CHAPTER 5
Why the hell are we outside? More bloody sunshine! I’ve got a splitting headache and feel jittery all over. I need a cup of coffee. Desperately.
“This is our Enchanted Garden,” beams Elzmerelda. “We grow our own vegetables, fruits, and grains.”
It’s all one big green blur to me. I’m getting edgier and edgier. A rabbit scampers by me. I want to crush it. Turn it into rabbit stew. Seriously, if don’t get my daily dose of caffeine soon, I am going to cause some major damage.
“Get me my coffee!” I order.
A single, simple cup of black coffee. What’s so difficult about that? Even in that decrepit dungeon, I always got my morning coffee.
“Oh, we don’t drink coffee at Faraway,” she says in that sickening singsong voice. “We only drink herbal tea. It’s part of the healing process.”
My life is over. I’m never going to make it out of here without my coffee.
“Here’s a basket.” The loony hands me the extra one she’s holding. She’s so relentlessly cheery a fire-breathing dragon couldn’t melt her smiley façade.
I’ve had it. Coffee or no coffee. I’ve got to get out of here. My eyes search in every direction for an exit until Miss Cheerful and Deranged yanks me toward a patch of berries.
“What kind of tea do you like?” she asks. “My favorite’s chamomile.”
Mine is anything that will shut her up. Permanently.
“Lalalala!” sings a stout, silver-haired woman in a red frock and bonnet, waving a wand. When she turns her back, I catch sight of a pair of wings and a butt as big as a warthog’s.
“People, let me hear you sing it louder!” shouts another big butt woman in an identical green getup. I recognize her immediately. She’s that rude fairy spa-mother I met yesterday.
“Bring it on!” cheers a third wand-waving, winged woman in blue who could easily be the shorter, roly-poly sister of the first two.
How can they be so energetic so early in the morning? I bet they get coffee!
Singing their “lalalalas” in perfect harmony, the trio is supervising a pathetic group of losers who are picking berries and attempting to sing along. There’s a troll with glazed eyes and a pronounced limp, a woman about my age but triple my size, and the scary-skinny chick I saw mopping floors yesterday. She bears a strong resemblance to my new “roomie,” except she’s anything but cheerful. Who are all these freaks?
“This is the way we start our day,” Elzmerelda tells me. “The Good Fairies believe singing brings out the best in people.”
Is she kidding? It’s bringing out the worst in me. This “lala” stuff is driving me crazy. I know. It’s a conspiracy to prove I really do belong in this nuthouse.
“And they believe a rustic diet will restore our souls.” Doesn’t she ever shut up? I want to rip her tongue out. “We only eat things made from fresh fruits, veggies, grains, and eggs we gather ourselves.”
Peasant diet is more like it. What happened to the “you will eat like royalty” promise? Another lie. I am going to sue!
Elzmerelda frolics over to the others, leaving me alone. Brainstorm! While no one’s watching, I’ll run away and escape. The front gate can’t be too far off. Ha! By the time they notice I’m missing, I’ll be long gone.
So long, losers. I’ve hardly taken five steps when the three Badass Fairies touchdown in front of me and grab me forcefully by my arms. I try to wrestle myself free but am no match for their astounding strength. They’re like a pack of winged behemoths.
“Hello, I’m Fanta,” says the one in green.
“I’m Flossie,” says the one in red.
“And I’m Fairweather,” says the one in blue. “And you must be our new resident, Jane Yvel.”
My real name. I haven’t used it in years. At that dungeon, everyone called me The Evil Queen. Everyone!
“Welcome to Faraway!” they say together.
“Come join us for breakfast,” says Flossie as they haul me back to the berry patch. “We’ve baked some fresh muffins.”
All I want to do is tear off a pair of their wings and blow out of here.
“Don’t you love the Good Fairies?” asks Elzmerelda, biting into her muffin.
Seriously, I want to poison them but have to admit the muffin’s delicious. Warm, buttery, melt-in-your-mouth delicious. I haven’t eaten anything this good in years. It’s even gotten me over my coffee fixation.
