The Magic Mistake Read online

  Oh My Godmother

  Book 1 The Glitter Trap

  Text copyright © 2014 by Barbara Brauner and James Iver Mattson

  Illustrations copyright © 2014 by Abigail Halpin

  Cover illustration © 2014 by Abigail Halpin

  Cover design by Whitney Manger

  All rights reserved. Published by Disney • Hyperion Books, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney • Hyperion Books, 125 West End Avenue, New York, New York 10023.

  ISBN: 978-1-4231-9029-5

  Visit www.disneyhyperionbooks.com

  Contents

  Title Page

  Other Books in the Series

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors and Illustrator

  For my dad, who bought me fifty-two Nancy Drew books without a single complaint

  —B.B.

  For my sister, Laurie, who’s always been my fairy godmother

  —J.I.M.

  For Aunt Polly

  —A.H.

  My name is Lacey Unger-Ware, and I can’t make your dreams come true.

  Most people wouldn’t need to tell you that, but I do.

  That’s because, for a couple of weeks, I was a substitute fairy godmother. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was—I almost got eaten by lions, and that was on a good day!

  Now I’m out of the fairy-godmother business and happy to be an ordinary kid again.

  “Ordinary” rocks.

  OMG! It’s my wedding day!

  I walk down the aisle in the most beautiful wedding dress you’ve ever seen: yards of billowing satin, a hundred pearl buttons down the back, and a train that goes on forever and ever.

  The church is packed with people, and they all wipe tears from their eyes as the organist plays my favorite song, “I’m a Little Teapot.”

  Hmmm…“Little Teapot” isn’t my favorite song, but I’m not going to let it ruin my special day.

  When I reach the front of the church, my tall, handsome groom takes my hand. His golden eyes meet mine.

  Golden eyes? That’s strange. But not as strange as his spiky white whiskers. Or his long, sharp teeth. Or his horrible tuna breath.

  We say our vows, and then the minister tells him, “You may kiss the bride!”

  And Mr. Tuna Breath leans forward and sticks out his sandpapery tongue. Ewww!

  I wake up with a shriek—and look into the golden eyes of my cat, Julius, who’s sitting on my chest and meowing. I don’t need to speak cat to know he’s saying, “Feed me! Feed me NOW!”

  My little sister, Madison, is out in the hallway singing “I’m a Little Teapot.” It’s her favorite song, and it’s not fair that it got stuck in my dream.

  I roll over and try to go back to sleep, but Mom pokes her head into the room and says, “Get up, Lacey. You don’t want to be late for the wedding.”

  OMG! What if it wasn’t a dream?

  Then I remember. We’re not going to my wedding (I’m twelve—give me a break!), we’re going to Sunny’s mom’s wedding.

  Sunny Varden is my best friend, and her mom—who everyone calls Gina, even me—is getting married for the second time at City Hall.

  Sunny isn’t sure how much she likes Gina’s fiancé, Dwight. I’m not sure either—he treats me and Sunny like we’re five. But I do have to say he’s got beautiful white teeth. He should—Sunny says he’s always at the dentist getting them cleaned.

  When we get to City Hall, Sunny and Gina are already there.

  Madison lets go of my hand and tugs on the sleeve of Gina’s plain yellow dress. “Where’s your wedding gown?”

  Gina says, “This is it. Don’t you like it?”

  Madison makes the same face she does when Mom tries to make her eat broccoli. “No! And where are all the people?”

  “It’s just us,” Gina says. “Dwight wanted things simple.”

  Madison hates simple. She tells Gina, “When I get married, it’s going to be very, very fancy!”

  I believe her. Madison’s the only girl in kindergarten who wears a feather boa for juice break.

  Madison looks at Gina suspiciously. “There’s going to be a cake, right?”

  “Yes! Seven-layer lemon cake with buttercream frosting!”

  “And frosting flowers?”

  “A whole garden of them.”

  Madison looks happy, but I notice that Mom and Dad keep glancing at the clock. I whisper to Sunny, “Where’s Dwight?” Sunny just shrugs, and then she looks at the clock, too.

  Gina’s cell phone finally rings. “Dwight, honey, are you on your way?” I don’t hear the answer, but Gina goes as white and still as a statue.

  “Gina, what’s wrong?” Mom asks.

  Gina drops the phone like it’s burning her hand, and Mom picks it up. “Dwight?”

  As Mom listens, her jaw gets those lumps on either side of her face that mean she’s really, really mad. She hangs up the phone. “Dwight’s not coming. He just married his dental hygienist.”

  No wonder his teeth were so white!

  Sunny puts her arms around Gina, and then we all do. But this isn’t a happy hug, it’s the saddest hug of all time.

  Madison says, “Dental genies are evil!”

  And she’s completely, 100 percent right.

  Gina pretty much stays in bed for the next month.

  This is extra sad, because Gina is just like Sunny, only grown up. Gina’s usually really energetic and happy—when there’s a sleepover at Sunny’s house, we have to beg her to stop giggling and let us go to sleep. Now all she does is sleep.

