Mom squeezed my hand and I knew she understood.
“Well done, Ella,” she said, and gave me a little secret smile.
Mom had a cup of coffee and I had hot chocolate and Ollie had apple juice. I could see some silvery Fairy Dust in his hair. Mom gave me my drawing book and pens and I started drawing a picture of all the flying food.
As I drew, I was thinking about being a fairy. “Mom, do I have to be a fairy when I grow up?” I asked.
Mom looked surprised. “No, Ella, of course you don’t have to. But would you like to?”
I thought about the cow pooing in the kitchen. I thought about the chocolate rain, and the woman with broccoli in her ears, and all the people screaming. I didn’t want to make pooing cows and flying broccoli.
But then I thought about remembering the right magic code. And it made me feel really pleased with myself.
“Yes,” I said. “I do want to be a fairy. I will be the most awesome, super-cool fairy in the world.” And I smiled at Mom and ate my blueberry muffin.
t was a Saturday, and we had invited my best friends, Tom and Lenka, for dinner. I’ve known Tom since I was a baby—we were even born in the same hospital together. But Lenka and I only became friends after her family moved here last year and she started going to school with me. Her mom is very pretty and can make special Polish pancakes, which are yummy. Tom and Lenka are both my best friends because they like playing hide-and-seek and telling jokes.
My Not-Best Friend, Zoe, was coming over too, with her mom. My mom and Zoe’s mom think Zoe and I should be best friends because we live next door to each other, but Zoe is my Not-Best Friend because she does mean things to me. At school this week, she “accidentally” spilled her water all over my lunch. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing her.
But I was looking forward to dessert. Mom was having a Fairy Tube lesson with her Fairy Teacher, Fenella. She was learning the cupcake spell.
“It’s very simple,” Fenella said on the Fairy Computer screen. Fenella has long, straight hair and rectangle glasses, and she always says everything is very simple. As she began to show my mom the spell, she waved her wand and said, “Cupcakeridoo!” Ten chocolate cupcakes instantly appeared on the screen.
“Cupcakeridoo!” Mom said, copying what Fenella did, but instead of cupcakes, ten cups appeared.
“Oh no,” Mom said. “I don’t know what to do!”
Luckily, I didn’t want Mom to make the cupcakes by magic.
“Mom,” I said, “I know magic is quick. But if you use magic, I won’t be able to lick the spoon.”
Mom looked at her Computawand, then back at me. “Good point, Ella,” she said. “Let’s do it ourselves.”
We mixed flour, eggs, sugar, butter and cocoa powder. When I helped stir, I dipped my finger in the bowl for a quick taste. It was so yummy.
“Can I eat the whole bowl of cake mix?” I asked. “Please, please? Just this once, as a special treat?”
“No!” Mom said. “You can lick the spoon later.”
She got out the icing and sprinkles. Then we heard a sound outside. It was people clapping.
“Let’s go see what’s happening,” Mom said. She picked up Ollie and we went outside.
Zoe and her mom were standing in their front yard. A lady in a pink jacket was giving Zoe’s mom a big silver cup, and a man was taking a photo of them. Lots of people were watching.
“Well done!” the lady said to Zoe’s mom. “You have won Perfect House of the Year. Your house is the tidiest house in the whole of Cherrywood! Now, everyone, come inside and see this lovely house!”
We followed the people into Zoe’s house. Zoe’s house is always tidy, but today it was super tidy. All the floors were shiny. All the windows were gleaming. There was no mess anywhere. No toys, no books, no coats, nothing.
Our house doesn’t look like that. Our house has lots of useful things, all just where you need them. Like Ollie’s toys all over the floor and a pile of coats on the bench in the hall. There are books everywhere, because you never know when you might want a book. Or a newspaper. Or an old Fairy Times magazine.
“Goodness.” Mom gulped, looking around the super-tidy house. “It’s very neat. Maybe we should tidy up our house before the dinner party.”
We went to congratulate Zoe’s mom. She looked very pleased with her silver cup.
“We won the prize!” Zoe told us. “Our house came in first!”
