CHAPTER SIX THE THREE DANCING PRINCESSES
Everyone’s quiet for a moment, even the Merry Men and Women. A realization washes over them: If Robin Hood is working with the ogres, then this just became way more serious than getting back Alistair’s cooking supplies and Gretel’s scissors. It means the ogres want King Richard on the throne and are aiming to keep Princess Jeanne’s crown far, far away from her head. Filomena sighs. It always comes down to the ogres, doesn’t it?
Princess Jeanne breaks the silence. “No!” she despairs. “It can’t be true! I mean, I suspected as much, but I can’t believe it. Robin’s a thief, but he’s not … he’s not evil.”
Riff tries to comfort her. “He’s not the boy you knew anymore,” he tells her. “I’m sorry.”
“How do you know?” Little Jeanne asks scornfully. “You don’t even know him! He’s not really like that!”
Filomena raises her eyebrow at Little Jeanne’s passionate defense of Robin Hood.
“We grew up with him,” her sister explains. “He was one of us. The three of us were something of a gang.”
It doesn’t matter that Robin Hood was a childhood friend. If he’s working with the ogres, then they know what they have to do. Gretel, Alistair, Jack, and Filomena look at one another, communicating silently. Their journey to Snow Country will have to be delayed for now, with the hope that Zera can hold out just a while longer.
“We really can’t leave until we help Princess Jeanne get her crown back,” says Filomena, looking at her friends.
“I’ll send a messenger to Snow Country,” Jack agrees.
“Yeah, looks like we’ll have to deal with that slimeball,” says Alistair.
“Gladly.” Gretel nods. “I really need my cleansing cream back. When I use regular soap, I always break out!”
“Oh, grand!” Princess Jeanne claps. “My own private brigade!”
“We’re not exactly working for you,” Alistair jokes, “but we are working in your interest.”
Princess Jeanne ignores this comment. “Okay, okay, enough of this dour mood! Nothing else we can do about all this tonight. Let’s enjoy the evening, shall we?”
As Princess Jeanne says this, empty plates and bowls start levitating and float toward the kitchen door.
Filomena watches in awe. “How on earth?”
“Our head of staff here at the castle came up with a great spell for cleaning dishes that allows the staff a break,” Princess Jeanne says in answer. “She’s distantly related to the fairies. I can get her to teach it to you sometime if you want. Since, according to Jack, you’re so talented at spellwork.”
“I would love that,” Filomena says, shyly accepting the compliment. How handy! She never considered that spells could be used for anything other than preventing mortal danger.
As the dishes fly away, musical instruments in the corner of the room start to play: A cello’s bow zigzags across its strings, violins float in midair, a harp plucks itself, and a piano’s keys press themselves down.
“Nothing takes the edge off like dancing!” Princess Jeanne says to the group.
Soon the dance floor is full of Merry Men and Women swaying, cheering, laughing, and dancing. Filomena’s feeling a bit shy. She’s never been to a dance. School was always so horrible thanks to her bullies, the Alfredos, that she never even considered participating in after-school activities. But this isn’t home; it’s Never After. Where instruments magically play themselves!
“Come on, then!” Gretel grabs Filomena’s hand and brings her to the dance floor.
Gretel and Filomena dance together, and soon Alistair joins in. The three friends do the twist.
The song ends, and when the next one begins, Gretel whispers to Filomena, “Go ask Jack to dance.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you! He’s just sitting there. Go on … Ask him!” urges Gretel.
Filomena is paralyzed. “Shouldn’t he ask me to dance?”
“What is this, the eleventh century? Actually, it is the eleventh century in Never After. But we’re from the twenty-first!” says Gretel, rolling her eyes.
“What about you? Shouldn’t you ask Riff?”
“Just because I think he’s attractive doesn’t mean I like him. It’s just an observation, like saying the sky is blue,” says Gretel. “Besides, look—he’s taken.” They watch as Princess Jeanne and Riff dance in each other’s arms. The two appear as though they were made for each other.
“Who do you like, Gretel?” asks Filomena. She is curious.
Gretel shrugs. “I don’t know. I like myself. I like making things. I like my friends. I haven’t really felt that way about anyone yet. Maybe I never will. Who knows?”
Filomena nods. That sounds reasonable. Not everyone needs a someone, and Gretel is certainly enough on her own.
