Contents

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter One: That Did Not Work Out as Planned

Chapter Two: Sled Ride

Chapter Three: Anyone Home?

Chapter Four: All about the Bears

Chapter Five: Goldie

Chapter Six: Now You See It, Now You Don’t

Chapter Seven: No Dogs Allowed

Chapter Eight: Two In One

Chapter Nine: Finding Rumpy

Chapter Ten: The House

Chapter Eleven: Who’s the Sweetest of Them All?

Chapter Twelve: Making Syrup

Chapter Thirteen: Snow Cone

Chapter Fourteen: To the Palace

Chapter Fifteen: Trapped

Chapter Sixteen: Nice to Meet You

Sneak Peek at Abby in Oz

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Read all the Whatever After books!

Copyright

Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Ding!

The timer goes off. Yes! The cupcakes are ready!

“Mom! Dad! The cupcakes are done! Can I take them out of the oven?” I call from the kitchen.

It’s 7:30 P.M. and I am making chocolate cupcakes for the fifth-grade bake sale tomorrow. We’re raising money to buy books for kids in need. My best friend Frankie is making chocolate chip cookies, my other best friend Robin is making brownies, and my sometimes friend Penny is making meringues, which sounds really fancy and also really hard.

“Yes, you can!” my dad calls back from upstairs, where he and my mom are watching the news.

“Carefully!” Mom adds.

I turn off the oven, put on my oven mitts, and oh-so-carefully take out the three trays one by one and set them on the counter.

Oooooh. They smell good. And they look great!

While the cupcakes cool, I’m going to make the icing, and then they’ll be perfect. Like, one hundred percent perfect. I’m following a recipe I found online that’s called The Perfect Chocolate Cupcake.

I’m stirring all the icing ingredients together when Jonah, my seven-year-old brother, zooms into the kitchen. He immediately tries to stick his finger in the bowl. Prince, our adorable brown-and-white dog, runs in after Jonah and starts begging for scraps.

“Sorry, Prince, no chocolate for you,” I say. “Jonah, don’t use your fingers. I’ll set aside a cupcake for you when it’s ready, okay? And are you on your skateboard in the house?”

“Um, no?” Jonah says. He is literally standing on his skateboard, inching back and forth. I roll my eyes.

Jonah is obsessed with his new skateboard. It’s blue and white with silver wheels. The high schooler who lives next door gave it to him after getting a new one, and my brother could not be more excited. My parents said he must wear a helmet when he takes it outside, but I guess they didn’t specify that he must wear a helmet inside. Because he’s obviously not supposed to be on the skateboard inside.

I lower my voice. “Jonah, Mom and Dad will not be happy if they catch you riding that in the kitchen. Go outside.”

“They said it’s too late to go outside.”

“Then at least go down to the basement,” I say. “And wear your helmet!”

The basement is a good place for Jonah to practice because there isn’t much furniture down there. Except for the magic mirror.

Yup. We have a magic mirror in our basement.

For real.

Let me explain. It looks like a normal mirror, but a fairy named Maryrose is trapped inside it. And if Jonah and I knock on the mirror three times at midnight, Maryrose sends us into a fairy tale. We’ve been to thirteen fairy tales, from Cinderella to Hansel and Gretel to Jack and the Beanstalk. I’ve even been into two books — The Wonderful Wizard of Oz and Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. We always somehow mess the stories up — sometimes on purpose, but usually by accident. We make sure to find the characters new happy endings, though.

“I’ll wear it, I’ll wear it,” Jonah says. He grabs a spoon from the drawer and scoops up some icing to taste. “Not bad! Missing something, though.”

“What?”

He smiles. “Ketchup, maybe?” My brother is also obsessed with ketchup.

“Gross. No. And anyway, it’s perfect. I followed the recipe exactly.”

“Okay, then,” Jonah says. He picks up his skateboard and runs downstairs.

“Be careful!” I call after him. Prince trots out of the kitchen, too, and I turn back to my cupcakes. They’ve cooled by now. I just have to take them out of the muffin pan and then I can put the icing on.

But when I try to take the first cupcake out, it’s stuck to the inside of the pan. Hmm. Why did that happen … ?

Oh, no. I forgot to put the liners in.

I forgot to put the liners in!

Or to grease the pan. I was supposed to do one or the other!

My stomach sinks. I thought I’d followed the recipe perfectly, but I totally missed that step. What am I going to do? All the cupcakes are stuck! I try to use a knife to get another cupcake out of the pan but that just rips chunks out of the cupcake. This is going from bad to worse.

I glance at the clock above the microwave. It’s already eight. The bake sale is tomorrow! I don’t have time to make something new. We don’t even have any ingredients left! I close my eyes and squeeze my hands into fists. I am not going to be able to bring anything to sell. And I really wanted to help. But I messed up everything.

Clunk, clunk, THUNK!

I open my eyes and frown. That noise came from the basement. What was that?

“Jonah?” I call, running out of the kitchen and down the stairs. In the basement, Jonah is lying on his back and his skateboard is resting against the mirror.

“Are you okay?” I ask him.

“I’m fine,” he says, sitting up and rubbing his elbow. At least he’s wearing his helmet. “I just fell and my skateboard kind of … ran into the mirror.”

“Is the mirror okay?” I ask. The magic mirror is tall, with a beautiful stone frame carved with fairies. I move the skateboard out of the way and bend down to inspect the glass. It looks fine. Phew.

Oh. Wait. Oh, no. I spot a tiny hairline fracture in the glass.

“There’s a crack!” I cry.

“Oops,” Jonah says, scrunching his face and kneeling beside me. “Any chance it was there before?”

“I doubt it,” I say with a sigh. “Wouldn’t we have noticed?”

“We never sit this close to it,” he says.

“Maryrose?” I call to the fairy who lives in the mirror. “You there? We’re sorry we cracked your mirror! Say you’re sorry, Jonah.”

“Sorry,” Jonah mumbles.

There’s no answer.

“Maryrose?” I try again.

Still no answer.

Jonah bites his lip. “Maybe she’ll talk to us at midnight,” he says. “That’s when she answers our knocks.”

“True,” I say.

I can’t help but give my brother a dirty look. I told him to be careful! Why didn’t he listen?

“I shouldn’t have let you go down to the basement with your skateboard,” I say.

“Let me?” he cries. “You told me to!”

“Oh. Right.” Still. I’m not the one who cracked the mirror. What if Maryrose is mad at us? What if we broke the magic? What if she won’t let us back into fairy tales ever again? What if she can’t let us back into fairy tales ever again?

Did I seriously ruin the cupcakes and the mirror in one night?

I take a deep breath.

The cupcakes are definitely ruined. As for the mirror …we’ll know more at midnight.

My alarm goes off at 11:50 P.M. and I sneak into Jonah’s room. He’s snoring. Loudly. I’m surprised he doesn’t wake himself. Or Prince, who’s sleeping at the foot of his bed.

“Jonah!” I whisper-yell. “Move it!”

Prince wakes up first, and then Jonah bolts out of bed. His curly brown hair is its usual mess. He’s wearing a T-shirt, jeans, and green sweatshirt. He even has his sneakers on in bed, which is gross.

“Um, Jonah, why are you all dressed?” I ask. “We’re not going into a story tonight. We’re just making sure Maryrose is okay.”

“But what if she wants to send us somewhere?” he asks. “You never know.”

Hmm. Good point.

“Gimme a sec,” I say, and race back into my room. Better to be prepared, I guess. If Maryrose wants us to go into a story, we’ll go into a story. Maybe visiting a fairy tale will cheer me up after the cupcake disaster tonight. I think of the ruined cupcakes, still sitting on the kitchen counter, and let out a sad sigh.

I dress quickly — white T-shirt, jeans, yellow hoodie, socks, and sneakers. Plus, I put on my watch, which keeps track of the time at home. Fairy tale time is completely different from the time in Smithville. Sometimes two hours in a fairy tale is an hour at home. Sometimes a day in a fairy tale is an hour at home. We never find out until we get there, and my watch is the only way to know how long we have in the fairy tale. Jonah and I have to be in our beds before our parents wake up, and their alarm goes off at 6:45 A.M. They hit snooze once and then get to our rooms by 7:00.

I meet Jonah at the top of the stairs, and we quietly tiptoe to the basement so our parents don’t hear us. Our parents don’t know about Maryrose and the mirror’s magic. Only my nana and Penny (long story) know, and they’ve been sworn to secrecy.

Prince hurries downstairs beside me and Jonah. He never lets us go into a fairy tale without him.

When we reach the basement, I glance at my watch. We only have a minute until midnight.

I knock on the mirror once to get Maryrose’s attention.

“Maryrose?” I call out.

She doesn’t answer. Crumbs. Is she mad that we — I mean, Jonah — broke her mirror? I glance down and see that the small crack in the glass is still there. I hope it didn’t hurt her.

I knock again. “Maryrose, are you okay?” I ask.

No response.

Jonah rushes up to the mirror and knocks a third time. “Maryrose, I’m really sorry about the crack!” he cries.

Three knocks at midnight. Will the portal open?

The mirror starts hissing! And turning purple. And swirling! Maryrose is sending us into a story! Hurrah!

This must mean she’s okay. And not mad at us! Right?

“Let’s go!” I exclaim. Prince barks happily.

As we’re about to step through, Jonah picks up his skateboard.

“No,” I say.

“Why not?” Jonah asks.

“Hasn’t it done enough damage?”

“But we might need it!”

“We’ve never needed a skateboard in a fairy tale before,” I say.

“We’ve never had a skateboard before,” he says. “And we definitely could have used one.”

“But your helmet is upstairs!” I protest.

The mirror hisses again. We have to go this second!

Jonah does not put down his skateboard.

The three of us jump right into the mirror.

Thunk!

I land on something hard. And cold.

Snow!

It’s winter? I pull up the zipper on my sweatshirt and shiver. I wish I had a jacket on. And a scarf. And a hat.

Jonah gets up, the wind lifting his hair. He is not dressed warmly enough, either. His sweatshirt doesn’t even have a hood. He’s still holding on to his skateboard, and Prince is standing at his side, tail wagging.

I stand up and realize that we’re on a mountain. The very top of a mountain. There is snow everywhere. The morning sky above us is gray and gloomy. There are tall trees all around, and to our left, I think I see a frozen waterfall. Cool!

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

Where is that sound coming from?

I gaze down the mountain. At the bottom is a town with stone buildings, shops, and cobblestone streets. In the center of the town is a large clock tower. Oh! That must have been the chimes I heard. I think the clock says it’s … eight? Yes. Eight chimes for eight o’clock. I look down at my watch, which still says midnight.

“Look, Abby!” Jonah says, pointing. “A castle!”

I glance up from my watch. He’s right. Beyond the town looms a huge gray stone castle. No surprise. There are usually castles in fairy tales. But which fairy tale are we in now?

Then I notice something else. There’s a super-long metal fence surrounding the whole town and the castle. The fence seems to be keeping out the mountain that we’re on, as well as a forest full of trees and small cottages. A big sign on the fence says:

KINGDOM OF BEBEC. WELCOME TO ALL WHO DESERVE TO LIVE HERE.

I raise an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

“Maybe they only like nice people there,” Jonah suggests.

“Maybe.”

“And that’s good because we’re nice,” Jonah says.

I guess so? I’m pretty nice. I mean, occasionally I can do mean things, but it’s not like the king and queen know about the time I accidentally on purpose spilled water on Penny’s art project.

It did not look better wet.

Anyway, I apologized.

“So what do we do now?” I ask.

“I say we go down the mountain and check out the town,” Jonah says.

“Okay,” I say. “Maybe that will help us figure out what story we’re in.”

“Haven’t we been to all the fairy tales by now?” Jonah asks.

“Not even close,” I say. “The Brothers Grimm alone wrote over two hundred fairy tales. Like … The Twelve Dancing Princesses!” I say. Ooh. Maybe we’re in that story. I’m not the best dancer, but it could be fun.

Jonah shivers as the wind blows. “Maybe we’re in The Snow Queen again.”

“We never go into the same fairy tale twice,” I say. “Maybe we’re in the one, you know, with the spinning wheel.”

“Sleeping Beauty?” Jonah asks.

“No, we’ve been to Sleeping Beauty,” I say. “That’s where we got Prince, remember?”

Prince barks.

“Right. But that’s the one with the spinning wheel,” Jonah says.

“There’s another fairy tale with a spinning wheel,” I explain, my teeth chattering in the cold. “With the gold? A girl has to spin gold. And a magical guy comes and spins gold for her but she has to guess his name.”

“What’s his name?”

“I don’t remember,” I say.

“What’s the story called?”

“His name.”

“It’s called His Name?”

“No, I don’t remember his name! It’s … it sounds like Rapunzel.”

“But it’s not Rapunzel?”

“No.”

“Because we’ve been to Rapunzel,” Jonah says.

“Oh,” I say, remembering. “It’s Rumpelstiltskin! That’s the name of the fairy tale. With the gold.”

“So maybe we’re in that one,” Jonah says. “Anyway, let’s go down the mountain and find out.” He puts one foot on his skateboard. “Ready?”

Um. Is he kidding? He’s not really planning on skateboarding down a mountain, right?

“Jonah,” I say sternly. “You didn’t bring your helmet.”

“Oops.”

“Right. Sorry, but no. You’re not skateboarding down a mountain.”

“Oh! Oh! Can we sled down the mountain?” he asks.

“Your skateboard is not a sled,” I say.

He smiles. “It sort of is. Just with wheels!”

Just what every sled needs. Wheels.

“Please, please, please?” Jonah begs. “Pretty please with a cherry on top? Pretty please with four wheels on top? It’ll be fun!”

“Well …” I hesitate. It might be fun. “Okay. But we’re going slowly. And being careful.”

“Yes!” Jonah exclaims. He flips the skateboard upside down so that the wheels are on top, and sits down in front. “Come on, come on!”

I squeeze in behind him and put Prince on my lap. The wheels are keeping me in place and will hopefully stop me from sliding off. The skateboard slips forward a little. “I’m guessing this thing does not have brakes?”

“You guessed right,” Jonah says cheerfully. “Now give a little push with your foot.”

I look over the side of the mountain, my heart rate speeding up. I don’t know about this. Is it too late to change my mind?

A gust of wind blows into us and we start to slide down the mountain. Officially too late to change my mind. Ahhhh!

“Wheeeee!” Jonah exclaims.

“Stay on this path!” I yell.

As we sail down the mountain, ice pellets land on my head. I think it’s snowing. Or hailing? Great. Just what we need.

I hold on to my brother, squishing Prince between us. His floppy ear flies into my face. “Aim toward the town,” I say, trying not to get a mouthful of my dog’s ear or the hail as I talk.

“Trying to!” Jonah yelps. “I don’t have … that much … control …”

No kidding.

We’re going faster and faster, the wet snow extra slippery underneath us.

And now we’re veering right! Away from the town! We’re veering toward the forest!

The skateboard is going faster and faster and faster. We’re going like two hundred miles an hour, I am not kidding.

The hail is coming down harder now, pelting us. We have no control over where we’re going. No control at all.

Jonah somehow veers us to the left, and we’re sailing right toward a lone cottage.

“We’re going to crash into the house!” I yell. “Can’t you stop it?”

“Noooooo,” he cries.

This! Was! A! Terrible! Idea! Why do I ever listen to my brother? He thinks you should add ketchup to chocolate icing! Obviously, his judgment is impaired!

The house is made out of brown logs and white trim. We’re getting way too close to it. In fact, we’re seconds away from crashing into the front door!

“Brace yourselves!” Jonah cries to me and Prince.

AHHHHH!

Crunk! We go smashing into the door. I expect us to explode or something, but instead the door flies open.

And we slide to a stop inside a living room.

Jonah? Prince? Is everyone okay?” I ask breathlessly.

Prince barks in my arms.

Jonah turns around and smiles. “That. Was. Awesome!”

“That was NOT awesome!” I yell. “We definitely should have been wearing helmets for that!”

Prince barks again in agreement. He’s trembling a little in my arms, so I give him a cuddle.

My legs are a bit jelly-ish. I stand up carefully, holding Prince. Jonah hops off the skateboard, too.

“Hello?” I call out, looking around the empty living room. “Anyone home? Sorry we … um, sledded in. I hope we didn’t damage your door!”

I can only imagine how my parents would react if two kids and a dog crashed through our front door without any warning.

No one responds.

“Hello?” I repeat.

Silence.

“I don’t think anyone’s home,” Jonah says.

I take a look at the door to see if we broke it. But I don’t think we did. It looks like we just pushed it open. Wind and hail are now blowing inside the living room.

Maybe this is the kind of town where people don’t lock their doors.

“We should go before someone gets home,” I say.

“Seriously, Abby?” Jonah asks. “Do you see what’s happening out there?”

He has a point. The hail is coming down even harder now, and we’re not remotely dressed for this weather.

At least we’re not all wet. We went so fast, the hail didn’t have a chance to soak us.

“It does look bad,” I admit, closing the door so that no more hail can come in.

“Yeah. We have nowhere else to go,” Jonah says. “And we’re two kids.” Prince barks. “And a dog,” Jonah adds, leaning forward to scratch Prince’s ears. “No one is going to mind us being in here to stay safe.”

“I guess …” I say. Whoever lives here is probably staying put wherever they are right now, too. We’ll be really careful and leave as soon as the bad weather stops and it’s safe to go.

I take a deep breath and set Prince down on the floor. He immediately starts nosing around the multicolored rug.

Now that I have a chance to get my bearings, I see that the living room is very stylish. There’s a big pink sofa with lots of pillows and framed paintings on the walls. The bookshelves hold pottery, like pretty vases and painted bowls. A big brick fireplace takes up almost one wall.

“Something smells really good,” Jonah says. He sniffs the air. So does Prince, and his tail wags happily.

I sniff. It does smell good. Sweet and earthy and maybe … like cinnamon?

Jonah, Prince, and I follow the scent to a big round table by the window. There are three empty chairs around the table, and on the table are three purple ceramic bowls with little white stars on the rims. Cute. Each bowl is full of yummy-smelling white mush.

“Oatmeal!” I say. Hmm. Is there a fairy tale about oatmeal?

“Yum,” Jonah says. And then he sticks his finger right in one of the bowls.

“Why are you always sticking your finger into bowls?” I ask. “What do you have against spoons? And don’t eat that. It could be poisoned.”

Jonah’s eyes widen and he lifts his finger out of the bowl. “Oops.”

I dip my nose close to one of the other bowls. I sniff again. Mmm. I love cinnamon. Even if I once had some trouble spelling the word.

“It doesn’t smell poisoned,” I say. Not that I know what poisoned oatmeal would smell like. I lean even closer to the bowl and take another deep sniff —

And I feel a little shove on the back of my head. Ahhh! My face is suddenly IN the bowl of warm mush.

What the what? I raise my head. My face is covered in oatmeal.

Jonah giggles. “Hah.”

“Jonah!” I yell.

“Sorry,” he says. But he’s still laughing. “It was too easy.”

On the wall across from the table is a small mirror. Too small to be a portal home, I think. But I catch a glimpse of my reflection. I have to admit I look pretty ridiculous with oatmeal all over my face. I can’t help but laugh, and I lick the side of my mouth.

“It could use a little brown sugar,” I say. “But it’s pretty good. And it doesn’t taste poisoned.”

Jonah grins and licks his oatmeal-covered finger.

I take one of the napkins and wipe my face. I hope whoever’s house this is won’t mind that we’ve eaten a tiny bit of their oatmeal and used one of their napkins.

But that’s all we’ll do. Promise.

I glance over at Prince.

Oh, no! He has his front paws on the table and his snout in the third bowl.

“No, Prince!” I cry, but our dog has already gobbled up that entire bowl of oatmeal.

I really hope whoever lives here won’t mind.

