Hailey Twitch and the Wedding Glitch (2 page)

We have to leave that store without even getting a dress! And that is because Cousin Angela was in a very cranky mood. She was being very loud in that store. I read that sign right out loud to Aunt Denise about watching your children. But she just ignored me. Which is very rude if you want to know the truth.

The one good thing is that we stop at the drive-through on the way home. I love stopping at the drive-through! We used to do it a lot more. But now we are only eating healthy dinners and snacks. So it is not allowed.

I lean over in the car and say the order right into the microphone. I say, “Please, can I have some French fries and one order of chicken nuggets?”

Then the man says, “What did you say?”

So I say it again. Only this time much more loud.

“Who has been eating these fries?” my big sister Kaitlyn says when we get home. She is looking in the bag. And seeing all the missing fries.

I sit down at the kitchen table. And then I quick try and change the subject. Maybe because I was the one eating those fries. It was a very hungry drive home. “Cousin Angela stomped right down on my foot,” I tell Kaitlyn. I hold my foot up. “Because we cannot agree on the same dress. I might have a broken toe and need a cast around it.”

“Ew, Hailey,” Kaitlyn says. “Get your sneakers off the table.”

She is unpacking all the bags and putting those very delicious nuggets right in front of me. Then she takes out the little tub of honey mustard. She takes the top off it and sets it down.

“Thank you for opening my honey mustard, Kaitlyn. You are a very good sister.”

“You're welcome, Hailey.”

“I want to try one of those fries,” Maybelle says. She sits down on the table and starts munching on one of them.

“Kaitlyn,” I say. “What do you think about Cousin Genevieve's wedding, please?”

“Weddings are boring.” Kaitlyn takes a big bite of her ooey, gooey cheeseburger.

“They are not boring,” I say. “Not when you are getting to be a flower girl.” I reach out and give Kaitlyn a little pat on her hand. Kaitlyn is very jealous, probably. Because she is fourteen years old. And fourteen is too old to be a flower girl. “It is okay to be jealous. It happens to the best of us.”

Kaitlyn rolls her eyes and takes one of my fries. She almost smacks Maybelle right in the head with it.

“So, Kaitlyn,” I say. “What am I going to do about this whole problem?”

“What whole problem?” She has her cell phone out. She is texting away on it. Probably to her friend Maya Greenbert. All about boys, boys, boys.

“The whole problem with this dress and Cousin Angela!”

“I do not know.” Kaitlyn is very good with helping with problems. But sometimes she does not want to help. “But there might not even be a wedding.”

“What do you mean?” I am gasping at this horrible news.

“You think they can really plan a whole wedding in one week? That is crazy.”

“One week is enough time. One week is forever. It is seven whole days.”

“They don't even have a band picked out,” Kaitlyn says. “How can they have a wedding without music?”

“It will all work out,” I tell her. That is what my dad tells me whenever I am having a problem. Usually my problem is about Natalie Brice, the meanest girl in room four, Miss Stephanie's second grade.

When I am finished with my dinner, I go upstairs.

“Maybelle,” I say. “Help me with my problem, please.”

“Your problem?” Maybelle asks. “What about my problem?” She is flying all around my room.

“You do not have any problems,” I grumble. “You are just a magic sprite.” Magic sprites do not even have to worry about being flower girls. They do not have to worry about stupid babies named Cousin Angela. They do not have to worry about broken toes that probably need a big cast on them. And they do not have to worry about finding music for that wedding.

“I am very much in trouble with Mr. Tuttle!” Maybelle says. “Maybe you forgot all about that big disaster.”

“I did not forget,” I say. “But me and you came up with a very good plan about that.”

Mr. Tuttle is in charge of the Department of Magic. And he told Maybelle that if she did very good magic, then he would give her magic back to her forever! And so Maybelle did very good at her magic. But then Mr. Tuttle told her that now she is going to have to go back to living in the magic castle forever and ever and ever.

Maybelle does not want to go back to that castle. She wants to live here, in the Twitch house. With me. Like two friends forever!

