AS SOON AS THE SUN WAS UP, CEDAR WOOD was up, too. She didn’t need much sleep. Or any, really. Night was a time to rest her imagination, not her wooden body. But this morning, Cedar had been alert for hours before dawn, just lying on her cot, watching the shadows shift on the ceiling, thinking and waiting. It was the last day of summer. Time for a new school year.

As soon as pale yellow light licked her curtains, she rose and crept downstairs. Her own knees creaked more than the stairs did. In the kitchen, she made herself a cup of willow sap tea and heated up a nice bowl of acorn porridge.

Morning sunlight gilded the edges of things, making the cozy cottage look as rich as a royal palace. Blocks of wood were stacked along the walls. The floor was carpeted with wood shavings, the tables busy with half-finished projects, the ceilings dangling puppets, dolls, flutes, wind chimes, and dozens of other carved wooden creations. Cedar took it all in, trying to paint a picture of home in her mind that might last her all year.

“Good morning,” said Cedar’s father, Pinocchio, as he came down the stairs. He kissed the top of Cedar’s head and then busied himself buttering hot cross buns. He had warm brown skin like she did, still retaining the shade of the wood he’d once been carved from. But he was truly alive now. Real hair grew from his head, though his nose no longer did. It was a little bigger than average, retaining some memory of when it had lengthened with every lie.

“I thought we could finish those nesting dolls today,” said Pinocchio. “You are so good at painting the eyes! And then tonight there’s the end-of-summer clambake on the beach—”

“She’s going today.” Gepetto was on the stairs. He still had bedhead, his white hair standing straight up. His bottom lip lowered, pouting. “The fairy ferry sails after lunch. Isn’t that right, my girl?”

Cedar nodded.

Pinocchio’s smile dropped, but he picked it back up, showing Cedar a brave face. “I nearly forgot! She’s off on another adventure, another year of school, to conquer evil and battle monsters and finish her thronework!”

He picked her up and danced her around. Cedar laughed. She was fairy, fairy excited to see Raven Queen, Madeline Hatter, and her other friends again, but the twinkle of sadness in her dad’s eyes lingered.

All summer, she had worked alongside her father and grandfather, painting the dolls they carved, helping customers pick out the perfect gift or souvenir.

“My most helpful girl,” her father would call her.

“My sapling, my acorn, my treasure,” her grandfather would call her.

She had no heart, but her heartwood felt tender. She would miss home, but she would have all the wonders and friendships of Ever After High to distract her, while her family would still be in this little house, everything reminding them that Cedar was gone.

“I don’t want you to be lonely,” Cedar couldn’t help saying. “Or hungry! You two always forget to go shopping till the cupboards are bare. I’ll be right back.” She grabbed some baskets and ran out of the house.

Old Mother Hubbard’s Corner Market was always open early, so Cedar filled her baskets with Pinocchio’s and Gepetto’s favorite foods: bread, fruitcake, sardines, and humble pie.

She stocked the shelves and closed the cupboards at home in satisfaction but as she turned around, she still felt anxious about the quiet little house.

“I’ll be back in a splinter!” she called out as she left again.

In the summer, her village was a major tourist destination, famous for the many artists who lived there. The main street was lined with white cottages like her own—families lived upstairs and worked downstairs. Through a window, she spotted the Shoemaker coming downstairs just as tiny elves scurried away, leaving beautiful shoes on the tabletop. Next door, a fairy godmother was stacking up bright orange and yellow gourds.

“Good morning, Cedar!”

“Good morning,” Cedar replied with a happy wave.

For a fee, the fairy godmother would tap a gourd with her magic wand and turn it into a toy carriage right before your eyes. The tourists loved that.

The sweet smell of baking crust rolled under her nose from the Four-and-Twenty Blackbird Pie Shop, though Cedar knew for a fact that the pies were made from pumpkin, apple, or pomegranate meringue and not birds. If you bought a pie, stuck in your thumb, and pulled out a plum, you won a tinsel crown.

Across the street, Woodrow Wolf, a distant cousin of Mr. Badwolf, was hard at work. Huff and Puff Glass Blowers made cups, vases, and delicate glass flowers that looked comically tiny in his huge, hairy paws.

He waved and growled, “’Morning, Cedar. Off today?”

“Good morning, Woodrow. Keep an eye on the carvers for me, will you?”

He nodded but didn’t smile. His teeth still upset some of the locals.

At the end of the main street, black-haired and pink-dressed She was selling seashells by the seashore.

“Hey, She!” Cedar called out, waving.

She waved back. “Hi, Cedar! Hey, how can a clam cram in a clean cream can?”

At her feet, a clam was doing just that.

Cedar shrugged. “The world is full of tongue-twisting wonders.”

“But just one wooden wandering wonderer!” said She.