Why would they leave their food out anyway? Seems odd. Were they in a hurry to go somewhere?

I notice for the first time that the three chairs around the table are different sizes: One is big, one is medium-sized, and one is small, like for a kid.

Same with the purple bowls. One big (and now empty, thanks to Prince). One medium-sized (with a finger swipe in it, thanks to Jonah). And the third one is small (with a face-sized dent in it, again thanks to Jonah).

And the three spoons. Yup, you guessed it. One big. One medium. And one small.

Three of everything. Different sizes.

That’s ringing a bell.

“Hey, Abby, look at that,” Jonah says, pointing to one of the framed paintings on the wall. “Do you think they live here?”

I turn to look. It’s a nice illustration of a big bear, a medium-sized bear, and a baby bear — a cub — cuddled together and smiling, under the words THE BEAR FAMILY.

Bear family.

Three of everything.

One big. One medium. One small.

I gasp as my eyes widen. That’s it!

It’s not oatmeal in the bowls — it’s porridge! Although maybe porridge and oatmeal are the same thing?

“I know what fairy tale we’re in!” I tell Jonah.

Is it Peter Pan?” Jonah asks.

“What? Where did that come from?” I ask. “What about a bear family and three bowls of porridge screams Peter Pan?”

“I don’t know,” Jonah says with a sigh. “Just feeling hopeful. We already went to Jack and the Beanstalk, and Peter Pan is my next favorite.”

“But Peter Pan is a book and not a fairy tale,” I say. “And the mirror always takes us into fairy tales.”

He shrugs. “You never know. So you don’t think we’re in Peter Pan?”

“No. Three chairs. Three bowls …”

“The Three Little Pigs?” he asks.

“No!” I say, exasperated. “We’re in Goldilocks and the Three Bears.”

“Ooooooh! Cool. What’s that story again? Do they blow the house down?”

“No,” I say. “That’s The Three Little Pigs.” I take a seat in the medium chair. It’s REALLY soft. “Come sit and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Jonah grins. He squeezes himself into the small chair, even though he barely fits in it. Prince, full of oatmeal — or porridge — has curled up on the floor and is napping.

“Okay,” I say. “Goldilocks and the Three Bears. There are a few versions of the story. But I’ll tell the one most people know. So, there was a girl named Goldilocks. And she went for a walk in the woods —”

“She went for a walk in this weather?” Jonah asks.

“Hmm,” I say. “I guess so? Anyway! She saw a cottage. She knocked on the door, but when no one answered, she went inside. But no one was there.”

He shakes his head. “She just went inside? Hello, trespasser!”

“We did the same thing,” I say.

“By accident,” he reminds me.

“I suppose,” I say. “So then she saw the three bowls of porridge on the table. And she tasted the first one. It was too hot. The second was too cold.”

“Mine was cold!” Jonah says.

“But the third one, the baby’s porridge, was just right,” I say. “Mine was warm, so I guess you stuck my face in the baby’s porridge.”

“I guess,” he says. “And Prince got the hot one, but he obviously didn’t mind.”

Prince snores contentedly.

Jonah looks around the room. “But where are the bears? Why would they just leave their bowls of porridge out?”

“Um … one version of the story says that the bears tried their porridge but it was too hot and so they went for a walk while it cooled down. But these bowls of porridge are all different temperatures, so … not sure.”

“Why do bears even live in a house?” Jonah asks. “Don’t bears usually sleep in the woods?”

“Good question,” I say. “Maybe the bears aren’t real bears. Maybe they’re people. And that painting is just … symbolic. Maybe their last name is Bear!”

Jonah’s eyes light up. “Yeah! There’s a kid with the last name Bear in my class. Ted Bear!”

“His name is Ted Bear?” I ask in shock. “Really? Do you call him Teddy?”

“What? No. Why would I …” His mouth drops open. “Teddy Bear! Ahahaha! That’s amazing! I wonder if he noticed that.”

“I’m sure someone has mentioned it to him before,” I say.

He nods. “Perhaps.”

“Anyway. Where was I?”

“Wait, should we be sitting here? What if the bears come back? And try to eat us?” Now Jonah looks worried. I feel a little worried, too — the bears in the painting look nice, but actual bears are big and SCARY.

“Well,” I say, to calm both myself and my brother, “the weather is awful outside, so I can’t imagine they’re on their way back. Plus, it’s not the bears that come home first in the story. Goldilocks does. And she’s not even here yet, so we have some time. Don’t you want to hear the rest?”

“Yes! Go on!”

“Okay, so after eating the porridge, Goldilocks sees three chairs. She tries the big one. It’s too hard. She tries the medium-sized one. It’s too soft. She tries the small one. And it’s just right. But she’s a little too big for it and it breaks into pieces.”

Jonah’s eyes pop open. He looks down at his chair. “Maybe I should get out of the chair.”

“Yeah, don’t break the chair,” I say. I help my brother stand up super carefully. He goes to sit on his skateboard instead, wheeling a bit from side to side.

“What happens next?” he asks.

“So Goldilocks is feeling tired —”

“From all the eating and sitting?” Jonah laughs.

“And walking,” I say, giggling. “She goes into the bedroom and sees three beds. She tries the big bed. It’s too hard. She tries the medium-sized one. It’s too soft. She tries the small bed and it’s —”

“Just right!” Jonah calls out.

“Exactly. So she curls up and goes to sleep.”

“And then the bears come home?”

“Yup. The father bear growls and says, ‘Someone’s been eating my porridge!’ And the mother bear says, ‘Someone’s been eating my porridge!’ And the baby bear says, ‘Someone’s been eating my porridge — and ate it all up!’ ”

“Oops,” Jonah says. “Didn’t Prince eat up one of the porridges?”

I cringe. He did. But hopefully that won’t change the story, right? Goldilocks will still eat the baby’s porridge when she gets here. If she doesn’t mind the imprint of my face.

“Then they see the chairs,” I continue, “and the dad says, ‘Someone’s been sitting in my chair!’ The mom bear says the same thing, and then the baby bear also says the same. And adds, ‘And broke it!’ ”

“At least we didn’t do that,” Jonah says.

“Yay us,” I say. “And at least we know we got here before Goldilocks.”

Jonah frowns. “How do we know?”

“The chair isn’t broken!”

“Right.” He motions for me to go on.

“Okay, so then the bears go into the bedroom. The father bear says, ‘Someone’s been sleeping in my bed.’ The mother bear says the same thing. And the baby bear cries and says, ‘Someone’s been sleeping in my bed … and is still there!’ ”

“Busted,” Jonah says.

I laugh. “Totally. The bears growl, and Goldilocks wakes up and sees them. She rushes out of the house and they never see her again. The end.”

Jonah looks relieved. “So the bears don’t eat Goldilocks?” he asks.

“Not that I know of.”

“Can we go see the beds?” Jonah asks.

“Really?”

“I don’t want to sleep in them, but maybe we can jump on them?”

“I do not think that’s a good idea,” I say. “What if we break them?” I glance out the window. The hail is still coming down, but I’m beginning to think we should get out of here, before Goldilocks or the bears come home. Maybe we can look for shelter somewhere else. “I think we should go, actually.”

“But what about the weather?” Jonah asks.

“Still.” I shiver. “We ought to leave before we mess anything else up. Prince! Wake up, Prince! We’re leaving.” I snap my fingers at him.

Prince wakes up with a start. But instead of coming to me, he bounces up and darts into another room, his brown tail wagging. Prince loves to explore.

“Prince, come back here!” I yell.

He does not listen.

“Prinnnnnnce.” I stand up, and Jonah and I follow our dog into the bedroom.

The bedroom!

Oh, wow.

It’s just like in the fairy tale. The three beds are lined up next to one another, about a foot apart. Not that much privacy. The one on the left is the biggest. Then there’s the medium-sized one. And the last one is small. Each bed is stacked with three lumpy-looking mattresses, one on top of another. Thankfully they’re not stacked as high as the mattresses in The Princess and the Pea.

Prince jumps up onto the big bed. He even does his usual doggie thing of turning around three times before curling up to take another nap.

“Off,” I command. I point to the floor.

He jumps onto the medium-sized bed instead. I see him sink down a bit in the center.

“Off!” I insist.

He jumps onto the littlest bed. Again, he turns around three times, then curls up and immediately closes his eyes.

“Off!” I say again, but this time he ignores me.

“Come on, Abby,” Jonah says. “I know you want to try the beds. We have to try the beds!”

I glance out into the still-empty living room. We are the only ones here, and probably will be for a while. I guess it couldn’t hurt to try the beds, right? Very quickly. I mean, how often does anyone get to try out the famous beds from Goldilocks and the Three Bears?

Not that often.

It would be wrong not to try them. A crime, even.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I lie down on the big bed. CRUNCH. Wow, that sound was weird. And this mattress is so hard.

Jonah lies down on the medium-sized one. “Too soft,” he says, jumping up.

I try that one next. It’s practically a water bed — I almost sink to the floor. It makes a smaller crunching sound, and I notice a piece of straw sticking out of the side.

Jonah squeezes in beside Prince on the small bed. There’s another crunching sound, but not as loud as the first one.

“Now this is comfortable,” Jonah says, yawning. “It’s just right.”

I squeeze in beside them to see. This bed is not too hard. Not too soft.

It really is just right.

“We’ll leave in a minute,” I say, but suddenly I feel drowsy. I could fall asleep here. I mean, it is after midnight at home. I take a quick look at my watch. It says 12:12. Beside the bed is an alarm clock. It says 9:00 A.M. I do the math with my finger in the air. So, since we got here at 8:00 A.M., that means … every twelve minutes at home is one hour here.

Squeak! Creeeeeeeeak!

I gasp at the sudden noise. Someone’s coming in the front door!

“The bears!” I say.

“But you said it would be Goldilocks!” Jonah whisper-shouts.

Right. I did say that. “Maybe we should still hide. So we don’t mess the story up!”

“’Kay!” Jonah says. He jumps off the bed and hides behind the half-open door.

I prop a pillow up against Prince so he’s hidden. Then I crawl under the covers and pull the blanket over myself.

I hear footsteps in the living room. Goldilocks is here!

Can you see her?” I whisper to Jonah. I’m under the covers. I don’t know what’s happening!

“I’m looking through the crack in the door,” he says. “I see someone!”

“Is it Goldilocks?” I ask.

“It’s … a girl. And she has curly blond hair that goes all the way to her waist. She’s definitely not a bear.”

I was right! I love being right.

“She’s around your age, Abby,” Jonah adds. “She kind of looks like Penny.”

“What’s she doing?” I whisper. Should I peek out? Probably not.

I don’t know that much about Goldilocks except that she breaks into other people’s houses and uses their stuff. She might not react nicely to catching us here. On the other hand, we’re doing the same thing she is. So maybe she’ll really like us. Who knows?

“She’s just standing in the living room,” Jonah says. “Looking around.”

I wonder what she’s looking for.

“I think she’s cold,” he adds. “She’s shivering. And she has a ton of little ice balls in her hair. Now she’s opening the closet and looking around. Now she’s opening drawers in the cabinet.”

Hmm. Maybe she’s looking for a hair dryer. Or a towel. “And now?”

“She’s walking over to the sofa,” he says. “She’s sticking her hands between the cushions. She’s definitely looking for something.”

So strange. I don’t remember her looking for anything in the fairy tale. She just eats the porridge, breaks the chair, and naps in the bed.

“Now she’s walking over to the table,” Jonah whispers.

“Is she trying the porridge?” I ask.

“No,” Jonah says, watching. “She looked inside each bowl and made a ‘that’s gross’ face.”

Oh, yeah. Because of my face dent, Jonah’s finger swipe, and Prince’s slobbery eating-up of all the porridge. Oops.

“Is she sitting in the chairs?”

“No!” he says. “Maybe without the porridge she’s not taking a sitting break?”

I hear footsteps headed to the bedroom. I freeze.

“She’s coming this way, Abby!” Jonah whispers.

“Be super quiet,” I say.

The door creaks as Goldilocks pushes it open.

I hope Jonah’s not getting smushed.

“Maybe I should look under the covers,” she says out loud.

Look for what?

I hear her beside the big bed, pulling down the covers. She sighs. Then she yawns. “Nothing here,” she says. “Do I have time for a quick nap? I bet I do. They should be gone for a bit. And the beds look warm. Then I can look some more.” I hear crunching as she climbs into the big bed. And then, “Way too hard, never mind.”

I hear her move to the medium bed. “Nothing here, either. And ugh, too soft!”

Uh-oh. Oh, boy. I know what’s next. What do I do, what do I do?

The blanket covering me is pulled back.

“Ahhhhh!” Goldilocks screams.

“Ahhh!” I scream back.

Woof! Prince adds.

I stare at Goldilocks. Jonah is right — she’s definitely around my age, maybe a year older. Her golden-blond hair is long and curly and looks like it hasn’t been combed in a while. She has big green eyes and pale skin. She’s very thin. Her sweater is tattered — there are a few holes in it. Her pants are faded, and the hems are all scruffy. And her boots are scuffed.

“Would you stop screaming?” she asks. “Why are you even here? No one was supposed to be here!”

“Sorry,” I say. “We wanted to leave before you came but —”

She frowns. “You knew I was coming?”

“Um … I mean, we heard you walk in!” I try to cover.

Goldilocks is still looking at me suspiciously. This close to her, I can see slight dark circles under her eyes. She looks so tired. I wonder why. What’s going on with Goldilocks?

Suddenly, she lets out a big yawn. “That bed looks so comfy and warm.” She nods wistfully at the mattress I’m lying on.

“It is,” I tell her. “It’s not too hard or soft. It’s —”

“Just right,” Goldilocks finishes, and gives me a small smile.

“Yeah,” I say. “Do you want to sit?” I offer, making room for her.

“Just for a moment,” she says, and plops down. “Ahhh. Perfect.” Then she glances at me. “Who are you, anyway?”

“I’m Abby,” I say. “And that boy behind the door is my brother, Jonah.”

She jumps, startled. “What boy?”

Jonah steps out from behind the door and gives a little wave.

Prince scurries from under the bed and sniffs the girl’s brown boot.

“This is our dog, Prince,” I say. “And you must be Goldilocks!”

She looks at me with suspicion again. “Yes. Everyone calls me Goldie. But how did you know my name?”

Squeak! Creeeeeeeak!

Oh, no. The front door is opening again.

That must be the bears.

Maybe they’re people. Nice people! Without super-sharp teeth and claws.

“ROAR!”

“ROAR-GROWL!”

They don’t sound like people. They sound like … bears.

“HIDE!” I shriek. Goldilocks jumps up and hides behind the window curtains. I pull the covers back over my head but peek out through the side so I can see. Jonah runs back behind the door. Prince slides under the father bear’s bed. From where I’m lying, I have a clear line of sight through the house. And I see a huge brown furry bear who looks very angry.

“Someone brought a skateboard into our house!” the bear growls.

Uh-oh.

He must be the father bear. He’s wearing a button-down shirt with gray pants, and small round glasses. That makes him slightly less scary. Beside him is a medium-sized brown furry bear wearing a purple raincoat with a hood — the mother bear. And she’s holding hands with a small bear. The baby bear? She looks more like a kid bear. She’s wearing a pink tutu over an orange jumpsuit and a blue cap. She also has on rain boots with frogs on them. I might have had those same rain boots.

“Wow, a skateboard!” the kid bear says. But her parents are already rushing over to look at the table.

“Someone’s been eating our porridge!” the mother bear growls.

“My bowl is totally empty!” The father bear lets out another super-loud ROAR.

Ow, my ears!

“Who would do such a thing?” Mother Bear asks.

Father Bear looks around the house, his big dark eyes stopping on the half-open bedroom door.

“This way,” he says, and he, Mother Bear, and Kid Bear all begin stomping toward us.

CRUMBS. We have to get out of here. But we’re trapped. The bears didn’t hurt Goldilocks in the original story, but this is not the original story.

Because we messed it up. As usual.

Three sets of heavy footsteps come closer. And closer. The bears are now IN the bedroom. But they don’t seem to see us. Yet.

“Well, whoever was in our house is gone,” Mother Bear says. She’s standing right by the bed — that I’m in.

Please don’t lift the covers. Please don’t lift the covers. Please don’t lift the covers.

I don’t breathe. I don’t move. I stay very still. I can just see out from under the edge of the blanket.

Mother Bear reaches toward the window curtains. Oh, no. Oh, no. She’s going to find Goldilocks.

Mother Bear pulls the curtains back.

No one’s there.

Huh?

Oh, the window is open!

Goldie must have snuck out!

She escaped!

And left us to the bears.

Gee, thanks, Goldie.

“Just wait until I catch whoever dared eat our porridge!” Father Bear hollers, his angry voice shaking the room.

Kid Bear is coming toward me. Closer. And closer. And — oh, no — lifting the covers.

AHHHHH!

I’m about to become bear breakfast. They are going to rip me to shreds and sprinkle me over their porridge like cinnamon.

I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t look.

I hear a tiny little gasp.

I open my eyes. Up close, Kid Bear is kind of cute. She looks like Berry Bear, the stuffed animal my nana gave me when I was little.

“GROOOWWWL!”

But she growls like a real bear.

Grrr! Woof! Prince barks, rushing out from underneath the biggest bed. Awww. He’s trying to protect me. He does not seem to realize that even the kid bear is three times his size. She’s Jonah’s size.

“Mom! Dad!” Kid Bear yells. “There’s a girl sleeping in my bed!”

That’s what she said in the original story! Except this time, she’s talking about me.

“Oh, and there’s a doggie,” Kid Bear adds, staring at Prince.

But Mother Bear and Father Bear are only focused on me. They come and loom over the bed. They are angry. They are growling. They are smelly. And scary.

I have to escape somehow.

Thinking fast, I throw the blanket up and over the bears, covering them so that they can’t see. I jump out of bed. I grab Jonah’s hand, yell, “Come on, Prince!” and run to the front door.

Prince is right behind us.

“ROAR!” Father Bear growls.

We’re almost to the front door. Jonah stops to grab his skateboard, and I pull the door open and check over my shoulder to see if the bears are chasing us.

They’re not.

Because the kid bear is crying. Did we scare her?

I keep running, but hear the dad bear saying, “Everything’s going to be all right. Those kids can’t get too far. I’ll find them and teach them a lesson.”

“Run!” I tell Jonah, pushing him ahead and slamming the door behind us.

We run outside. The hail has stopped. It’s still cold, but at least no ice balls are bouncing off my head.

Jonah stops abruptly. I crash into him.

Ow. “Go, go, go!” I order. What’s he doing?

“But look!” he says, pointing.

“At what?”

“The mailbox!”

Ohhhhhhh. The bears’ mailbox is swirling with purple mist.

Which means … it’s the portal! The mailbox is our portal home. And it’s swirling! So if we jump through right now, we’ll be transported back to Smithville. And the bears won’t eat us.

“Let’s go,” Jonah says. “I don’t like lessons! And I definitely don’t want to learn whatever lesson the dad bear wants to teach us!”

I totally agree with him.

But …

I hesitate.

Jonah takes a step toward the portal.

I grab on to his arm.

“Hold up,” I say. I pull him behind the mailbox to hide in case the bears come charging out of the house. Prince follows us. “Maybe we should stay. For Goldie.”

“Huh? Why?” he asks. “Goldie snuck out! She’s safe.”

“True,” I say. “But … why did she break into the bears’ house in the first place? What was she looking for? Is she in trouble?”

I remember how desperate she looked. And tired. She was clearly having issues.

Did Maryrose send us here to help her?

“But the bears didn’t eat her. And they’re about to eat us,” Jonah says. “She’s fine. We’re the ones in danger. Her story is done.”

Is her story done?

I look at my watch. It’s only 12:18 at home. That means we don’t have to leave here until … like 4:30 tomorrow afternoon. We have plenty of time.

