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Authors: Maryrose Wood

How I Found the Perfect Dress (14 page)

BOOK: How I Found the Perfect Dress
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i
t turned out the service entrance Was a normal-sized door, partially hidden behind one of the dress racks in the hallway. The Wee Folk woman offered many anxious reminders to be careful with her precious pink creation, and threw in more ass-kissy compliments about how stunning I looked in it. I assured her that Jolly Dan had not altered my opinion of the dress one bit, which was the sad truth.
Then she left, and I entered the shoemaker's shop alone. Luckily the ceiling was high enough for me to stand, if I scrunched a little bit.
Jolly Dan was already back at work, alternately puffing on his pipe and
tap-tap-tapping
away on a cowboy boot that was nearly as big as he was.
“You're not really gonna wear that thing, are you?” he remarked, as he worked. “It's like—like—”
“Like Cinderella fell into a vat of Pepto-Bismol, I know,” I agreed. “But it's all I have at the moment.” I watched him hammer away at the boot, and wondered what would be the best way to raise the subject of Colin's enchantment. Jolly Dan didn't seem the type who would automatically help out a tackily dressed stranger just because she'd turned up in his shop with a spell to unravel.
“Do you prefer to be called Jolly” I asked. “Or Dan? Or . . . ?”
“Jolly Dan prefers to be left alone,” he snapped. “Do you need shoes or not?”
Okay, chitchat was definitely not the right approach. “I need your help,” I said. “I have a friend who's been enchanted by the Faery Folk.”
“A friend, or
more
than a friend?” His bushy eyebrows waggled up and down independently of each other. “You only get one chance to ask Jolly Dan for a favor, you know. Don't mess it up with half-truths, you half-goddess, you.”
“He's more than a friend,” I corrected myself. “He's very special to me. That's why Queen Titania enchanted him.”
“Is he just a mortal, then? Or some fraction of a bigshot divinity, like you?”
“He's a mortal,” I replied, though I had never thought of Colin as “just” a mortal. “He's a normal, human-type guy.”
“Good luck to him, then.” Jolly Dan put his pipe down, flipped the boot over and placed it on a shoe form that held it securely upside down. There was a big hole in the bottom of the boot, and he shook his head in disapproval.
“My friend's name is Colin,” I went on stubbornly. I hadn't come this far to let a grouchy leprechaun blow me off. “They make him attend the faery balls every night while he's supposed to be sleeping, even though he doesn't want to. It's exhausting, and it's making him sick.”
Jolly Dan snipped around the sole of the boot with a tiny pair of scissors. Each snip seemed angrier than the last. “Jolly Dan never goes to those balls,” he growled. “I don't suppose you'd care to know why?”
“Of course I would.”
“Because.” He ripped the worn-out sole off the boot with a single pull. “Do you know how hard it is to dance with someone more than twice your size?”
OMG,
I thought.
Is that what's bugging this guy? His height?
“It's pretty difficult, I'd imagine,” I said, with as much sympathy as I could muster.
“It is. It's embarrassing, is what it is. How tall is this ‘special friend' of yours?”
“About six foot.”
“Ha!” he exclaimed. “Jolly Dan Dabby has
no
sympathy. None. What. So. Ever.”
“Mr. Dabby,” I pleaded. “My friend isn't well, and it's getting worse by the day. I honestly don't know how long he can survive with so little rest.” I sank down to my knees to be at eye level with the leprechaun. “I've been told that you are the only person who can help me release him from this enchantment. Is that true?”
“It is,” he said, taking a fresh piece of leather from a nearby shelf. “And I suppose you want me to tell you how.”
“I do.”
He trimmed the leather into the proper shape as he spoke. “Well, first I'd have to know his shoe size.”
“I can find that out,” I said, glad to have something concrete to do.
“Not your silly numbers.” He snorted. “I'd need an actual shoe of his, one that his own foot has thoroughly broken in. A shoe that fits him—”
“Like a glove?” I finished eagerly.