Cedar smiled but kept walking before she said out loud just how that made her feel. Her village was the best place in the world, filled with creative, interesting, and loving people. But sometimes Cedar still felt alone in a world of people nothing like her. Just one wooden wandering wonderer. The only one.

A carriage rumbled by her with twelve nearly identical children peering out of it, waving good-bye. Cedar waved back. The summer season was ending. Some tourists were taking a last breakfast in the outdoor cafés facing the ocean; others were cramming suitcases bulging with souvenirs into rental hybrid carriages to head back home. The village would become quiet. A little lonely.

Oberon and Titania’s Flower Market smelled as if a bottle of perfume had exploded. Several tiny pixies buzzed around, breathing on the blooms and brightening their colors. Oberon hobbled over to Cedar. He was a tall, robust man, but had injured his leg in a fairy carriage race some years back. It didn’t slow him down much, though.

“Good morning, Oberon!” Cedar said. “I need loads of the brightest, happiest flowers you have.”

“What a lovely order,” said Oberon. “Would you like to add on a perma-bloom spell?”

“Yes, please,” said Cedar. She couldn’t help blurting out an explanation. “I want them to last until I come home for winter break. I’m leaving today, you see, and I’m worried Dad and Grandpa will be lonely without me, so I’m hoping that flowers will help cheer them up.”

“Oh, is it time already?” Titania clasped her hands to her chest, and Cedar could see her green thumb. It was literally green. Probably what made her so adept at growing flowers. “Summer always ends too quickly.”

Titania began to sniffle as she picked out flowers, though Cedar wasn’t sure if it was because of sadness at summer’s end or just allergies. So awkward being a flower fairy with a pollen allergy.

At an adjacent outdoor café, two tourist boys dressed in swimming suits were gobbling up enough tea cakes to make any candy-housed witch well pleased. They eyed Cedar. She quickly looked away, but she couldn’t help overhearing their whispers.

“Look, there’s Cedar Wood.”

“Who?”

“Cedar Wood. Pinocchio’s daughter.”

“Oh, that’s nothing. Last year, I saw Apple White at a One Reflection concert.”

“Hey!” The taller of the boys hopped over the railing from the café porch into the Flower Market. “Hey, Pinocchio’s daughter! Tell a lie. We want to see your nose grow.”

Cedar busied herself examining a bunch of hollyhocks. “My nose doesn’t grow, and I can’t tell a lie.”

“Come on, just one.” The tall boy held up his MirrorPhone and started snapping pictures. “I want to see it grow so I can show everyone back home.”

“I told you, it doesn’t grow,” she said. She felt all redwood in the face even though she knew she couldn’t actually blush like a real girl.

“Come on—”

“It doesn’t grow! I’m not exactly like my dad. The Blue-Haired Fairy cursed me—or blessed me, or something—with caring and kindness and honesty after Dad carved me from magical wood, so I actually cannot tell a lie. I only speak the truth.” She took a deep breath and muttered, “Whether I want to or not.”

The boy smiled and nudged his friend. “Hey, she’s magically bound to tell the truth! So, Cedar Wood, tell us what you think about your dad?”

“My dad? Well, he’s kind and caring without needing a curse. I love him.”

The boy frowned, as if he’d been hoping for more juicy gossip. But his frown turned up in a sneaky way that made Cedar feel loose in her joints.

“Tell us what it’s like to be a fake puppet girl?” he asked.

“What? That’s none of your business. And really rude.” She tried to stop there, but her mouth just kept going. “But I worry that no one sees me as a person. Sure, I can talk and think and imagine feelings and smells, almost like I’m real. But I’m not. And I want to be real so badly I’d brave a wood-chipper for the chance, but at the same time, the thought of signing the Storybook of Legends and promising to live out my dad’s story scares me. I want to choose for myself what my life will be. I don’t like being forced to tell the truth or become the next Pinocchio even if Pinocchio is a pretty good story, and I especially don’t like having to tell you all this even though I don’t want to. I wish I could shut up!”

The boy laughed.

“Hey, leave her alone, huh?” said the shorter boy, but his friend ignored him.

“Tell us more, Cedar Wood!” the tall boy demanded. “What are you most scared of?”

Cedar left her baskets of flowers and ran.

She spoke as she ran, still answering his question because she couldn’t stop herself.

“Woodpeckers, wood-chippers, woodchucks, axes, fires, termites. Never turning real. Being stuck in a wooden body with an honesty curse forever. Disappointing my dad, letting my friends down…”

She finally stopped running when her feet sank into warm beach sand. The waves rolled up toward her, licking the sand and rushing back again. The sound calmed her. She sat, doing her best to not-think and not-feel for several minutes. She wished taking deep, slow breaths could help calm her like it did for real people.