“Abby?” Jonah urges me. “Can we jump in the portal now?”

“I don’t know,” I say. I’m not sure what to do.

“But didn’t Maryrose open the portal here? Doesn’t she want us to come home?”

Hmm. Maybe. But it’s pretty rare for Maryrose to send us home so soon in a story.

I think about the crack at the bottom of the mirror. What if that messed something up?

We both look at the mailbox. The purple mist isn’t as strong as it was half a minute ago. In a few seconds, it might stop swirling altogether.

We have to decide now. Stay? Or go?

True, if we leave, we definitely won’t be eaten by bears. That’s a plus.

But if we leave, we also won’t know what happens to Goldie. We won’t be able to help her find what she was looking for.

In fairy tales, we always change the story for the better. We haven’t done that yet. We haven’t had a chance.

“We stay,” I decide. “We find Goldie. It’s the right thing to do.”

I hope.

The good news?

The sky has cleared and gone from gray and gloomy to blue and sunny. It’s less cold, and the bit of snow on the ground and trees is pretty.

Also: The bears have not followed us. At least, not yet.

The bad news? We haven’t found Goldie.

But we did find her footprints in the snow. Prince sniffed them out. So we’re following the footprints back up the hill.

It’s so slippery. I wish I was wearing my boots. Maybe that’s what Goldie was looking for. Snow boots.

“Too bad we can’t sled up a mountain,” Jonah says, clutching his skateboard. Prince whimpers, as if in agreement.

I keep checking over my shoulder for the bears, but there’s still no sign of them. Ugh. I’m worried they’re going to pop out from behind a tree at any minute.

“Why were those bears even awake?” I ask. “It’s winter! Shouldn’t they be hibernating?”

“If they have their own food and houses, they don’t need to hibernate,” Jonah explains. “Bears don’t hibernate in zoos.”

Oh. Right.

We keep following Goldie’s footsteps in the snow. And then —

“Hey, Abby,” Jonah says. “The footsteps stop right by that tree.”

I look at where he’s pointing. He’s right.

Suddenly, someone jumps out from behind the tree. Ahhh! It’s one of the bears!

Oh. Phew. Never mind. It’s Goldie.

“Why are you following me?” she demands, hands on hips.

“We …” I take a step back. “We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Really?” She narrows her eyes. I can tell she doesn’t trust me. Prince barks at her, and Goldie takes a step back from him. She doesn’t seem that comfortable around animals.

“Well, to be honest, we were worried something was wrong,” I explain. “You were searching for something at the bears’ house. Why were you there?”

“Why were you there?” she counters, jabbing her finger at me.

Whoa. I take a step back.

“We crashed into it by accident,” Jonah answers. Which is the truth.

“Oh,” she says. “Well …” She tosses her long hair behind her shoulder. “The bears stole a book of mine. I wanted to get it back.”

“Can bears read?” Jonah asks.

Goldie stares at him. “Of course they can read. Why wouldn’t they be able to read? Can you read?”

“Yes,” Jonah snaps.

“Do you need help getting the book back?” I ask Goldie, trying to keep us focused.

Her eyes widen. “Uh, no.”

“Goldie, if you need help, just ask,” I tell her. “That’s why we’re here.”

“Huh?” she says, looking from me to Jonah and back at me. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean that we’re happy to help you,” I say quickly. She doesn’t need to know all about Maryrose and the magic mirror.

“What were your names again?” she asks us, still sounding suspicious.

“I’m Abby,” I say. “This is Jonah, and that’s Prince.”

“That’s right,” she says. “I remember now. I’m Goldie.”

She sticks out her hand and I shake it. Then she lets go.

“Maybe we should write the bears to ask for your book back,” I offer. “Do you have a paper and pen?”

She stares at me for a second, then looks at the ground. “Um, no, that’s okay. Maybe the bears didn’t steal my book after all. I’m not sure. I have to go. Nice to meet you!” she says. “Later, gators!” Then she turns around and hurries down the hill and out of view.

Hmm.

“That was weird,” Jonah says.

“Yeah,” I say. “Super weird.”

“If Goldie doesn’t want our help,” Jonah says, “should we just go home?”

“I guess so …”

I look down at my watch.

My wrist is empty.

Wait. Where’s my watch? Wasn’t I wearing my watch before? My heart races. Yeah. I was definitely wearing my watch before.

Did it fall off?

I look all around me on the ground. I don’t see it.

“What’s wrong?” Jonah asks.

“My watch is gone …” I say.

“Maybe it’s buried in the snow somewhere between here and the bears’ cottage.”

“But how did it just fall off?” I always make sure it’s on tight. I need that watch.

I try to think about the last time I looked at it. Was it when I was at the bears’ house? Was it outside, when the mailbox-portal was swirling? I can’t remember.

Did something brush against my wrist?

Hmm.

Goldie. Goldie shook my hand.

Did Goldie steal my watch?

Goldie said the bears stole her book. But maybe she’s the one who steals things … ?

Argh. No wonder she made such a quick getaway and acted so sketchy!

I need my watch back. Now.

“I think Goldie stole it,” I say through gritted teeth. “We have to find her.”

Jonah whistles and shakes his head. “She’s something, all right.”

Woof! Prince agrees.

We run the way Goldie went, down the hill. My heart is beating so fast, and not just from running.

“I see her!” Jonah cries.

I look up and there she is, sprinting straight toward the metal fence we saw before, the one separating the forest from the town.

“After her!” I shout.

Goldie leaps over the fence and runs into the town.

Jonah, Prince, and I jog up to the metal barrier.

Another sign on the fence reads: PEOPLE ONLY. ROYALLY SIGNED BY THE KING OF BEBEC.

People only? That’s weird. Although maybe the royal family doesn’t want the bears prowling around the town. I can kind of understand that.

“What about Prince?” Jonah asks defensively. “Is he not allowed inside?”

“Maybe no one will notice him,” I say, scooping up Prince and cuddling him against my chest.

“Yeah,” Jonah says, offering me a boost over the fence. “Let’s go get your watch back.”

The town is cute and old-timey. The buildings are made of white stone, and there are shops lining the cobblestone streets. Then I see, among the crowds of people, a girl with long blond hair.

“There’s Goldie!” I cry. “She just ran into that alleyway between those shops!”

Jonah puts down his skateboard and gets on. He goes zooming along the cobblestone road. Well, more like bumping along. But he’s a lot faster than me, especially since I’m carrying Prince. I follow as fast as I can.

And finally, we round into the alleyway, and there she is.

Woof! Prince barks. He leaps out of my arms and runs right in front of Goldie, blocking her path.

“Hey!” she shouts. “You’re not even supposed to be in the town, you gross dog! Guards, there’s a gross dog here! Dog! Dog!”

“That’s not a nice way to speak to Prince,” Jonah counters, hopping off his skateboard. He scoops up Prince. “Besides, you’re a thief! Guards, there’s a thief here! Thief! Thief!”

“Shush,” Goldie says, lowering her voice. “What are you talking about?” she adds, but her face is bright red.

“Did you steal my watch?” I ask her.

“No,” she says, lifting her chin. But her face is still red and she won’t meet my eyes.

“I think you’re lying,” I say.

“I …” She hesitates. “Fine! I did.”

She admitted it! I can’t believe it!

She stands there. Not moving.

Is she kidding me? “Can I have it back?”

She sighs. “Fine!” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out my watch. She tosses it to me. “Happy?”

Luckily, I catch it. “Um, yeah. It’s MY watch!” I look at the time as I put it back on. One A.M. at home.

“Well, now you have it back,” she says.

“Aren’t you going to apologize?” Jonah asks.

“Why should I?” Goldie huffs.

Do we need to review the facts again? I shake my head and say, “You literally stole my watch off my wrist. And then ran away. You should apologize.”

“Whatever,” she huffs. “I’m sorry. But I had no choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” I say carefully. “Do you want to tell us what’s going on? Why did you steal my watch? Why were you in the bears’ house? They didn’t really take your book, did they?”

Her shoulders slump. “No,” she says. “They didn’t. It’s a long story. You probably don’t care.”

I do my best to push away my feelings of annoyance. Why is Goldie being so difficult?

“We do care,” I say. “Tell us. We want to help. For real.”

Goldie takes a deep breath. “My mom died when I was little, and I live with my dad. But the king of Bebec put my dad in jail. To free him, I have to give the king a bag of gold.”

“A bag of gold?” I repeat. “That’s a lot of gold.”

“It depends on the size of the bag,” Jonah says. “Ziploc or duffel?”

“I don’t know what those are,” Goldie says, frowning at Jonah. “But everyone knows that a bag of gold is one hundred gold coins.”

“Right … everyone totally knows that,” Jonah says, nodding quickly.

“Why do you have to give the king any gold?” I ask. “He must be super rich. He’s a king!”

“My dad worked as King Ned’s assistant,” Goldie explains. “And when my dad was at the palace one day, he accidentally knocked over a statue of the king. It broke into pieces. The king was mad. Really mad. He put my dad in jail and said he can only go free if he gives him a bag of gold to pay him back for the statue.”

“But it was an accident,” I say. “That seems kind of wrong.”

“I agree,” Goldie says with a tired sigh. “But that doesn’t change the fact that my dad’s been in jail for two weeks, and he could be there forever if I don’t come up with the gold.”

She looks so sad. Jonah and I exchange a glance. It’s obvious that Goldie isn’t lying this time.

“The king doesn’t sound very nice,” I say.

“Oh, he’s not,” Goldie says. “King Ned is awful to everyone. My dad only took the job because he had to. The king saw him in town and liked his shirt and declared him his assistant.”

“Just because he liked his shirt?” I ask.

Goldie nods. “It was a really cool shirt. It had blue and green stripes and polka dots …” She shakes her head. “Beside the point. My dad didn’t want the job. All the king’s assistants end up in jail. But no one refuses the king. My dad used to be a carpenter.”

“Is there a queen?” I ask. “Is she as bad as the king is?”

Goldie shrugs. “She’s pretty quiet. She wasn’t always a royal. When the king gives his speeches from the grand palace tower, she just stands beside him and listens like everyone else. Sometimes I think she forgets she’s the queen.”

“So she can’t help us,” I say.

“No,” Goldie says, and covers her face with her hands. “What am I going to do? I’m running out of food, and options. I know stealing is wrong. I never want to hurt anyone. But I’m only taking stuff to sell for food and save up the coins for my dad. And I’ve mostly been stealing from the animals. That’s allowed in Bebec.”

“Seriously?” Jonah asks.

Goldie nods. “The law in the kingdom is that you can’t steal from people. But you can steal from the animals. King Ned doesn’t care about the animals at all.”

“The forest isn’t part of Bebec?” I ask.

“Oh, it is,” Goldie responds. “Bebec is divided into three sections. The forest, where the animals live. The town, where the people live. And the palace, where the royal family and their servants live.”

She turns and points to the huge gray castle in the distance.

“Do all the animals live in houses?” Jonah asks.

Goldie laughs. “Don’t be silly. Just the bears. And the foxes.”

“What about dogs?” I ask, looking at Prince.

“Now you’re really being ridiculous,” she says. “Ha! We don’t even have dogs in Bebec! They all moved to the neighboring kingdom, Montario.”

Prince looks offended.

“Anyway, I hadn’t been to the Bear family house before,” Goldie goes on. “I slid a note under their door this morning saying that a local store had honey. That way, I knew they’d leave. But still I found nothing!”

Jonah’s eyes widen. “You faked a honey sale to get them out of the house?”

She shrugs. “I was desperate.”

“Did you steal anything from them?” I ask.

“No,” she says. “I didn’t have a chance.”

That’s good at least.

“I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through,” I say. Poor Goldie. Now that she’s opened up to us a little, I’m starting to like her more. And it’s awful that she’s cold and hungry, and desperate to get her dad out of jail.

She kicks at the cobblestone in the alleyway. “You said you’d help me if I needed it. And I do need help. So are you going to help me or not?”

“I …” I look at Jonah.

He wrinkles his nose.

“You’re not going to help me? Fine!” Goldie snaps. “Then don’t waste my time!” She turns and marches off, her curly hair bouncing. Prince barks after her.

“Why don’t you want to help her?” I whisper to Jonah.

He twists his lip. “How do we know we can trust her? She stole your watch!”

True. “But she stole it to sell it for gold,” I point out. “To get her dad out of jail.”

Jonah shrugs. “Maybe. Or maybe she’s lying again.”

Usually Jonah’s the one who trusts people and I’m the one who needs convincing. “I don’t get the feeling she’s lying this time. Why would she make up a story like that?”

“Uh, to get gold?”

“But if her dad is in jail, we should help get him out.” I think about Maryrose, trapped in our mirror. How would she feel if we didn’t help someone who was trapped?

“I guess,” Jonah says. “Although we could get stuck in this story forever.”

“We’ve never gotten stuck anywhere forever before,” I say. “Although the mirror has never been broken before.”

“It isn’t broken,” Jonah says. “It’s just … cracked.”

Suuuuuure.

“How do we help, anyway?” Jonah asks. “Are we going to help her steal gold?”

“No,” I say. “Of course not. But help her find gold, maybe. Are you okay with that?”

Jonah thinks for a minute, then nods.

“Okay,” I say. “Let’s catch up to her again before we lose her for good.”

With Prince tucked in Jonah’s arms, we hurry through the crowded streets until we spot Goldie walking along a row of shops. She’s staring into a grocery store window with longing.

“Goldie!” I call.

She looks over and frowns. “You two again? If you’re not going to help, just go.”

“We are going to help,” I tell her. “Promise.”

Goldie eyes us up and down. She seems to be thinking things over.

“I guess it can’t hurt,” she finally says. “It’s not like you can make things any worse.”

Thanks for the vote of support. “Why don’t we go sit down somewhere to brainstorm ideas?” I suggest.

Goldie yawns. “Good idea. Should we go to your house?”

Jonah and I exchange a glance. “Um … why don’t we go to yours?” I ask.

“Because you think I’m going to steal from you?” she asks huffily.

“No,” I say. “Maybe. But that’s not why. We just, um, live very far away. Can we go to your house?”

“Fine,” she says a little grumpily. “Come on.”

We follow Goldie down a bunch of cobblestone streets and alleyways until we reach a stone cottage with a round orange door. There’s peeling paint on the windowsills and the mat is all scuffed, but something about the house seems friendly. There’s a small backyard with trees and a shed.

Goldie lets us inside the cottage. It’s tiny but clean. The living room has a lumpy tan sofa with flat brown pillows. The rug looks worn. There are no decorations at all.

“I sold everything I could,” Goldie explains. “But what little money I got for our stuff, I had to use for food.”

I swallow hard. Now I’m definitely glad we decided to help Goldie.

Jonah sets Prince and his skateboard down on the floor. Prince curls up on the worn rug, while Jonah and I sit beside Goldie on the lumpy couch.

“Thanks for offering to help,” she says. “I’m sorry if I was rude. I’m just … stressed.”

“We completely understand,” I say. “And we’re for sure going to help. You need a bag of gold. So let’s find gold.”

“But where?” she asks. “No one has much money in Bebec. I can’t borrow it, and no one will hire me for a job. I’ve asked in every shop and restaurant!”

Hmm. We’ve had to earn money in fairy tales before. When we fell into the story of Cinderella, we baked and sold brownies in town. But since no one in that kingdom had ever heard of brownies, we called them crownies. And Cinderella made a lot of money selling them and even opened her own bakery, called Cinderella’s Crownies.

I am a big fan of alliteration.

I feel a spark of excitement. Maybe they don’t have brownies in Bebec, either! We could do that again! We could even change the name to something with a G. Grownies! Goldie’s Grownies! Hmm. That sounds kind of gross, actually. Kind of like you’re eating the ground. Or worms.

Goldie’s … Gummies? Glownies? I’ll have to keep thinking.

“Listen up,” I announce, rubbing my hands together. “I don’t have the name down just yet, but I think we should bake delicious chocolate fudgy cakes. Where we come from they’re called brownies and people love them!”

Goldie rolls her eyes. “Yeah. People love them here, too. Everyone makes brownies.”

Oh.

Okay, forget brownies. Though of course now I wish I had one.

“What about cupcakes?” Jonah asks.

“I don’t want to talk about cupcakes,” I say, grimacing. I’m still upset about my baking disaster.

“We have cupcakes in Bebec, too,” Goldie says.

“Cookies?” I suggest.

“Yep.”

Hmmm.

“I could really use something sweet right now,” Jonah says. “Since someone never gave me a cupcake back home. I’m hungry.”

“I don’t have anything sweet,” Goldie says. “Sorry.”

“Oh!” Jonah says. “I know. Cake pops! I bet Bebec doesn’t have those! Those are newish.”

“We have cake pops,” Goldie says with a sigh. “We’ve had them forever.”

“Maybe we should move on from baked goods,” I say. “Would you start a band?” I suggest.

“And put on concerts!” Jonah adds. “Like in Rapunzel!”

“Exactly,” I say.

“What’s Rapunzel?” Goldie asks.

“Nothing,” Jonah and I say.

“Are you a good singer?” Jonah asks, changing the subject.

“Yeah! At least that’s what my dad always tells me,” Goldie says. “I’ll sing the Bebec national anthem for you.”

We wait as she stands and clears her throat. I’m already thinking of printing concert T-shirts to sell and —

She starts to sing. “Oh, Bebec! A place most beautiful —” Her voice cracks on the ace. And then again on the utiful.

Do you know what’s not beautiful? Her voice.

She stops. “What? You don’t like that song? It’s a classic.”

Jonah coughs. “It’s not the song that’s the problem.”

“Really?” she asks, surprised. “Is my dad just being nice?”

“Yes,” Jonah says, wincing. “You do not have a good voice. Sorry! We don’t, either!”

“Speak for yourself,” I say, and Jonah snorts.

“Okay, I don’t have a good voice, either,” I admit.

“So none of us are getting rich off singing professionally,” Goldie says.

“Nope,” I agree. “Can you sew?”

“No,” she says.

“Draw?”

“Barely,” she says.

“Do magic tricks?” Jonah asks.

I laugh. “Really?”

“Why not?” he asks. “I’d pay to see magic tricks.”

“I cannot do magic tricks,” Goldie says.

“The only magician I’d pay to see right now is one who could turn stuff into gold,” I say. “Like Rumpelstiltskin.”

Goldie sighs. “Rumpelstiltskin would never help,” she says. “Everyone says he’s a jerk.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I’ve heard that, too. Anyway, we need to keep brainstorming. Goldie, what do you want to do when you grow up?”

“Why?”

“Maybe it will inspire us. For instance, I want to be a judge.”

“Oh. Well, I’ve always thought it would be fun to run my own business.”

Wait a sec.

Wait. A. Sec.

“Goldie!” I cry. “What did you just say?”

“That I want to run my own business.” Her cheeks flush. “What, you don’t think I can do it?”

“Not that!” I jump off the couch. “Before! You said Rumpelstiltskin would never help! You said he was a jerk! You’ve heard of Rumpelstiltskin?”

“Of course. He lives in the forest somewhere. Do you know him?”

“He’s here?” I ask. “In Bebec?”

“Yes,” she responds.

I look at Jonah. Jonah looks at me. It must be a different Rumpelstiltskin. Right?

But how many Rumpelstiltskins can there be? It’s not exactly a common name. It’s not like my class has two Rumpelstiltskins, Rumpelstiltskin S. and Rumpelstiltskin D. Although if my name was Rumpelstiltskin, I would probably insist on a nickname like Rumpy or Skins. Maybe Stilts.

Stiltsy is kind of cute.

“Do you think it’s the same one?” Jonah asks me.

“Is that possible? Could there be more than one?” I answer.

