Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One: The Fairy at Home

  Chapter Two: The Mission

  Chapter Three: The Snoring Prince

  Chapter Four: The Crown Ruby

  Chapter Five: One, Two, Three …

  Chapter Six: Fairy Power

  Chapter Seven: Mystery Solved

  Chapter Eight: Shoe Scuffing

  Chapter Nine: Invisible

  Chapter Ten: Nicknames

  Chapter Eleven: Royal Slumber Party

  Chapter Twelve: Ballerina Princess

  Chapter Thirteen: The Verdict

  Chapter Fourteen: Find That Ruby

  Chapter Fifteen: This Might Be Useful

  Sneak Peek at Whatever After Special Edition #2: Abby in Oz

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Read all the Whatever After books!

  Copyright

  I can’t wait for tomorrow,” my best friend Frankie says.

  It’s Friday, and the school dismissal bell just rang. Frankie and I are heading down the hall with our other best friend, Robin.

  Robin’s other best friend, Penny (who is my sometimes friend), is walking with us, too.

  “The school dance is going to be amazing,” Frankie adds.

  Robin nods, her strawberry-blond waves bouncing. “It really is.”

  Is it? I wonder.

  Everyone around us in the hallway is talking about the dance, too. I get it. Our school dance sounds fun. Why?

  It’s only for fifth graders — that means us.

  We can request our favorite songs from the DJ.

  The gym will be decorated with streamers and balloons. Plus, there will be a refreshments table with punch and all kinds of cookies.

  But here’s why I’m not so excited about the dance:

  I’m a terrible dancer.

  I’m a terrible dancer.

  Did I mention I’m a terrible dancer?

  “I’m going to wear my gold dress,” Penny announces, her eyes glittering. “And my new shoes.”

  Of course she got new shoes for the occasion.

  “I’m going to wear my favorite off-the-shoulder sweater and leggings,” Robin chimes in as we weave around a crowd of kids.

  “I think I’ll wear my jeans with the checkered pockets,” Frankie says, pushing her red glasses up on her nose. “What about you, Abby?” she asks me.

  “Oh, um …” I haven’t thought about what to wear. I’m trying to get out of going.

  Every time I think about the school dance, I think about THE INCIDENT.

  It happened last month at my cousin Harry’s bar mitzvah.

  A bar mitzvah is a celebration for when a Jewish boy turns thirteen. It’s super fun. There’s a religious ceremony first, and then a party. With lots of dancing.

  At the party, I ran onto the dance floor with all the other kids, including my little brother, Jonah. I didn’t think twice about it. I could dance. Of course I could! I’ve taken dance classes. I’ve even made up dances with my friends. Dancing was easy, right?

  Wrong.

  I was moving to the music when I happened to turn my head, and I saw an older girl laughing behind me.

  I moved my hand up, she moved her hand up. I moved my hand down, she moved her hand down.

  Was she mimicking me?

  Oh, wow. She was! And she was mocking me! Was I a bad dancer?

  I took a step back, trying to get off the dance floor.

  All of a sudden, I bumped hard into a different girl, who bumped into a boy, and we all fell like human dominoes.

  The last boy fell into the refreshments table and toppled the cake, which was in the shape of an Oscar trophy because the theme of the bar mitzvah was the Academy Awards.

  Yup. It was bad. Really bad.

  The girl who had been mocking me was laughing so hard she was almost crying.

  I was mortified. Everyone had seen what had happened. My parents and Jonah tried to make me feel better, but the damage was done.

  Ever since THE INCIDENT, I decided that I’d never ever dance in public, or even private, again.

  I definitely can’t risk dancing at school in front of all my classmates.

  No way.

  “Abby?” Frankie asks me now as we head outside. “You didn’t say what you’re gonna wear. Are you okay?” Frankie is very thoughtful.

  “Maybe she has nothing good to wear to the dance,” Penny says, eyeing my orange T-shirt.

  Penny is not very thoughtful.

  “Of course she does,” Robin says, sticking up for me. Robin is also very loyal. “And who cares what she wears? It’s the dancing that’s the important part!”

