Faybelle Thorn hadn’t felt this angry since that time everyone in the dorm but her got an invitation to the Spring Fairest. Or that time Lizzie Hearts’s hedgehog chewed up her thronework. Or that time the dragon cleaners shrank her cheerhexing uniform. Or that time… okay, so perhaps she had a hot temper, but at that moment it had risen beyond the boiling point. She could barely contain herself. She wanted to go all evil on everyone! But instead, she took a seat in the very back row, where no one could see her clenched jaw or blazing eyes.
C.A. Cupid stood on the stage, delivering some boring monologue. Curses! The wilted-wing spell only worked on fairies, not on whatever Cupid was. What was she, exactly? An adopted daughter of a Greek demigod? Whatever after. And what was up with all the pink? Pink hair, pink lip gloss, pink dress, pink shoes. And a big pink heart on top of her head. So much cuteness was nauseating. But aside from Cupid’s questionable color obsession, the point was, she wasn’t a fairy. Why would Justine allow a nonfairy to try out for such an important role? And to make the situation even more insulting, Cupid was the opposite of a villain. Her father was the god of love. Her destiny was to spread love to people. That was why she was always trying to matchmake everyone on campus. She had a MirrorCast show the cheerhexers were always watching called Love Advice. Cupid’s brilliant advice was that people should follow their hearts. “Well, I’ve got news for you,” Faybelle whispered. “I am following my heart, and my heart wants this part!”
If Faybelle hadn’t been seething with rage, she might have noticed that Cupid wasn’t much of an actor. Her delivery was okay, just not great. But though her wings were smaller than Faybelle’s and solid, rather than translucent, she could fly. Justine seemed very pleased.
“Thanks so much,” Justine said, taking the stage once again. She wrote something on her clipboard. “Let’s take a break, everyone. Then we’ll audition the rest of the parts.”
“Wait,” Faybelle said, scooting to the edge of her seat. “Who gets to play the wicked fairy queen?”
“I’ll post the callback list tomorrow,” Justine told her.
“But only two of us auditioned. Why do we have to audition again? That doesn’t make sense. You should decide now. Me or Cupid.”
“Well…” Justine hesitated. “I’d like to wait and see what the doctor says. If Farrah is going to get better, then I’d like to give her the chance to try out. I think that’s fair, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Cupid said, smiling at Justine. “I think that’s super fair.”
Faybelle blinked. “Fair?” Her fingers twitched, eager to deliver a bolt of magic. “Oh yes, we must be fair.”
She glared at Cupid. If looks could kill, there would have been an explosion of pink on the stage. That little demigoddess had ruined everything! What a waste. All that time in the Vault of Lost Tales, searching through those crumbling books, inhaling dust. She was still picking cobwebs off her uniform. All that trouble and she had to compete against a nonfairy.
It was too much to bear. She was so filled with emotion that she felt she might burst. She needed to release some magic, she realized. Releasing just a little bit of magic would make her feel better.
She looked around the Charmitorium to make sure no one was watching, and then she pointed her finger. She’d sear a hole in the seat in front of her. Just a little dust. Just a little poof. No one would get hurt.
But someone did get hurt. What Faybelle didn’t realize was that when she’d cheerhexed the wilted-wing spell, she’d created magic so powerful that remnants had been left behind—a small dusting that still lingered on her finger. So when she released a jolt of fairy dust, it didn’t sear a hole in the seatback. Instead, the magic ricocheted off the seatback and hit her in the chest. Wham!
“Huh?” Her back suddenly felt heavy, as if she were strapped to a book-filled backpack. “What the hex?”
As it dawned on her what might have happened, she slowly got to her feet. “No way,” she said. “I did not just…” She unfurled her wings.
But the wings that she loved, the wings that she carefully tended and groomed, would not obey her command.