Page 283 of Naughty Nelle

I knew it! She’s one big fake! Her hair, her skin, her boobs. And I’m sure that’s not all. I shudder. I bet her love for The Prince is fake too! But what does it matter? She’s marrying him in a matter of hours. Sadness and despair tear through me again. I clench my stomach.

“Jane, what’s taking you so long?” I hear Marcella screech. “I need my Miracle Foot Potion!”

I try to focus. Randomly, I pick up another bottle.

Love Potion#13: Put magic into your relationship. Brew daily for long-lusting results. Expires 9/30

I wrench it open. The scent of the herbs rushes to my nose. I recognize it instantly—a blend of orange blossoms, rose petals, and lavender. The tea Gallant drinks for breakfast! Oh my God! Marcella has had him under a spell! What am I going to do? The effects wear off today, but it may be too late!

Marcella screams at me again. Panic-stricken, I grab another bottle.

Magic Lip Plumper Potion: Apply liberally for fuller, more kissable lips. He won’t be able to resist!

Choke! The thought of Gallant kissing Marcella sends me over the edge. I want to rip the slut’s phony fat lips right off her face, pull out her bottle-blond hair, and punch her inflated boobs. I feel evil! So over-the-top evil! And there are no little voices in my head telling me what not to do. Damn it! Why didn’t I create a potion to end her life a long time ago?

Brainstorm! One of these potions has to be poisonous, and I’m going to find it. I’ll take the slut by surprise and force it down her throat. Drink it and die, bitch! I can’t wait to see her take her final breath. I’ll blow her a kiss good-bye. Then I’ll cover my tracks with a fake suicide note. Something simple like…Dear People: Changed my mind about marrying The Prince. He didn’t really love me. So I took my life. Love—M.

Yes! I’m back to being an evil genius! So much for rehab. It was a total waste of time.

Madly, I tear through the racks of potions, examining one bottle after another. Damn it! Nothing! Then, unexpectedly, I come upon her foot potion.

Miracle Foot Potion: Heals, soothes, and smoothes swollen feet. Satisfaction Guaranteed.

I look closely at the fine print. Caution! Poison! Keep out of the reach of children!

The sweet irony of it all! It’s funny how things sometimes work out for the best.

I wrench the bottle open and take a whiff. Whoof! Nasty stuff. I can’t wait to pour it down the skank’s throat. Ha! I’m finally going to give her a dose of her own medicine. A fatal one!

Suddenly, my hands shake. Violently. The bottle slips out of my fingers and crashes to the floor, cracking in half. A rancid odor fills the room as I numbly watch the potion snake across the tiles.

“Look what you’ve done!” screeches a voice behind me.

I wheel around. Marcella. Barefoot in her red gown. The train trailing out the door.

“Rub some on my feet. Now!” Her voice is as toxic as the potion.

Still quivering, I squat down and smear the potion all over her skanky feet. I ask myself for the second time: Why? Why didn’t I kill her when I had the chance?

A nauseating mixture of confusion, anger, and despair seeps into my veins as Marcella hobbles back to her chamber. She plops down on her bed. The dainty ruby shoes sit on the floor, waiting for a pair of feet to claim them.

I confess. I haven’t prayed since I was a child. Why bother when my prayers for a loving mother were never answered. Now, it’s all I can do. To pray. To pray that her Miracle Foot Potion doesn’t work. That she’ll never be able to get her bone-ugly feet into the dainty ruby slippers. It’s the only hope I have left to stop her from going to the ball. And from marrying Gallant before the effects of her love potion wear off.

I hold my breath as she steps into the shoes. She wiggles her feet; she pushes. She wiggles again, pushes harder. She grunts. She groans. I smile slyly, but not for long. To my utter astonishment, the skank manages to stuff her big, red, puffy feet into the little slippers.

“Ha!” She smiles triumphantly. “They fit like a glove.”

A miracle. My heart sinks like a boulder.

Marcella parades again before the mirror. I hate that mirror! I want to bash it. Instead, I dash out of her chamber before I dare do it.

Marcella screams at me. “Get back here!” I shut my ears to her shrill cry.

After tonight, Marcella will no longer be a PIW. She’ll be a real princess. Gallant’s princess. Tears spill from my eyes.

Marcella yells out to me again. “Jane, one last thing. Remind me to fire you after the ball.”

Gallant is downstairs at his desk, sketching. My heart flutters. How handsome he looks in his navy velvet suit and white blousy shirt, opened far enough to expose his tawny, chiseled chest. He gazes up at me with a fleeting smile. I blink back tears and meet his eyes. I so desperately want to run over to him and sink my body in his. The only thing that’s stopping me is shame. That and the fact that he’s marrying another in a matter of hours.

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