Page 3 of VOGUEish

The woman gave a deep sigh. “Fine. But do me a favor and get up off that disgusting floor. And then I’ll explain everything.”

“Nonna, I’m needed back at the reception for another toast,” Pillar said, still standing in the hallway and speaking through the cracked-open door.

“Go. I’ve got this,” Nonna replied.

“Um. Runaway Prom Queen?” Pillar said. “You’re now in good hands.”

Runaway Prom Queen made it sound like she was living out a romcom. This wasn’t that. “I don’t need good hands. What I need is a time machine.” One that took her back before that moment she had gullibly believed someone like her could legitimately win a popularity contest.

“Trust me. You will want to hear her out,” Pillar said.

Isabella twisted her lips in a jeer. “Trust is how I ended up here. Trust should be a four-letter word, likehope. Hope is a four-letter word. Forget that at your own risk. That’s what life’s taught me.”

“I get that.” With the vague reply hanging in the air, he silently exited Isabella’s life and left her with his Nonna.

“Darling, what is your name?” Nonna wore the prettiest pink ballgown Isabella had ever seen. And she had the prettiest silver hair. And she did not look like a person who would take no for an answer.

“Isabella.”

“Isabella, I know you won’t believe me, but this moment right here is what they call in the movies your fairytale moment.”

Isabella wrinkled her nose. “Only if the fairytale is actually a scary tale.” Perhaps this was all a bad dream. Isabella pinched herself and grimaced from the pain. Gah. It wasn’t a dream. She hated when that happened.

The woman gathered several paper towels from the dispenser, carefully arranged them on the floor, and then perched next to Isabella. “Tell me what happened and don’t leave out any of the sordid details.”

After a deep inhale and drawn-out exhale, Isabella spilled her woeful tale. A recounting that took less than five minutes. One would think an event in which she’d experienced utter humiliation would require more time. Not true.

When she trailed off, Nonna leaned forward and cupped Isabella’s cheek with a soft hand. “Thank you for sharing that dreadful story. It is my hope that by saying it out loud, you will have taken the power of the ghastly event and flushed it down that toilet you insist on sitting beside.”

Another round of tears formed in Isabella’s eyes. “Nope. Still hurts.”

Nonna nodded. “Then let’s move on. Without giving it a whole lot of thought, I want you to tell me what you want your comeback moment to look like.”

Isabella choked on a gasp. “Comeback? Are you kidding!” Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs. This woman couldn’t make her go back…could she? “It would take a Navy SEAL team and their badass mommas to drag me back to that dance.”

Nonna chuckled softly. “You misunderstood. You’re not going back into that den of evil. But there will be a time when you will face your tormentors as a victor, not as a victim.”

Was this woman drunk? “I don’t know what you’re saying. Do you know what you’re saying?”

“I do,” Nonna said with a nod. “Now, what I want you to tell me are the circumstances of your spectacular comeback moment. The moment you, like a beautiful phoenix rising from the ashes, will appear in front of the nasties, and they will all realize how stupid they were tonight.” She used her hands to emphasize her words.

“That’s not possible.”

“Sure it is. You know inGone with the Windwhen Rhett told Scarlett, ‘Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn’? That was his comeback moment. The moment he rose from the ashes of loving someone who hadn’t loved him back and won. And the mean girl, his wife, lost.”

“I’ve never seen that movie.” Isabella tried to imagine anything she could do that would cause her tormentors to regret what they’d done to her. “But I get the essence of what you’re saying.”

“Excellent. I want you to dream big. Really big. Make it a movie-worthy moment.” Nonna pulled a bag of makeup wipes out of her satchel. She held a towelette out to Isabella. “Clean your face while you envision.”

Isabella took the wipe and scrubbed it over her cheeks. “Who are you, besides Nonna to the man who may or not have been my hero tonight?”

“You may call me Ms. Birdie, and I am the President of the Fairy Godmother Project.” She handed Isabella another wipe. “And may I ask your family name, Isabella?”

“Isabella Chance. I’ve never heard of the Fairy Godmother Project. Is it a charity of some type?” She used the clean wipe to remove her mascara.

“It’s a group of women who don’t have wands or fairy dust, but we do have connections. Connections we use to help young people, like you, to keep moving forward in life. So, tell me. What will your comeback moment look like?”

Isabella slumped against the wall. This all sounded much too bizarre to be true. And she’d already been stupidly gullible once tonight. Was she really going to let her defenses down twice? “I don’t know. I need to think. And I’m too tired to think.”

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