Fairest of All (Whatever After #1) (5 page)

i
don’t understand,” Stan says, ripping into a piece of stew with his ginormous teeth. “How did you know that the peasant woman was the evil queen in disguise?”

“Because we know your whole story,” I say. “We’ve read it. It’s called
Snow White.
”

“No,” Jonah says. “It’s called
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.
”

Enid straightens her pink dress. “That’s us!” she squeals. “The seven dwarfs! We’re famous!”

“I think the real one, the one written by the Grimm brothers, is just called
Snow White
.” I turn to the dwarfs. “But you guys are definitely in it.”

“Do you have any ketchup?” Jonah asks.

“Is that a type of food?” Snow asks.

“Yes,” Jonah says. “A delicious kind of food.”

They shake their heads.

“Never heard of it,” Snow says.

“So you’re a fortune-teller?” Bob asks. At least, I think the words came from Bob. I can’t see his lips moving under all that hair.

“Nope,” I say. “We’re just kids, not fortune-tellers.”

“We kind of are,” my brother says around his mouthful of stew. “Since we know what’s going to happen.” I’m surprised he’s liking the stew and not hiding pieces in his sock. It’s kind of gross. Snow is not the world’s best cook.

Frances narrows her eyes at us. “Are you a witch? Because we don’t want any more funny business, you hear?”

I shake my head. “Nope. No witches, no funny business anywhere.” Well, some funny business, considering that we got here via mirror.

“Where do you live?” Alan booms.

“Smithville,” I say. “Unfortunately.”

Alan shakes his head. “I do not know of this Smithville.”

“I’m not surprised. I’m guessing it’s kind of far from here,” I say. Like, a world away. “Where are we, anyway?”

“You’re at our cottage,” Bob says.

“Yeah, but where’s your cottage?” I ask.

“In the kingdom of Zamel,” Alan says.

“Zamel!” Jonah cheers. “Great name!”

Huh? “Zamel? Where’s Zamel?”

Frances rolls her eyes. “Here.”

So how do I get us from here to Smithville?

“Can you tell us about it?” Snow asks.

“Smithville? It’s in the United States of America,” I say.

“No, I mean my story,” Snow says. “Can you tell us how it goes?”

“Yes,” the dwarfs echo. “Tell us, tell us! We love stories!”

I look at my brother and shrug. I guess I can tell them, since it’s, um, about them. But I doubt I remember the story exactly. It’s the fifth story in the
Fairy Tales
book from the library. I only got through the first two today, and I haven’t heard it since before we moved. “Once upon a time —” I stop. “A few years ago, there was a queen.” Then what? Hmm. Oh! “And she cut her finger. And a few drops of blood landed on the …” I forget what they landed on. What was it? Oh, right! “… snow. And the queen thought the combo of the blood and the snow looked really pretty. Wait. It was the combo of the red and the white and something black, too. Jonah, do you remember where the black came from?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t even remember this part.”

Jonah wasn’t exactly as into Nana’s stories as I was. His eyes glazed over a lot. He liked to play more than he liked to listen.

“Anyway, the queen wished that she could have a baby who had skin as pale as snow, hair as black as, um, night, lips as red as blood.”

“As pale as snow,” Bob says, nodding. “So that’s how she got her name.”

“Oh,” Snow says softly, her eyes teary. “I never knew that my mother wished for me. I never knew that’s why I look the way I look.”

“She must have loved you very much,” Tara says.

“I’m sure she did,” I say, and my eyes get a little teary, too. Because what happens next is so sad. I clear my throat. “And then the queen died.”

A tear rolls down Snow’s cheek.

Aw. Poor Snow. I reach across the table and touch her hand. “Do you want me to stop?”

She sniffs. “No, go on. It’s just hard to hear.”

I nod. “The king remarried. And the new queen was really full of herself. Every night she would look in her magic mirror and ask who the fairest person in town was. And every night the mirror would say that the queen was.”

Snow rolls her eyes. “She’s obsessed with that mirror. You have no idea. She talks to it constantly.”

“And then one night, when the queen asked who the fairest was, the mirror answered back, ‘Snow White.’ ”

Snow yelps. “That’s why she tried to kill me? Because of that stupid mirror?”

“You
are
really pretty,” Enid says. “Maybe the mirror isn’t so stupid.”

“I had no idea that’s why she wanted me dead,” Snow says. “I thought she just wanted to tear down my room and redecorate. She
loves
to redecorate.”

“Anyway, the queen got really upset,” I continue. “She decided if she had Snow killed, then she would go back to being the most beautiful. So she asked one of her huntsmen to kill Snow.”

