Faybelle tossed the pom-poms aside. She didn’t want anything to arouse suspicion. When she stepped back into the Charmitorium, she would prove to everyone that she was, without a doubt, a natural-born performer. She would astonish them all with her ability to act as if she knew absolutely nothing about Farrah’s wilted wings.
She opened the doors. “What in Ever After is going on?” she asked as innocently as possible. “Did something happen while I was on my MirrorPhone?” She batted her lashes and put her hand to her heart, as if concerned. Oh, she was good.
Farrah stood alone onstage, all color drained from her face. “My—my—my wings,” she stammered. She spun around. “They won’t unfurl.” She spun again, her long blue hair twirling with her. “What’s wrong with them? This has never happened.” A strangled whimper escaped her lips. “I don’t understand. I—I—” She turned and looked imploringly at Faybelle. “What’s wrong with me?”
Faybelle shrugged. “How should I know? I wasn’t anywhere near you when this happened.” She said this loudly so everyone in the Charmitorium could hear. “You’re not accusing me of anything, are you?” She clenched her jaw, ready to defend herself if necessary. If magic was suspected, she’d point to the other fairies in the room. They were as capable of casting a spell as she was.
“No, of course not.” Farrah’s eyes seemed as wide as tea saucers. “But my wings aren’t working. Do you know what it could be? Has this ever happened to you?”
Poor, misguided creature. She wasn’t accusing Faybelle. She was looking to her for advice.
Faybelle flew onto the stage and stood next to the little Goodfairy. It was the perfect opportunity to showcase her superior physical attributes. She took her time strutting around Farrah, pretending to inspect Farrah’s wings. But in truth she was giving Justine time to observe the difference between the two fairies. I’m taller, stronger, and much more regal, Faybelle thought. The choice is obvious. I’m your wicked fairy queen.
“My, my, this is a mystery,” Faybelle said, feigning confusion as she touched one of the limp wings. The sight of the stricken appendages was indeed shocking. For a moment, Faybelle’s chest felt a little heavy. She wondered if she’d done the right thing. But then she pushed that thought from her mind. She made some tsk-tsk sounds. “I have no idea why your wings are just hanging there. It’s so unattractive. My wings always work.” To prove her point, she lifted off the stage and soared over the audience, skimming their heads. Ashlynn and Briar ducked. Humphrey fell out of his chair. The cheerhexers cheered.
“Faybelle!”
“Faybelle, Faybelle, she can fly!”
“She can fly up to the… Hey, watch your elbow!”
“You watch your elbow!”
Faybelle landed back onstage. Farrah was visibly trembling, her eyes filling with tears. A lump formed in Faybelle’s throat. What was going on? Was she feeling bad for this Goodfairy? No, never! A dark fairy does not feel bad about casting dark magic!
Justine hurried onto the stage. “I’m so sorry this has happened,” she said, wrapping her arm around Farrah’s shoulder. “Do you think you’ll get better if you take a break? Or go get a drink of water?”
“I could try,” Farrah said. “But fairies never lose the ability to fly. Unless they are hextremely ill.” Gasps arose in the audience.
“She’s right,” Faybelle said. “Hextremely ill.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Farrah told Justine. “You said you needed someone who can fly, and if I can’t fly, I can’t audition for the wicked fairy queen. But you still have two others who are trying out.”
“That’s right,” Faybelle said. She zipped around them, then hovered. “My wings are just fine. But I don’t know about the other—”
A shriek erupted from the back row. Then another. Faybelle could barely contain her smirk.
“What’s going on?” Justine called.
The two first-year fairies had leaped from their seats. “My wings!” one of them cried. “Something’s wrong with my wings.”
“My wings, too.”
They struggled down the row, pushing past other students until they burst into the aisle. Then they spun around, trying to unfurl their wings, but both sets hung limp and lifeless.
Well, this is going exactly as planned, Faybelle thought. She rubbed her hands together in a most satisfied way. Then she opened her mouth, about to tell Justine she was ready for her monologue, when her six cheerhexers also jumped from their seats. They didn’t cheer. They shrieked and wailed as they also discovered useless wings.
“Faybelle!” they cried. “Faybelle, what’s happening?”
Holy hex! She’d been in such a hurry to foil Farrah and the other auditioning fairy she’d forgotten that the spell would attack every fairy in the room. Panic welled in her chest. Her heart began to pound. Her wings beat in double time as she continued to hover. How could she have made such a rookie mistake? This would be a huge problem for the Cheerhexing Squad. Regionals were three weeks away, but the wilted-wing spell was supposed to last for an entire moon cycle! How could they fly in formation?