So I came up with a very brilliant plan. And that plan is that Maybelle is going to be very bad at her magic again. One big mess of a magic sprite. And then Mr. Tuttle will think she needs some more work. And so she will get to stay here! It is very perfect.

“I do not think that plan is going to work,” Maybelle says. She is standing in front of my mirror, and she is looking at herself and those sparkly wings of hers.

“Maybelle,” I tell her, doing a big sigh. “I am very good at brilliant plans.” This is a little bit of a fib. Some of my plans do not always work out so well. Like the time I decided to pick some apples in my neighbor Mr. Frisk's backyard. It turned out those apples were not ready to be picked. Or the time I decided to draw a big mustache on my friend Addie Jokobeck's face with a black marker. That is against the rules of room four.

“Just be very bad at your magic,” I tell Maybelle. “And you will not have to go back to that castle.” I am looking all around in my drawer to find a very good gymnastics suit. Gymnastics suits are also called bodysuits or leotards. I have lots of them. A blue one. A green one. A red one. And a black one. That is because I am always doing gymnastics. Also because they were on sale one day.

But my favorite gymnastics suit is my sparkly white bathing suit. It is not really a gymnastics suit. But it is sparkly. And it has a skirt on it.

“I am going to put on my gymnastics suit now,” I tell Maybelle. “And then I am going to do some handstands against my bedroom wall.” This is technically supposed to be not allowed. But I have had a very rough day.

But before I can even put that perfect gymnastics suit on, Maybelle pulls out her wand. And she points it right at the gymnastics suit. And then that gymnastics suit turns green! And all the sparkles are gone, and the skirt disappears right away!

“Maybelle!” I yell. “What did you do to this gymnastics suit?”

“I am being bad at my magic,” she whispers. “So Mr. Tuttle will think I lost it.”

“You should not have wrecked this gymnastics suit!” I tell her. “This is my most very favorite one. Make it go back to being sparkly right this instant.”

“No, thank you,” Maybelle says. And then she goes away.

• • •

I have decided to give Maybelle the silent treatment. The silent treatment is when you do not talk to someone because they have been very, very bad. My mom gives my dad the silent treatment when he forgets to tie up the garbage can and the neighbors' dogs get into it and spread it all over our lawn and my mom has to clean it up before work.

I give Maybelle the silent treatment all night.

I am still giving it to her the next morning at school, even. I am giving it to her all through the Pledge of Allegiance. And all through printing time. And all through morning snack.

It is supposed to make Maybelle mad, mad, mad. But she does not even care.

I decide it is more fun to think about being a flower girl.

“Hey, Russ,” I say to my friend Russ Robertson when we are walking down the hall to music class. “Did you hear that wonderful news about how I am going to be a flower girl?”

“Hailey,” Addie Jokobeck whispers. “We are not supposed to be talking in line.”

This is a true fact. But we are at the back of the line. And Miss Stephanie is in the front. So as long as I am quiet as a mouse, she will not hear me. I do not like being at the back of the line. I like to be line leader. But this week line leader is Antonio Fuerte. And this week I am in charge of watering the plants on the windowsill.

“Hey, Russ,” I whisper, so that Addie Jokobeck cannot hear. “Did you hear about me being a flower girl?”

“No,” Russ says. And then he faces right forward.

“Wow,” Maybelle says. “Russ does not even care.”

I give her a mean look. Then I say, “Yup, I am going to be a flower girl with a beautiful white bride dress and a beautiful sparkly tiara made of real diamonds that cost a hundred dollars.”

“Flower girl dresses cannot be white bride dresses,” Natalie Brice says. Natalie is the meanest girl in room four. She has curly hair and roller-skate shoes. She is a very big show-off. And she thinks she is the boss of me.

“Yes, they can, Natalie,” I tell her.

“No, they cannot.”

“How do you even know about flower girl dresses, Natalie Brice?”

“Because,” she says. “I have been a flower girl five whole different times. When I was a baby, like four years old.”