Nearby, the Blue-Haired Fairy was wearing a hot-pink swimsuit and a gauzy cover-up, lounging on a beach chair and reading a thick novel titled The Bloody End of the Trident. Although her signature blue locks were hidden under a large sunhat, an ogre in a flowered shirt still recognized the famous fairy, sneaking up to snap a selfie with her on his MirrorPhone.

Cedar waited till he left before approaching. She sat on the sand, pulling her knees to her chest.

“Hey,” Cedar said.

“No photos, please,” the Blue-Haired Fairy said from behind her book.

“It’s just me,” said Cedar.

Sparkly blue magic lifted the book out of the way and laid it on the beach chair.

“Cedar, darling, you’re still here!” said the fairy. “When does your fairy ferry leave dock?”

“This afternoon,” said Cedar.

The fairy lowered her large, glamorous sunglasses and peered at Cedar’s face. “Ah. You are feeling things today.”

“I know they’re not real… my feelings.…” Cedar drew a circle in the sand with her finger. “I know I just imagine the feelings, since I’m made of wood and all, but they feel real.…”

“It’s your Legacy Year. You will sign the Storybook of Legends and promise to become the next Pinocchio, and yet you are unsure if that’s what you want.”

“I do know what I want. Well, I do know one thing. How much longer…?”

Cedar didn’t finish the question, but the fairy understood. She pushed her glasses up and leaned back, seeming to relish the sunshine on her face.

“Patience, my darling. There can be no Happily Ever After unless the story comes first.”

A single sparkle of blue magic traveled to Cedar’s nose and lit upon it, buzzing like a bee. She went cross-eyed, looking at it. The sparkle lifted off, exploded into a blue flower before her face. Cedar smiled and tried to hold the flower, but it turned to smoke, drizzling through her fingers like sand.

“And a story is always filled with conflict, danger, and uncertainty!” The fairy spoke the disagreeable words the way some might say “cupcakes, swing sets, and balloon animals!”

“But when?” Cedar asked. “When will I become real like Dad?”

“By the wand, girl! You already know so much of your future; you must treat the unknown as precious. I’d no sooner spoil it for you than read the last page of a book first.” Blue magic lifted the crime thriller and flipped it open to the last page. The fairy read: “‘The tall, monocled Keith wiped the bread pudding off his beard and stuffed the red mask back into the pocket of his sleek, silk suit—’ Wait, Keith was the Red Mask all along? I don’t believe it!”

The Blue-Haired Fairy flipped back to the middle, the book floating again before her face. She became so engrossed she didn’t seem to hear the calls for help. In fact, no one did. The beach was so quiet, most tourists already gone home.

Cedar stood up, shielding her eyes from the sun. Way out in the surf, someone was splashing.

Out of the water ran the shorter of the boys she’d seen back at the Flower Market.

“My friend!” he said, trying to catch his breath. “His foot caught on some kelp.”

Cedar ran forward. She could make out the tall boy’s head, his arms rising up and slapping down against the water’s surface in a panicked flail.

“I tried to help him,” said the shorter boy, “but I can’t swim.”

“I can swim,” said Cedar.

Not only that, but she could also float. Being made of wood had some advantages.

Cedar threw off her shoes, ran into the surf, dived under a wave, and swam. The foam splashed against her face and the water was chilly, but cold never bothered her.

She passed the buoy that warned NO SWIMMING: KELP FOREST and reached the boy. His face was tilted up, his neck submerged. His breath was wet and desperate.

Cedar dived underwater. Her wooden body wanted to float back up, but she clung to a branch of kelp and pulled herself down. Finding the kelp that wrapped around the boy’s ankle, she cut through it with the small knife she always kept in her art kit in her pocket. Just a few minutes ago she had wished she could breathe and take deep breaths just like everyone else. She was glad now that wish hadn’t come true.

She swam beneath him, balancing his back against hers, and kicked to shore. His friend waded into the surf and helped her drag the tall boy onto the sand. While he gasped for breath, Cedar wrung the seawater from her dress and tightened the brass pegs at her elbows and knees.

Finally, the half-drowned boy looked up. His eyes widened. “You!”

Cedar wrinkled her nose. “Me. The one you were cruel to earlier.”

“So… so why did you save me?”

“Because I’m not only honest, I’m also caring and kind. You’re a bully, but you can change. One day I’m going to change into a real girl. You don’t have to wait for the Blue-Haired Fairy’s magic. Be a real boy. Start using your heart now!”

Cedar worried that she sounded like a teacher scolding a naughty student, but then she chose not to worry anymore. She just turned and marched away.

At the Flower Market, Titania and Oberon had her overflowing baskets waiting. She spent the rest of the morning decorating the house with bright, fragrant fairy flowers and helping her dad sell puppets to the last of that season’s customers.

So much was uncertain in her future, but she had a father and a grandfather at home, good friends waiting at school, and no strings to hold her back.

Somehow, Cedar knew that all would be right in The End.