She’d sabotaged her own team!
The weight of what she’d done pressed down on her shoulders, pushing her until she was standing on the stage.
“Oh, you poor dears,” Farrah said. She hurried off the stage and ran up the aisle. “Oh dear, oh dear,” she said as she took a closer look at everyone’s wings.
“We’ve all been struck by some mysterious illness. This is terrible.”
“Fix them!” one of the cheerhexers demanded. “That’s what you do, right? You make things look better.”
“Oh, what a good idea. I can try.” As Farrah took her little wand from her pocket, Faybelle cringed. While she wanted her cheerhexers fixed, she didn’t want Farrah or the other auditioning fairy to recover. Could fairy godmother magic actually fix a dark spell? Farrah pointed her wand at one of the cheerhexers. A trail of music and sparkles shot out the wand’s end, and for a moment, everyone held their breath, waiting to see what would happen.
The wings remained limp. Farrah’s face fell. “I’m sorry. My fairy godmother magic doesn’t seem to work in this situation.”
Faybelle exhaled with relief. The audition was still hers. But the cheerhexing problem remained. How could she solve that?
“I wonder if it’s some kind of virus,” said Dexter Charming. He stepped into the aisle and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Viruses spread quickly. That would explain how so many of you got it at the same time.”
“A virus?” Justine asked.
“It makes sense,” Farrah said.
All this chitchat is a waste of time, Faybelle thought. “Hey, Justine. Do you hexpect me to stand here all day? Let’s do this!”
Silence fell over the Charmitorium. Everyone turned and stared at Faybelle. She realized her mistake. She’d let her guard down. She’d forgotten to act as if she cared. Did they suspect?
“Hey, how come your wings are working?” one of the cheerhexers asked.
“Yeah, how come?”
Faybelle held back a gulp. She flicked her wings. “There is a perfectly adequate explanation.” She took a few steps forward. “Dark fairies have superior immune systems. Centuries of dealing with dark magic have made us stronger than other fairies.”
“That does makes sense,” Dexter said with a nod.
This seemed to satisfy the cheerhexers. Besides, they’d never dare question their team captain and future queen. At least, not in public. Or to her face.
Farrah tucked away her wand. “I think we should go to the infirmary. Maybe there’s some medicine we can take.”
“I shall escort you, fairy damsels!” Daring cried. He leaped across the seats and bounded into the aisle. Then, with a bow, he said in his most dashing voice, “Follow me.”
Farrah and the other fairies followed, along with Ashlynn, Briar, and Meeshell, who wanted to help in whatever way they could.
Finally! Good riddance! Faybelle cleared her throat. “Are you ready?”
Justine took her seat. “Yes, I guess we’d better get back to business. Go ahead.”
Faybelle delivered the monologue, the same one Farrah would have delivered if she hadn’t been sabotaged. She took her time walking around the stage, allowing everyone to admire her costume. Then she stood in the center, hands on hips, and, for maximum visual impact, she unfurled her wings in slow motion. They stood magnificent, catching the spotlights, casting rainbows upon the walls. And then she flew around the stage, delivering her lines, condemning the king and queen for not sending an invitation. As the monologue concluded, she cursed the princess to prick her finger and sleep for a hundred years.
There was nary a doubt in Faybelle’s mind. The part was hers! Confidence coursed through her.
She took a long bow. Since her cheerhexers had left, there was no fervent applause. A few members of the audience seemed to appreciate her performance, but most looked wary, unsure of how to react. Did they suspect her of foul play? Or did they think her performance was foul? Or was that fear she saw in their eyes?
“When does practice begin?” she asked Justine. “I’m busy most afternoons with the Cheerhexing Squad, but I can squeeze in time after dinner.”
Justine held up her clipboard and pointed to another name. “You don’t have the part yet. There’s still one more person trying out.”
Faybelle snorted. “She left. With the other fairies. Remember?”
“No, I didn’t,” a voice called. “I’m still here.”
Because the spotlight was blinding her, Faybelle couldn’t see who was speaking. She shielded her eyes with her hand and stepped to the edge of the stage. “You have to be a fairy to try out for the wicked fairy queen,” she said, her eyes scanning the faces.
“She doesn’t have to be a fairy,” Justine corrected. “She simply has to have wings and be able to fly.”
Not a fairy? What treachery was this? Who else had wings? Who else could fly? This was impossible.
Then Faybelle’s gaze stopped cold on a smiling face.
C.A. Cupid.