  Exactly. “The thing is, I’m not sure if I can go to the dance at all,” I say in a rush.

  Robin’s face falls. “Why not? We all have to go together!”

  Frankie’s face falls, too, and even Penny looks disappointed.

  “There’s stuff going on at home,” I say. Which is actually true.

  “Is everyone all right?” Frankie asks worriedly.

  “Yeah,” I say quickly. “Everyone is fine. We just have … a guest.”

  Which is also technically true.

  “Who?” Robin asks, exchanging a confused look with Frankie. I usually tell the two of them everything, and I haven’t mentioned any guests.

  “Yeah, who?” Penny demands.

  “Um, a friend of the family,” I say. Which is not really true.

  So what is the truth?

  Well, I currently have a fairy living at my house.

  Yes.

  A fairy.

  Her name is Maryrose, and she usually lives in the magic mirror in my basement.

  Yup. I also have a magic mirror in my basement.

  If I knock three times on the mirror at midnight, the glass starts hissing and then turns purple, and my brother and I can jump through the mirror, right into a fairy tale. We’ve been to fourteen different fairy tales, everything from Cinderella to Little Red Riding Hood.

  Maryrose is the one who sends us into the fairy tales. She’d been trapped inside the mirror for a long time (cursed by an evil fairy!), but when Jonah recently cracked the mirror by accident, she got free and is now hiding out in my bedroom.

  Ever since Maryrose escaped the mirror, she’s been very weak. She’s trying to figure out how to get back her full fairy powers. And I want to help.

  “Well, I hope your parents let you come to the dance anyway,” Robin says.

  “Same,” Frankie says.

  Penny raises her eyebrows at me. I wonder if she suspects something. Penny, Robin, and Frankie have all gone into stories with me. But Robin and Frankie don’t remember anything about what happened. Only Penny does. So I asked her to keep the whole thing a secret.

  But I’m not going to tell Penny about Maryrose being in my house. Knowing Penny, she would want to come over and meet Maryrose, and I can’t deal with that on top of everything else right now.

  * * *

  As soon as I get home from school, I rush upstairs to my room and close the door behind me.

  “Maryrose?” I call out softly.

  I’m still getting used to Maryrose being my roommate. I have SO many questions for her. Where is her home? Do fairies have friends? Is she going to send me and Jonah to more fairy tales? Or are we done now that she’s been freed from the mirror? Do fairies like to dance? (Are they good at it?)

  Because Maryrose is so weak, she isn’t able to talk very much. Which is why I have all these questions and no answers. She spends most of her time napping inside my jewelry box. She can shrink down to a tiny size so she fits inside easily. It’s very cool.

  I’m happy to see that Maryrose is now sitting on my bed, and she’s her usual size — a little taller than me. My adorable dog, Prince, is curled up beside her, his brown-and-white furry head on her knee. Aww. Prince loves Maryrose! He usually sleeps in Jonah’s room, but ever since Maryrose arrived, Prince has been staying close to her.

  “Hi, Abby,” Maryrose says, her voice faint. “Thank you for the peanut butter and banana sandwich you left me for lunch. It was delicious.”

  “Of course,” I say. I’ve been sneaking Maryrose extra food when I can. I’m hoping my parents won’t notice anything is missing. Her favorite food by far has been peanut butter. She’s already finished two jars of it. Yesterday, she ate it straight from the jar with a spoon.

  At least I don’t have to worry about my parents discovering a fairy in my room. Maryrose is able to sense who’s coming. If my mom or dad is about to walk in my room, she shrinks and hides in my jewelry box.

  I sit in a chair across from Maryrose, studying her. She has long wavy brown hair, pale skin, and violet eyes. And she looks … watery. Almost like she’s melting. She sometimes flickers in and out of focus, depending on how tired she gets. I’m not sure how old she is — a hundred years old? Five hundred? A thousand? — but she looks a little younger than my mom. Thirtyish.

  She’s wearing a gauzy silver dress and silver leggings and silver pointy shoes. She doesn’t have fairy wings. I’m not sure if she’s supposed to or not.

