1 Dewitched (7 page)

Winifred’s face falls. Why is she suddenly so glum?

“When Fanta finds out that I’ve eaten so much bread, she’ll ban me from dinner.” 

“Don’t worry. I’ll tell her I ate the entire loaf.” 

“Thanks, Jane. I owe you.” A cheek-to-cheek smile spreads across her chubby face.

I’ve made a decision. I’m taking Winifred off my hate list.

***

“Jane, how did it go today?” asks Elzmerelda.

We’re back in our room, freshening up for dinner. I say nothing.

“It was awful for me at first too. Don’t worry. It gets better. Honestly.” 

 
Honestly?
There’s no way I’m hanging around this dump to find out.

“Well, got to go. I have Dinner Prep tonight. See you later.” She skitters out the door.

Good. She’s gone. I can use this free time alone to plot my escape. Except I’m too exhausted to think. I plunk down on my bed and close my eyes.

When I re-open them, it’s pitch-black. For a second, I have no idea where I am. Elzmerelda’s singsong voice regrettably reminds me.

“I brought you back some dinner.” After lighting a candle, she lays a tray on my bed.

“What time is it?” I ask groggily, raising myself to a sitting position.

“It’s after nine. You fell asleep. When I came back to get you, I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

I gulp down my soup and wipe the bowl clean with the bread. Shit! I missed clean-up. One of those Badass Fairies will probably give me one hundred lashes.

As if reading my mind, Elzmerelda says, “Don’t worry. I covered clean-up for you.” 

Why is she so nice to me? I don’t get it. If it’s because she wants me to be nice to her, she can forget it. I don’t do nice.

Elzmerelda clears the tray, then slips into her nightgown. She crawls into bed and blows out the candle.

 “Sweet dreams, Jane.”

No one has ever said that to me before. I shut my eyes again, but sleep betrays me. I can’t get the image of my mother out of my head.

CHAPTER 7

My next day at Faraway begins no better than the first. The chirpy birds wake me up too early; the sun attacks me; my caffeine deprivation gives me a headache, and Elzmerelda’s cheerfulness drives me nuts. 

At breakfast, we gather fresh eggs in addition to berries. In a nearby shed, Winifred shows me how easy it is take an egg from one of the nesting hens. Trust me, it’s not. The nasty chickens are in constant attack mode. I narrowly escape being their breakfast.

I’m happy to go back to berry picking. I’ve actually gotten better at it. As I’m counting my haul, someone screams in the distance.

It’s Sasperilla, and she’s running toward us faster than any Gingerbread Man can. “Help! A wild beast is after me!” 

Out of the clearing leaps a beautiful spotted fawn. 

Elzmerelda makes a squinty face. “He’s lost!”

 “The poor baby,” says Winifred. “I bet he’s trying to find his mother.” 

The animal prances up to us. I admire his lithe body and long, graceful legs.

 “Get him away from me!” shrieks Sasperilla, flailing her stick-thin arms.

Elzmerelda tries to calm down her sister. “Sassy, he’s not going to bite you.” 

For some reason, the animal is attracted to me. It nuzzles its head up against my body and helps itself to the berries in my basket. 

 “The poor thing must be starving,” says Winifred. She orders Sasperilla to find some nuts and acorns. More than happy to oblige, Miss Scared and Skinny scurries off.

Watching this gentle creature, I’m transported to my childhood again. I’m dancing barefoot in the street. Passersby notice I have no shoes and throw an extra coin into my tin. I don’t dare tell them that my mother forbid me to wear shoes so they would feel sorry for me and be generous with their alms.

A kind-looking man dressed in regal clothes watches me dance. He must be from a faraway land because he uses words I don’t know. “
Bambina
, you are destined for greatness.” He tosses a gold coin into my tin. I smile. My mother will be pleased.

Not long after the man strolls away, I feel a warm, wet tickling sensation on my toes. I glance down. At my feet is an adorable brown and white spotted puppy that won’t stop licking me. When he gazes up at me with his big take-me-home eyes, I know he’s mine. I name him Bambi.

Wagging his tail, he follows me home. He’s so cute and smart. When I call out to him, he knows his name and runs up to me. I’m sure my mother will let me keep him because of the gold coin. I’m wrong.

 “Jane, how dare you bring home this flea-ridden beast?” she shrieks. “The last thing we need is another mouth to feed!”