Elzmerelda babbles on. “They used to be Sleeping Beauty’s fairy godmothers. When they retired, they came here. Now, they’re certified life coaches.”
Life coaches? What kind of nonsense job is that?
“They also teach cooking, sewing, and Arts and Crafts. Their classes are so much fun!”
Hardly my idea of fun. Maybe, there’s an advanced class on making evil potions.
“And on Sunday’s, they hold a talent show.”
“Don’t trust them; they’re spies,” says another voice. It’s the scary skinny girl that resembles Elzmerelda. Picking crumbs off the top of her muffin, she saunters over to the bench where we’re sitting.
“Jane, this is my sister, Sasperilla,” says Elzmerelda.
Sasperilla gives me the once-over with her dark, beady eyes.
“Why are you two here?” I ask.
“Mother made us come,” says Sasperilla, her tone bitter.
“She thinks if we get more in touch with our inner princess, we’ll marry royalty,” chimes in Elzmerelda.
“It’s all our stepsister’s fault.” Sasperilla rolls a crumb between her bony fingers. “If that cunning little bitch hadn’t snuck out of her room with the other glass slipper, Prince Charming would have been mine!”
“Cinderella’s not a b…bad person,” says Elzmerelda.
Sasperilla snorts. “Puh-lease. It takes one to know one. Right, Jane?”
So, she thinks I’m a bitch. Just wait. I’ll show her.
Another woman strolls over to us. The obese one. She has delicate features and long, lustrous red hair that I would kill for. I’d almost call her pretty if she weren’t so damn fat and freckled.
“Sasperilla, can I have your muffin?” she asks.
“Be my guest.” The skinny bitch tosses her the barely touched muffin. “One woman’s dread is another woman’s bread.”
Elzmerelda shakes her head in frustration. “Sassy, you’re never going to get of here if you don’t start eating like a normal person.”
Sasperilla scoffs at her sister. “Everyone knows princes only marry skinny girls. If I wanted to marry a poor cobbler, I’d look like Winifred.”
The heavy woman forces a smile. “At least, my husband’s a good man and loves me.”
“Yeah, right,” snickers Sasperilla. “He loves you so much he had you committed here.”
Winifred’s hazel eyes flare. “Here, you can keep your muffin.” She flings it back at the skinny bitch.
“Fattie!” screams Sasperilla, flicking crumbs off her frilly gown as if they’re deadly insects.
Winifred’s freckles explode like fireworks, turning her whole face red. Clenching her fists, she looks ready to charge.
Great. The party’s about to get bigger. The ugly troll is limping our way. His stony eyes fixate on me. What’s your problem, mister? On second thought, I don’t want to know. I’ve had it with these whackos.
“How’s everyone doing?” It’s Fanta. Her two big-butt sisters join her just in time to prevent a brawl between Sasperilla and Winifred.
“People, finish up,” says Flossie.
“It’s time for your morning meditation,” says Fairweather.
Meditation? Now, what poison are they springing on me?
Elzmerelda tells me that meditation teaches us to stay focused on the present while turbulent thoughts and emotions swirl through our heads. “Getting in touch with your inner spirituality is another part of the healing process.”
Inner spirituality? What the hell is she talking about? It gets worse. She rambles on, spewing more mumbo jumbo like “life affirmation,” “self-realization,” and “emotional awareness.”
“It’s a stupid waste of time!” snorts Sasperilla.
Reluctantly, the skinny bitch sits down on the grass with her sister, the fatty, and the catatonic troll in a cross-legged pose. Fanta leads them in some ridiculous “hang-out-in-the-light” incantation. I refuse to join in.
Flossie takes me aside. “Don’t worry, dear. Grass stains don’t hurt so please find a place with the others.” She gently takes me by the hand and then shoves me to the ground. The nerve of her! I’m going to file a complaint for excessive force. Fairy brutality! When they find out I’m a queen, they’ll shut this place down. And I’ll be free to go!