Everyone at the table gasps.

Bob turns to Snow. “But you’re still here!”

Snow looks down at the table. “I begged Xavier not to kill me. I told him I would hide and never come back to the palace.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Frances asks.

“It was just so awful,” Snow says. “I wanted to forget about it.”

“The huntsman felt bad for you,” I say, nodding. “But he told the queen that he had done it. And I think he gave her the lungs and liver of some animal, pretending it was you.”

Bob slams his fists on the table. “That’s awful!”

“I remember that part!” Jonah exclaims gleefully. “Didn’t she eat them?”

I grimace. Eight sets of eyes widen in horror.

Sure,
that
he remembers.

“She is pure evil,” Tara whispers, squeezing her braid.

I nod. “And then she went back to the mirror and asked who the fairest person in town was, and the mirror still said it was Snow.”

Stan grunts right through his big teeth. “She must have been really miffed!”

I take another bite of stew. Gross. The dwarfs must like Snow’s company, because this is disgusting.

“What’s the queen’s real name?” Bob asks.

“Evelyn,” Snow says.

“Evil Evelyn,” I say. Makes it easier to remember.

“She’s definitely evil,” Snow says, then motions me to go on.

“So Evil Evelyn decided that instead of trusting someone else to kill Snow, she would just do it herself.”

“Wait, Abby,” my brother interrupts. “Where’s the king in all this? Didn’t you ever wonder about that? How could they write a whole story about a royal family and leave out the king?”

I look at Snow. “I think he’s just kind of wimpy, right?”

Her eyes tear up again. “He’s not wimpy. He’s dead. He was killed in battle when I was five.”

Me and my big mouth. Poor Snow! She lost her mom
and
her dad? “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she says sadly. She pushes her chair back and stands up. “Does anyone want more stew? I made a lot.”

“No thanks,” everyone says immediately.

Everyone except Jonah. “Me, please!”

Seriously?

Snow picks up Jonah’s plate. “No one else? We’re going to have lots of leftovers.”

“So what happens next?” Bob asks.

“I forget exactly,” I say, struggling to remember. “I think your stepmom disguises herself as an old woman and tries to kill you a few times? She uses laces?”

“It’s true!” Alan says. “She tied them so tight Snow couldn’t breathe. We came home and found Snow lying on the floor. We untied them just in time.”

“And then she came back with that poisonous comb,” Enid says, running her fingers through her pink hair.

“That was terrible,” Alan says. “We came home and found Snow lying on the floor again.”

“But we removed the comb, and saved her just in time,” Alan booms.

Frances growls at Snow, stabbing her fork in the air. “You have to stop letting strangers into the house.” Then she points her fork at me and Jonah. “Not counting you two. Maybe. I haven’t made up my mind yet. Now finish the story.”

“Right,” I say. “So today was her third try. She was planning on giving Snow a poisonous apple to eat. In the story Snow actually eats the apple. And by the time the you all come home, it’s too late!”

They all gasp again.

“Too late!” Enid shrieks.

“You mean …” Jon says, shielding his eyes. (His
sparkly
blue eyes. Jon really is cute. He could totally be a movie star. If, you know, they made movies in fairy tales.)

I nod, unable to say the words.

There’s a moment of silence.

“Thank goodness you arrived when you did,” Enid says. “You saved Snow’s life.”

“We should have a parade!” Bob says.

Maybe we should. We saved Snow White. We are awesome. We are heroes! Real heroes! Yay us!

“Not true,” says Jonah. “The prince brings her back to life in the story. Right, Abby?”

Oh. Right. The prince.

“He does? How?” asks Tara.

“Well,” I say, “after you guys find her on the floor again, you put her in a” — I’m about to say
coffin
, but it sounds too scary — “box in the forest, and then the prince comes along and saves her.”

“How can he save someone who’s dead?” Frances asks.

“When he carries her off, the poisoned apple pieces fall out of her mouth and she comes back to life,” I say. “Or something like that.”

“I thought he kissed her,” Jonah says. “And that’s what brought her back to life.”

“No,” I say. “That’s not the real story. That’s the Disney version.”

“Oh, right,” Jonah says. “But it happened in Sleeping Beauty’s story, right?”

“Right,” I say.

“I like the kissing better,” Enid says.

“But that’s not what happened!” I say, getting annoyed. “I mean, happens. I mean, will happen.”

“It’s romantic either way,” Tara says, swooning. I catch her glancing at Jon.

“So I don’t die?” Snow asks.

I take a quick sip of water. “Actually, you do. But then you get better when the prince saves you. And then you get married and live happily ever after.”

“Everyone lives happily ever after in fairy tales,” Jonah says.