 To my horror, she kicks the little dog. It whimpers. My poor little Bambi! As I fall to my knees to shield him with my body, a fiery pain rips across my back. I look up only to receive another lashing from my mother, gripping a frayed leather belt laced with my blood. “He’d better be gone when I come back,” she hisses. Emptying the tin with the gold coin, she stomps toward the front door, slamming it behind her as she leaves.

I scoop Bambi up in my arms. He licks my hot, salty tears. I can’t part with him. I cry myself to sleep, with the little pup hidden under my thin woolen blanket, curled up in the crook of my knees.

 When I open my eyes in the morning, Bambi’s gone. “He ran away,” says my smirking mother.

Fresh tears sprinkle down my face. Grabbing my tin, I race to the village square where I dance, hoping he’ll be there. I dance all day until my feet bleed. The pup never shows up. Night falls. Hobbling from street to street, I shout out his name until I’m hoarse and cannot take another step. “Bambi! Bambi! Bambi!”

 “Do you know someone named Bambi?” asks Elzmerelda, snapping me back to reality.

“Where is he?” I ask. 

 Winifred eyes me strangely. “Do you mean the deer? Sasperilla came back and scared him off. Remember?” 

She must think I’m delusional. Maybe I
am
losing it.

***

We begin our morning meditation standing, with our arms raised to the sky.

 “Draw in the sunshine,” instructs Fanta.

So, now they’re going to fry our insides. When I die from all this sunshine, they’ll probably find sunspots on my bones.

Surprisingly, the posture brightens my spirits. It makes me stronger. Energized.

Flossie leads us through a series of movements she calls “sun salutations.” They’re a bunch of weird poses that require a lot of flexibility. I can’t believe how flexible the Badass Fairy is. Fluidly moving from one pose to the next, she’s like a dancer.

Following along, I glance at the others. Elzmerelda is as graceful as a gazelle. Even maimed What’s-His-Name and super-plus size Winifred move with ease. Distracted, Sasperilla shoots me a what-are-you-staring-at look. Right back at you, bitch. She loses her balance and falls. She grimaces; I smile. Wickedly.

I focus my attention back on Fanta. She chants, “
Om ravaye namah.”

Gulp! She’s casting a spell on us! She’s going to turn us all into frogs!

“Let it all go,” she says. “And say OMmmmm.” 

Reluctantly, I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and prepare for the worse. When I open them, I’m surprised. I’m not some ugly ribitting frog princess. Oddly, I’m at peace with myself.

***

So relaxed, I’m not looking forward to my second session with Shrink, especially after all the insults she threw in my face yesterday. The nerve of her! She’ll be sorry if she pulls that stuff on me today. I’ll have her on her knees, begging for forgiveness. Then I’ll stomp on her and turn her into pixie juice.

 “Hello, Jane,” says Shrink in her no-nonsense voice as she flies into her office.

 Lying on the velvet chaise, I tilt my head up slightly and gaze at her with disdain.

 “Jane is an interesting name,” she begins. “It rhymes with both ‘plain’ and ‘vain.’  Which one are you--a plain Jane or a vain Jane?” 

Plain Jane.
The two words send a chill down my spine. It’s been so long since I’ve heard them, yet I can still hear my mother’s deprecating voice as if it were only yesterday. “You waste of human space. You’re nothing but a plain Jane.” 

 “Well, Jane, which one are you?” Shrink’s words hurl me back to the moment.

 “I’m not answering that question.”

 “Well, then I’ll answer it for you. You’re a vain Jane. That’s why your best friend was a mirror.” 

How does she know that my best friend was a mirror? Of course, she read my  “admissions form.” Some enrollment application! It was just a bunch of trick questions to reveal my secrets. Sasperilla was right; they’re
all
spies around this place.

 “What did you use to ask your mirror?” 

 “None of your business.” 

 “Jane, that’s
not
what you used to say to your mirror. Now, tell me, what you really asked it.” 

 “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest one of all?”  I blurt out, unable to control myself. 

 “And why did you ask your mirror this question?” 

 “Because it told me I was the fairest.”

 “And why did you need to hear this?” 

 “B-because…” I squirm.

 “Because you needed instant gratification,” steps in Shrink. “Instant gratification is a fundamental part of an addict’s personality.” 