No. We’re in the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Not the story of Rumpelstiltskin. Would he really be in this story? That is so … messy! Each story is distinct! Each story stays in its own lane. Each story is just right the way it is. There’s no two-in-one.

Is there?

“I don’t remember the Rumpelstiltskin story at all,” Jonah says.

“You never remember the stories,” I say. Our nana used to read them all to us. Jonah did not always pay attention. Since we found our magic mirror in our basement, I’ve been reading the fairy tales on my own to make sure I know as much as possible about any story I could potentially fall into.

“What are you two even talking about?” Goldie finally calls out, throwing up her hands.

“Just, um, what I know about Rumpelstiltskin’s background,” I say quickly. “Tell me if this sounds like the guy who lives here?”

She leans forward. “Okay. Go for it.”

“There’s this miller —”

“A what?” Jonah asks.

“A miller is someone who operates a mill — grinds wheat or corn into flour.”

“Got it,” he says, and gives me a thumbs-up.

“This miller was hanging around a king one day, and he was kind of bragging. And he told the king his daughter could turn straw into gold.”

“Could she?” Goldie asks. “That would be useful.”

“No,” I say. “She couldn’t.”

“Why would her father say that, then?” Jonah asks. “Seems risky.”

“Unclear,” I say. “Anyway! The king said, ‘Great, if she can do that, I want her working for me.’ Then the king locked her in a room with straw, and said if she couldn’t spin the straw into gold by morning she would have to die.”

“Oh, snap,” Goldie says, eyes wide. “That’s harsh.”

“It totally is,” Jonah says.

“Right? The miller’s daughter cried and cried, and then as she was crying, a little man named Rumpelstiltskin snuck inside. The miller’s daughter didn’t know his name, though. That’s important. Rumpelstiltskin offered to turn the straw into gold if she gave him something. She offered him her necklace. He accepted and did it.”

“He did?” Goldie squeals. “Cool!”

“Yup. Except, then the king came into the room and was thrilled. But he was also greedy. So he brought the miller’s daughter to another room with even more straw in it and told her to do it again.”

“Ugh,” Jonah says.

“Right. So the whole thing happened again, and this time the miller’s daughter offered Rumpelstiltskin her ring. And he spun all the straw into gold again.”

“Hurrah!” Jonah says.

Goldie narrows her eyes. “I’m not cheering just yet. I bet something bad happens. King Ned is one greedy guy.”

King Ned? Could it be? Rumpelstiltskin’s king is the same as Goldilocks’s king? Whoa.

“Anyway,” I go on, “the king was so impressed with all his gold that he put the miller’s daughter in another room of straw and he said if she did it again, he would marry her and make her the queen. But when Rumpelstiltskin came back and offered to help her again, she had nothing left to give him.”

“So what happened?” Jonah asked.

“Rumpelstiltskin said that if she did marry the king, and if she had a baby, she had to give the baby to him.”

“Yikes,” Goldie says. “What did he want with a baby?”

“Maybe he wanted to eat it,” Jonah says.

“Why would someone want to eat a baby?” I ask, shaking my head.

“Why did Snow White’s stepmom want to eat her heart?” Jonah retorts. “Or why did Cinderella’s stepsisters cut off parts of their feet? People in fairy tales do disgusting things.”

“True,” I say. “But maybe he just wanted a baby. Like to have. Maybe he was lonely.”

“So what happened?” Goldie asks. “She didn’t agree, did she?”

“What choice did she have?” I ask. “She didn’t want the king to kill her. She agreed to the terms. She probably thought she could get out of it later.”

“Did she?” Goldie asks.

“No. So the miller’s daughter ended up marrying the king because he loved having a queen who could make gold. He had no idea it was really Rumpelstiltskin who did that. And then a year later she got pregnant. And then after the king and queen had a baby, Rumpelstiltskin appeared and told the queen to hand over the child as agreed.”

Goldie whistles. “Oh, no.”

I nod. “The queen was upset. Obviously. She begged Rumpelstiltskin to reconsider. She offered him anything instead. But he wanted nothing else from her.”

“Because he was hungry! He wanted a baby sandwich,” Jonah says.

“Jonah! No. Probably not. Anyway, Rumpelstiltskin felt bad for her and told her that if she could guess his name, she could keep her baby. No one in the entire kingdom knew what his name was.”

“It’s not a very common name,” Jonah says. “How would she ever guess it?”

“That’s what Rumpelstiltskin was counting on,” I say. “But one day, someone overheard him singing a song with his name in it and told the queen what his name was. Rumpelstiltskin was mad! Since he lost the baby —”

“Baby sandwich,” Jonah laughs.

“Gross,” I say, but Goldie giggles and then I laugh, too.

“Rumpelstiltskin stormed off. And that’s the end of the sandwich,” I say. “I mean story!”

Now all three of us are laughing.

I turn to Goldie. “Can you tell us what you know about Rumpelstiltskin? Does that story match up with what you’ve heard? Is it the same guy?”

Goldie nods. “I’ve heard about an elf named Rumpelstiltskin who got into a fight with the king and queen about something involving straw. He’s been hiding from them in the forest ever since.”

“That matches up,” I say. “I guess he’s an elf.”

“Wow,” Jonah says to me. “That means we’re really in two fairy tales — in one!”

“What’s a fairy tale?” Goldie asks.

“It’s a long story,” Jonah says.

“A fairy tale is a long story?” Goldie asks, confused.

“No, a fairy tale is a short story,” Jonah says. “Or sometimes a long story. It’s a story.”

“With fairies?” Goldie asks, looking back and forth between us.

“Sometimes,” Jonah says.

“We’ve never been in two before,” I say. “How could that have happened?”

Wait. A. Minute.

The mirror! “The crack,” I say.

Jonah cringes. “Oops.”

“No kidding,” I sigh.

He leans forward. “Or maybe yay. If it helps us.”

I nod. Hmm. “It could be good.”

“What could be good?” Goldie asks. “What are you two talking about?”

I turn to her and smile. “We know how to get you the gold.”

You’re saying we just have to find Rumpelstiltskin,” Goldie says after I explain my plan.

“Exactly,” I say.

“But nobody knows where he lives,” she says.

“That will definitely make it harder,” Jonah says.

“The animals might know,” Goldie says, considering. “But they won’t tell us. They don’t like that the human residents are treated better by the king. They’re not even truly considered part of Bebec. That’s why they live in the forest and we live in the town.”

This king really is the worst.

“Do all the animals talk?” Jonah asks.

“Of course,” she says.

Prince barks.

Not all.

“Maybe if we ask the animals nicely they’ll help us,” I suggest. “If they dislike the king, too, maybe they’ll be on our side. Isn’t the enemy of our enemy our friend?” I think I heard that expression once.

Goldie shrugs. “We can try. But don’t count on it.”

Prince walks over to Goldie and sits by her foot. He stares up at her. I think he’s waiting for her to pet him.

Goldie sort of scowls at him.

Hmm. She’s not really an animal person.

“You can pet him if you want,” I say. “He loves scratches behind the ears and belly rubs.”

She scrunches up her face. “Uh, no, thanks.”

Poor Prince.

“You don’t like dogs?” Jonah asks, bending down to scratch Prince behind his ears.

“I’m a people person,” she says.

Is she? She doesn’t seem that great with people, either.

Jonah’s stomach growls, and mine does, too. And so does Goldie’s.

“Any chance you have anything to eat for lunch?” Jonah asks.

“No,” Goldie says. “And unlike you two, I didn’t even get breakfast. But if we’re going to find the animals, we need to go back into the forest, and there are some apple trees there. Do you like apples?”

“Everyone likes apples,” I say.

“Except Snow White,” Jonah says.

Ha.

Jonah scoops up his skateboard and Prince, and we all leave Goldie’s cottage. We walk through the town back to the fence, and cross over into the forest.

“Animals!” Jonah hollers. “Hello! Any animals there? We could use your help!”

Silence.

“Were you really expecting that to work?” Goldie asks.

“Kind of,” he says.

Prince barks twice and then runs toward a tree. He barks at the tree twice more, looking up.

“What do you see there?” I ask Prince. “An animal? Or an apple?”

“I’ll take an apple,” Goldie says.

“Ow!” Jonah says, rubbing his head.

“What happened?” I ask, turning toward him.

“Something bonked me on the head!” Jonah says.

“Was it an apple?” I ask.

Jonah feels around his mop of brown curly hair. He pulls out an acorn. “Nope. We can’t eat acorns, can we?” he asks.

We all look up at the tree Prince is barking at. There’s a furry gray squirrel with amber-colored eyes sitting on a branch. She’s wearing a tiny green dress.

“Sorry. I dropped my acorn by accident,” the squirrel says. It’s a little weird to see a squirrel talk, but no weirder than talking bears. “All that barking startled me.”

Good job, Prince! He might not be able to talk, but he can certainly help.

Hmm. I wonder if Prince feels weird that he is the only animal in the story not talking and not wearing clothes. Do I need to find him a doggie sweatsuit or something?

Jonah holds the acorn up to the squirrel. “Here you go.”

“Thanks!” the squirrel says.

“Excuse me, Squirrel?” I ask. “Would you help us with something?”

“That’s Ms. Squirrel to you.”

“Sorry. Ms. Squirrel? Would you help us with something?”

She frowns. “Well, you did retrieve my acorn for me. What do you need?”

“Do you know where Rumpelstiltskin’s house is?” I ask.

The end of the squirrel’s tail twitches from under her dress. “I’m not entirely sure where he lives. But apparently he’s very peculiar.”

“Yes,” I say. “We’ve heard that, too.”

“Are you sure you want to talk to him?”

I nod. “Yes, please.”

“I’ve heard it’s up the mountain and near some water,” she says.

I look up the mountain, the same one Jonah and I slid down on his skateboard.

“Well, that’s more information than we had before,” I say.

“Good luck,” Ms. Squirrel says, and jumps to another branch.

I glance at Jonah and Goldie. “I guess we go back up the mountain.” I take a deep breath.

“Onward and upward,” Jonah says, and we head off.

We hike up the mountain. We pass by trees. And more trees.

“This looks familiar,” Jonah says.

“Because we’re standing exactly where we were when we first went through the mirror and landed in Goldie’s story,” I say.

“Oh!” Jonah exclaims, looking around. “Right!”

“But where is Rumpelstiltskin?” Goldie asks. By now she’s stopped asking us what we mean when we talk about landing in stories. I think she thinks we’re just weird.

“Hello?” I call out. “Rumpelstiltskin? Are you there? Do you hear us? We’d love to talk to you!”

There’s silence. And then —

“ROAR!”

We all freeze. Prince flattens his ears. Uh-oh. I know that roar.

“Abby!” Jonah whisper-yells. “That sounded like a bear roar!”

I nod. Unfortunately, it did. The dad bear said he would come after us, and he did!

I try to remember what I learned at camp about meeting a bear in the woods. Do you run or play dead?

“ROAR!” we hear again.

And then I see the bear burst through the trees.

AHHHH! I cover my eyes with my hands and peek through my splayed fingers.

But it’s not Father Bear who jumps out of the trees.

Or Mother Bear.

It’s Kid Bear. She’s still in her orange jumpsuit and pink tutu.

I brace myself for impact. She might be a cub, but her teeth and nails are still razor sharp.

“Hi!” Kid Bear says.

“Um, hi?” I say back. She does not seem to be interested in attacking us.

“You’re the girl who was sleeping in my bed,” she adds, her big brown eyes on me.

I swallow.

“Sorry about that,” I say. “Your bed looked so comfortable.”

“It really is,” the baby bear says. “It’s just right!”

I laugh. I can’t help it.

I look at Kid Bear. I tilt my head. She tilts hers. She doesn’t seem angry at all. She seems kind of … happy and friendly.

“And you’re the boy with the skateboard,” the bear says to Jonah. “And the dog.”

“Um … yeah?” Jonah says, holding his skateboard and Prince protectively.

Goldie takes a tentative step toward Kid Bear. “Have you been following us?” she asks.

Kid Bear nods. “I wanted to meet the boy and girl who came over. We’ve never had people in our house before.”

“You’ve never had anyone in your house before?” Jonah asks.

“No, we’ve never had people. Or dogs. My parents say people are mean. But you didn’t seem that mean. You seemed kind of scared.”

“We were scared,” I say.

“I wasn’t scared, I just had things to do,” Goldie says. “And I still have things to do. So if you’re not going to eat us, can we move this along?”

“Do you happen to know where Rumpelstiltskin’s house is?” I ask Kid Bear.

“I do,” she says. “I followed him once. I follow people a lot. And elves. Just for fun. I can show you where. He lives behind a waterfall. That one.” She turns and points to the frozen waterfall that I saw when we first landed in the story. Wow!

Goldie rolls her eyes. “Sure. Because that’s where people live. Behind waterfalls. Frozen waterfalls, at that. Please.”

“Rumpelstiltskin has magic powers,” Jonah reminds Goldie. “Also, he’s an elf.”

“It’s true,” I say. “He could live behind a waterfall.”

“He really does!” Kid Bear says earnestly. “I’ll lead you over to it.”

“How do we know we can trust you?” Goldie asks her. “What if you just want us to follow you and then you’re going to eat us?”

“No offense,” Kid Bear says, “but if I wanted to eat you, I would have done it already. Besides, my family and I don’t eat people. We eat porridge, honey, mac and cheese, and vanilla cupcakes.”

Cupcakes. Obviously.

“How do we know you’re not just trying to get us into one place and then trap us?” Goldie demands.

“Will you excuse us for a moment, Kid Bear?” I ask.

“Sure,” she says, sitting down crisscross applesauce on the ground.

“Goldie,” I whisper. “Can Jonah and I talk to you?”

“Fine,” Goldie says.

We all go behind a huge tree trunk.

“Let’s run,” Goldie says.

“Wait, why don’t you believe Kid Bear?” I ask.

“Because she’s a bear!” Goldie says, exasperated. “Animals are not to be believed.” Prince lets out a huffy bark. “Everyone knows that. Especially the bears and foxes who live in houses in Bebec Forest. They’re extra mad that they can’t go into the town.”

“Well, they should be extra mad,” Jonah points out.

“No,” Goldie says. “They don’t deserve it. Anyway, I don’t trust her. She might be pretending to be nice.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Like you were?”

“Yes. Exactly. Maybe all the animals are working together to set us up!”

“Sounds like you don’t trust them because they’re animals and not people,” Jonah says.

“So?” Goldie counters.

“So,” Jonah says, “you should decide who to trust based on what you know, not what you think you know.”

She rolls her eyes again. “You guys are annoying. I’ve said what I had to say.”

“Let’s take a vote,” Jonah says. “All in favor of following the bear to Rumpelstiltskin’s?”

He and I raise our hands. Prince wags his tail.

“Whatever,” Goldie says. “Don’t blame me if we get eaten.”

“We won’t!” Jonah says cheerfully.

We return to Kid Bear, who’s still sitting patiently on the ground.

“Okay, we’re ready. Lead us to Rumpelstiltskin’s house,” I say.

“Yay!” she says, bouncing up. “I get to help. Come on!” And she goes running on all fours through the big stand of evergreens.

We all follow her along a path through the trees. As we come around a bend, we stop — and we all gasp.

The waterfall is incredible. A huge swath of water is completely frozen over the edge of the cliff, ending in a frozen lake below. It looks even cooler up close than it did from far away.

“Maybe the bears will freeze us and save us as a summer snack,” Goldie whispers. “Kid sandwich.”

Jonah laughs. I decide to ignore her. “How do we get to the house?” I ask. “Does anyone see a house?”

“It’s behind the waterfall,” Kid Bear says. “That’s why you don’t see it.”

“Do we have to ice-skate to the door?” I ask.

“No, we have to climb the rocks on the side and then take the stone ledge behind the waterfall to find the door.” She starts climbing. “Come on!”

“Um, Kid Bear? We don’t have sharp claws to climb rocks,” I say. “Since we’re people.”

“How cool would that be, though?” Jonah sighs. “I wish Mom didn’t make me cut my toenails.”

“That is disgusting,” Goldie says.

“Yeah, Jonah,” I say, with a laugh.

“Just grab on to the grooves in the rock with your hands,” Kid Bear says.

Jonah nods. He’s actually a great rock climber. He tucks his skateboard and Prince under his arm and starts climbing. He’s halfway up the rocks by the time I find my first groove. I grab on.

“Be careful,” I call up to him.

“I am!”

Woof! Prince barks.

“You too, Goldie,” I add, glancing over my shoulder. “You’re coming, right?”

“Um …” She looks up. “Maybe?”

“You can do it!” I tell her.

“I know I can,” she says. “I just don’t know if I want to.”

“Come on, Goldie,” I say, my patience waning. I try not to twist to look down at her so I don’t slip. “We’re doing this for you, you know.”

She sighs again. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m coming.”

I give her a quick thumbs-up and keep going. I’m not a big fan of heights, but this isn’t too bad. I grab on to openings in the rock and hoist myself up, finally making it onto the ledge, with Goldie right behind me. Jonah, Prince, and Kid Bear are waiting for us.

“What took ya so long?” Kid Bear asks.

Jonah laughs.

The frozen waterfall is even more beautiful on this side. It’s like looking at a stained-glass wall, but one made of sparkling diamonds.

“There it is,” Jonah says. “The door!”

I turn around very carefully. Jonah is right. There is a door built right into the stone. It’s barely noticeable. There’s no handle.

I’m not a million percent sure, but …

I think we found Rumpelstiltskin’s house!

You were right!” I say to Kid Bear.

Her furry brown chest puffs up with pride, and she does a shimmy. “Told you,” she says.

“We don’t know that yet,” Goldie points out. “Someone should knock and see if Rumpelstiltskin answers.”

Tough customer.

“I wish I lived behind a waterfall,” Jonah says. “So awesome.”

It is very cool. No wonder no one knows exactly where he lives. Who would ever think to look behind a waterfall?

I’m about to knock on the door when something occurs to me.

“Wait. If Rumpelstiltskin can make gold, why wouldn’t he live in a huge, fancy house?”

“A huge fancy house made of gold,” Goldie says.

“I’d rather live in this small house behind the waterfall,” Jonah says.

“Rumpelstiltskin is pretty little,” Kid Bear says. “He definitely doesn’t need a big house.”

“Let’s knock!” Jonah says. “I want to meet him.”

I’m suddenly worried. Rumpelstiltskin wasn’t the nicest in his story. He tried to swindle the queen out of her baby! But what choice do we have?

I take a deep breath and then knock on the front door.

“Who is it?” a high-pitched voice calls from inside.

“Abby!” I call.

“And Jonah,” Jonah adds.

“And Goldie,” Goldie says.

“And Kid Bear!” I add. That’s probably not her actual name, but there’s no time to ask her now.

Prince barks.

A tiny square window on the door slides open. I see two brown-orange eyes staring at us. Then the window closes. And the door opens.

Rumpelstiltskin stands in the doorway. He’s about Jonah’s height, with pale green skin. His brown eyes have a strange orange glow, and his hair is short and bright white. He’s wearing a dark blue velvet suit and a tall, dark blue velvet hat sits on his head. With his bright white beard, he looks a little like a garden gnome.

He also looks very surprised to see us. “Why are you here?” he asks.

“We have a favor to ask you,” I say.

“Do you know who I am?” he asks.

“Yes,” I answer.

“So what’s my name, then?” he demands, hands on hips. “I bet you can’t guess. I’ll give you three guesses before I slam the door on you.”

“Is it … Jeff?” Jonah asks, a gleam in his eye.

“No!” Rumpelstiltskin calls out. “It is not! Two more guesses!”

Jonah grins. “Cody?”

Where is he coming up with these names?

“No!” Rumpelstiltskin yells.

“Jonah, come on!” I turn to Rumpelstiltskin. “We know your name. It’s Rumpelstiltskin,” I say.

