

  Dad notices. “You spend a lot of time in the stables, young man.”

  “Horses are cool,” replies Scott. “I was going to learn how when …”

  He stops talking and swallows hard. “I always wanted to learn how to ride.”

  “Winifred is our riding instructor.” Dad smiles at me. “Keeps this place afloat.

  She’ll teach you.”

  I blush, horrified to have to spend time with any guy. Especially Scott.

  John grabs a cup of coffee. On his way out of the room he says, “Better teach him, Win. My brother can be a nuisance until he gets his own way.”

  Scott glares at his brother, then glances into my eyes and away. Some kind of buggy thing jumps up and down in my throat. What is going on with my body? I can’t control it at all.

  Scott shifts uncomfortably. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

  I hardly breathe when he blinks his long eyelashes. “After chores, I’ll teach you.” The words leap out of my mouth. I blush. And cringe inside. What am I doing?

  Jac will freak out when she hears. She’s had boyfriends since she was six years old. She knows how to talk to boys. It also helps that she looks like a small Spanish doll. I look like a stick with boobs. I hate the snickers from boys at school.

  Scott says, “I’ll help you with the chores.”

  Dad starts out of the kitchen. “That’s very generous of you, Scott. Teach him on Dancer, Win.”

  Not on my horse. I raised and trained Dancer. Nobody rides him but me.

  “But, Dad.”

  “Dancer.”

  I turn to Scott, burning. “Stable chores come first.”

  Scott says, “Sure. Can we start tomorrow?”

  I want to smack him. Why does he look so happy all of a sudden? My heart tap-dances in my chest. I have lost control of everything. I hope it won’t get any worse. Boy, am I wrong.

  Chapter 5: Do Not Stop! Incoming Aliens

  The next day, I show Scott how to clean a horse stall.

  “What’s shoveling manure got to do with riding horses?” he asks.

  “If you ride a horse, you need to know how to take care of one. Cleaning the tack comes next.”

  Scott stares into my eyes. “How come you don’t want me to ride your horse?”

  I sigh. “Nobody’s ever been on his back, but me.”

  “Will I be in danger?”

  I laugh. “Hardly. Dancer is a great horse.”

  Dad appears at the stable doors. “Our company has arrived.” He scowls. “By limousine.”

  Kong runs to Dad, wagging his tail.

  “Stay, Kong,” he says.

  Kong plops down on the ground.

  I look at Scott. “I gotta’ go.”

  He says, “I can handle the rest.”

  “Thanks.” I try to ignore the flutters in my stomach. I join Dad and we walk toward the kitchen.

/>   “Did you know Claire’s family is rich?” Dad asks.

  “David told me.”

  Dad frowns when he notices how dirty I am. “The Dudley’s are in the living room. What will they think of you?”

  “We live on a ranch, Dad.” I remove my boots outside the kitchen door. “Want me to shower, first?”

  He hesitates. “No, wash your hands and come in and meet them.”

  We walk into the kitchen and I overhear a soft, woman’s voice.

  “Otis, I cannot exist here.”

  A gravelly voice answers, “Come on, Erminia. It’ll be like old times.”

  “I want to forget old times,” she mumbles.

  Dad and I glance at each other. His face looks grim.

  I turn the water on hard and wash up, hoping the sound alerts our visitors. Following Dad into the living room, I stop in the doorway. Dozens of suitcases and trunks fill every space. The rich smell of new leather permeates the room.

  “Winifred, meet Mr. and Mrs. Otis Dudley. My daughter, Winifred.”

  I stare. Rich doesn’t describe the wealth that drips off these people. Mrs. Dudley’s jewels shine against her slender black dress. Mr. Dudley wears an expensive grey suit with a huge diamond tie tack.

  “Sure you want to stay here?” I blurt without thinking.

  “Winifred, mind your manners.” Dad frowns at me.

  Mrs. Dudley’s back straightens. She has dark hair, a sharp pointed nose, small ears and a long, skinny neck. She smiles. It doesn’t reach the black holes of her eyes. Eyes that seem to suck you in. As much as I try, I can’t see her as anything but a weasel.

