1 Dewitched (4 page)

Too late. They fling the scissors across the room. I gaze down at a foot-high mountain of hair. My hair! Sick to my stomach, I run my fingers through what remains of it. All two inches. 

“Give me a mirror!” I scream. 

 “There are no mirrors at Faraway,” says the green-haired fairy as she nosedives into the layers of hair and starts tossing them into the bucket.

No mirrors?
She must be joking. No mirrors?? What kind of spa is this? 

“You’re ready to meet Elzmerelda, your roommate,” says the other, scooping up more of my precious locks. 

Roommate?
Even in that disgusting dungeon, I had my own private room. Maybe it was just a stinky cell, but at least it was all mine.

“You’re going to adore her,” she continues. “She’s one of our favorite inmates. She’s done so well here.”

“We always try to pair up a new patient with a recovering one,” the green-haired fairy adds. “We have found that a recovering addict can serve as an excellent role model for someone who has not yet set out on their road to renewal.” 

Inmates? Patients? Addicts?
I read in those beauty magazines--even in that brochure--that people at spas are called “guests.” 

“What about my massage? My facial? My seaweed wrap? My aromatherapy bath?”

The two pixies stare at me as if they haven’t understood a word I’ve said.

My voice takes on desperation. “Or how about a swim in the mineral pool?” I read many spas have them. “I happen to be an excellent swimmer.”

The purple-haired pixie raises her brows as if I’m some kind of nutcase. “Honey, the only ‘pool’ we have here is a moat. And trust me, you don’t want to be swimming in that disease-infested swamp.” 

  “I demand to see a list of spa services,” I say in my most authoritative voice.

 “This is not a spa,” say the pixies in unison.

Of course. I’ve been sent to the wrong place. It’s a mistake. A terrible, stupid mistake!

“Faraway is a recovery center for people who are addicted to evil,” says the green-haired fairy in a matter-of-fact voice.

A recovery center for addicts?
I should have known it sounded too good to be true. It was all a bunch of lies. A horrible bunch of lies! I should start a lawsuit! That’s what I should do!

Suddenly, it all sinks in. I’ve been tricked. Faraway isn’t a spa. It’s an insane asylum!

Sloshing through my pile of hair, I bolt to the door.

I jiggle the knob, but it’s jammed. I slam my body against the hard slab of wood, hoping I can ram it down. Not even a dent. My hip roars with pain.

“I order you to let me out of here!” I scream.

The duo fires me a look that says I
am
crazy.

Beads of sweat are erupting all over me. Nausea rises to my chest, and the room closes in on me. And then blackness.

CHAPTER 4

Birds are attacking me! They’re circling my head. Ow! One of them is pecking my nose. Wakening from my nightmare, I snap open my eyes. Wait! This is
not
a bad dream. Birds
are
all over me! They’re trying to pull down my bed covers.

 “Get lost!” I scream, swatting at them. I swear if one makes a dent on my face, they’re all dead.

Where am I? A ray of light filters through the darkness. I’m in a small square room. There’s a set of drawers, a couple of doors, and an empty bed next to mine. 

A singsong voice pierces the air. “Rise and shine!”

A gangly woman in a drab flannel nightgown lopes toward me. She’s got to be at least six feet tall, and even in the dim light, I can tell she’s no beauty queen. Her nose is long and pointy; her eyes too close together, and her lips pale and thin. She adjusts a yellow bow over her mousy brown hair. 

 “Who are you?” I ask, still swatting at the birds.

  “I’m your new roomie, Elzmerelda,” she says in a tone so cheerful it makes me want to swat her. “How was your first night at Faraway?”

Faraway?
Then it hits me. Hard like a hammer to my head. My new reality. A living nightmare. I’m trapped in a loony bin with a lunatic. I’ve got to get out of here!

 “Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala….” Singing on top of her lungs, the lunatic pirouettes over to the window and pulls the curtains apart. Sunshine instantly floods the room through a grille of metal bars.

The jolt of bright light makes me squint. Shit! Squinting will give me lines! And lines will make me look old! I struggle desperately to pull a blanket over my head, but the damn birds won’t let me. 

 “It’s another beautiful sunny day,” the loony trills, peeking outside. 

  She
is
nuts. Doesn’t she know how bad the sun is for your skin? Freckles! Wrinkles! Age spots! Crow’s feet! You can even die! “Close the damn curtains!” I order as more birds whoosh through the bars and swarm me. 

Ignoring me, the homely beanpole slips into a puff-sleeve dress that matches her bow. It’s so Snow White, I want to puke.

 “You still haven’t told me about your first night,” she says.

After that dreadful haircut, I can’t remember a thing. I bet those wicked hair fairies poisoned me. With that comb they used. The nerve of them stealing my idea! I’m going to add that to my list of grievances when I get out of this joint and sue.

 More birds! I dodge them while the lunatic brushes her limp waist-length hair.

Jealousy gnaws at me. How come she got to keep her worthless tresses? I stroke my head, hoping for magic. Forget it! My hair’s still the length of your average front lawn.

The loony shoots me a wide toothy grin that makes me want to knock out her large, crooked teeth. “You need to get dressed,” she says, prancing over to a closet. She returns with a bright yellow gown folded over her spindly arms. She lays it flat on my bed.

“What’s that?” I ask, eyeing the hideous garment as if it’s carrying the plague. Doesn’t she know I don’t do colors? I only wear black.

“The Good Fairies made it for you. It’ll make you cheery.”

I also don’t do cheery.

She makes her bed. “Hurry! You don’t want to be late for breakfast.”

Screw breakfast! I just need a cup of black coffee. Trust me, I’m even more evil without one.

“Lalala! Lalala!” She won’t stop.

What am I waiting for? While her back is turned, I bolt out of bed, charge through the swarm of birds, and sprint to the nearest door. I jerk the door open and slam it behind me on the beak freaks.

Dragonballs! Wrong door! The foul odor lets me know immediately where I am. The bathroom. Yet another reminder I’m not at spa. There’s a bucket for a tub, chamber pot, chipped pitcher, and a few ragged towels. Something’s missing.
A mirror!

It’s not possible. Every halfway decent bathroom has a mirror, right? I check inside every drawer, under the tub, between the towels…even in the wretched chamber pot. Zilch!

I storm back into the bedroom “Where did you hide the mirror?” I shout at Elzmerelda.

“Don’t you remember?” She grins. “Mirrors aren’t allowed at Faraway.”

My body shakes, and sweat runs down the back of my knees.

I’m having major mirror withdrawal.

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.