  My mom sends over a lot of casseroles and soup, but Gina doesn’t eat any of them. She only eats wedding cake. She tells Sunny that she paid seven hundred dollars for it and she’s going to eat it all, even if it kills her.

  I feel bad for Gina, and I feel worse for Sunny. Sunny’s usually the happiest person I know, but it’s hard to be happy when your mom’s so miserable.

  Right now I wish I was home in bed eating wedding cake. Instead, at the end of a long day at school, I’m standing in gym class trying to make a free throw. And I really am trying.

  I don’t know why it’s so hard for me. After all, my whole family is athletic: Dad played football in college, Mom runs marathons, and Madison’s been dancing since she could walk.

  I’m not a klutz, exactly. But I lack…talent. The only game I’m good at is Monopoly.

  Since
we started the basketball unit in PE, I’ve been practicing at home with Dad, and he says I’m getting better. I’m pretty sure he’s lying, but maybe he’s not, and maybe basketball is my sport.

  Makayla, a cheerleader who hates me (long story), shouts, “Throw the stupid ball, Underwear Girl!”

  So I throw the ball and hope for the best.

  Instead of going in the basket, the ball hits Makayla on the head. “Ow! You did that on purpose!”

  I can tell she’s going to make a big deal about it, but then the bell rings and I make a dash for the door.

  Mrs. Brinker, the PE teacher, stops me before I can leave. “Not so fast, Lacey. I won’t have horseplay in my gym.”

  “But it was an accident! I couldn’t hit Makayla on purpose in a million years!”

  “And I won’t have back talk! Run ten laps around the gym, now!”

  Perfect ending to a perfect class. I do my ten laps and get hot, sweaty, and gross. Why does Mom like running? What is wrong with her?

  I finally walk out the gym door, wiping my dripping face with my sleeve, and run right into Scott Dearden, my handsome boyfriend, who has the world’s longest eyelashes.

  Actually, he is handsome, but he’s not my boyfriend. Last month Scott and I went to a football game together—almost a date! But his mom made him bring his three horrible little brothers, who kept singing “Scott and Lacey sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Scott and I were so embarrassed that we’ve been avoiding each other ever since.

  “Uh, hi, Lacey,” Scott says.

  “Uh, hi, Scott,” I say, wishing I didn’t look like I just ran ten laps. I desperately try to think of something cool to say. Something captivating and alluring.

  There’s a long pause.

  Okay, I can’t think of something captivating and alluring. I just need to think of anything. A few words I can make into a sentence.

  “Scott! Are you here for basketball tryouts? I know you’ll be great!” But it’s not me who says that, it’s Makayla, looking all made-up and not sweaty.

  Scott smiles at her. “Thanks! Yeah, Coach Overdale says I have a pretty good chance of making the team.”

  Makayla says, “I’ll be cheering for you!”

  Scott and Makayla keep chatting like I’m not even there, so I slink away.

  When I reach my locker, Sunny and Paige Harrington are waiting for me.

  Remember how I said I used to be a fairy godmother? Well, Paige was my Cinderella, and I helped make her dream come true.

  And since Sunny helped me help Paige, we’re all friends now, which is amazing, because Paige is the most beautiful and popular girl in school and Sunny and I…aren’t.

  I’m about to start complaining about my cruddy day when I notice how depressed Sunny looks. It’s so not like Sunny, at least not until the Dwight disaster. “You guys want to go to the mall?” I ask.

  Sunny loves the mall. Even when she doesn’t have any money, she can spend all afternoon just walking around.

  But Sunny shakes her head. “I’d better see how my mom’s doing.”

  Paige asks, “Should we make her some brownies? That always cheers people up.”

  Another head shake from Sunny. “It’s wedding cake or nothing.”

  I close my locker, wishing I had something to say to make Sunny feel better. But I just don’t.

  Just then, Principal Nazarino passes us in the hall and we all shrink back a little. She’s not mean, exactly, but she loves telling kids what to do. I guess that’s why she became a principal. Today, though, she just smiles at us. “Sunny, are you ready for next Wednesday?”

  “Next Wednesday?”

  “For the mascot competition.”

  Sunny shakes her head no, and Principal Nazarino looks surprised.

  Let me explain: our school teams used to be the Lincoln Railsplitters, and the mascot dressed up like Abraham Lincoln and carried a great big ax. (Because that’s how rail-splitters split rails.) But when last year’s Abraham Lincoln chopped the tail off the Wolverines’ mascot, the school board said the ax had to go.

  Abraham Lincoln without an ax is lame, so next Wednesday there’s going to be a new mascot competition. Sunny signed up for it weeks ago; her idea was to call the team the Lincoln Labradoodles—labradoodles are her favorite kind of dog. But before she started making the costume, the wedding happened (or didn’t happen).

  The competition could be exactly what Sunny needs to cheer her up. So I say, “Sunny, I’ll help you make the costume. It’ll be fun!”

  And Paige says, “I’ll help you, too.”

  Sunny just shakes her head again and doesn’t even wait for me and Paige as she walks down the hallway and out the door.