He narrows his orange-brown eyes at me. “Well, obviously, she told you,” Rumpelstiltskin says, now glaring at Kid Bear.

“I didn’t tell them,” Kid Bear insists. “They knew who you were already.”

“Really?” he asks, looking from me to Jonah to Goldie and back to me.

I nod. “You’re pretty famous outside of Bebec,” I tell him.

“I am?” He lifts his chin and looks a lot happier. “That’s nice to hear. No one ever stops by.”

“Same at our house,” Kid Bear says sadly. “I don’t have any friends.”

“Me either,” Goldie says. “Now that my dad’s gone, I’m all alone.”

“Can we get back to your name?” Jonah asks. “Do you have a nickname? Or do you actually want to be called Rumpelstiltskin?”

“What would I use for a nickname?” he asks.

“Rumpy? Skins?” Jonah asks.

“Stiltsy?” I say.

“Hard pass,” Rumpelstiltskin says. “Do you have a nickname?” he asks my brother.

Jonah shakes his head. “But you can call me Jo!”

“Does anyone ever call you that?” I ask my brother.

“Nope,” he says. “But I could start using it!”

“How about a different nickname? Like … Nah?” I suggest.

“No,” Jonah says firmly.

“Sweetie?”

“No, thank you!”

“I wish someone would call me Sweetie,” Rumpelstiltskin says sadly. He shakes his head. “Would you all like to come in?”

Oh!

Jonah claps. “Yes! Cool! I’m going into Rumpelstiltskin’s house!”

“Woot woot!” says Kid Bear.

Rumpelstiltskin stares at Kid Bear with surprise. “Woot woot?”

“Woot woot!” she replies.

“We’d love to come in,” I say.

Rumpelstiltskin opens the door wide and we walk into a very fancy, huge house. Wow! The floors are made of shiny blue marble and there’s a leather armchair, fluffy shag rugs, and a blue velvet sofa that matches his suit. From the outside, you’d never know the inside was so big and luxurious.

Our host gestures at the blue sofa, and Goldie, Jonah, Kid Bear, and I all sit down, with Prince in my lap. Rumpelstiltskin sits on the huge leather armchair across from us.

He crosses his tiny legs. “What do you want?” he asks, cutting right to the chase.

“Do you have any cookies?” Jonah asks. “I’ve been really in the mood for something sweet.”

“I do, actually,” Rumpelstiltskin says. “One minute.”

He dashes off and returns a moment later holding a tray with four cups of milk, a loaf of banana bread sliced into pieces, and some cookies. Yum! Rumpelstiltskin is clearly a good baker. Too bad I didn’t meet him before I made my ruined cupcakes.

“There are chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin cookies,” Rumpelstiltskin says, holding the tray out to us.

“Hurrah!” Jonah cheers. “No thank you on the raisin, though. Blargh. Nothing worse than biting into what you think is chocolate chip and getting raisin.”

“I hate when that happens,” I sigh.

“Me too,” Goldie says, laughing. “But for me it’s the reverse. It’s oatmeal raisin that’s my favorite kind of cookie.”

I don’t even know what to say to that.

“I like every kind of cookie,” Rumpelstiltskin says.

Goldie carefully selects an oatmeal raisin cookie and a piece of banana bread. Kid Bear takes one of each cookie, and Jonah and I take one chocolate chip cookie apiece. Then Goldie takes some more banana bread, and we all help ourselves to the glasses of milk. We thank him, and Rumpelstiltskin looks pleased as he settles back into his armchair.

“So,” I say to Rumpelstiltskin, biting into my cookie. “We need your help. Goldie’s dad used to work in the palace as King Ned’s assistant, but he broke a statue of the king by accident,” I explain. “The king threw him in jail because he can’t pay for it.”

“What a meanie!” Kid Bear says.

Goldie nods. “He really is.”

“And the only way that Goldie can free her dad is by giving the king a bag of gold,” Jonah adds.

“Can you help, Rumpelstiltskin?” Goldie asks. “Please?”

He nods right away. “Of course I can help.”

“Yay!” I cry. “You’re the best! I knew you would. I knew it! See, Goldie?”

Rumpelstiltskin taps his fingertips together. “I said I can. Whether or not I will is the question.”

I deflate like a leaking balloon.

“But you can turn things into gold,” Jonah says. “It’s easy for you.”

Rumpelstiltskin shrugs. “So?”

“My father is in jail for an accident,” Goldie says. “The king has no mercy!”

“That’s true,” Rumpelstiltskin agrees. “I’m magical and even I avoid his royal cruelness.”

“So are you going to help or not?” Goldie asks.

“Please?” I say. He has to!

“Double please with rainbow sprinkles on top?” Jonah adds.

“I love rainbow sprinkles,” Kid Bear says, licking her lips.

Rumpelstiltskin looks at us all one by one. Then he taps his chin. “All right,” he says. “I’ll help.”

Hurrah!

“Here’s what you have to do,” he goes on. “Bring me straw. And lots of it.”

The straw part makes sense. That’s what he turned to gold in his story.

“Can’t you turn anything into gold?” Jonah asks.

Rumpelstiltskin shakes his head and his hat goes flying off. He grumbles and hops down off the big chair, puts the hat on, then hops back up. “No,” he says. “Just straw.”

“Okay, so we have to find straw —” I start.

“And of course,” Rumpelstiltskin adds, “you’ll have to pay me.”

Goldie frowns. I swallow. Jonah bites his lip. Even Kid Bear looks worried.

“We don’t have any money,” I say. “That’s why we need you to turn straw into gold!”

“Did I ask for money?” Rumpelstiltskin bellows. “No, I did not.”

I stare at him. “Then what do you want in exchange? We have a skateboard. Want that?”

“No!” Jonah yells.

“Jonah!” I say. “It’s all we have!”

“We have your watch!”

“We need my watch!”

“Well, I need my skateboard!”

“I don’t want a skateboard or a watch,” Rumpelstiltskin says.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“Your firstborn child!” he declares.

“Um, no,” I say. “First of all, I’m way too young to have kids. And second of all, I’m not auctioning off any future kids that I might have.”

Rumpelstiltskin frowns. He looks at Jonah. “Then his firstborn child!” he declares.

“Also no,” Jonah says, and then mutters, “Baby sandwich” under his breath.

“You can’t have any of our firstborn children,” I say. “Not mine, not Jonah’s, not Goldie’s, not Kid Bear’s.”

He squishes his face up. “What about your second-born children?” he asks.

“No,” I say.

“Last-born?”

“Still no,” I say. “No kids of any kind.”

“Can I have your dog?” he asks.

“No dog, either,” I say, pulling Prince closer to me. “Or my dog’s puppies. Just to make it clear — no living being.”

Rumpelstiltskin sighs. “It would be so nice to have a friend.”

“A friend sandwich,” Jonah mutters.

“Jonah, stop,” I say. “He doesn’t want a person sandwich. He wants a companion. He’s lonely. Aren’t you?”

Rumpelstiltskin’s orange-brown eyes fill with tears. “I am. I just want companionship. I don’t understand why no one wants to hang out with me!”

“Maybe it’s because you try to steal people’s babies?” Jonah asks.

He scowls. “I never stole anything. I made deals. And anyway, that’s only when I’m desperate. And the thing is, I’m not very happy. The only time anyone talks to me is when they want my help.” He sighs again, his eyes filling with more tears.

Awww. Poor Rumpy.

“Rumpelstiltskin?” I say. “Will you excuse us for a moment?”

“Fine,” he says, sniffling and wiping his eyes.

He hops off the chair and goes into another room.

“Goldie and Kid Bear,” I whisper. “I have an idea. You both want friends, right?” They nod. “And Rumpelstiltskin needs a friend. Maybe the three of you can be friends?”

Goldie and Kid Bear look at each other.

“It’s like Goldie and Bear!” Jonah exclaims. “That cartoon. Except in this case, it’s Goldie and Bear and Rumpelstiltskin.” He pauses. “That doesn’t have quite the same ring.”

“I don’t know,” Goldie says, studying Kid Bear. “You’re an animal, so I shouldn’t be nice to you, but you did help us find Rumpelstiltskin. And your tutu is kind of cool.”

“Thanks,” Kid Bear says. “You’re hanging out with the people who broke into my house, but you seem pretty cool, too.”

“Oh,” Goldie says. “About that … I broke into your house, too. I’m really sorry. I was looking for ways to help my dad. I know it was wrong.” She lowers her head. “Can you forgive me?”

Kid Bear nods. “I can. I’ve always wanted to be friends with a person.” She pauses and smiles at Goldie. “I’ll be your friend.”

Yay!

“But what about Rumpelstiltskin?” I ask.

“I guess it’d be fun to have a magical elf friend,” Goldie responds. “Plus, I do need his help.”

Jonah leans close. “Goldie, if you want to be his friend,” he says, “it can’t be because you need his help. Friends are friends because they like each other.”

“I can’t say I like him yet,” Goldie says. “I barely know him. But I am willing to hang out with him.”

“I want to be friends with everyone!” Kid Bear exclaims.

I can’t help but smile. Kid Bear is kind of the best.

“Can I come back now?” Rumpelstiltskin calls from the other room. “Or are you still discussing?”

“You can come back,” Goldie says. When he reappears, she adds, “I like your hat.”

“Why, thank you!” Rumpelstiltskin says with a smile. “And I like your spunkiness.”

Goldie smiles. “Thanks.” She sits up straight. “Okay, Rumpelstiltskin, here’s the deal. We have nothing to pay you with. But sometimes friends help each other. And Kid Bear and I would like to be your friends. And it seems like you want company. What do you think?”

“What does that mean exactly?” he asks. “You guys will hang out with me every day?”

“Sure,” she says. “Or most days. You know. Sometimes I have other stuff to do.”

His orange-brown eyes light up. “Okay. I want two hours every other day for at least two months. We’ll make snow angels and then come inside for hot cocoa and cookies, and we’ll play Monopoly and charades and hide-and-seek and sing songs.”

“Great,” Goldie says. “I love Monopoly. I want to be the car, though.”

Rumpelstiltskin claps. “I’m the hat.”

“I’m the dog!” Kid Bear says.

Prince barks.

I’m so relieved. Our plan is working! “So now we just have to find straw,” I say.

“A lot of it,” Rumpelstiltskin reminds me. “Good luck!”

We nod and get up.

“Thanks, Rumpelstiltskin,” I say.

“Talk to you later!” Jonah adds.

“See you soon, friend,” Kid Bear tells him.

“Bye for now!” Goldie says.

Rumpelstiltskin smiles and bows, and we leave.

We’re back on the ledge behind the waterfall. Jonah holds his skateboard under one arm and climbs down, Kid Bear right behind him. They’re on the ground before Goldie and I even start to descend. I grab Prince, and finally, we join them at the bottom. Phew. Together, we start walking in the direction of the fence.

“Where are we going to get straw?” I ask.

“Where does straw even come from?” Jonah wants to know.

“I have no idea!” I say.

“Me either,” Goldie adds.

“I know!” Kid Bear exclaims.

“You know where straw comes from?” I ask.

“No,” she responds. “But I know where to get a lot of it.”

“Where?” Goldie and I ask at the same time.

“The mattresses in my house are made of straw,” Kid Bear tells us.

“Ohhhh,” Jonah says. “That’s why there was that crunching sound.”

“We have a big extra mattress in our closet,” Kid Bear says. “But my parents won’t just give it to you. They’re going to want something in return. Or they’re at least going to want some sort of apology gift after you, you know, ate our porridge and slept in my bed.”

“That’s understandable,” Jonah says.

“A gift?” I say. “Hmm. All we have on us is the skateboard. And the watch …”

“That’s really nice, but have you seen the size of my parents’ wrists? That watch wouldn’t fit on their pinkies. And they would crush that skateboard with one foot, too.”

Jonah looks relieved. “That’s good. We really need Abby’s watch. And my skateboard is my favorite thing ever.”

“You’ve only had it for a few days,” I point out.

“So?” Jonah says.

“What about brownies?” I suggest. “We could bake a ton of them!” And maybe I could even bring some back for the bake sale. Sure, Robin is making them too, but I don’t think she’ll mind.

Goldie rolls her eyes. “Why are you guys so obsessed with brownies?”

“Because they’re delicious,” I say.

Kid Bear shakes her head. “Bears can’t eat anything made with chocolate. Totally toxic.”

Woof! Prince barks. It’s the same for dogs.

“Cupcakes?” Jonah asks.

I hold my breath. Please don’t tell me the fate of Goldie’s father depends on my cupcake-baking skills.

“We make our own cupcakes,” Kid Bear says. “But there’s one thing my parents love, and we haven’t had any in months.”

I lean in. “What?”

“Honey,” Kid Bear answers. “Bring them a few jars of honey and they’ll definitely give you the extra mattress.”

“Honey,” I repeat. Great. We can probably just buy some at the grocery store in the town!

“Three jars,” Kid Bear says.

Three jars for the three bears. Got it!

Then I realize something. Maybe it’s not the best idea for us to go back to the bears’ cottage, even with honey. They weren’t exactly happy to see us last time.

“Um, Kid Bear?” I begin. “When your parents caught us in your cottage, I heard your dad say he’d teach us a lesson later. Is he going to …”

“Eat us?” Jonah asks.

“Eat you?” Kid Bear giggles. “Yuck.” She shakes her head. “Why do you seem to think humans are that tasty? No, my dad just meant he’d give you a lecture. He likes to lecture me whenever I do something wrong.”

Jonah nods knowingly. “Our dad does, too.”

I suddenly hear a roar in the distance. Uh-oh. More bears? Prince’s ears perk up and he lets out a low growl.

Kid Bear’s furry brown ears perk up, too. “That’s my dad now, calling me home for dinner. I’d better go. See you tomorrow — with at least three jars of honey!”

We watch her run off through the forest.

“Now what?” Jonah asks.

“We find some honey, Honey,” I say. “Ooh, maybe Honey can be your new nickname, Jonah.”

He shakes his head. “Hard pass.”

Now we just have to raise enough money to buy honey from the grocery store,” I say. We’re still walking through the forest.

“The store doesn’t have any honey now,” Goldie says. “It’s winter.”

“So?” Jonah asks.

“There’s never any honey in the winter in Bebec,” Goldie explains. “Because the bees make honey, but they’re hibernating now. In the spring, they’ll make more and sell it to the stores and at the farmers’ market. That’s why the Bear family got so excited when they saw my fake note.”

Great. So no honey, then. Back to square one.

“Well, what would be just as good as honey?” I ask.

Goldie rubs her lower back. “I don’t know. Can we rest for a bit?” she asks. “I’m zonked from climbing up and down those rocks. Let’s go sit and lean against that huge maple tree.” She points across the path.

“All right,” I say. We head over to the tree, Prince leading the way, and we all sit down and lean against its base. Ahh. This is pretty relaxing. Who knew maple trees were so nice to lean against?

Wait. A. Minute!

Maple tree …

Maple syrup!

“Jonah,” I say, turning to my brother. “Didn’t you just go on a field trip to the place where they make maple syrup?”

“Yup,” he responds. “It was awesome. We learned how they make the syrup and got to taste it, too. Sooo good.”

I nod excitedly. “Maple syrup is sweet like honey,” I say. “It could be a close substitute. And it’s so delicious!”

“Hey, you’re right!” Jonah says.

Goldie looks from me to Jonah. “What’s maple syrup?” she asks.

Jonah and I both stare at her.

“You’ve never had pancakes with maple syrup?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I’ve had pancakes, but plain.”

“Plain pancakes?” I say. “No syrup? No butter? No chocolate chips or blueberries?”

“No whipped cream?” Jonah asks, incredulous.

Goldie shakes her head. “Nope. Just plain.”

I’m in shock. Even Prince cocks his head at Goldie, like he doesn’t understand.

“Well, you’re going to love maple syrup,” I tell her.

“But how do we get maple syrup?” Goldie asks.

“From maple trees!” Jonah says.

Her eyes widen. “Really? You’re kidding.”

“Nope. It’s true!” I insist.

“There are lots of maple trees in Bebec,” Goldie says, patting the trunk behind us. “Like this one. I even have two maple trees in my backyard! Since my dad is a carpenter, he taught me a lot about different types of wood and trees.”

“That’s perfect,” I say. “We can get the syrup from the maple trees in your backyard.”

“But how?” Goldie asks again. “Do we have to chop the trees down? Because I can’t do that.”

“No …” Jonah says. “We stick something in the tree and then the sap comes out of the trunk. Then the sap turns into syrup. I think those are the steps.”

I frown. That sounds familiar — I read about making maple syrup in a book once. “But it might be hard to make if we don’t know all the steps,” I say. “It’s not easy, like brownies.”

“Yeah. It’s hard — like cupcakes,” Jonah says, grinning at me.

I sigh. “Hopefully we won’t mess it up as badly as I did the cupcakes.” I look around the forest. The sun is setting. One thing I do know is that making maple syrup takes time. We should start in the morning. We’ll need daylight to see what we’re doing. If we can even do it.

Goldie yawns. “It’s been a long day. I’m so tired.”

I yawn, too.

And so does Jonah.

Even Prince yawns.

Yawns are contagious.

“You guys can sleep over at my house,” Goldie says. “My dad wouldn’t mind.”

I glance at my watch. At least we have some time.

“Thanks,” I tell Goldie. “That sounds great.”

We head back through the forest and over the fence, and we cross into the town. There are so many lights on in the windows. Bebec looks beautiful.

We walk to Goldie’s little stone cottage. She shows us to her dad’s room. It’s small, but there’s a large bed with a scratchy-looking thin blanket. Prince curls up at the foot of it.

Goldie yawns again. “See you two in the morning.”

“Good night,” we say.

Jonah leaps onto the bed. I sit down on it. Not too hard, not too soft, but not exactly just right, either. But it’s only for one night.

“I’m glad we’re helping Goldie,” Jonah says softly, pulling the cover up to his chin. “I feel bad for her.”

“Because her dad’s in jail for no good reason?” I ask.

“More that she’s never had pancakes with maple syrup,” he says. “Can you imagine life without maple syrup? I mean, what is the point of French toast even?”

“We’ll figure out how to make it,” I say.

Everything is riding on the syrup. To get the straw. To get the gold.

We have to get this right!

Just right.

Early the next morning, Jonah, Goldie, and I sit at her rickety kitchen table with Prince at our feet. Goldie serves us each a piece of banana bread.

“Did you bake this?” I ask, impressed. It looks and tastes exactly like the banana bread Rumpelstiltskin gave us.

“Sure,” she says, her face turning red. She looks away. “I definitely baked it.”

“OMG, did you steal this banana bread from Rumpelstiltskin’s house?” I ask.

“I didn’t steal it,” she says. “I borrowed it.”

“How did you borrow it?” Jonah asks while chewing. “Are we giving it back after we eat it?”

Goldie laughs. “No! That’s disgusting.”

“I saw you take a few extra pieces,” I say. “I didn’t realize you were taking them home.”

“He was okay with me taking the pieces, so it wasn’t stealing,” Goldie explains. “Just because I didn’t eat them right then doesn’t change the fact that he knew what I was taking.”

“Fair point,” I admit. “Thank you for getting us breakfast.”

She nods. “No problem.”

Jonah licks the crumbs off his fingers. “Yeah, thanks, Goldie.”

Woof, Prince adds.

Jonah hops off his chair. “Let’s go make maple syrup!”

I can’t help but feel a little worried. Are we really going to be able to make maple syrup? And what if the bears don’t even want it? Then we still have no straw, and then no gold for Goldie, and then Goldie’s dad can’t be rescued.

Argh.

“Here’s what we do,” Jonah is telling Goldie. “We have to tap into the tree bark, and then the sap comes out of the tap and pours into a bucket.”

“What do you tap into the tree with?” I ask.