“No, semi-goddess-girl, like a shoe! Gloves go on the hands.” He shook his head at my stupidity. “Once I've got a shoe that's molded to his foot, I fashion a form from it. Then I make him a brand new pair.” He took a puff on his pipe and smiled. “Lovely dancing shoes. Ones that have a little magic in them.”
“Then—what?”
“Then he has to put them on, you genius! Not on these!” He wiggled his fingers in my face. “On his feet! One spin around the dance floor wearing my shoes, and the enchantment's broken. He'll be your own overgrown, ‘normal, human-type guy' once more. Sounds like a real loser if you ask me.” He made a gagging gesture with his finger.
I ignored the loser comment. “Does that mean the faeries won't bother him again?” I asked, thinking of Mike Fitch and every other boy I might conceivably meet in my life. “Or will they find other mortals to take his place?”
He chuckled darkly. “They wouldn't dare, believe me. All those hard-partying Faery Folk come to me for their dancing shoes. If they cross me even once, I'll make 'em so their toes pinch and their feet blister.” He took out a second small hammer and, now using both hands, doubled his efforts tapping in the new sole of the boot.
So all I need to save Colin is a pair of magic shoes made by a leprechaun?
I thought.
Piece of cake!
“Well,” I said, feeling relieved. “This won't be too difficult, then!”
“Not for you, chickie,” Jolly Dan said. “I'm the one that has to make the shoes.
If
we can work out a deal, of course.”
“Of course,” I said quickly. “May I ask how much they'll cost?”
“Jolly Dan has plenty of money.” His two-hammered tapping on the bottom of the boot was starting to take on familiar rhythms. It reminded me of Dylan's signature drum riff from “Rock and Roll All Nite,” but a lot of those heavy metal drum parts sounded alike to me, frankly. “Jolly Dan Dabby only makes shoes that he
wants
to make,” the leprechaun added, with an air of mystery.
I could tell this half-pint grump wanted something, but what was it? He wasn't making it easy to find out. “Will you do it to help Colin, then?”
His face reddened with anger. “I should knock myself out bringing more happiness to a six-foot lunk who's already got a half-goddess girlfriend?” The redder he turned, the louder he got. “What about
me
? What about Jolly
Dan's
needs?”
Hmmm,
I thought.
It's never a good sign when you talk about yourself in the third person.
“I think I get it,” I said. “You want to be the apple of someone's eye, don't you?”
He looked startled, as if he might say something, but then he turned back to his work. I watched him in silence.
“I'll help you on one condition,” he muttered at last.
“Whatever it is, I'll—”
“Don't be so hasty! What I'm going to ask you to do isn't easy. In fact, it's probably impossible.
Very
probably.”
Definitely impossible might be an obstacle, but very probably impossible were odds I thought I could handle. I listened.
“I'll make your boring, ordinary human-guy the shoes,” he said slowly, “
if
you find me a date for the Spring Faery Ball. A
real
date,” he added. “Someone like me. Not a giant klutz of a girl. No offense.”
“That'll be a cinch,” I said, giddy with relief. “Fixing up a charming and attractive gentleman like you?”
“You forgot prosperous.” Then he looked embarrassed. “Even so, it's not going to be as easy as you think.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” he said, giving me a
don't they teach you giant klutzes anything at school?
look. “There are no female leprechauns. Didn't you know that? Duh.”
That piece-of-cake feeling disappeared like a wisp of smoke from Jolly Dan's pipe. “Duh,” I echoed stupidly. “I forgot about that.” My mind turned over the possibilities. “Does it have to be a girl?” I asked, after a moment. “I'm just checking.”
Jolly Dan gave a sad shrug. “Yup. Sorry, but that's the way I swing. It's a frustrating situation, to say the least.” He lifted the resoled boot off the form and examined it. “Look,” he said with a sniff. “Even these smelly things come in pairs. Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do.”
“I'll find you someone,” I said, as touched by his loneliness as I was determined to help Colin. “Get yourself a tux and practice your dance moves. I'll be back.”
“Yeah, right,” he scoffed. His voice was gruff, but I could have sworn I saw him quickly wipe away a tear. “See ya'round, tall stuff.”
 