“Congratulations,” Mom said. “And we’re looking forward to dinner later. We’re making chocolate cupcakes for dessert.”
“Delicious!” said Zoe’s mom. “We love chocolate cupcakes, don’t we, Zoe?”
“I bet they won’t be any good,” said Zoe. She said it very quietly, just to me, so our moms wouldn’t hear. “I bet you don’t even know how to make cupcakes.”
I tried to walk away. Mom says that when people are mean you shouldn’t listen.
But Zoe followed me. “I bet your mom will burn all the cupcakes,” she said. “I bet you have to throw them in the trash.”
I felt furious, but I didn’t show it.
“We won’t burn them,” I said, and I walked very quickly back to Mom. “Let’s go home and finish the cupcakes.”
—
When we got back, we stopped in the hall. I looked at Mom, and Mom looked at me. Our hall wasn’t as tidy as Zoe’s. It wasn’t gleaming or shiny or neat. But it was cozy.
“I like our house,” I said.
“So do I,” Mom said, and she laughed. Even so, I could tell she was worried. I didn’t want Zoe to come and laugh at our messy house.
“Let’s tidy it up a bit,” I said.
Mom put Ollie down, and we tidied all the shoes away and we hung up Ollie’s hat. On the floor, I found one apple core, one newspaper, one old paper bag and one gummy bear. We threw them all away. (I wanted to eat the gummy bear, but Mom wouldn’t let me.)
“There!” Mom said. “Much better. Now let’s finish the cupcakes.”
But when we went into the kitchen, we both gasped.
“Oh no!” Mom said. “What’s happened?”
Ollie had happened.
Ollie had gone into the kitchen. He had climbed up on a chair and pulled down the bowl of cake mix to play with. There was cake mix in his hair, on the floor, all over the cupboards and up his nose. He had pulled down the icing and the sprinkles. And he had jumbled up the newspapers on the table. The whole kitchen was a big fat mess.
“Ollie!” I shouted. “That was so naughty!”
“Weezi-weezi-weezi,” Ollie said, and splatted some more cake mix on his head.
“Mom!” I cried. “What are we going to do? We’ll never clean this up.”
Mom smiled. “Of course we will!”
She stamped her feet three times, clapped her hands, wiggled her behind and said, “Marshmallow,”…and POOF! She was a fairy.
“Which spell is best?” She wrinkled her brow. “Let me think.”
“Once, I was looking on the Spell App on your Computawand,” I told her, “and I saw a spell called Cleaneridoo.”
“Cleaneridoo!” Mom exclaimed. “Of course! You are so clever, Ella.”
I felt very proud of myself because I had thought of the right spell!
Mom pressed a code on her Computawand—bleep-bleep-bloop—and said, “Cleaneridoo!” She waved her Computawand. “Cleaneridoo!”
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, in the corner, the mop came alive. It whooshed over to Mom and stood waiting.
A moment later, the dustpan and brush came waddling over too. A bucket clanked along as well, and all the dishcloths jumped out of the sink and skipped over.
My mouth fell open.
“You’ve made the cleaning things magic!” I said.
“Yes.” Mom looked pleased. “I’ve made them magic and super speedy. Now clean the floor,” she told the mop. “Nice and quick. Off you go.”
But the mop didn’t move.
“No,” it said in a moppy so
rt of voice. “I won’t.”
“What?” Mom stared at the mop. “What did you say?”
I gasped. “It talked!”
“Yes,” Mom said. “And it wasn’t supposed to. Mop, please stop talking and get to work.”
“I won’t,” the mop said. “I want to play.”
“Us too!” the cloths said in squeaky voices. “We don’t want to clean. Cleaning is boring. Play! Play! Play!”
“You clean the kitchen right now!” Mom said, raising her voice. When Mom goes to work, she is the boss of a big office, and she is used to people doing what she says.
“Won’t!” the mop said, and it started dancing on the spot.
“I want to play too,” said the dustpan in a kind of dusty voice. “Let’s play hide-and-seek! One…two…three…”
All the cleaning things ran off and hid. The brush hid behind the bread bin. The mop hid behind Mom.