Jonah shrugs. “Something like a little faucet, I think.”

Goldie’s face brightens. “A spigot? My dad used them when he built sinks for his carpentry business.”

“Yeah, a spigot!” Jonah responds.

“We can look in my dad’s tool supplies,” Goldie says. “In the shed out back. I sold just about everything. But there are some odds and ends left.”

We go outside and make our way toward the small brown shed in Goldie’s yard. The weather is a little warmer than yesterday, and sunny. Goldie’s backyard is tiny, but it does have plenty of trees. Prince runs around, sniffing at the ground and barking happily. He waits for us as we go inside the shed.

There are only a few small dented tools piled on the floor. We spot a bucket right away, and Jonah picks it up. It’s rusty on the outside, but large. “Perfect,” I say. “Now we need the spigot.”

Goldie and Jonah sort through a pile of tools, and finally Goldie holds up something small and metal. “I think this is it!” she cries.

One end has a spike that could go into the tree trunk. And the other end has a tube where the tree sap could spill right into the bucket.

“Yes, that looks like what they used on the field trip,” Jonah says. “Let’s try it!”

We hurry back out into Goldie’s backyard, and Goldie leads us over to the two maple trees.

I pick up the metal tap and try to stick it into one of the trees. “It won’t go in!”

“Let me try,” Jonah says. He attempts to stab it in. “The tree is too hard!”

“Are any trees soft?” I wonder.

“I think we need a hammer,” Goldie says, “but I sold off all my dad’s.”

Crumbs. I look down, worried that this is a dead end for us. Then I notice Prince pawing at some rocks on the ground. Rocks!

“Can we use this?” I ask, picking up one of the biggest ones.

Goldie bangs the rock against the tree … and it works! She’s able to stick in the spigot. But …

“I think it’s upside down,” I say. “The faucet part should be pointing toward the ground so the sap goes into the bucket, maybe?”

Goldie twists the spigot and now it’s the way it’s supposed to be. I think.

“Now we put the bucket underneath and wait,” Jonah says.

“Okay,” Goldie says, hanging up the bucket.

La, la, la.

I peer into the bucket. Empty.

“Guess it’ll be a while longer,” I say.

We wait.

And wait.

“Look!” Goldie exclaims, pointing at the tap.

We all look. A white, watery substance is pouring into the bucket. Just a little. But still!

“Is that maple syrup?” Goldie asks.

“It’s sap,” I explain. But I forget the steps you have to take to turn the sap into syrup. Why am I so bad with recipes?

“Next we take the bucket of sap and pour it into a pot,” Jonah says. “Then we cook it!”

“And then it becomes maple syrup?” Goldie asks.

“Yep,” I say. I remember now, too. He’s right!

Goldie walks over to the bucket and sniffs it. “Smells a little sweet.”

“Good,” I say. “Sour maple syrup would be gross.”

We wait some more and peer in the bucket again. It’s about a quarter filled up.

We hang out in Goldie’s yard, playing catch with Prince. Goldie runs over to check the bucket every five minutes.

“A watched pot never boils,” I tell her.

She frowns. “Of course it does. That makes no sense. Why wouldn’t a watched pot boil? Unless your eyes have cooling powers?”

“It’s just an expression,” I say. “My nana likes to use it. But point taken.”

Goldie continues to check it every five minutes, until finally she yells, “The bucket is full!”

And it is! We carry the bucket into Goldie’s kitchen. There’s a big pot on the stove. Goldie pours the sap into the pot and then turns on the burner.

“We’re not allowed to use the stove at home without asking our parents,” Jonah says.

“My dad lets me use the stove,” Goldie says. “I’m in charge of the cooking, actually,” she adds proudly. She looks at the pot. “So how do you know when it’s done?”

“I think it’ll be ready when the sap turns dark brown and gets thicker,” Jonah says.

“Are you sure?” I ask. “Because this needs to be perfect. Too much is at stake.”

“I hope so,” Jonah says.

We wait. A watched pot never boils, so we sit at the kitchen table. The syrup cooks pretty fast and the kitchen fills with steam. I open the window to air it out. Then I go over to the stove. The syrup is ready! I think. For all that sap, there is only a small amount of syrup in the pot. But it’s all we’ve got. I turn off the burner and let the syrup cool for a minute.

My heart speeds up as I dip in a spoon and give it a taste.

OMG. “It’s pretty good!” I exclaim. “Really!”

Goldie dips a spoon in and tries it. Her green eyes widen. “Wow, not bad!”

“It is good,” Jonah says, tasting from his own spoon.

“But … is it just right?” I ask. “It needs to be just right. Not too sweet, not too tart …”

“I don’t care if it’s just right,” Goldie says. “I don’t even know what just right is supposed to taste like. Honestly, in this case, good enough is fine with me.”

Fair point.

Sometimes good enough is good enough.

Hmm. I wonder if the cupcakes I made were good enough, too. Was I being too hard on myself? No. What was I going to sell? Chunks of cake? I shake my head.

I pour the syrup into four small empty bottles I find on the counter. We only need three bottles, but if something happens to one of them, I want an extra.

Plus, I could always take the bottle back with me and sell maple syrup at the bake sale.

Goldie tucks the four bottles into a sturdy bag.

Time to go back to the bears.

To save time, we decide to ride Jonah’s skateboard to the bears’ cottage. Well, Jonah really decides because I still don’t think it’s a safe idea. But at least we won’t be going downhill. Somehow, we all pile onto the skateboard — Jonah, me, Prince, and Goldie, plus the bag of maple syrup bottles — and ZOOM through the town.

When we reach the bears’ cottage, we come to a stop. The Bear family is outside in their yard, painting. Mother Bear, Father Bear, and Kid Bear have three easels set up with canvases on them. They’re all wearing smocks and painting beautiful pictures of the forest. If I weren’t still a little scared of the bears — well, the parents — it would be an adorable scene.

“Hi!” I call out, my voice shaking.

“Yay!” Kid Bear says. “Mom, Dad, my new friends are here! And look, they have a skateboard. I really want a skateboard,” she tells us.

Father Bear turns around, his brown eyes narrowed. “Friends with people. Will wonders never cease?” he asks. He clears his throat. “Human children, I need to tell you that —”

I feel a lecture coming on. “That we should never have broken into your house,” I interrupt, “eaten your porridge, sat in your chairs, or slept in your bed. You are absolutely right. We are so, so, so sorry.”

There’s a pause.

“You sat in our chairs?” the dad asks.

Oops.

“Yes,” I say.

“But we didn’t break them!” Jonah calls out.

“We’re glad to hear that,” Mother Bear says. She clears her throat and pushes up her glasses. “Our daughter told us about your apology gift and the trade you’d like to make. If you have the jugs of honey, we’ll give you our extra straw mattress.”

Yes!

I pull one of the bottles of maple syrup out of the bag and hold it up. “There are two more in here for you,” I say.

Father Bear stares at the bottle in my hand. “That looks awfully dark for honey.”

“That’s because it’s not honey,” Jonah reports.

Mother Bear frowns. “The deal was for honey!”

“I did say honey,” Kid Bear adds, looking at us with big, brown, disappointed eyes. “I was really looking forward to having some on my porridge this morning.”

“This” — I say, stepping closer with the bottle — “is maple syrup. It’s sooo delicious! You can put it on pancakes or French toast. Or even porridge!”

“We don’t want that maple … thing!” Father Bear growls. “We want honey!”

“Honey, honey!” Kid Bear chants.

This isn’t going the way I thought it would.

Goldie takes the bottle and holds it out toward the bears. “But just take one sniff at how good it smells. Mmmm,” she says, inhaling. “So sweet!”

“I said no!” Mother Bear growls.

Goldie’s face crumples, and her hands shake. Some of the syrup spills onto a pile of snow that the bears must have shoveled off the walkway.

Everything’s a mess.

Woof! Prince licks some of the maple-y snow. Woof-woof. His tail is wagging.

“Prince likes it!” Kid Bear exclaims.

“Oh, yeah, maple syrup is good on snow,” I say. “It’s a maple snow cone.”

“Can I try?” Jonah asks me.

“Sure,” I say. “The snow looks pretty clean.”

Jonah reaches down, grabs a chunk of maple-drizzled snow, and tastes it. “Now this is good.”

Kid Bear grabs a chunk of maple snow and pops it in her mouth. “Yum!” she announces. “This is amazing. Like ice cream! Mom, Dad, I bet it would be great on my porridge.”

I guess the mess is a tasty mess?

Mother Bear steps forward and takes the bottle from Goldie. She sniffs it. “Well, that does smell good.” She hands the bottle to Father Bear.

He also sniffs it. “I must say that it does.”

“Okay,” Mother Bear says. “We’ll try it on our porridge. If we like it, you can have the mattress. You can come in, but please try not to eat any of our food or take a nap in our beds. Or break any of our chairs.” She raises an eyebrow.

A totally fair ask, considering.

We go inside. There are three bowls of porridge cooling on the table. I hold Prince in my arms, just to be on the safe side.

Mother Bear pours some maple syrup in each bowl and stirs each one with a spoon. “Okay, come and get it.”

The bears sit down at the table and place their napkins on their laps. For bears, they have excellent table manners.

Father Bear blows on his porridge. He dips his spoon in and brings it to his mouth.

I hold my breath.

Please like it!

Father Bear’s brown eyes widen. “This is absolutely delicious!”

Mother Bear eats a spoonful. “So tasty!”

Kid Bear gobbles up her porridge. “Maple syrup for the win.”

Phew! Jonah, Goldie, and I exchange relieved grins. It worked!

Father Bear stands up. “Okay, you have a deal. We will trade you the straw mattress for the maple syrup.”

“Yay!” Kid Bear says.

Goldie’s face melts in relief. “Thank you!”

Father Bear disappears into the bedroom and returns with a straw mattress.

We did it!

Goldie accepts the mattress from Father Bear and thanks him again.

Father Bear sits back down, and the Bear family continues eating.

“Um, Abby?” Jonah asks.

“Yeah?” I say.

“How are we going to lug that mattress through the forest and up the rocks?” he asks.

Good question.

I look at my watch. It’s already after 5:00 A.M. in Smithville. We only have about eight Bebec hours left. And we still have no gold.

Too bad we can’t skateboard up a cliff.

“This mattress is really hard to carry,” I say when we get outside with it.

I’m holding one end, and Goldie is holding the other. Jonah is standing between us, holding up the middle, with his skateboard under one arm. Prince is trotting along, looking like he wishes he could help.

“Let’s get it on top of our heads and we’ll walk single file through the forest till we get to the cliff,” Jonah says.

“Or …” I look at the skateboard. “We put the mattress on the skateboard and push it!”

Yup. That’s much easier.

“How will we get it up the cliff, though?” Goldie asks.

Another good question.

We hurry as fast as we can, pushing the mattress on the skateboard. Finally, we reach the frozen waterfall.

“Now what?” Goldie asks, looking up at the rocks.

We decide that Jonah will climb the rocks while Goldie, Prince, and I slide the mattress across the frozen lake and then hoist it up to him.

As Jonah starts his climb, I take a careful step onto the lake. This probably isn’t a great idea. But it seems sturdy?

Goldie glides onto the ice and twirls. “Whee! This is fun!”

She’s right. We slide the mattress across the lake. Prince pushes the skateboard across with his little nose. He’s so helpful!

When we get to the frozen waterfall, we lift the mattress up and up and up … and Jonah grabs on to the other end. He manages to maneuver the mattress onto the ledge. Hurrah!

But now Goldie and I have to climb up the rocks ourselves. Sigh.

First, Goldie and I watch from below as Jonah knocks on Rumpelstiltskin’s door.

The little window slides open and Rumpelstiltskin’s orange-brown eyes peer out. Then the window closes, and I hear him unlocking all his locks.

“Hello,” he says to Jonah. Then he looks down at me and Goldie, standing on the lake. “I should probably invest in a ladder for guests,” he adds with a shrug. “Next time.”

“Where’s Rapunzel’s hair when we need it?” I grumble as Goldie and I start to climb up the rocks.

“Who?” Rumpelstiltskin and Goldie ask at the same time.

“No one,” I say. I guess the fairy tale characters really don’t know each other. Except for Goldie and Rumpelstiltskin, of course.

Goldie, Prince, and I carefully climb up the rest of the way. Whew! We help Jonah push the mattress inside Rumpelstiltskin’s house, and gather inside the living room.

“What now?” I ask.

“Now you need to pull the straw out of the mattress,” Rumpelstiltskin says.

We find a zipper, open it, and all kneel and start grabbing out fistfuls of straw.

“Abby, you have straw in your hair!” Jonah says with a giggle.

“You have straw on your nose!” I tell him.

Finally, all the straw is in a pile on the floor.

“How are you going to spin the straw into gold?” I ask Rumpelstiltskin.

Rumpelstiltskin raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. “I don’t share my secrets!” he tells us. “Now step back! I need room.”

We step back.

And wait.

Rumpelstiltskin walks over to the straw. He stares at it. Then he does a strange little dance, kicking up his legs. He then picks up the straw with his arms and spins around fifteen times. Wow! He is actually spinning the straw.

The straw disappears in a puff of yellow smoke! I can barely see anything — the smoke is in my nose and my mouth and, ouch, in my eyes.

I cough and blink, and then I see it:

A pile of gold coins in his arms.

Seriously. Gold coins.

OMG. He did it!

“Rumpy, you are a rock star!” Jonah says.

“Do not call me Rumpy,” he snaps. “That’s a terrible nickname. It does not sound dignified at all.”

I give Jonah a look.

“Sorry,” Jonah says. “And thank you so much!”

“No problem,” he says. He dumps the coins on the floor, turns away, and sits on his big blue velvet couch. I want to ask him what’s wrong, but we don’t have much time. Goldie needs to get to the palace to free her dad, and Jonah and I need to get back to Smithville.

“Fill your pockets with the coins,” Goldie says.

Jonah, Goldie, and I grab palmfuls of coins and put them in our pockets. Prince helps by nudging more coins into our hands. When we’re all done, we stand up, our pockets heavy and bulging.

“Wait!” Rumpelstiltskin shouts.

Uh-oh. Here it is. Is he going to demand something else?

“Yes?” I ask cautiously.

“I see Kid Bear isn’t with you,” Rumpelstiltskin says. “I guess she changed her mind about being friends.”

“No,” Goldie says. “She’s just eating porridge with her parents right now.”

Rumpelstiltskin brightens. “Oh. So the friendship is still on? Even though you now have your gold?” He bites his lip. He looks worried.

Aww.

Goldie smiles. “Of course it is. I’m excited to make snow angels and have hot chocolate. And all those other fun things you mentioned. We’ll visit you tomorrow afternoon.”

Rumpelstiltskin claps. “I’m so happy!”

Me too. Who would have thought that Goldilocks, one of the three bears, and Rumpelstiltskin would end up being BFFs?

“You guys can make friendship necklaces!” I suggest. “Look at mine.” I show them the beaded one I’m wearing that says FRAP — Frankie, Robin, Abby, Penny. Maybe they can be RKBG — Rumpelstiltskin, Kid Bear, Goldie? Hmm. They could use a vowel in there.

“Fun!” Rumpelstiltskin says.

“Another time,” Goldie says. “When we’re not rushing to save my dad.”

Right.

We hurry back outside.

“Good luck,” Rumpelstiltskin says. “You’ll need it.”

Then he closes the door.

We have the hundred gold coins the king asked for. Hopefully we won’t need luck.

We hop over the fence into town and ride Jonah’s skateboard-sled over to the palace, zooming as fast as we can.

Up close, the palace is eerie but beautiful. It’s also the biggest castle I’ve ever seen. It goes on and up forever with pointy towers and turrets.

We jump off our skateboard-sled. Then we hurry across the long plank over the moat and up to the gate. A guard dressed in black with gold stitching is standing in front of it.

“What is your business with the king of Bebec?” he demands.

“We’re here to pay a fine to free a prisoner,” Goldie says.

The guard takes a walkie-talkie out of his pocket, then turns and mumbles something into it.

“The king will be out shortly,” he announces.

Goldie is practically jumping up and down with nerves and excitement.

In a few minutes, the king appears in the arched doorway. He’s tall, over six feet, burly, and about my parents’ age. His eyes are small and beady. He’s wearing a yellow-gold crown, a yellow-gold robe, yellow-gold flip-flops, and three yellow-gold necklaces. It’s a lot of gold. He’s very shiny. I wish I was wearing sunglasses.

“I am King Ned, ruler of the kingdom of Bebec!” he bellows. “Who is this prisoner you’ve come to free?”

“Hello, King Ned,” Goldie says. “I’m Goldie and I’m here to pay the fee to free my father, Clinton, from your prison.”

“Oh,” the king says with a sneer. “You must mean Clumsy Clinton.”

Goldie’s cheeks turn red. “My father isn’t clumsy! He broke that statue by accident.”

The king leans his head close to Goldie. “If I say he’s clumsy, he’s clumsy!” he shouts.

Goldie’s cheeks get redder and I can practically see steam coming out of her ears like in a cartoon.

“Well,” King Ned says. “Where is my bag of gold?”

We all pull gold coins from our pockets and hold out our hands to the king.

“Count the coins, guard!” the king demands.

The guard walks up to me. He takes my coins, one by one, from my hands and drops them into a velvet pouch. “One, two, three …”

This is going to take a while.

The guard moves on to Jonah and counts his coins. “Twenty-six, twenty-seven …”

Oh, brother.

Now it’s Goldie’s turn. She holds out her full palms.

“Ninety-nine, one hundred,” the guard says, and drops the last two coins into the full pouch.

“Where’s the rest?” King Ned asks with a frown.

“The rest?” I repeat.

“Yeah, you said a bag of gold coins,” Goldie says. “Everyone in Bebec knows that means one hundred coins.”

The king lifts his chin and looks down his long, thin nose at Goldie. “It does. But you owe me interest for the two weeks Clumsy Clinton has been in my jail. Fourteen more coins. One for every day he’s been there.”

I gasp. “That’s not fair!”

Goldie looks like she might cry. “We don’t have fourteen more coins.”

“Buh-bye, then,” the king says.

“That’s not right!” Jonah shouts. “You can’t say one thing and then another!”

The king laughs. “Oh, yes, I can. Because I’m the king.”

I can’t believe it. No!

He turns to leave. I see Goldie’s shoulders shaking. She’s crying!

King Ned is the worst, meanest, most horrible king ever! He has a ton of gold. He doesn’t need more.

I have to do something.

But what?

What do I have to offer?

Oh!

“Maple syrup!” I call out.

The king stops and turns. “Excuse me?”

I still have one bottle of maple syrup left in the bag.

“Oh, King Ned,” I say. “We have something better than fourteen gold coins in this bag.” I hold it up. “Yes! It’s better than gold. It’s liquid gold. It’s sweet and delicious. And no person in Bebec has ever tried it before.”

His beady eyes widen. “What is it?”

I put the bag down and take out the last bottle of maple syrup. “Only the most amazing thing you will ever have on pancakes or French toast!”

“Or porridge,” Jonah adds. “Or snow. If you wanted to eat snow.”

“Why would anyone want to eat snow?” the king asks with a scowl, but he steps closer. “Let me see that.”

I hand him the bottle.

He pulls off the cap and sniffs. “Mmm. That smells amazing!”

Goldie looks at me with hope in her eyes.

“What did you say this is called?” he asks.

“Maple syrup,” Goldie says. She bites her lip.

“Spoon!” the king bellows.

Another guard rushes over with a spoon. A gold spoon, obviously.

The king pours out a spoonful. He puts it into his mouth.

His eyes close. He’s smiling!

“Oh my word,” King Ned says. “This is good. Absolutely incredible. I must have some on my afternoon snack, my evening meal, and my breakfast!”

