Page 4 of VOGUEish

“Thinking isn’t necessary,” Ms. Birdie replied in a no-nonsense tone. “In fact, it’s frowned upon. The best comeback story originates from your heart, not your brain. Just open your mouth and spew your deepest desires that will lead to your moment of triumph.”

Isabella tossed the wipes in the toilet. “Okay.” She closed her eyes and conjured up the moment. “At my ten-year class reunion, I see myself waltzing into the event with a gorgeous guy on my arm, a fabulous engagement ring on my finger, and the most interesting stories about what I’ve been up to since high school graduation.”

“Excellent,” Ms. Birdie said. “Tell me about those stories.”

With her eyes still closed, Isabella imagined herself facing her enemies. “My career will be such that it resulted in my travelling the world. Each exotic location a steppingstone toward the career of my heart. A career I will have begun before the night of reckoning.” Travel had never been an option for her family since her father worked two jobs to make ends meet.

“And what will that career of your heart be?”

Isabella stood and walked to the mirror. Her limp hair had fallen out of its simple updo, her teeth were crooked, and her skin blemished. To think when she’d left her house tonight, she’d convinced herself she was beautiful. “I’ll be the new fashion editor atNaked Runway.“ Fashion editors were never ugly.

“I can work with that. Paint for me the rest of the picture. You’ve walked in with Prince Charming on your arm and a diamond on your finger. You have a great job and lots of fabulous stories to tell. What else?”

“My teeth will be model perfect. My hair stylish. My clothing Paris-Fashion-Week worthy. But most importantly, I’ll have power. Power that will impact those who set into motion my humiliation.” She paused and took a breath. “I will have come to my reunion to exact revenge in a tangible way. It won’t be burning the place down with telekinetic powers like inCarrie, but it will be poetic and perfect. You know, like a secret diary that outs them all for the ass-wipes they were in high school.”

As if not used to hearing vulgarity, Ms. Birdie grimaced. “And after that?”

Isabella shrugged. “I guess I go on to live my best life, knowing I had the last laugh.”

The woman placed her hands on Isabella’s shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “How will it feel knowing you had the last laugh?”

Isabella closed her eyes and imagined the moment. “Good. Excellent. Avenged.”

“And once the ten-year reunion has come and gone, what will motivate you to continue?” Ms. Birdie’s hands dropped away, and she took a step back.

“I don’t know.” It was hard enough to imagine that moment, let alone beyond it.

Ms. Birdie’s smile faded. “Before I can grant your wish, I need you to know how you will continue once you have proven that losing you as a potential friend was the biggest mistake of their lives. Chances are great they won’t care, or they won’t even remember. It would be irresponsible on my part to give you your wish if it leaves you worse off when it’s over.”

Isabella nodded. It was a good policy to have if you were in the Fairy Godmother business. They had to be careful not to create someone who then went forth and wielded their new self-esteem with ill-will. “How about, after the comeback—or even as part of the comeback, if there’s a way—I make it a point to pay your kindness forward?”

“Can you give me an example of what that might look like?”

“At the very least, I could pledge to become a member of the Fairy Godmother Project and help the next young person in crisis.”

Ms. Birdie nodded. “What I hear you saying is you are requesting a13 Going On 30package meshed with aBridget Jonesexperience and sprinkled with the feel-good parts ofThe Devil Wears Prada. Topped with a billionaire Prince Charming ending.“ She pulled a card out of her pocket and handed it to Isabella. “Come to my office tomorrow, and we’ll get the paperwork out of the way.”

Isabella glanced at the card. On the front were the letters FGP embossed in gold, and on the back was an address. “Paperwork?”

Ms. Birdie pulled a tube of lipstick out of her purse and reapplied it. “You will have to sign a contract. If at any point you break the contract, then it’s over. You will be on your own.”

For the first time since the altered sash had been draped over her shoulders, Isabella smiled. “And if I don’t break the contract, you have the power to make my comeback happen?”

Ms. Birdie dropped her lipstick in her purse and nodded. “It won’t be me who is assigned to your case, but I promise to match you with the perfect fairy godmother to make your heart’s desire come true.”

Isabella grinned. “Thank you. And please tell Pillar, your grandson, I said thank you. What was his name?”

“He is my godson, and I’m afraid I can’t reveal to you his name. But I will tell him you said thank you. You know, you must have made an impression on him. This is the first time he’s ever asked for my particular brand of help.”

Isabella cringed. The impression she’d made on him was that of a child in need. Not just a child. A crybaby! A— She slammed shut the door on her thoughts and fisted her hands.

Pillar will be the last person who ever brands me a loser. From now on—with Ms. Birdie’s help—I’ll be fabulous-in-the-making.

CHAPTER ONE

Present Day

Isabella P. Chance wasn’t the type to pinch herself. As a rule, she avoided pain. But one hour ago, she had made an exception—and immediately regretted the asinine decision because, you know, pain. But the pinch had done its job. She was alive and not in the midst of some bizarre This Is Your Life episode.

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