“I am
not
an addict!” I shout, straightening up.

“And what happened when your mirror told you someone else was the fairest one of all?” 

 “I tried to kill her!” Wait! Why am I telling her all these things? What’s wrong with me?

“Yes, your addiction to beauty drove you to evil.” 

“Stop it!” I grip the arms of the chaise. “You think you know everything about me, but you don’t!”

 “Jane, you are here because you have a problem. And I am here to help you overcome your problem.” 

 “The
only
problem I have is that I’m stuck in this nuthouse. I didn’t ask to come here!”

 “You agreed to come here.” 

 “It was all a bunch of lies! I was tricked! I thought I was being sent to a spa! I want to go back that dungeon!”

 “It’s too late. You
can’t
go back.” 

 What! I’m stuck here? Rage crescendos inside me.

 “Here’s the deal,” she says to my face. “Everyday at this time for the next three weeks, you are going to talk to me about your life. I will listen with a third ear and find the underlying cause of your addiction. Then I will share this discovery with you, and we will work together toward a complete recovery.” 

 I’m about to explode. There’s no way I’m going to spend three weeks opening up to this flying bug of a woman who has some invisible third ear.

“You can’t keep me here!” I shout. “I’ll run away. Escape! In fact, I’m going to say good-bye to this dump right now.”

I bolt off the chaise and head straight for the door.

“Good luck,” says Shrink. “But may I remind you of the high stone wall, the locked gate, and the armed guardsman. And I almost forgot, there’s a moat.” 

 I stop dead in my tracks. Why did she have to remind me? Rage becomes despair. I’m stuck in this madhouse!

The chime sounds.

“Time’s up for today, Jane. I’ll see you here tomorrow.” 

Leaving a blinding trail of fairy dust, she zips out the door.

I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to! Before that insidious bug of a woman who calls herself a therapist makes me completely insane. That also rhymes with Jane. I tremble as I put them together.
Insane Jane.

CHAPTER 8

“Group, I’d like you to meet our newest Faraway resident,” Dr. Grimm says as we file in for our afternoon session.

The last thing I want to do is meet another nutter.

Standing--or should I say posing--next to him is a tall, buff man in an open blousy shirt, shiny black boots and tight white britches. In one hand, he holds a feathered felt hat; the other is hidden behind his back.

He’s definitely an improvement in the man-department over What’s-His-Name. His deep-set eyes are gray-blue like the sea, and a shadow of a beard lines his tan, weathered skin. Plus, he has the most fabulous hair I’ve ever seen--at least, on a man. Thick, black, glossy hair that grazes his shoulders and makes me miss mine. He catches me staring at him and winks. I pretend not to see it. 

“This is James Hook,” says Grimm.

“
Captain
James Hook,” the man corrects with an air of arrogance. “King of the Pirates.” 

“Are you sure you’re a king? You don’t look like one to me,” says Sasperilla, eying him from head to toe. Elzmerelda, flushed, also stares at him.

“Yo, Ho, Ho!” cackles the pirate. “I’m a legend. Ask anyone.”

Yeah, a legend in his own mind. He’s so full of himself. 

“Group, today we are going to join hands to connect with one and other,” says Grimm.

Another waste-of-time activity. 

“Who would like to hold Hook’s hand?”

Our eyes dart from one to another. Elzmerelda takes a step forward, then hesitates.

“Fine. I’ll do it,” says Sasperilla as if she’s doing us all a big favor.

“The pleasure is mine.” Holding out his hat, Hook bows graciously and offers the skinny bitch his hand. The one he’s kept hidden behind his back.

“Aagh!” Sasperilla jumps back. “I’m not holding
that!”

My mouth drops. Hook’s hand is
not
a hand. It’s an iron claw!

“You poor thing! What happened to your hand?” asks Winnie.

Hook ignores her. His eyes linger on places of my body he has no right staring at. I want to take that hook and hang him by his eyeballs.

Grimm repeats, “Who would like to hold Hook’s hand?”

Again, there’s silence. No one volunteers. Hook keeps leering at me. Forget it! I’m not going near him. Finally, What’s-His-Name teeters over to him. Except he takes the swine’s good hand. 

“I’ll hold his other hand,” says Elzmerelda bravely. She blushes as she wraps her long, spidery fingers around the pirate’s grotesque hook.