Yes! Jonah and I high-five each other.

Even Prince gives a little woof.

Goldie looks very relieved.

The king pours himself another spoonful. “How do you make this?” he asks Goldie.

“It’s a special recipe,” Goldie says. “Very complicated and time-consuming. It would take hours just to tell you.”

“Wow!” King Ned exclaims. “Isn’t that something?” He looks at the bottle. “It is liquid gold! I might change the name to that. Liquid gold.”

He steps closer to us. He sure is tall. And imposing.

“You, you, you, and you,” King Ned says, pointing at me, Goldie, Jonah, and Prince. “I command you all to make enough maple syrup to last the royal family one year. I will free Goldie’s father after you deliver the syrup.”

Um, no. Jonah, Prince, and I have to get home. I look down at my watch. It’s already 6:00 A.M. in Smithville. We have five more hours here left. Tops. Definitely not enough time to make enough syrup for a year!

“What?” Goldie cries. “You can’t do that! It’ll take forever to make that much syrup!”

Prince barks forlornly.

“Then I suggest you get started now,” the king says.

“Achoo!”

The king stops and turns. “Who dared sneeze while I was talking?”

A guard steps forward. He’s trembling!

“Um, I did, King Sir.”

“Take him to jail immediately,” King Ned orders the other guards. “Put him in cell eleven. Next to Clumsy Clinton.”

“My dad is not clumsy!” Goldie snaps.

I catch the guards grimacing as they take Sneezy away.

“Now where was I?” King Ned says. “Oh, yes. The liquid gold. You will make me a year’s worth right now!”

Ugh. I was hoping he forgot that.

“But we can’t make any more syrup,” I say. “There just isn’t time. Jonah and Prince and I have to get home!”

“Home?” the king repeats. “Where is home? Don’t tell me you live in the forest with the animals. Although he belongs in Montario,” he adds, glaring at Prince.

“We live in Smithville,” I say, and feel a pang of homesickness. “It’s far away.”

The king lifts his chin again. “I command you to stay,” he orders. “I hereby declare that you are all the official liquid gold makers for the royal family.”

“No!” I say.

“Yeah,” Jonah says. “No!”

“No one dares tell ME no.” King Ned turns to guards lining the side of the palace doors. “Guards! Seize them! Throw them into cell number twelve with Clumsy Clinton.”

The guards grab us. Nooo!

Woof! Prince lunges for a guard’s ankle.

The guard yells, “Get that mutt!”

But Prince is too fast for them. He runs away, and no one can catch him. Go, Prince! I watch worriedly as he scurries off out of sight. I hope he’ll be okay, but I know Prince is tough. He’ll wait for me and Jonah somewhere outside the palace as long as he needs to.

“We’ll catch you, you ugly mutt!” the guard yells.

“He’s not ugly. He’s adorable!” I insist.

The guards push us around to the side of the palace, where there’s a row of twenty doors. It looks sort of like a motel. But it’s not a motel. It’s the palace jail!

“This is your cell!” one of the guards announces when we reach a door marked NUMBER 12. He opens the door and shoves us all inside.

The cell is tiny. There’s a small window on the door and another even smaller one in the back of the room. A man with curly golden hair is sitting on a bench, his head hanging down. He looks so sad.

“Dad!” Goldie cries.

The man looks up. His green eyes widen and he jumps to his feet. He rushes over to us. “Goldie!”

“No one defies the king!” the guard says from outside. He slams the door and locks it.

I sigh. This isn’t good.

Goldie and her dad are hugging. “I’ve missed you so much, Dad!” she cries.

“I’ve missed you too, sweetheart,” her father says.

Aww.

At least Goldie and her dad are back together again.

Mission, um, accomplished?

This is not my first time in fairy tale jail.

And what I’ve learned is this: There is always a way out.

Usually.

Except here, I don’t see one.

Yet.

Goldie and her dad are sitting on the bench, happy to be together again. Goldie introduces us to him and explains that we tried to help her free him.

Goldie’s dad stands up and shakes my hand and then Jonah’s. “I’m Clinton, Goldie’s father. Thank you for helping my daughter. I really appreciate it.”

“Not sure you should thank us if it didn’t work,” Jonah says, his shoulders slumping.

Clinton shakes his head. “You did your best. King Ned is a horrible person. He puts people in jail for the smallest wrongdoing. One prisoner has been here for a month because he was eating an apple and crunched too loudly.”

“King Ned is the worst,” I say.

And we know from bad kings.

“I don’t know why Queen Paula puts up with him,” Clinton says.

The miller’s daughter. Maybe she’s terrified he’s going to lock her up again.

I look at the two small windows in the cell. They both have black bars on them. I wobble the bars to see if they’re loose. Nope.

“Trust me,” Clinton says. “I’ve tried. Those bars aren’t budging.”

Crumbs.

I glance at my watch. We only have one Smithville hour to get home in time. If we’re not back at seven, when our parents come into our rooms to wake us up, they are going to freak out. Understandably.

I pace back and forth.

“Abby?” Jonah asks. “Where do you think Prince is?”

Good question. I don’t know. But we could use his help.

A few hours later, I’m still trying to think of a way out. I can see a little bit of sky through the window at the back of the room — and it’s getting dark now.

Creeeeeak.

We all turn. The door to the cell opens. A guard is holding a tray.

“Dinner is served,” he says, and puts the tray on the floor. The heavy door closes behind him and I can hear a lock turn again. I hate the sound of that lock.

“Dinner? What time is it?” Just as I ask the question, five chimes ring out from the clock tower in town.

I look at my watch. It’s 6:36 A.M. at home. Not good.

“Ooh, I’m starving,” Jonah says. “What did they bring? I am kind of in the mood for sushi.”

I look on the tray. There are four crackers and four tiny pieces of cheese and four small cups of water.

“That does not look like a California roll,” I say.

“In King Ned’s prison,” Clinton says, “that’s dinner.”

We all munch quietly on our crackers. As quietly as you can munch on crackers, that is.

Woof!

I sigh. I must be hearing things because I thought that was Prince barking. And he’s definitely not here.

“Abby! Look!” Jonah cries. He’s pointing out the little window. “It’s Prince!”

We all rush over to the window. Suddenly, I see a face appear. A furry face, with brown eyes and a black nose. But it’s not Prince.

“It’s Father Bear!” I whisper.

Mother Bear appears beside him, and I see that Kid Bear and Prince are behind her. “Your dog came to find us,” Mother Bear explains. “We don’t speak dog, but he barked and barked and we had a feeling you were in trouble.”

“We followed him over the fence and all the way here,” Kid Bear says.

“Good job, Prince!” Jonah says, giving a little fist pump.

“Prince is such a good boy!” Goldie says. Aww. Prince is starting to grow on her.

Woof! Prince agrees.

“You’re going to help us escape?” I ask the bears.

“Of course,” Father Bear says. “You introduced us to maple syrup. So we owe you.”

I smile. “Hurrah!”

Father Bear grips the bars and tries to move them. “They’re too strong,” he says.

“Oh, no!” Mother Bear cries. “We have to get them out.”

But how?

“Do I have to do everything?” another voice says.

I know that voice!

Rumpelstiltskin appears outside the window. He’s wearing his blue velvet suit and his high hat.

“How did you know we were here?” I ask.

“I told you — I don’t share my secrets,” he says, and winks.

“Yay, Rumpelstiltskin!” Jonah says.

I grin. “Can you help us get out of here?”

“Duh! Of course I can!” he says. “Step aside, animals.”

But then I notice Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes get wide. He seems to be watching something I can’t see from the jail cell. What? What’s going on?

Suddenly, I hear a familiar sound. But I can’t place it. I turn toward the front door. Where do I know that annoying sound from? It’s like a grating, screechy noise.

Wait. Someone’s riding on Jonah’s skateboard! I squint through the window in the door. It’s Kid Bear!

She comes barreling toward our cell. I thought Jonah was fast on that thing? Kid Bear is going super fast!

“Whee!” she exclaims, putting her arms to the sides for better balance.

The edge of the skateboard crashes into the cell door — and it flings open!

“We’re free!” Clinton cries.

“Wow,” Goldie says. “No magic required.” She gives Kid Bear a high five.

“We’re so proud of you!” I hear her parents exclaim from outside the other window.

“That was awesome!” Jonah says. “You’re even better on the skateboard than I am.”

Kid Bear’s chest puffs out.

“I was wondering where I left it,” Jonah adds.

“It was just outside the palace,” Kid Bear says. “Great idea!”

“Um, sure,” Jonah says sheepishly. “That was totally on purpose.”

“Thank you so much!” I tell Kid Bear.

“Aw, it was nothing,” she responds. She turns to her parents. “Maybe you’ll buy me my own skateboard now?” she asks hopefully. She slides the skateboard over to Jonah, who stops it with his foot.

“We’ll see,” Father Bear says from outside the window.

Rumpelstiltskin frowns. “I would have gotten you guys out, though.”

“We appreciate magical and nonmagical help,” I say.

I glance out the open door. I can see the guards over by the front of the palace, talking. I hear one complain about how mean King Ned is. The king put the guard’s grandmother in prison yesterday for looking old.

I shake my head. King Ned doesn’t deserve to run this kingdom. I think about the sign on the fence. Kingdom of Bebec. Welcome to all who deserve to live here. The kingdom should be for all residents.

I turn to the bears. “Now what?” I ask.

“We’ll distract the guards,” Mother Bear says. “So you can run. Run all the way to our cottage, and we’ll meet you there.”

“Aren’t you afraid to help us?” I ask. “King Ned will put you all in jail if he catches you.”

“We’re not afraid of that meanie,” Mother Bear says. “Besides, he doesn’t care enough about the animals to put us in jail. He doesn’t even consider us his subjects.”

“You’ll be safe in our cottage,” Father Bear says. “The king and his guards don’t go into the forest.”

“Ready?” Mother Bear asks once Kid Bear has joined her parents outside. “Let’s go!”

She, Father Bear, and Kid Bear turn and run toward the guards, roaring REALLY loudly.

It works! The guards are busy running away from the bears and don’t notice as Jonah, Goldie, her dad, and I all dash out of the cell and away from the palace. Rumpelstiltskin and Prince join us and we all keep running.

We hop over the fence, run into the forest, ride Jonah’s skateboard straight to the bears’ cottage, and rush inside.

Deep breath. Deep breath. I look at my watch: 6:42. My parents’ alarm goes off in three minutes!

“How about a little something to eat?” Father Bear asks once he arrives back with Mother Bear and Kid Bear. “Dinner before you go? I made mac and cheese.”

“Um … sure,” I say as my stomach growls. But then we really have to run. We’re out of time.

“Should we stand?” Jonah asks, since there are only three chairs at the table.

“Please sit,” Mother Bear says, and adds, “I have some folding chairs in the closet.”

She pulls out enough chairs for all of us, as Father Bear puts on oven mitts and takes out his pan of mac and cheese. “Does maple syrup go with this?” he asks.

“Definitely not,” Jonah says. “Mac and cheese should only be eaten with ketchup.”

“What’s ketchup?” Goldie asks.

OMG.

“You don’t have ketchup?” Jonah cries, his eyes almost popping out of his head. “You have to learn how to make ketchup. Abby, we have to teach them how to make ketchup! Before we go! We have to!”

“I don’t know how. Do you? I’m guessing with tomatoes?” I take a quick look at my watch. “But Jonah, we don’t have time to make ketchup! Or eat mac and cheese. We only have a few minutes to get back to Smithville!”

At least we know where the portal is — the bears’ mailbox.

Suddenly, we hear footsteps. Lots and lots of footsteps.

“What’s that?” I ask.

We all rush to the window.

It’s King Ned’s army! And leading them is King Ned on a huge ostrich.

“Bear family,” the king bellows. “Surrender the prisoners! We want Rumpelstiltskin, too! I’ve been trying to capture that magical little man for years.”

“Don’t hand over Rumpelstiltskin,” Jonah insists. “He was nice to us!”

“We won’t. He’s a friend,” Goldie adds with a firm nod.

“Yeah!” Kid Bear says.

Rumpelstiltskin puts his hand on his chest, his orange-brown eyes misty as he looks around the table at us. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.”

Father Bear jumps out of his chair, opens the window, and growls. “We refuse!” he calls out to the king.

Mother Bear roars. “That’s right!”

Prince barks.

“You can’t refuse!” the king shouts. “No one dares defy me! I am the king of Bebec!”

“Someone get me a mattress!” Rumpelstiltskin whispers to the rest of us inside the cottage.

Huh?

“A mattress? Why?” Goldie’s dad asks, looking confused.

“Just trust me!” Rumpelstiltskin says, and I do.

So do the bears, it seems. Mother Bear and Kid Bear run into the other room and return with a mattress.

Is Rumpy going to turn the mattress into gold and pay the king to go away?

They drop the mattress at Rumpelstiltskin’s feet.

“Thank you,” he says. He grabs a fork from the table, rips open the mattress, and starts to pull out heaps of the straw. When his arms are full of straw, he opens the door.

“What are you doing?” Mother Bear cries.

“I got this,” Rumpelstiltskin says, with a crooked smile. He steps outside.

“Seize them!” the king yells to his guards.

“Nope,” Rumpelstiltskin orders. “With the exception of Goldie and her father, we are not even your royal subjects. Therefore you don’t tell me, or the Bear family, what to do.”

“Oh, yes, I do! Seize them!” King Ned yells again.

“Again, nope,” Rumpelstiltskin says. “Anyway, you want some gold?” he asks the king. “You know I’m the one who makes the gold.”

The king’s eyes widen. He nods.

“Hold the straw with me,” Rumpelstiltskin says. He takes the king’s hands. The straw is piled on top of their arms. Then he does his little dance.

“Now spin!” he yells.

They hold hands and spin, around and around, fifteen times.

And right before our eyes, the straw sprouts into pillars. Gold pillars.

Rumpelstiltskin lets go of the king’s hands, takes a step back, and … the king is trapped. Between the gold pillars. He’s in a gold jail cell.

Oh, wow.

Yes!

“But how is that possible?” Clinton asks, gaping at Rumpelstiltskin.

Rumpelstiltskin smiles. “I can do more than just coins.”

“Oooooh, gold,” King Ned says, caressing one of the bars. “But release me immediately!”

“Nope,” Rumpelstiltskin says. “Look, I said it again!”

“Why, you little —” the king begins to shout.

“What is happening here?” we hear a woman’s voice call out.

We turn around to see a woman riding an ostrich toward the cottage.

“It’s the queen!” Kid Bear exclaims. Then she curtsies.

The queen is beautiful. She has brown skin and long brown hair twisted into a braided bun below her crown. She’s wearing a silky orange gown and bright purple snow boots. But uh-oh — are we in trouble with her now?

“Get me out of here, Paula,” the king orders from his gold cell.

The queen smiles. “Sorry, dear. You are where you belong.”

Wait, what?

The king turns red and starts stomping his feet. He’s screaming and yelling inside his golden cage.

“Silence!” Queen Paula insists. “I will take over running the kingdom now.”

She turns to Rumpelstiltskin.

“Rumpelstiltskin,” the queen continues, “a very long time ago, we made four deals. You honored them all. You turned my straw into gold. And you let me keep my beloved baby because I was able to tell you your name. That baby is all grown up and in college in a faraway land, but one day she’ll be queen.”

Rumpelstiltskin looks worried. “And?”

“And I trust you. Sure, you tried to steal my kid, but you never lied to me. Would you consider being my advisor?”

He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. “I’m afraid not, Queen Paula. I prefer not to be at anyone’s beck and call. I’d rather do my own thing and hang out with my friends.” He smiles at Kid Bear and Goldie before turning back to the queen. “But thank you for the offer.”

The queen laughs. “Thank you for locking up my evil husband.” She touches her royal scepter to the top of his head. “You are now officially a knight of the kingdom. You are hereby known as Sir Rumpelstiltskin.”

“Cool!” Rumpelstiltskin exclaims.

The queen clears her throat. “I declare that all the prisoners — except for King Ned — in our jails are now free. Each former prisoner will be awarded a bag of gold upon release. Guards, go free them and hand out the gold.”

“Yes!” Goldie says. She turns to her father. “Now you’ll have enough money to buy back all your carpentry tools. We’ll be able to build new furniture. And eat three meals a day again!”

Clinton and Goldie hug.

The queen smiles and reaches into the backpack on her ostrich and pulls out a bag of gold. She hands it to Clinton. “I’m sorry for how you were treated,” she says.

“Hey!” the former king pouts.

“Guards,” she says, ignoring him, “bring the king back to the palace. I know just the cell he’ll stay in.” Then she turns to me and Jonah and the Bear family. “Children, thank you for everything,” she goes on. “Mr. Bear, Mrs. Bear, and … what’s your name, little one?”

“Andrea!” Kid Bear says.

Oh! A vowel! Her name starts with a vowel. Their friendship necklace can say GAR! Or RAG? Or GRA!

“Andrea, and Mr. and Mrs. Bear — you have been amazing protectors of our people. We will take down the fence, and all parts of Bebec can be united!”

Everyone claps. Hurrah! Andrea Bear gives us all high fives.

“Thank you,” Father Bear says.

“Good day,” the queen says. “Let’s go,” she says, turning to her ostrich.

“Copy that,” says the ostrich.

Wow. Every animal really does talk here! Poor Prince.

The queen climbs back on her ostrich and the other ostrich follows. The guards follow them, carrying the gold jail and its screaming prisoner high in the air.

Rumpelstiltskin turns to us. “Well, I guess this is good-bye. Oh, and kids? You can tell people to call me Sir Rumpelstiltskin now. How’s that for a nickname?”

I grin. “That works. Bye!”

Sir Rumpelstiltskin smiles, snaps his fingers, and disappears into thin air.

No wonder he doesn’t mind his rocks and scary ledge door. He doesn’t have to use it.

“I wish I could snap my fingers and make myself disappear,” Jonah says. “I also wish I could ride a talking ostrich.”

Of course he does. “Maybe in another story.” I look at my watch. Ahhh! It’s seven! I turn to Goldie, her father, and the Bear family. “We have to go!” I tell them. “It was great to meet you all!” I throw my arms around the bears to say good-bye. They hug me back. They are warm, soft, and very, very furry. Not scary at all.

Then Goldie throws her arms around me. She smells sweet. Like maple syrup.

“Thank you for helping me,” she says. “You and Jonah and Prince. I didn’t think I had any friends, and it turns out I had three. Then I made two more — Rumpelstiltskin and Andrea.”

“I’m glad you trusted us,” I say.

“I’m glad you trusted me,” she says, pulling back. “I know I was a mess when you met me. But you still thought I was worth helping.”

“Of course you were worth helping,” I say. “And messy isn’t bad.”

“Very true,” she says, flipping a curl off her shoulder.

Very true, I think.

“Abby, look!” Jonah says.

I look where he’s pointing. The bears’ mailbox is purple and swirling.

I dare to look at my watch. It’s 7:02 at home. We’re so late!

AHHH!

I swallow. This is bad.

“Now we REALLY have to go!” I say to everyone.

“Bye!” they all call back.

Jonah grabs his skateboard, and he, Prince, and I rush to the mailbox.

We jump right into the swirling purple mist.

I have no idea what’s going to happen when we land back home. If we land back home. What if the broken mirror sends us somewhere else?

I cross my fingers and hope for the best.

We land in our basement. Jonah and I pop up off the floor. He’s still carrying his skateboard. Prince wags his tail. Phew. The mirror still works!

I hear my parents upstairs calling us.

“Where are they?” my dad says. “It looks like they slept in their beds.”

“Should we call the police?” I hear my mom ask.

“Uh-oh,” I say.

What are we going to tell them?

I think. And think. And think some more. But I have no clue!

“Abby, we’re going to be in big trouble with Mom and Dad,” Jonah says.