“Stop right now!” Mom said, but they didn’t listen. So she turned to the table. “All right. Newspapers. You show the others how to behave. Tidy up! Tideridoo! Tidy up!”
But the newspapers didn’t tidy themselves. They crumpled themselves up and started flying around like snowballs.
“Mom, the spell has gone wrong!” I cried. “You’ve made everything naughty!”
Mom looked very red in the face. “Oh no,” she said. “I don’t know how that happened. Let me try again.” She pointed at the flour. “Flour! Tideridoo! Put yourself away in the cupboard.”
The flour rose into the air and started flying slowly to the cupboard.
“There, you see?” Mom sighed with relief. “At least one thing is behaving nicely.”
But then the flour tipped up and started pouring all over Mom, Ollie and me!
“No!” Mom shouted. “Bad flour!”
“Found you!” the dustpan said to the mop. “Now let’s play Make a Mess!”
The brush started brushing all the food packages out of the cupboards. “No more cleaning for us! We love making a mess!”
“Bad brush!” Mom said.
“Play, play, play!” the cloths sang, dancing around. “Mess, mess, mess!”
“Stop it!” Mom cried.
“We love making a mess!” the cloths sang. “We love making a mess!”
I looked out the window and saw Zoe coming toward the house.
“Mom!” I shouted in a panic. “Zoe’s coming! She’ll see you! She’ll see the mess! She’ll see everything!”
I ran outside to stop Zoe from coming in. My heart was beating fast.
“Hello, Zoe,” I said, and I stood right in her way.
“I’ve got a message for your mom,” said Zoe. “We can’t come to dinner until a little later, because people are still taking photos of our house. We won Perfect House of the Year, you know.”
“I know,” I said.
“So where is your mom?” Zoe tried to walk forward, but I got in her way again.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Why don’t you go home? Or…let’s play in the backyard.”
“I need to give your mom the message,” said Zoe.
She tried to walk past and I grabbed her arm.
“Let go!” shouted Zoe, and she ran past me into the house.
I ran after her and we both stopped dead in the kitchen.
Mom wasn’t there. Neither was Ollie. All the magic had stopped. The flour had stopped tipping and the cleaning things had stopped dancing. The kitchen was quiet.
But it was very, very, very messy.
When Zoe saw the messy kitchen, her eyes got wide. She looked at the cake mix and the flour and the newspaper balls splattered everywhere. Then she looked at me and laughed her horrible laugh.
“This is the messiest house in the world,” she said. “I’m going to tell my mom.”
She ran away, back home. I felt hot and prickly. We don’t have the messiest house in the world. It was only a spell gone wrong.
A moment later, Mom came in. She wasn’t a fairy anymore—she was just her normal mom-self, with cake mix smeared on her cheek and flour all over her hair. I wanted to laugh because she looked so funny. But I was a little worried too.
“Mom,” I said with a wobbly voice, “did I choose the wrong spell?”
Mom gave me a big, tight hug. There was flour all over both of us, but I didn’t care.
“You chose the perfect spell, Ella,” she said. “I just need more practice. But for now, I’m going to give my wand a rest. Let’s clean this mess up ourselves.”
So we cleaned up. It was hard work, but we put on some music and chased each other around the kitchen with the brooms. Then we polished everything and pretended we were pirates cleaning our ship.
“Yo-ho-ho!” Mom said in a pirate voice. “Let’s get this ship all shiny, sailor!”
“Aye-aye, Cap’n!” I called back.
Even Ollie rubbed the floor with a cloth.
At last the kitchen was clean, and it was nearly time for Zoe and her mom to come for dinner.
“You see?” Mom said. “We don’t always need magic, do we? We can use our hands and brains too. That was fun, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said, because it was. “But what about the cupcakes?”
“We don’t need cupcakes. We’ve got lots of cookies.” Mom opened a package and put a handful of oatmeal-raisin cookies on a plate. “Now go and brush your hair.”
I brushed my hair and put on a sparkly fairy clip and imagined it was my fairy crown. I thought about being a fairy one day and all the spells I would do.