“Not everyone,” I say. “Not the bad guys.” Fair is fair.

“Are there fairies in the story, too?” Tara asks, wide-eyed.

“No,” I say. “Not this one.”

“Hmph,” Frances says. “That doesn’t make sense. Then why is it called a fairy tale?”

“Who cares?” Enid says, her eyes dancing. “So is it Prince Trevor? From the kingdom of Gamel? It has to be, right? He’s the only single prince around.”

Gamel and Zamel? Seriously? “I don’t remember this prince’s specific name. I think he’s cute, though.”

“As cute as Jon?” Tara asks, and then clamps her hand over her mouth.

“Not sure,” I say, stifling a smile. “Snow, have you ever met the prince?”

“No,” Snow says.

Frances snorts. “I once saw Prince Trevor throw a rock at a stranger.”

“He did?” I ask. “That’s not very nice.”

She shrugs. “Well, he
was
two years old at the time. But still.”

“A toast!” Alan calls.

They all lift their glasses.

“Snow is going to marry a prince!”

“Hip, hip, hooray! Hip, hip, hooray!”

Hmm. There is one small problem with all the hipping and hooraying.

Snow didn’t eat the apple.

Which means she didn’t get poisoned.

And if she didn’t get poisoned, then she didn’t die.

And if she didn’t die, the probably cute prince didn’t bring her back to life.

So she probably doesn’t marry the probably cute prince.

Which means Jonah and I probably ruined her life.

h
ip, hip, hooray! Hip, hip, hooray! Hip, hip —”

“Stop!” I shout. “Snow isn’t going to marry the prince!”

“But you just said she would,” Alan says, confused.

“She was going to, but then we ruined everything. I’m so sorry. When we stopped Snow from eating the apple, we changed her story.” By
we
I mean Jonah, but I’m not going to throw him under the bus in front of everyone. “If she doesn’t get poisoned, the prince can’t bring her back to life.”

Jonah twists his bottom lip. “I didn’t think of that.”

“We’re so sorry,” I say. “Jonah, apologize to Snow.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, beet red.

“It’s okay,” Snow says, lowering her head. “I don’t need to marry a prince. I don’t mind living with the dwarfs for the rest of my life.”

“No,” I say, feeling panicked. “No, no, no. That is
not
the way your story goes. You cannot stay here and clean up after them for the rest of your life!” We have to fix our mistake. We have to. Stories shouldn’t change. They just shouldn’t! Look what happens when they do: Snow loses out on her prince! And she has to stay and clean the dwarfs’ house for the rest of her life! It’s just not fair. And things need to be fair. Judges make things fair, and so will I. “And it’s not fair that Evil Evelyn gets away with her evilness. In your story, she gets punished.”

“What happens to her?” Snow asks.

“I don’t remember exactly,” I say, racking my brain.

“She has to put on burning-hot shoes and dance until she dies!” Jonah chimes in.

Sure,
that
he remembers.

Snow winces. “Ouch. That’s awful.”

Frances nods. “That sounds like something Prince Trevor would make her do. It’s the rock all over again.”

“He threw a rock when he was two! Jonah used to EAT rocks when he was two.” I shake my head. “I have to fix Snow’s story.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Snow says. “I’ll be fine. You two have to get home, anyway. Your parents are going to worry.”

“No, you can’t leave now,” Bob says. “It’s already dark out. It’s way too dangerous. You’ll stay here tonight.”

“I guess you don’t have a car to drive us home in?” Jonah asks.

“We have Yopopa,” Bob says. “Our horse.”

“He’s a genius,” Alan adds.

I can’t help but giggle at the horse’s name. And also: Can a horse be a genius? People, yes. Me, maybe. A horse named Yopopa? Doubtful.

“What’s a car?” Tara asks.

“It’s a horseless carriage,” I say.

Frances narrows her eyes. “Are you sure you’re not a witch?”

“Yes,” I say. “But I don’t even think a car — or Yopopa — could get us home.” Who knows what will? Who knows what’s even happening at home? I glance down at my watch. It says 12:15
A
.
M
. How is that possible? It was just before midnight when we got sucked into the mirror. And we wandered around for at least a few hours. Maybe the watch stopped because the battery ran out? Or maybe the watch stopped because time has stopped at home. Well, why not? It makes as much sense as anything. When we finally get home, it will be the same time as when we left, and Mom and Dad won’t have missed us at all. Perfect!

I look through the window and see that it
is
pretty dark outside. And scary. And anyway, I can’t leave without figuring out how to fix Snow’s story. I just can’t. It wouldn’t be fair.