Right now, I have no choice but to chant along while Flossie keeps her stink eye on me. She’ll probably batter me with her wand if I don’t cooperate. And break my nose and knock out my teeth! I’ll never ever be Fairest of All again! Talking about turbulent thoughts! Chanting isn’t going to help me.
“Close your eyes and repeat after me,” says Fanta. Waving her wand, she chants:
“I am here to be helped.
To share. To be one with me.
On whatever level, I can find myself
To become the me I need to be.”
I have no idea what these words mean. But when I say them, a peacefulness saturates my body and mind. I’m no longer on this planet. I’m in a higher place. A place where everything is possible. Even going back to my castle and forgiving my mirror.
“Isn’t Fanta amazing?” singsongs Elzmerelda when our meditation ends. “She and her sisters were once able to put an entire kingdom to sleep.”
I hate to admit it, but I’ve never felt so good. I feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe, this place is some kind of spa after all. Okay, it’s a little run down and caters to a bunch of crazies, but nonetheless, it’s got spa potential.
Fairweather waddles up to me. She hands me a map showing the layout of the castle and grounds. “My dear, it’s time for you to meet your personal therapist.”
A therapist? Faraway is a real spa! At last, I’m getting a massage. A facial and quick body wrap can’t be far behind. In no time, they’ll let me out of this joint. Renewed! Refreshed! Revitalized! Ready to reclaim my place as Fairest of All.
Following the directions of the map, I find myself humping the never-ending spiral staircase of a towering turret. With every step, I get more and more winded. The massage room is located at the very top. What a stupid place to put it! Then again, maybe they deliberately want you to feel wasted to appreciate your massage. That’s if you make it. I may not.
At last, I reach my destination. Breathing heavily, I stagger into a small circular room. It’s sparsely decorated with only a simple round wall clock and a single piece of furniture—a burgundy velvet chaise lounge. Although worn and faded, the chaise looks comfortable and inviting. This must be where I lie down and get my massage. Wasting no time, I sink into it. I’m so ready to surrender my body.
Just as I relax, a tiny winged creature zips in like a streak of lightning, drenching me in a shower of sparkling dust. I cough. What the—
“Hello, Jane. I’m Shrinkerbell, but you can all me Shrink. I’ll be your personal therapist here at Faraway.”
What kind of massage therapist is this? She’s the size of a sparrow, with hands no bigger than a bird’s claws, and thick round spectacles that make her look bug-eyed. Buzzing around the room, she’s as calming as a mosquito.
“So that you know, Tinkerbell is my fraternal twin. She got the looks; I got the brains.” She runs one of her tiny hands through a messy pouf of blond hair. “Who do you think came up with the Peter Pan complex? Me, that’s who! It kills me that my in-your-face sister always gets the credit.”
Why is she telling me all this stuff? She’s taking precious time away from my massage. I’m going to demand an extra fifteen minutes if she doesn’t get going.
She swoops down from the ceiling. “Sorry for getting carried away with my issues. We’re here to talk about yours. First, do you have any questions?”
“Yes. Can you go deep?” I read in one of those beauty magazines that a deep tissue massage can magically restore your beauty.
“Yes, I like to go as deep as possible with all my clients. My goal is to find the underlying causes of their problems.”
Great, because I feel like crap. I’m not sure if it’s the lack of coffee, the climb, or mirror withdrawal. I still have a pounding headache, and my body is aching all over. Plus, that damn dust is stinging my eyes.
“Just one other little question. Can I borrow a mirror before we begin?” Someone around this joint has got to have one.
“Ah, yes,” she replies.
Finally! A mirror!
“I’ve read your case history. Quite complex, indeed. Has anyone ever told you what you look like?”
“Actually, I had a magic mirror that did a pretty good job until this little shrew named Snow White got it distracted.”
She zooms in closer and circles my head. Talking about someone being in your face.
“Your nose is too long; your lips are too big; your cheekbones are too high, and your eyes, although a lovely shade of green, are too far apart.”
Her words hit me like a cannonball. “Liar!”
“Jane, having to face the truth is the start of recovery.”
“Give me a mirror!” I demand.
She pulls out a tiny glass object from a pocket.