  That’s how I think of people. Like what kind of animal they’d be. Dad is like a horse: strong and handsome, a member of the herd who knows his place. David is like a cougar: smart, with grace and power. Not sure what I’m like. Maybe a deer, ready to run at the sign of trouble, but with porcupine quills if I’m pushed into a corner.

  “How do you do, Winifred,” Mrs. Dudley says in a sweet, quiet voice.

  Uh-oh, I think. Cinderella’s wicked stepmother has nothing on Mrs. Dudley.

  Weasel continues, a slight Eastern accent to her voice, “I do hope you don’t mind our staying here. We want to get to know our extended family and it would be inconvenient to drive fifty miles back and forth to town while planning the wedding.”

  “I hope you’ll be comfortable.” I hold out my hand.

  Mrs. Dudley raises her nose an inch. She takes the ends of my fingers and shakes them - like I’m infected.

  “Sorry. Been shoveling manure.”

  Mr. Dudley’s cell phone rings. He grabs my hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m sorry, I need to answer this. It’s the only way I can leave my business for a month.”

  Mr. Dudley looks like the Angus bull on our neighbor’s ranch, lots of beef with little feet for someone so big. His southern twang is way different than his wife’s proper accent.

  “Daria is already in your room,” Dad says.

  Weasel sniffs, “She likes to get settled right away. Charles said you wouldn’t mind.”

  Charles! She’s already calling Dad by his first name? “Sure.” I force a smile. “It’ll be fun having someone to share a room with.”

  My brother and John come in from the garden laughing and smiling. David is holding hands with a girl. I gasp. Claire is perfect with a slender body and abundant curves in the right places. Her honey-blonde hair frames a face that is beautiful and sweet. I worry when her big, blue eyes seem to look into my soul. Can she see my wretched, jealous heart?

  “Win, this is Claire,” says David proudly.

  Claire hugs me, not even caring how dirty I am.

  “I am so happy to meet you.” Claire beams at me. Her voice sounds like music. No wonder David loves her.

  “Welcome to Oregon,” I say to Claire, half won-over in spite of myself.

  David whispers in my ear, “Isn’t she great?”

  Mr. Dudley hangs up his phone and John shakes his hand.

  “Hi, I’m John Masters, the best man.”

  “Otis Dudley and my wife, Erminia.”

  “Happy to meet you,” John says.

  “Let’s get you settled into your room, Sir.” David picks up some suitcases.

  “Call me Otis, David.”

  “Think I’ll go meet my new roommate,” I announce.

  I catch the look that passes between my brother and Claire. What is in my room, an evil stepsister?

  Racing up the stairs, I wonder what Daria is going to be like. It might be fun having a younger kid around. I peek inside my bedroom door. Daria is unpacking. Putting her clothes in my drawers. My things are piled on the bed.

  I stomp inside. “Hey, what are you doing?”

  Daria turns around. She’s small for seven, a clone of her mother. I shiver.

  “I need more space,” she says.

  I want to throw this alien into space. My prized collection of horse figurines is pushed into a corner of the bookcase.

  “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t touch my things.” My voice cracks from trying to hold my temper. “This is my room.”

  Daria looks at me and smiles, like a crocodile.

  “Okay.” She takes out another drawer and pours my clothes onto the bed.

  She smiles, “See, I didn’t touch anything.”

  Heat flames inside my body like wildfire. Red flashes behind my eyes. It takes all

  the control I have not to slap her sassy face. Shaking from holding my temper, I turn away and lean over to pick up my pile of clothes. Something underneath wiggles. A huge black paw shoots out from underneath. Sharp claws rake across my hand.

  Chapter 6: Not An Exit - Memories

  “Ow!” I yell. The scratches start to bleed.

  “You scared my baby!” Daria pushes the clothes off the creature to uncover the biggest black cat I have ever seen. Twenty pounds at least. Long fur makes it huge.