As the night goes on, Princess Jeanne and Riff are graceful and fluid on the dance floor. Alistair and Gretel, on the other hand, seem to be involved in a dance battle; they’re trying to outdo each other’s moves. Alistair is pretending to be a watering can while Gretel is doing the robot.
Jack, however, sits alone at the head table. Filomena wants to ask him to dance or to pull him up off his feet, to join them. But she’s paralyzed. What if he says no? Does that mean something, if he says no? If he doesn’t want to dance with her, does that mean he doesn’t like her in the way she likes him? And if he doesn’t like her in the way she likes him, will she just melt into a humiliated puddle?
She feels ill and suddenly thirsty, and notices the jug of peony fizz on the head table is empty. Ready for a break from dancing, she grabs the jug and makes her way to the kitchen to refill it. Surely there’s no shortage of peony fizz in the castle.
She walks across the dining room and through the kitchen door. A person wearing a pink silk dress is leaning out the window. Little Jeanne? Filomena gets a pinprick of fear, though she doesn’t know why. What’s she doing with her head out the window? Filomena thinks she can hear Little Jeanne speak but can barely make out what she’s saying.
Filomena thinks she hears Little Jeanne whisper, “Don’t worry! I’ve got it covered,” but when she steps closer, trying to hear more clearly, Little Jeanne seems to sense her presence and whips around. Her face is a mask of surprise and anger, but it quickly smooths into a laugh.
“You scared me!” Little Jeanne says forcefully. “Sneaking up on me, are you?”
“I was just refilling the peony fizz,” Filomena says. The same feeling of suspicion from earlier is washing over her once more.
Little Jeanne smiles. “Oh, that’s what I was doing, too!”
“But you don’t have a jug.”
“There are more jugs here in the kitchen. I was just getting a breath of fresh air when you walked in. The dining room can get stuffy with so many people.” Little Jeanne continues to smile so sweetly, it’s giving Filomena a toothache.
“All right, well, I’ll leave you to it!” Little Jeanne says, sauntering out of the kitchen and leaving Filomena with an empty jug and a pounding heart.
When Filomena comes back to the dining room with a full jug of peony fizz, a dreaded slow song starts. Oh, the horror! Filomena panics. Why is there slow dancing in Never After? That terror should be exclusively mortal. Gretel and Alistair are slow dancing together, chatting and smiling like the friends they are. At least some people are enjoying this.
“Jack, care to dance?”
What?! Filomena’s head whips around. Well, since she hasn’t, it seems someone else is asking Jack to dance.
It’s none other than Little Jeanne. She looks so pretty in her light pink gown and with her hair in a myriad of plaits down her back. Filomena flushes. Jack won’t say yes, she’s sure of it. He can’t.
“Oh, um.” Jack looks around the room. He makes eye contact with Filomena. She quickly looks away, but she hears him say, “Sure, why not.” He leads Little Jeanne to the dance floor, bows, and takes her into his arms.
Filomena wants to kick something. Jack is just being polite, isn’t he? He doesn’t actually like Little Jeanne … Or does he?
With her arms around Jack’s neck, Little Jeanne grins right at Filomena before laying her head on Jack’s shoulder.
This can’t be happening. Is this really happening? Why does this feel like an attack? This is worse than being almost eaten by ogres.
Filomena feels a sudden need to exit stage left. She feigns a massive yawn. “I’m beat!” she says to Gretel and Alistair, who are now both sitting at a table on the edge of the dance floor. “I think I’ll head to bed.”
Filomena runs upstairs to the bedroom that Princess Jeanne showed her earlier, which she’s sharing with Gretel. Alistair’s and Jack’s shared room is right across the hall. In a huff she changes out of her gown and into pajamas Princess Jeanne lent her, then crawls into bed.
That was so weird, that moment with Little Jeanne in the kitchen. And then right afterward Filomena walked in on something, though she’s not sure what. Little Jeanne dancing with Jack … Could it be a coincidence? It almost seemed like Little Jeanne was trying to say, Don’t mess with me. But if that’s true … Oh no. She must suspect that Filomena cares if she dances with Jack. Which means she could see that Filomena likes Jack. Filomena just admitted this to herself today! Is it that obvious? Does everybody know? Does Jack know?
Even worse: Does Jack like Little Jeanne? Like like her? Like that? But they just met!
