Free My Fairy Godmonster by Denice Hughes Lewis

horse again. Do you want to be
trampled?”
    Horrified, Daria bursts into tears and
scrambles toward the house. “Mommy! She tried to kill me with her
horse!” She slams through the kitchen door.
    Squeezing Dancer’s sides, we gallop away. The
wind rushes through my hair. I wish I could ride and never come
back until after the wedding.
    Remembering Dad’s instructions, I return two
hours later.
    Big mistake.
     
     

Chapter 14: Detour - Trouble Ahead
     
    I walk straight into the kitchen. Weasel
stirs a pot of chili that simmers on the stove.
    “That smells good!” I say.
    Her back stiffens. “I need the wedding
invitations.”
    “Sorry, with Dad leaving, I forgot.”
    I rush out of the room and hurry to unlock
the attic door. Drumbeats pound through my body. I rush inside.
    My bedroom has changed into some kind of
crazy jungle of orange vines and purple trees with blue leaves.
    Fairy Godmonster is dancing in the middle of
the room in a tiger-striped jumpsuit. Wild natives with strangely
painted faces peer out of the trees and bang on their big
drums.
    “What are you doing?” I yell over the
drumbeats.
    “I need to keep in touch with my wild side.
Very therapeutic.”
    I look around frantically. “Where are the
wedding invitations? I need them right away.”
    Fairy Godmonster pulls out her NTMT chip and
when she pushes the buttons, it chirps like a hungry baby bird.
Mom’s bed and the invitations appear in the room. I grab them and
rush out the door.
    When I return to the kitchen, I ask, “Where
would you like me to put them, Mrs. Dudley?”
    Her voice shakes me to the core. “They missed
the mail today. It’s bad enough that I am not giving my guests the
proper amount of time to respond without you causing more delays.
Taking off without telling anyone is childish and inconsiderate. I
expect more from a teenaged girl.”
    “I’m really sorry. It won’t happen
again.”
    “In order to remind you of the importance of
minding me, you will miss dinner tonight,” she reprimands.
    “You’re kidding, right?”
    “What do you think?”
    “You are not my father. You have no right to
punish me.”
    “I am in charge until Charles returns.”
    Weasel pauses. Her voice gets soft and
creepy. “You do not want to make me angry.”
    I stalk toward the back door. “I’m talking to
my brother about this.”
    “I wouldn’t. You do want him to get married?”
she asks.
    I freeze. Can she stop the wedding? Looking
into those eyes and that satisfied smile, I believe she can do
anything.
    Claire glides into the room and hugs me. I
almost burst into tears, but won’t cry in front of Weasel.
    “Winifred, I’m sorry you didn’t get to go
with your dad. We’ll make it up to you. Would you like to go
shopping tomorrow? Mom has a dozen errands for me.”
    Weasel says, “Her father has left her quite a
bit of responsibility.”
    “Surely, she’ll have some time?” asks
Claire.
    Weasel glares at me behind her daughter’s
back. I remember Dad’s orders about behaving and hold back the
words I’d like to yell at her.
    “Thanks,” I say. “Until I get into the
routine of the extra chores, I’d better not. I’m going to bed.”
    “You haven’t had dinner!” Claire
exclaims.
    “I don’t feel so good.”
    “Is there something I can do?”
    “I’ll be okay with a little rest.
“‘Night.”
    “Goodnight,” says Claire, frowning.
    I have visions of drowning Weasel in her own
chili as I leave the kitchen.
    I hear Claire ask her mother, “Did you say
something to upset Winifred?”
    “Of course not.”
    No wonder Daria lies. I run upstairs and slow
to a walk, reading Weasel’s first list. Household chores include
dusting, vacuuming and cleaning bathrooms, the dishes, laundry and
the ironing. Weasel’s chores are cooking and contacting the
caterers.
    I don’t want to look at the other list. Well,
maybe a peek. I gasp. Wash all windows, shampoo all carpets, polish
the silver, wash and/or polish the