  Maryrose has a book on her lap. It’s gold and very thick.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “My fairy book,” she responds. “It’s five thousand pages long.”

  That’s a lot of pages. I love to read, but there are limits.

  “I’ve been reading it to find out how to strengthen my powers. So far, no luck.” Maryros e sighs.

  Prince lets out a doggie sigh. Maryrose smiles and reaches out to pet him, but her hand fades in and out. Prince is less freaked out by her wateriness than most dogs would be, I think. We got him from a fairy tale originally, so that’s probably why. He comes with us into all the fairy tales now.

  “I’m not sure why being on this side of the mirror has made me so weak,” Maryrose says. “Otherwise, it feels good to be out. I was getting a bit of a neck cramp.”

  “How long were you in there?” I ask eagerly.

  “Hard to say. At least a few hundred years. I …” Her mouth gets watery, which I know means she’s too weak to talk more.

  Knock-knock. Knock-knock. Knock-knock-knock.

  That’s Jonah’s secret knock for when he wants me to know it’s him.

  “Come in!” I call.

  Jonah rushes in and shuts the door. He sees Maryrose on my bed, and his face lights up.

  “Hi, Maryrose!” he says.

  She manages a little wave.

  Jonah hurries over to Prince and scratches behind his ears. “Hey, Prince. You used to come running to me when I got home from school. What happened?”

  “He’s been hanging out with Maryrose,” I say. “She might be his new favorite person!”

  Jonah’s smile wavers. “Oh. Well. I’m glad he likes her.”

  “I need to rest,” Maryrose says through a yawn. “Going to sleep … in … box.” She turns all watery, then shrinks down to the size of my pinkie and floats over to the jewelry box.

  Prince lets out a bark, looking sad.

  “She’ll be back,” I reassure my dog. “She’s just napping.”

  Maryrose sleeps while I do my homework, and keeps sleeping all through dinnertime. We have spaghetti and meatballs, and I sneak some food into my napkin when no one is looking. After dinner, I go upstairs and leave the meal for Maryrose on my desk. I check to make sure she’s still sleeping in the jewelry box and am glad to see she is. She looks almost pretend in there, like a magic plastic toy.

  I say good night to my parents and Jonah, brush my teeth, and climb into bed. Prince curls up at the foot of my bed.

  “Good night, Maryrose,” I call to my jewelry box.

  I hear the faintest snore, and I smile, falling asleep.

  The next thing I know, someone is shaking my shoulder. I open my eyes. It’s dark in my room. I glance at my alarm clock. It’s 11:55 P.M.

  Maryrose is standing beside my bed.

  “Abby,” Maryrose says. “I’m sorry to wake you up. But …”

  “Is everything okay?” I ask.

  “I need you to go into a fairy tale,” she says. “Right now!”

  Wait. Why?” I ask, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.

  “I was reading my book and eating spaghetti — thank you for that!” Maryrose says. “And I read about something that should restore my strength.” She sits down on the corner of my bed beside a still-sleeping Prince.

  “You did? What is it?”

  “It’s something that has healing properties for fairies,” she explains.

  Ooh, a special wand? Water from an enchanted lake? A fairy protein bar? I hope it’s not something boring, like spinach. Although maybe that would be easier to find.

  If only it were peanut butter.

  “The crown ruby from the Kingdom of Douze,” Maryrose says.

  “Douze?” I have never heard of Douze. But I usually don’t know the names of the kingdoms that the fairy tales take place in. “What story is that from?” I ask.

  Maryrose tries to answer but her mouth gets watery again. She points at the clock. Which I take to mean, You gotta hurry. The mirror only works at midnight.

  I jump out of bed.

  “If you … need help …” Maryrose manages to say as she starts flickering out of view, “find … Minerta.”

  “Who’s Minerta?” I ask.

  “Fairy,” she whispers. “Go now. The portal … is open.”

  She turns all watery and then disappears.

  “Maryrose!” I cry. “Wait! Where did you go?”