  Daria scoops up the cat. It’s almost as big as she is. “Oh, poor babykins, did she scare you? This is Gazella,” Daria croons.

  Godzilla, more like it.

  “She’s a pure-blooded Persian.” Daria hugs it. Blue eyes stare at me over a squished nose.

  “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “Sure.” No way am I going to share a room with Cat Girl and Godzilla. I grab an armful of clothes and start out the door. I look back. Daria and her cat are picture perfect. My gut tells me they won’t ever look like that again.

  The scratches on my hand throb. I head for the bathroom and put the clothes on the sink. After I wash off the blood, I smear on aloe vera cream to disinfect the wounds. The second floor of our house has my large bedroom and a bathroom. There is only one place left to go - the attic.

  I lift the clothes and trudge down the hall. At the end, I climb a small staircase. An old- fashioned key sticks in the lock. Turning it, I hold my breath and open the door. It squeaks. Hair rises on the back of my neck. I haven’t been here in years. I peek inside.

  Sunlight from the dormer windows filters through cobwebs and dust. The attic is so quiet, I shiver. Heartbeats thump in my ears.

  Dad stuffed everything that belonged to Mom up here because he couldn’t bear to look at it. The furniture looks lonely. When I’m grown, it will be mine and I will love it. I wipe the dust from an armoire. The rich, deep reds of the mahogany wood still shine. There is an oval mirror in a floor stand, a dressing table with matching chest, a carved bed and three trunks. The sunlight shines through Mom’s crystal clock, making rainbows on the wall. I open a window. Lilacs sweeten the summer breeze and fill the room. Leaning over, I see Mom’s garden far below. The angel sculpture in the corner seems to looks right at me.

  “Well, Mom,” I whisper. “I gotta’ use your things. Hope it’s okay.”

  I’m surprised how excited I am to get settled in. I leave to get the vacuum.

  It takes a couple of hours to clean the attic. When I’m done, I knock on my bedroom door. No answer. I s
neak in. Daria’s things cover every surface. Stuffed animals, books and awards for spelling contests. There’s even a different bedspread and matching curtains on my rods. Clothes from my closet are heaped in a pile on the floor. Godzilla stares at me from the middle of my bed.

  A hot bolt of anger shoots like lightning into my head. I look around in panic. Where is my horse collection?

  Then I see a leg. Under the pile of clothes. I carefully lift them and freeze. The

  palomino stallion that Mom bought me before I was born has a broken leg. I scream from a scary place deep inside me. My body shakes in fury. I can hardly think or move.

  Godzilla hisses. Her tail and fur puff up making her even bigger. She growls, baring her teeth. Her blue eyes are human-like. Goosebumps shiver up my arms.

  Daria pokes her head out of the closet. She sees the broken horse in my hands.

  “It was a accident,” she whines. “Mommy can buy you another one.”

  I can’t speak. Hot air engulfs me like fire. I pick up my clothes, careful not to break the other horses.

  “Don’t touch anything else. I’ll be back in a minute to take everything.” I hear my voice, but it sounds like a growling monster, low and dangerous. A flicker of fear shoots into Daria’s eyes. I hiss at her, my arms trailing clothes, and stomp out of the room.

  She pushes past me, screaming like a fire engine, “Mommy, Mommy!”

  I’d give anything to have a mom to run to.

  Chapter 7: Do Not Stop On Tracks! Loose Feelings

  I hurry to the attic, throw my clothes on the bed and race to retrieve my horses.

  Trudging back to the attic, I arrange the horses on the chest of drawers, carefully laying the broken horse next to them. Loss sweeps through me. I didn’t think a heart could break. It can. Pain and heaviness fill my chest.

  I drag to put my clothes away.

  There’s a loud knock on the door.

  “Come in,” I say.

  Dad storms inside. He spots Mom’s things and stops. “Why are you in here?” His voice sounds strange. Kinda’ mad and sad at the same time.

  “I can’t stay with Daria and her cat. She’s taken over my drawers and everything.”