  I look at Principal Nazarino. “Don’t listen to Sunny. She’s going to be in the competition, and she’s going to win!”

  Paige stares at me like I’ve gone crazy, but I still think this is just what Sunny needs.

  Three hours later, I’m in the kitchen of my parents’ restaurant, the Hungry Moose, and I’m putting the finishing touches on a labradoodle costume for Sunny. It’s mainly made out of glued-together brown paper bags, but I think it’s going to be cute in that silly, mascot kind of way.

  As Mom and Madison watch, I put the brown paper head on Dad and stand back. “Ladies and gentlemen! Meet the new Lincoln Middle School mascot!”

  Madison says, “Daddy looks like a big poop.”

  Mom puts her hand over Madison’s mouth, but I see that she’s trying not to smile herself. “Daddy does not look like a big poop. He’s a moose, like our restaurant. Very cute, Lacey.”

  “He’s not a moose. He’s a dog.”

  Mom and Madison both tilt their heads, thinking about what I’ve just said.

  Madison pulls Mom’s hand off her mouth. “He’s the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen.”

  Dad starts making barking sounds. “Woof! Woof! I’m an ugly, poopy dog!”

  I know my feelings should be hurt, but I can’t help laughing. When my family’s right, they’re right. But now what am I going to do?

  That night in my bedroom, I look for mascot costumes online. I’ve got about thirty dollars from birthday gift cards, which seems like a lot of money. But thirty dollars won’t even pay for the shipping. Plus, there are no labradoodle costumes at all. Hardly anybody’s even heard of a labradoodle.

  You have, right? A labradoodle is a cross between a Labrador and a poodle. Everybody knows that, except for eight billion costume Web sites.

  As I scroll through page after page of costumes, what I mainly see is vampires and zombies. As much as I want to do something for Sunny, all these zombies are creeping me out.

  I almost jump out of my skin when there’s a tap-tap-tap at the door. I get up to answer it, but no one’s there—not even a zombie.

  A moment after I sit back down, there’s the same tap-tap-tap.

  “That’s not funny, Madison!” I call.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  I’m ready to rush to the door again—and then I realize the sound is coming from the curtain-covered window.

  Now I’m really creeped out. I’m this close to crawling into bed and pulling the covers over my head.…

  TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP.

  What is making that noise? I have to know, so I fling open the curtains.

  On the other side of the glass, a three-inch-tall fairy with beautiful butterfly wings glares at me. It’s Katarina Sycorax, the crankiest fairy godmother you’d ever want to meet. When I was a substitute fairy godmother, Katarina was the fairy I was substituting for. But since that’s been over for a while, I never thought I’d see her again.

  “Katarina!” I say.

  “Stop gawking and let me in!” she shouts, as loudly as a three-inch-tall fairy can. “Do you want me to tap all night?”

  I push open the window, and she flutters in and lands on my dresser.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  She takes her time fixing her wild, bright, red hair in the mirror
. Then she finally turns to me with a bow, and, like she’s working from a movie script, says, “Greetings and salutations! Before I can inform you of your great good fortune, please confirm that you are, indeed, one Lacey Unger-Ware.”

  “Of course I am. Why are you talking like that?”

  “Don’t interrupt! Confirm your name, or this is going to take all night.”

  “Yeah, I’m Lacey!”

  “Do it right!”

  Giving her a little bow that I hope looks sarcastic, I say, “Yes, I am indeed one Lacey Unger-Ware!”

  Streamers and confetti fall from the ceiling like I’ve just won the big prize on a game show, and the light in the room changes from normal to glowing pink. Katarina gives herself another look in the mirror: “So flattering!”

  I shake confetti out of my hair, really confused. Then I think I know why Katarina’s here. “Oh my gosh! Are you my fairy godmother? Are my dreams about to come true?”

  My dreams flash through my mind. Dreams about rescuing endangered tigers. Dreams about running through swanky New York stores with armloads of the latest clothes. Dreams about actually making a basket in PE.

  Katarina says, “No! This is an even greater honor!” She pauses dramatically.

  The light in the room gets even pinker; my heart pounds in my chest.

  “You, Lacey Unger-Ware, have been selected by the Godmothers’ League to be a fairy-godmother-in-training!” Katarina waves her hand, and a tiny wand and a tiny envelope magically appear and float a couple of inches in front of my face. The envelope has a sparkly pink ribbon tied around it.

  “What’s in the envelope?” I ask, plucking it out of the air. Then I notice some teeny-tiny fine print on the outside: Opening this envelope commits the recipient to the Godmothers’ League Training Program. Warning! There is no going back!

  Wait a minute! With a sinking feeling, I carefully put the envelope down on the dresser and sit on the bed. The wand hovers near my head as I ask again, “What’s in the envelope? And what does it mean there’s no going back?”

  Katarina ignores my questions and keeps speaking in the same movie-script way: “Before you can be admitted to the Godmother Academy, there will be a test of your intelligence, skill, and natural ability. A client has been selected for you, and her name is in this envelope. You have between now and the precise moment of the next full moon to achieve her dream.”