Page 177 of Naughty Nelle

“Wow!” says Elzmerelda in awe. “I knew you had to be royalty!”

“Big deal!” says Sasperilla. “Royals are a dime a dozen.”

“That’s not true,” says Winifred. “I read that only five percent of Lalaland’s population is a king or queen.”

What’s-His-Name’s eyes twinkle, finally showing some life.

“Does the word ‘queen’ jog your memory?” Grimm asks him.

Rocking his body, What’s-His-Name chants “n-nice queen” over and over. He is a major head case.

“Good.” Grimm nods. “Try to remember more things about this nice queen.”

“Hold on. I want to know more about this ‘Queen’,” cuts in Sasperilla. “So, Jane, were you born into royalty or did you marry into it?”

“I married a King.” Wait! Why am I telling this skinny bitch anything about my life?

“Did your mother bring you up to marry royalty? Teach you all the tricks?”

My mother.My stomach turns over.

“Leave my mother out of this!” I yell.

“Jane, do you want to tell us something about your mother?” asks Grimm.

“Go to hell! All of you!”

“Jane, I will remind you that we have a no tolerance policy for foul language. Just because you’re royalty doesn’t mean you get special treatment. We’ve had several kings and queens here before. I even recall an Emperor. The bottom line is everyone is treated as equals.”

That’s obvious. I don’t need a lecture from some shlump of a head doctor to make that clear to me. What’s just as obvious: I don’t belong here.

“Group is over,” announces Grimm as I spring to my feet.

Finally! There’s nothing I want to do more than say farewell to these losers. With the exception of poisoning them, Grimm included.

I’ve made up my mind. Whatever it takes, I’ve got to escape this madhouse.

“People, it’s time to indulge your creativity,” announces Fairweather upon meeting us in the corridor.

“What’s going on?” I ask Elzmerelda.

She explains that every day after group we attend one of three workshops: “Enchanted Arts & Crafts” with Fairweather, “Sew-La-Ti-Do” with Flossie, or “The Magic of Cooking” with Fanta.

“The Good Fairies believe creativity nourishes the soul and builds self-esteem,” she says.

What dragon dung! There’s only one thing I want to create. An escape plan.

I end up in the cooking workshop with Winifred. It takes place in the castle’s kitchen, which is surprisingly well equipped and elaborate compared to the rest of this rundown dump. Fanta tells us that today’s project is to make a “delicious crusty bread.”

“I’m going to leave you two girls on your own. I’ll come back in a little while.” She stops short at the door. “Jane, please make sure that Winifred doesn’t eat the dough before you bake it.” And then she’s gone.

Great! A chance to escape.

“I love making bread,” says Winifred, already gathering pans, bowls, and utensils. “It’s so therapeutic. It lets you take out all your hurt and anger on the dough, but still the bread turns out delicious.”

She’s obviously made bread before. Good. I’ll let her do all the work. When she’s not looking, I’ll split. With a little luck, I’ll be able to sneak a piece for my journey home.

Luck is not in my cards. Winifred immediately puts me to work.

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