 
 
i
left jollЧ
d
an's shop the same WaЧ
i
Came in, through the service door that, from the inside, was marked with a plaque reading GIANT KLUTZES EXIT HERE. And I managed to wheedle the beautiful beige dress back from the Wee Folk woman by asking her to store the pink gown for me until prom.
“I don't want to get it dirty,” I explained. “My sister likes to play dress up with my clothes.”
“I completely understand,” she said grandly. “We'll take excellent care of it. Are you and Mr. Dabby all set about the shoes?”
Naturally I hadn't bothered to ask Jolly Dan Dabby about pink shoes, but it's not like I was going to be needing them. I had no intention of putting that pink dress on ever again.
“I think Jolly Dan understands exactly what I want,” I told her. “But now I have to go. Would you mind showing me back to the—the, uh—”
“The elevator? Of course.”
I followed her back into the hallway. The elevator was small, with a folding iron gate across the door. With a strong pull she yanked the gate open and held it while I stepped inside. The interior was completely mirrored, even the ceiling.
“Relax and pamper yourself,” she called, pulling the gate shut with a clang. “Get a manicure! A facial! A massage! You only get to go to your junior prom once!”
I pressed the button that read STROHMAN'S DRESSING ROOM (the other one read HARRODS) and the elevator lurched into motion, though whether it was going up, down or sideways I couldn't say.
thirteen
m
oments later
i
Was back in strohman's, standing in front of the angled mirrors and the kaleidoscope of reflections within them. Looming over the right shoulder of each of an endless number of Morgans were an equal number of Sarahs, wearing facial expressions that were infinitely more impatient than a single Sarah could ever manage on her own.
“So?” she asked, as if for the gazillionth time. “You're gonna take it, right?”
“Take what?” I was still thinking about the cool way the elevator had morphed into the dressing room mirrors in Strohman's the instant the doors slid open.
“The
dress,
Morgan! You're standing there like you're mesmerized or something. Did you even check the price?”
I hadn't, of course. I twisted around to see the tag, but it kept jumping out of reach as I moved. Sarah rolled her eyes and grabbed it.
“Hold still for a minute—oh my God! It's on
sale
!” To Sarah, this was the ultimate sign from above. “That settles it. I'm putting this dress on layaway for you.”
“Sarah, I know you're trying to help,” I said, turning around so she could unzip me. “And I appreciate it. But there's some really important stuff I need to figure out first—”
“Morgan.” Sarah spun me around again and grabbed me by both shoulders. “Six words! Junior prom. Gorgeous dress. Mike Fitch. Whatever else you need to figure out can't be that big a deal.”
That's because you never had to play matchmaker for a leprechaun,
I thought, as I went to change.
 
 
b
Ч the time i got home from the mall, the front yard and rear garden of my house were overrun with garden gnomes. Near the mailbox: two gnomes in sun hats having a tea party. Clustered around the birdbath: four gnomes smoking cigars and playing cards. Gnomes peeked out mischievously from behind the trash cans, sunbathed on the lawn and played hide-and-seek in the shrubs. Dad had truly outdone himself this year.
I stood on the driveway with my keys in my hand, taking it all in.
Mom must be gearing up for a major tantrum,
I thought.
This is gonna be interesting.
But then I heard her voice, coming from the side of the house. She wasn't having a tantrum. In fact, she sounded pleased.
“How about this one?” she was saying. “Look how cute it is, in its little dress!”
“It's not important what the wee bugger looks like. I just need to whack the limbs off it.”
Colin and my mother rounded the side of the house. I just stared at them.
“Good afternoon, Mor,” Colin said cheerfully. “Did ye manage all yer shopping? Yer ma told me there's a big dance comin' up at school. Ye never mentioned.”
What's Colin doing here?
I thought.
And why the fek is my mother telling him about my prom?
“Why do you want to whack the limbs off a gnome?” I asked.
“Colin has the
most
prize-winning idea for his robot.” Mom sounded giddy. “Instead of some boring, mechanical-looking thing, he wants to conceal the robotics inside a, um—what did you call it, Colin?”
BOOK: How I Found the Perfect Dress
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