  What is a crown ruby? How will I know where to find it?

  Prince wakes up and barks.

  “Maryrose!” I call again.

  She doesn’t return — or respond.

  There’s no time to waste. I rush out of bed and change into jeans, a white T-shirt, my green hoodie, and sneakers. I grab my watch from my nightstand — it tells me what time it is back home — and strap it on.

  “Come on, Prince,” I say. He loves to go into fairy tales. And this one is extra important.

  But Prince doesn’t jump off my bed. Instead, he curls back up.

  “Prince!” I say. “We have to move!” Unless he doesn’t want to go into a fairy tale this time? I suddenly realize he might want to stay with Maryrose to look out for her. Aw. Who’s a good boy?

  I run into Jonah’s room and wake him up.

  My brother sits up with his usual bedhead. “I was having a dream about putting ketchup on apple pie. And it was delicious. That’s gross, right?”

  Jonah feels about ketchup the way Maryrose feels about peanut butter.

  “We can discuss that later,” I say. “Maryrose asked us to go into a fairy tale right now. To get her something that will give her back her powers.”

  His eyes widen and he leaps out of bed. I have never seen Jonah move this fast. Except when he’s climbing a tree. Or skateboarding. Okay, fine, maybe he always moves this fast. He pulls on a hoodie over his favorite soccer pj’s and stuffs his feet into his blue sneakers.

  “Let’s go!” I cry, and then realize I should probably not be so loud if we don’t want to wake our parents.

  Jonah starts to follow me out of his room, then stops. “Wait! Where’s Prince?”

  “Prince is staying here to keep Maryrose company,” I say.

  “But he always comes with us into fairy tales,” he says with a frown.

  “He wants to stay with her now,” I say, pushing Jonah out the door. We don’t have time to argue.

  “But …”

  “Jonah, we have to go!”

  “Fine,” he mutters as we rush past our parents’ bedroom.

  We hurry down the stairs, round the corner, then take the steps down to the basement.

  Jonah and I run up to the mirror. It’s as tall as I am and has a stone border decorated with fairy wings and wands. There’s still the little crack in the glass that was there the last time.

  Usually we have to knock three times on the mirror. But the glass is already hissing, purple, and starting to swirl.

  “Whoa,” Jonah says. “No knocking on the mirror. No Prince. This is all so different.”

  I grab Jonah’s hand. “Maryrose said she opened the portal for us. Let’s go!”

  We jump through the hissing, swirling, purple haze.

  Nothing different about that.

  * * *

  Thud!

  I land on what feels like a very soft rug.

  Oooh, we’re inside somewhere. We rarely land inside. It’s definitely more comfortable than landing on your butt in the middle of a forest.

  “Where do you think we are?” Jonah whispers, standing up.

  I get to my feet. We’re in a big room. It’s dark, but moonlight shines through the huge arched windows.

  “Maybe a castle? It looks fancy.” I point to the crystal chandelier on the ceiling.

  “Look,” Jonah says. On the wall is a tapestry, and KINGDOM OF DOUZE is written on it in fancy gold calligraphy. Underneath the words are three triangles and two squiggly lines — a royal crest.

  Well, at least we’re in the right place. We’re in Douze, just where Maryrose wanted us to go. But what fairy tale could this be?

  I slowly turn around to get my bearings.

  We’re in a bedroom! There are six gold bunk beds against one wall. Each bed has a perfectly neat pink comforter and a pink pillow. Between each bunk is a gold bedside table. On each bedside table are two golden goblets.

  Are there people sleeping in the beds?

  Holding my breath, I sneak over to the first bunk bed. The bottom bunk is empty. I glance up at the top of the next bed. Empty.

  They’re all empty!

  I wonder whose bedroom this is. And why they’re not asleep in the middle of the night.

  “I know where we are,” Jonah whispers.

  I turn to face him. “You do?” I ask. “Where?”

  “The one with the orphans,” he says proudly.

  “What fairy tale has orphans?”

  “You know! With the billionaire. And the dog. And the redhead. They had bunk beds!”

 

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