Page 212 of Naughty Nelle

Grimm frowns. “Pinocchio, tell her the truth.”

“Okay, I’m a pathological liar. My father won’t stand for it anymore. So he sent me here.”

To my astonishment, the boy’s nose shrinks considerably.

“Good, Pinocchio,” says Grimm. “You told Jane the truth.”

Whoof! This place has gotten even more whacked.

The other new member is a frail, silver-haired man in a formal frock coat and bow tie, who must be in his seventies.

“I’m the Wizard. The Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz!” he proclaims.

“Yo, Oz. Show Jane some of your magic tricks!” mocks Hook.

The elderly man’s face and body twitch. He flushes with embarrassment.

Sasperilla bursts out laughing. “Maybe we should call him ‘The Wizard of Spaz.’”

God! Can she get any meaner?

“And, Sasperilla, we should call you ‘The Wicked Bitch of the West!’” says Hook.

“W-wicked Bitch! W-wicked Bitch!” chants Rump.

Go, Rump!His words shut the scrawn up. My hero.

To my surprise, Grimm moves the focus of the group on to me.

“Jane, would you like to share anything with us today?”

Is he out of his mind too? What makes him think I now have a reason to share my life with these whackos? “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Fine. Does anyone have any questions for Jane?”

Hook raises his missing hand. “So, babe, do you want to ‘hook up’ later?”

That’s it. I’ve had it. It’s time to set him straight. “First, my name’s not ‘babe’; it’s Jane. And second, I’d rather make it with a one-legged stinky cheese man.”

Stunned, Hook rocks back on his chair and topples over. He mutters a curse. Ha! Serves him right.

“Group’s over for today,” announces Grimm.

Hallelujah! I can’t take a minute more of these pathetic losers. I’m going to work hard with Shrink to get out of Loserville once and for all.

After dinner, I return to my room and work on Shrink’s writing assignment. I have writer’s block. I can’t get started. Or maybe it’s more because I don’t want to. Okay, I admit it. I’m afraid of writing down my past.

It’s a good thing there was a roll of parchment waiting for me. Each time, I begin with “I was born,” I can’t write another word and tear up the sheet. There’s a mountain of shreds next to my bed.

I need a new approach to my life story. Wait! That’s it! I’ll try writing my life like a story. I start over again and the words flow.

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Jane who lived alone with her poor but beautiful mother, Nelle. Little Jane was always curious about her father, but whenever she would ask her mother where he was, she would reply, “Who knows!”

On her fifth birthday, Jane’s mother handed her a rusty, old tin cup. Every day from that day on, she had to walk miles to the village square where she would dance until her feet bled. Passersby dropped coins into her tin. When it was all filled up, she would limp back home. Her mother would take all the money and spend it on new clothes and makeup. She never bought Jane anything, not even a tiny toy.

The little girl’s mother had a large mirror that she kept in her bedroom. It was her favorite possession. She loved to look at herself in the shiny glass. Every night, she would dress up and admire her reflection. Then she would go out, leaving Jane all alone.

One night, Jane snuck into her mother’s room. She put on one of her mother’s pretty dresses and looked at herself in the mirror. “Mirror, mirror, on the wall. Who’s the fairest one of all?” she asked. To her delight, the mirror replied, “Your mother is fair, but her beauty is bland; You, My Queen, are the fairest in the land.”

Jane loved this game of make-believe. She secretly played it again and again. Then one evening, her mother came home early and surprised her. “How dare you dress up in my beautiful clothes and look into my mirror!” she screamed. She beat Jane so hard that the little girl could not dance for weeks.

When Jane grew up, she married a King and became a Queen. She never had to worry about her mother or money. Ever again.

THE END

I quickly reread my story. It’s perfect. I even got in the no-father detail. Shrink will be pleased. Exhausted, I crawl into bed, surprisingly looking forward to my session with Shrink in the morning. I’m one step closer to going home to my castle. And my magic mirror.

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