But I kept thinking about the cookies too. When I went into the kitchen, I knew I looked sad.
“Ella!” Mom said. “What’s wrong?”
“We haven’t got any cupcakes,” I said.
“We don’t need cupcakes to have dessert!”
“But Zoe said we would burn our cupcakes,” I told Mom. “She said we’d have to throw them in the trash. And now she’ll think it’s true.”
“She said that, did she?” said Mom, and she looked a little angry. But then she smiled. “All right, Ella, my darling. I promised you cupcakes, so we’ll have cupcakes.”
“But it’s too late!” I said. Through the window I could see Zoe and her mom coming up the path.
Zoe was dragging her mom along. She was saying, “Just wait till you see their messy house. There’s stuff all over the floor! And they haven’t got any cupcakes!”
Very quickly, Mom stamped her feet three times, clapped her hands, wiggled her behind and said, “Marshmallow,”…and POOF! She was a fairy.
Mom looked sternly at her Computawand. “No nonsense, now.”
Suddenly the doorbell rang.
“Oh no, Mom!” I said. “They’re here already!”
“Hold on!” she called. “Just coming!” Then she pressed a code on her wand—bleep-bleep-bloop—and said, “Cupcakeridoo!”
At once, the kitchen was full of cupcakes. Hundreds of cupcakes. There were pink cupcakes and chocolate cupcakes and sparkly cupcakes, all on plates. There were even cupcakes that spelled out Tom and Lenka and Zoe and Ella. They were beautiful. And they smelled like the yummiest cupcakes in the world.
I was so amazed I couldn’t speak.
“Toffee apple!” Mom said. This is what she says to stop being a fairy. Instantly her wings disappeared and she was back to normal again. She went to the front door and smiled at Zoe and her mom as she opened it.
“Come in!” she said. “Welcome to our dinner party.”
When Zoe came into the kitchen and saw all the cupcakes, her mouth dropped open.
“The house is looking beautiful!” Zoe’s mom said. “So neat and tidy. And look at all these wonderful cupcakes! You could win the Perfect House of the Year Award!”
“I don’t think our house is perfect,” my mom said with a smile. “But we still love it. Don’t we, Ella?”
Zoe looked at me with tiny angry eyes and gave me a push when she knew our moms weren’t looking.
“I know t
he kitchen was messy,” she said. “I know the cake mix was on the floor. How did you make all those cupcakes so quickly?”
But I didn’t answer her. Instead, I thought about Mom and the talking mop. I thought about the naughty flour and the dancing dishcloths and the newspapers flying like snowballs. I thought about polishing the kitchen and pretending to be a pirate. I thought about my best friends, Tom and Lenka, who would be arriving any minute. And I smiled my nicest smile.
“Here you are, Zoe,” I said. “Have a cupcake.”
ne morning I went into Mom’s bedroom and stopped in shock. She had red spots all over her face and was blowing her nose.
“Mom,” I gasped. “I think you’re sick!”
“I know,” Mom said in a croaky voice. “I need some medicine.”
Mom tried all the different medicines in the cabinet, but nothing worked. Eventually, Dad had to call the doctor.
The doctor came and looked at Mom’s spots. He took her temperature and looked in her ears.
“You have a very unusual kind of flu,” he said. “You must rest and then you will get better.”
“Rest?” said Mom.
“Yes,” said the doctor. “Rest.”
Mom doesn’t like rest. She likes working hard and having fun and being busy. As soon as the doctor left, she got out of bed. She looked very wobbly, but she didn’t want to show it. She stamped her feet three times, clapped her hands, wiggled her behind and said, “Marshmallow,”…and POOF! She was Fairy Mom. But her wings were all dull and droopy, and her crown didn’t shimmer.
“I am going to cure myself with magic,” she told Dad and me.
“I think that’s a bad idea,” Dad said, looking alarmed. But Mom pointed the Computawand at herself and pressed a code—bleep-bleep-bloop. “Betteridoo!”
We all waited. But Mom’s spots didn’t go away and her nose was still runny. Her wings drooped even farther.