“Give me that!” I grab for it.
She zips off before I can snatch it. “No, Jane, this is my magic mirror.”
Clasping the small object in her tiny hands, she examines every inch of my face. I try again to snag the mirror, but her trail of fairy dust is blinding me.
“Ah! I’ve discovered a freckle.”
A freckle!? I bolt to a sitting position, clutching my stomach like someone’s punched it. I knew all the sunshine around this place would do me in. I’ll never be the fairest again! I’m ruined!
A mixture of rage and despair boils inside me. Grasping at air, I finally snatch the looking glass and hold it up to my face. I don’t see a damn thing. That’s because it’s a magnifying glass, not a mirror. I refuse to believe her. She’s deliberately messing with my head. She deserves to die!
I hold out my hands and get ready to smoosh her between my palms. Clap! She flits off just in the nick of time.
I rub my prickling hands together as she flutters overhead out of reach.
“You have numerous imperfections, but they come together in an interesting, attractive way. Remember, Jane, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.”
“Are we done here?” I say, gritting my teeth.
“No, Jane, we’ve just begun.”
A chime from the clock sounds.
“Time’s up for today. I’ll see you here tomorrow at the same time.”
Like a shooting star, she’s gone, leaving a streak of sparkling fairy dust in her wake.
I choke. Obviously, I’m not getting a massage.
Every muscle in my body is twitching from that bogus therapist. She thinks I’m going to see her tomorrow? Not a chance in hell. I’m going to figure a way out of here. The good news is I’ve got a map. Following it, I head back to my room. I’ll take a quick nap to unknot my body and brain, then study it. Seriously, how hard can it be?
The moment I step foot inside the castle, Fairweather thrusts a bucket and mop at me.
“Ha-ha! It’s your day to do the floors,” snickers Sasperilla.
Flossie tosses her a feather duster. “You’ll be keeping her company.”
Scary-Skinny scrunches up her face in disgust.
Rage is rising inside me. I demand to know what’s going on.
“Everyday, after morning meditation, we have castle clean-up,” explains Elzmerelda as she polishes a bureau. “The Good Fairies believe that hard work builds strong bodies and minds.”
Is she joking? Haven’t those cheapskates heard of the word “servant”?
“Jane, what are you waiting for? Get going!” snaps Fanta, jabbing her wand into my back.
These Badass Fairies aren’t life coaches; they’re slave drivers.
“During clean-up, we all take turns meeting with Shrink,” Elzmerelda tells me after they fly off. “Winnie’s meeting with her now. Then it’s Sassy’s turn, What’s-His-Name’s, and finally mine.”
I’m hardly listening to a word she’s saying. I’m too busy squeezing water out of the mop.
Sasperilla tickles my nose with her duster. “Having fun yet?”
It’s bad enough I’m doing slave labor, but there’s no way I’m putting up with Skinny Bitch’s sarcasm. I toss the bucket of dirty water at her. She shrieks.
“Now, I am.” I smile. She looks like a drowned rat.
Before Sasperilla can retaliate, Fanta flies in, touching down between us.
“Look what she did to me!” screeches Sasperilla, wringing out her soggy curls.
“You can talk all about it with Shrink.” Grabbing her by the elbow, Fanta steers her toward the front door.
Sasperilla turns her head and sticks her tongue out at me. I give her my always-effective icy stare.
“Get back to work,” Fanta barks at me.
The Badass Fairy’s words echo in my head, and I’m suddenly a little girl again, scrubbing the gritty stone floor of the cramped, one-story flat I share with my mother. A chorus of voices coming from outside distracts me, and I peek out the window. Children are playing on the street. They’re laughing, singing, having fun. How I long to join them! “Jane, what are you doing?” yells my mother. Yanking me by my hair, she shoves my head into the bucket of dirty water. I hold my breath, counting the seconds, not daring to open my eyes to the sting of the septic suds. Thirty-one…thirty-two…thirty-three… Finally, she jerks me out. She throws a mop at me and hisses, “Get back to work!”
I mop the castle floor frantically to erase the memory. I hate you, Fanta.