Filomena stares at the ceiling. She feels a pang of pain in her heart. Then she laughs. If only she had told herself a few months ago that one day soon she’d be wearing pajamas embroidered with a princess’s monogram in a fairy-tale castle and fretting about Jack Stalker dancing with another girl. She’d never have believed it. The absurdity of it all gives her a bit of solace. But thinking about Little Jeanne’s head on Jack’s shoulder still makes her heart feel a touch sore.
Just as Filomena’s getting way too deep into a pity party, Gretel, looking luminous, bursts through the door, cheeks flushed.
“Isn’t dancing divine?” Gretel gushes, shutting the door behind her and falling, sprawled out, on the bed. “I just love dancing. We don’t do it enough!”
“I think I’ve done it enough for one day,” Filomena says glumly.
Gretel’s so caught up in her own happiness, she doesn’t notice Filomena’s tone. “Oh, but it’s so fun!” she says.
Filomena lightens, feeling glad that at least Gretel had a good night.
“Are you all right?” Gretel asks, propping up on one elbow to look Filomena in the eye.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Filomena says, trying to be nonchalant.
“I saw Jack dancing with Little Jeanne, too, you know.”
“So?” Filomena says. She’s unable to make eye contact with Gretel.
“Come on, girl. Isn’t there just a little something there between you? A little spark?” she teases, tickling Filomena’s stomach lightly. Filomena laughs. Gretel continues, “You know he’s always coming to you for advice, always asking your opinion on everything.”
“I think he just respects my ideas,” Filomena replies with a straight face.
“Well sure, so do I, but I don’t get this special look in my eye whenever I talk to you,” Gretel goes on. “You know, like you hold all the secrets to the world.”
Gretel noticed a look? From Jack?
Though she’s finding it hard to admit the truth, Filomena can’t help but smile a huge grin at the thought of the look Gretel’s talking about. She’s never had a friend quite like Gretel.
“And come on—the way you look at him, too,” teases Gretel. She fakes a swoon. “I mean, it’s Jack Stalker, the Giant Slayer! Winter Knight, Crown Prince of Vineland … What’s not to like?”
Filomena plucks at a loose thread on her pillowcase. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess when I read the Never After books, I kind of had a crush on him. But now it’s so complicated. I mean, he’s not just a fictional character to me anymore. He’s my friend!”
“Oh, but that’s the best!” Gretel says, throwing her hands in the air and falling backward on the bed again. “He’s not just some imaginary boyfriend; he’s real!” She gets serious for a second. “I mean, I know that we’re saving the worlds and everything, but we’re still allowed some fun. And if you have feelings for him, you should tell him.”
“Should I, though? Doesn’t that just ruin friendships?” asks Filomena.
“Or it makes them better,” Gretel says wisely.
“I guess.”
“Hey, you know what I just realized?” Gretel starts jumping up onto her feet so she’s standing on the bed. “This is totally like a sleepover! We’re having a sleepover right now!”
She starts jumping on the bed, and Filomena gets up and joins her.
“I’ve never actually been to a sleepover before,” Filomena shares.
Gretel pauses jumping. “What?! How is that possible? Sleepovers are the best!”
“I’ve just never really had friends to do that with,” Filomena says quietly. “I was bullied pretty hard at school by a bunch of literal trolls. It was sort of impossible to make friends.”
Suddenly Filomena is wrapped in a tight hug.
“I hate trolls. Those Alfredos were rotten,” Gretel says. “I’m so glad we met, Filomena. I’m so glad to be your friend.”
Filomena feels light tears come to her eyes alongside a swell of love for Gretel.
“Plus”—Gretel pulls away with a huge grin on her face—“who else will be able to say their first sleepover was in a literal castle?”
All of a sudden, the door to their bedroom flies open. They whip around to see who it is.
Jack stands in the doorframe.
“Um, ever heard of knocking, Stalker?” Gretel says.
“I’m sorry.” Jack blushes at the sight of them wrapped in a hug and standing on the bed. “I forgot my manners. But I have a good excuse. Because, uh, well…” He’s clearly flustered.
“Spit it out!” Gretel says.
“The village is being attacked.”
“How typical,” Gretel huffs, and gets off the bed.
Though she’d never been to one until now so can’t say for sure, Filomena has a pretty good idea that most middle school sleepovers aren’t interrupted by a village attack.