“Are you sure you have room for us?” I ask. I don’t want to impose.

“Of course,” Alan says.

Hello, fairy-tale slumber party! “Then we’ll stay.”

“Jonah,” I whisper angrily a few hours later. “You just kicked me in the face!”

Unfortunately, what Alan forgot to mention was that Jonah and I would have to share a bed.

My feet are hanging over the edge, and my brother’s feet are way too close to my mouth. We’re sleeping on opposite ends of a mini-dwarf-sized bed in Snow’s room.

How am I supposed to sleep like this? And I need to sleep. I’m so very tired. I’ve been up for at least a zillion hours. Okay, I’m exaggerating. Actually, I don’t know how long I’ve been up since my watch stopped. But I know I need to get some rest if I’m going to be able to come up with a plan to fix Snow’s story. And then get us home.

“Sorry,” he says. He turns. And tosses. And turns. And tosses. “I’m not tired. Can we go exploring? I want to see crocodiles. And dragons. And pirates. And —”

“Shush,” I tell him, motioning to the bed next to ours. “Snow’s sleeping. And you should be asleep, too. And no, we can’t go exploring. We have to figure out how to fix Snow’s story. And then we have to figure out how to get home.”

“You don’t need to fix my story,” Snow declares. “I’m fine here.”

“You’re up,” I say. “Did we wake you?”

“I’m not a great sleeper,” Snow admits. “Ever since …” Her voice trails off.

“Since what?” Jonah asks.

“Since my father died,” she says softly. Even in the dark, I can see the sadness on her face. “My mom died right after I was born, so I never really knew her. My dad remarried and then he died a few years later. And Evil Evelyn never liked having me around.”

“What was it like living with Evil Evelyn?” I ask.

Snow sniffs. “She just ignored me. The castle had a lot of staff, so someone else would help me with my meals and clothes and things. And then one day she started glaring at me. I guess that’s when the mirror told her I was pretty.”

I sigh. I feel SO bad for Snow. We have to fix her story. It’s not fair! Why should Snow have to clean and cook for the dwarfs when she should have her own palace? Why should Evil Evelyn get away with her evil behavior? And what about the prince? If we don’t fix Snow’s story, she’ll never meet him and she’ll never fall in love and live happily ever after.

“I’m sorry we interrupted Evil Evelyn yesterday,” I tell her.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Snow says. “I’m sure my stepmother will try again. She’s tried three times already.”

“Why do you keep letting her in?” Jonah asks.

She looks at her hands sadly. “I don’t know. I guess I keep hoping it’s not really her. That she doesn’t really hate me
that
much. My dad used to say that you have to believe the best in people.”

“Of course you should believe the best in people,” I say. “But not when they’re trying to kill you. But you’re right. Evil Evelyn will definitely try again. In fact, she’s probably yapping it up with her mirror right now, asking who the fairest of them all is. When the mirror says it’s you, she’ll start plotting a new plan to kill you.” An idea explodes in my mind like a firework. “Wait, that’s great news! Yay!”

“Um, yeah,” Snow says. “Yay.”

“Not yay that she’s going to kill you. Yay that we’re going to fix your story. See, she’ll probably put on another disguise and then come over. And this time we won’t interrupt. We’ll let her poison you.”

“We will?” Jonah asks uncertainly.

“Yes! That’s the point, right? Snow gets poisoned, you don’t barge in asking for an apple, and the story goes on as planned.”

“But how do you know she’ll use poison again?” Jonah asks. “The first time she didn’t use it. She tried to lace her to death.”

True.

Snow shivers. “And then there was the plan to eat my lungs and liver.”

“Your stepmom has some serious issues,” I agree. “But she did use poison the last two times. So hopefully she’ll try it again.”

“She
is
a fan of poison,” Snow says.

“Exactly. So as long as it’s poison again, that’s what we’ll do. Snow will eat the poison, she’ll fall down, the dwarfs will put her in the box, the prince will find her and save her, she’ll come back to life —”

“And they’ll live happily ever after!” Jonah says.

Whew. I feel much better now. Everything will continue as normal. It’s a perfect plan. I am such a good planner. I bet you have to be a good planner to be a judge. So you can plan people’s punishments and stuff.

“When do you think she’ll come?” Snow asks.

I flip my pillow to the cool side. “Good question. When did she come last time?”

“Today,” Snow says.

“No, before today.”

“Yesterday.”

“And the time before that?”

“The day before yesterday.”

“Perfect,” I say with a yawn. “Then I bet she’ll come tomorrow.” Excellent. We’ll take care of everything tomorrow.

First: We fix Snow’s story.

Second: We figure out how to get home.