“Probably,” I agree.

“Should we tell them the truth?” he asks, his eyes wide. “Again?”

We tried to tell them once, but then Maryrose erased their memories.

“Maryrose?” I call, turning back to the mirror. “What do you want us to do?”

But there’s no answer. I glance at the crack in the mirror — oh, no.

It’s longer than it was before. Almost a foot now.

“Maryrose, are you still in there?” I call.

Silence.

I have a bad feeling about this.

All I hear is my mom calling my name. My dad calling Jonah’s name.

We have to get upstairs. But where is Maryrose?

We rush upstairs to the main level just as my parents are coming downstairs from the bedrooms.

“There you two are!” my mom says in a flustered voice.

“We took Prince for a walk,” I say.

I glance at Prince. He lets out a little woof and wags his tail.

It’s not a lie, exactly. We did take Prince for a walk. Through the mirror and into two stories in one.

My dad clears his throat. “When you leave without telling us —”

A lecture is starting.

“We acted very irresponsibly,” I jump in. “We made you worry for no reason. We absolutely should have told you, or at least written a note. We are so, so, so sorry.”

Pause. Dad looks at Mom.

She nods.

“Well, next time, let us know,” she says.

“Sorry,” I say. “We will. Promise!”

“Got some skateboarding in before school, huh?” my mom asks Jonah.

Jonah grins. “The mountain was awesome!”

“Mountain?” my dad repeats. “There are no mountains in our neighborhood.”

I stare at Jonah. He stares back.

“A sidewalk is kind of a tiny mountain,” he says.

My dad smiles quizzically. “Okay, buddy. You better come eat something before school.”

Woof! Prince barks.

“You can have a doggie biscuit, Prince,” my mom says, then heads into the kitchen with my dad.

“Wow,” I say to Jonah. “Everything’s okay.”

Jonah and I go into the kitchen.

“Abby, what are you doing with those … um … cupcakes?” Mom says.

I see the messed-up cupcakes still on the counter. Oops.

“They’re not perfect,” I say. “But maybe I can still do something with them.”

“Like what?” Jonah asks.

“Like … cake pops!” I say.

“Oh!” Jonah exclaims. “Smart.”

“You don’t have that much time,” my dad says.

“I’ll do them fast,” I say. I wash my hands and then start smushing the cupcakes into balls.

“I’ll help,” Jonah says. “I’ll get Popsicle sticks. Oh! And I know exactly what the missing ingredient for your icing is.”

“Cake pops?”

“Hah. No! Maple syrup!”

Oooh. “But we don’t have time to make maple syrup,” I say.

“Why would you make maple syrup?” my mom asks. “We have some in the fridge.”

I laugh. “Right.”

Jonah takes the jug out of the fridge and places it beside me on the counter. “Liquid gold,” he says.

I smile and pour some in the bowl.

My cake pops turn out great. Messy, yeah. But maybe messy is okay. Maybe there is no such thing as just right. Maybe not perfect can still be delicious. Maybe it’s okay to have a hairline crack or two. Maybe a crack allows you to try something you never would have expected. Like two stories in one.

When my maple cake pops are all packed up, I run upstairs to grab my backpack for school. I go into my room and notice my jewelry box on my dresser. My nana gave it to me. It’s decorated with all the fairy tale characters on it. But every time I go into a story, the characters change to reflect what happened in the story. And how we messed it up.

I turn the box around and then I see her — Goldie! She, her dad, Paula the queen, Rumpelstiltskin, and the three bears are sitting at a fancy table in a grand dining room. It must be at the palace. Maybe the queen had them over for brunch. And OMG — Goldie, Rumpelstiltskin, Andrea the bear, and Queen Paula are all wearing necklaces. And they say GRAP in gold letters! Hah!

They’re all eating big bowls of porridge, and a beautiful jug of maple syrup sits in the middle of the table.

The jug says, GOLDIE’S SYRUP.

Oh! Hurrah! I guess she started her own business after all.

I take off my watch to put it into my jewelry box.

But when I open the lid, a purple mist swirls out.

I gasp.

What’s going on?

Suddenly, right in front of me, the purple mist grows and grows and starts to take shape.

It turns into a young woman. She’s a little taller than I am, and she has a long face and wavy dark hair. I’ve seen her before. In the mirror.

OMG. It’s Maryrose!

She’s standing right in front of me.

“Ahhh!” I cry. I can’t help it.

She gives me a gentle smile. I can’t tell what color her eyes or hair or skin are. She’s sort of … see-through. She looks very real and like she’s not there at all. Both at the same time!

She is a fairy, after all.

“Maryrose! What were you doing in my jewelry box?” I manage to squeak out.

“I’m hiding in there,” she explains. “Just for a while. Till I figure things out.”

“What things?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”

“The crack in the mirror let me escape.”

My mouth drops open. “No way.”

“Abby!” my dad calls from downstairs. “Time to leave for school!”

Maryrose smiles again. “Go ahead, Abby.”

“But where are you going to go?” I ask her, my head spinning.

“I’ll be fine. We’ll talk more when you get back. I need your help with something.”

I can barely believe that Maryrose is in my room. Hiding out in my jewelry box. And that I’ll soon know everything.

I want to stay and talk NOW. But I can’t without making my parents suspicious.

“We’re going to help you,” I tell Maryrose. “As soon as I come home.”

Maryrose nods and turns back into purple mist. I run down the stairs and out the door, counting the seconds until I get home again.

Turn the page for a sneak peek at Whatever After Special Edition #2: Abby in Oz!

The sun is shining and it’s a beautiful spring afternoon, but I am not feeling my one hundred percent best. I think I’m getting a cold. My nose is all stuffed up. Also, I’m standing on a rickety ladder outside a tree house, holding my dog, Prince, in my arms, which is not the most comfortable position. Sure, Prince is adorable, but he’s starting to get heavy.

I knock on the tree house door. “Robin? Frankie? Penny?” I call. “Are you guys in there?”

The tree house is in my friend Robin’s backyard. Robin’s parents built it for her a few years ago. It has a roof and a door and a window like a real little house, and it’s always fun to hang out in.

Not so long ago, I got to visit another tree house inside the fairy tale of Little Red Riding Hood. But I’ll explain that later.

“Coming!” Robin calls, and I hear her footsteps inside.

Frankie, Robin, me (Abby), and Penny — otherwise known as FRAP — are getting together today to work on our group project for school. I have a great idea for it. It involves dogs.

Robin and Frankie are my two best friends. Penny is my sometimes friend. Meaning sometimes I want to hang out with her, sometimes I wish she’d transfer to another school.

We had a half day today, so Penny and Frankie came straight to Robin’s after school. But Robin asked me if I could go home first and get Prince, which I did. Robin wants a dog of her own, but her parents say she should spend some time with actual dogs before they get one.

“Abby!” Robin cries, flinging open the tree house door with a grin. She just got braces, which make her look like a teenager. Her reddish hair is up in a loose bun, with a few curls framing her freckled face. “Yay, you really brought Prince. You have the cutest dog.” She takes him from my arms as I bend my way through the door. “You look like a teddy bear,” Robin coos to Prince, “yes you do.”

Prince barks happily, as if to say Thank you.

Penny scowls from her perch on a cushion on the floor. “I don’t see why you want a dog,” she tells Robin, flicking her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder. “You have to take them for walks even when it rains. And they drool. And they’re messy. And they smell.”

Hello to you, too, Penny. “They don’t smell,” I say, sitting down on the cushion next to Frankie, who is curled up on her own cushion.

“They sometimes smell,” Frankie says.

I look at her in surprise. Frankie is supposed to be on my side.

“Well, sometimes,” I admit. “But not if you give them regular baths. Prince doesn’t smell.” At least not today.

“Wanting a horse, I understand,” Penny says. “I love horses. But a dog? No thanks.”

“Abby,” Robin says, plopping down on the cushion next to Penny, “where did you get Prince? An animal shelter or a breeder?”

Nope and nope. “We got him as a present,” I say. Which is kind of true. But Robin would never believe the real truth.

I got Prince when my brother and I went into a fairy tale.

I know it sounds totally bonkers, but there’s a magic mirror in the basement of my house. And a fairy, Maryrose, is trapped inside it. She takes me and my younger brother, Jonah, through the mirror into different fairy tales. Like Little Red Riding Hood. Cinderella. Beauty and the Beast. I think one day she’s planning to bring us into the story that trapped her so that we can help set her free.

Anyway, when Jonah and I fell into the story of Sleeping Beauty, we got Prince as a gift. And then we took him home with us, because he is adorable.

Of course, we had to make up a whole story for our parents because they don’t know about Maryrose, the mirror, or the whole traveling-to-fairy-tales thing. My nana does, though. She actually went into Little Red Riding Hood with us.

Guess who else knows about my magic mirror?

You’re not going to believe it.

It’s very unfortunate.

It’s … Penny.

Yeah. Penny.

Penny, my sometimes friend, knows about Maryrose and the fairy tales and everything.

Why?

Because one time, Frankie, Robin, Penny, and I all fell into the story of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Maryrose had nothing to do with taking us into Alice. That was all Gluck. Gluck is an evil fairy who’s trying to stop me from freeing Maryrose. He lured me and my friends into the book, and we almost got trapped there forever. Luckily, we escaped. As we were leaving the story, Frankie and Robin got sprinkled with a magical powder that made them lose their memories of the whole experience. But Penny and I did not get sprinkled.

Which means that, ever since then, Penny keeps asking if she can sleep over at my house so she can go into a fairy tale with me. But I don’t think that’s the best idea. Fairy tales can be dangerous. Penny would never listen to me if we went into one, and who knows how she would mess the story up. Never mind that every time she and I are with Frankie and Robin, I worry Penny’s going to blow my secret.

“Can we get started on our project?” Frankie asks, snapping me back to reality. She adjusts her red-framed glasses and pushes her dark-brown hair out of her eyes. “We don’t have all day.”

Whoa. What is up with Frankie? Sure, she likes to get good grades in school, but she’s never testy like this. I hope everything’s okay. I’m about to ask her what’s going on when my nose itches and I sneeze.

Achoo!

“Bless you,” Robin and Frankie say at the same time.

“Ew, are you sick?” Penny asks, scooting away from me. “You better not get me sick.”

“I’m not sick,” I say quickly. No one wants to be around a sick person. And I really don’t want to be a sick person. If I pretend I’m not getting sick, maybe my body will believe it? “I’m just a little … stuffed up. It might be allergies.” I do sometimes get sneezy in the springtime. I glance out the window. It’s strange … but the sky is not as blue as it was just a few minutes ago. And the sun seems to have disappeared. Dark gray clouds are gathering, and the wind is picking up.

“Abby, you’re not allergic to Prince, are you?” Robin asks. She lets go of Prince, who trots into the middle of the tree house and curls up on the purple shag rug to take a snooze. Prince can nap anywhere.

Frankie groans. “Robin! Of course Abby isn’t allergic to her own dog. Then she’d be sneezing every day, not just today.”

Robin blushes, and I frown. Frankie might be right but she doesn’t have to be mean about it.

“Listen,” Penny pipes up. “I have the best idea for our project.”

“I have a great idea, too,” I add quickly, just in case Penny thinks she’s in charge of this thing.

Our assignment is to start our own small business — one that will help the community. The project is due in two weeks, so today we are supposed to settle on an idea.

“I’ll start,” says Penny. She puts a piece of grape bubble gum in her mouth without offering us any, and then pulls a new red notebook and sparkly pen out of her backpack.

I wish I had brought a sparkly pen. And a new red notebook. And bubble gum.

Penny turns the notebook to the first page and begins reading from a paragraph she clearly wrote earlier. “Our new business will help the community by teaching kids in our class to up their style game. For a small fee, we’ll give them new hairstyle suggestions, or tell them that the headband they’re wearing makes them look like they’re seven.”

My mouth drops open. “You want us to give the kids in our class hair advice?”

Penny blows a big bubble with her gum, then sucks it back in. “Not just hair advice. Clothing advice, too. Everyone needs help with how they look. For example, Abby, did you know your T-shirt has a stain on it?”

Wait, what?

“No, it doesn’t!” Frankie protests.

“Yes, it does. Frankie, maybe your glasses aren’t strong enough. But look on her right side, near her armpit.” Penny points at my armpit. “Under the blue stripe. There’s a little blue dot. A pen dot perhaps. Not sure how that got there, or why, but it’s obviously not supposed to be on your shirt.”

I look down my armpit. At first I don’t see anything, but then I do. A teeny tiny blue dot. How did Penny even see that? It’s the size of a piece of dust. “No one’s going to notice that,” I say.

Penny smirks. “I noticed it. If I can see, so will other people. So unless you can get that stain out in the wash, which I bet you can’t, you need to retire the shirt. Stripes are out this season anyway.”

But I love this shirt!

“Penny,” Frankie says. “I don’t think being critical of people counts as helping the community.”

“I agree,” Robin adds.

“Thanks,” I tell my friends.

“But my being critical will help people,” Penny says. “I have an eye for fashion. Have you seen my new shoes? Aren’t they cute?”

Her new shoes are cute. They’re black-and-white-checkered slip-on sneakers. Her whole outfit looks great, actually. She’s wearing shiny black jeans and an off-the-shoulder pink top. The top is pen-stain free, obviously.

I’m just wearing jeans and my stained striped T-shirt. Robin is wearing a cute blue dress and a green hoodie, and Frankie is wearing polka-dot leggings and a T-shirt with the NASA logo.

“I still think we should try an idea that doesn’t insult anyone,” I say. “Like mine.”

Penny rolls her eyes. “Fine. Let’s hear it.”

I sit up straight. “Well,” I begin, “a lot of people in Smithville have dogs.” I nod at a still sleeping Prince. “My idea is that we start a dog-walking service for people who can’t leave their homes for some reason. Maybe they have a sprained ankle. Or are sick.” I sneeze again.

“You better not sneeze on me,” Penny warns. “And your idea isn’t as good as mine. Because not everyone has a dog. I don’t. Frankie doesn’t. And even Robin doesn’t.”

“Yet,” Robin says.

“Whatever,” Penny says. “Our idea should help everyone.”

“What if we start a tutoring service?” Frankie suggests.

“What would we tutor?” Penny asks.

“Science,” Frankie says. “Math. English.”

“Boring,” Penny says. She smacks her gum. Loudly.

“You could tutor art,” Frankie points out.

“True,” Penny says, nodding. “I am an extremely talented artist. Best in our grade, for sure.”

I roll my eyes. Although she’s not wrong.

“I don’t know,” Robin says with a frown. “I need to be tutored, not to be a tutor. So I’m not sure that would work.”

“Do you have any ideas?” Frankie asks her.

Robin shakes her head. “Not really.”

“So what are we going to do?” Frankie asks. “We have to choose something.”

“I like my idea,” I say.

“Well, I like mine,” Penny says.

“And I like mine,” Frankie says.

We all look at Robin, but she shrugs, refusing to pick a side.

Sigh. Group projects are the worst.

Achoo! I sneeze again.

“What was that?” Penny asks.

“It was just a sneeze, Penny,” I say. “And I covered my nose!”

“Not that.” She pauses. “That.”

I listen hard. And suddenly I do hear something.

Whirrr. Whirrrrrr.

“It sounds kind of like a blender,” I say.

“Maybe my dad is making us smoothies,” Robin says.

“I don’t think we’d hear the blender all the way out here,” Frankie says.

Whirr-whirr! WHIRRRRR!

It’s getting louder. And louder. And louder. Now it’s like a roaring blender.

Prince wakes up with a start and lets out a low growl.

The gray sky outside is getting even darker. It almost looks like nighttime! And the wind is howling.

“Ugh,” Penny says. “Is it going to rain? I don’t want my new shoes to get ruined!”

Prince suddenly bolts toward the window and starts barking wildly, like five doorbells just went off at the same time.

What is going on?

The blender sound intensifies.

WHIRRRRR! WHIRRRRRRRRRRRR!

“Guys?” Robin says. “This is kind of scary.”

I shiver. It totally is! Suddenly, the group project is the last thing on anyone’s mind — I can tell.

I push myself off the pillow and follow Prince to the window.

And what I see makes me freeze.

Whoa. Whoa. WHOA.

There is a huge, gray, funnel-shaped spinning thing in the sky! It’s the size of a tall building. As it spins, it tilts on its side.

Ahhhh!

“What. Is. That?” Penny shrieks.

“I think it’s a tornado,” Frankie says in a trembling voice.

That’s impossible, right? There are no tornadoes in Smithville!

“Um, guys?” Robin calls over the WHIRRing noise and the sound of Prince’s barks. “It’s coming straight for us.”

I gasp. The spinning funnel shape definitely seems to be moving closer. My heart jumps and I grab Prince. This is bad.

“We need to get out of the tree house!” Penny yells in a panic.

“I don’t think there’s time,” Frankie cries. “We don’t want to be outside when it hits!”

OMG. The tornado is now IN Robin’s yard. I watch as it sucks up an orange flowerpot like juice with a straw.

I hug Prince tighter and crouch down. “It’s about to hit us!” I cry.

We all scream as the tornado crashes right into the tree house.

A bag of gold to:

The Scholastic team: Aimee Friedman, Taylan Salvati, Lauren Donovan, Rachel Feld, Erin Berger, Olivia Valcarce, Melissa Schirmer, Elizabeth Parisi, Abby McAden, David Levithan, Lizette Serrano, Emily Heddleson, Robin Hoffman, Sue Flynn, and everyone in Sales and in the School Channels. My amazing agents, Laura Dail and Samantha Fabien, Austin Denesuk, Matthew Snyder, and Berni Barta, and queen of publicity, Deb Shapiro. Rachel and Terry Winter! Extra extra thanks to Lauren Walters. And thanks to Shannon Messenger for sparking the idea for the book’s twist!

All my friends, family, writing buddies, and first readers: Bonnie Altro, Elissa Ambrose, Robert Ambrose, the Bilermans, Max Brallier, Julie Buxbaum, Jess Braun, Rose Brock, Jeremy Cammy, Julia DeVillers, Elizabeth Eulberg, Stuart Gibbs, Karina Yan Glaser, Brooke Hecker, Emily Jenkins, Gordon Korman, Leslie Margolis, the Mittlemans, Aviva Mlynowski, Larry Mlynowski, Zibby Owens, Lauren Myracle, James Ponti, Melissa Posten, Melissa Senate, Courtney Sheinmel, Jennifer E. Smith, Christina Soontornvat, the Steins, the Swidlers, Louisa Weiss, and the Wolfes.

Extra love to Chloe, Anabelle, and Todd.

Hugs and wishes to my Whatever After readers. You are just right.

Sarah Mlynowski is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Whatever After series, the Magic in Manhattan series, and a bunch of other books for teens, tweens, and grown-ups, including the Upside-Down Magic series, which she cowrites with Lauren Myracle and Emily Jenkins, and which was adapted into a movie for the Disney Channel. Originally from Montreal, Sarah now lives in Los Angeles with her family. Visit Sarah online at sarahm.com and find her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter at @sarahmlynowski.

#1: Fairest of All

#2: If the Shoe Fits

#3: Sink or Swim

#4: Dream On

#5: Bad Hair Day

#6: Cold as Ice

#7: Beauty Queen

#8: Once Upon a Frog

#9: Genie in a Bottle

#10: Sugar and Spice

#11: Two Peas in a Pod

#12: Seeing Red

#13: Spill the Beans

#14: Good as Gold

Special Edition #1: Abby in Wonderland

Special Edition #2: Abby in Oz

Copyright © 2021 by Sarah Mlynowski

All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available

First edition, April 2021

Author photo by Heather Waraksa

Cover design by Elizabeth B. Parisi

Cover illustration by Helen Huang, © 2021 Scholastic Inc.

e-ISBN 978-1-338-62817-3

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