The Magic Mirror of the Mermaid Queen Read Online Free PDF

stubborn leather strap. “I’ll stick to this one, thanks.”
    We talked for a while longer. Fortran told us his fairy godfather was a geek in Columbia’s Magic Lab. Espresso’s godmother was a hippie chick called Earth Mother.
    “What about your fairy godmother?” Fortran asked. “She’s a wood nymph, right?”
    I thought about lying, then decided that if Fortran and Espresso were going to hate me because of my Park-related weirdness, I might as well get it over with as soon as possible. “Astris is a giant white rat,” I said. “She bakes really good cookies.”
    Two pairs of eyes stared at me, round as marbles. I closed Satchel and got ready to move to the empty end of the table.
    “Wizard!” Fortran said.
    “Groovy!” Espresso said.
    I looked up. They were smiling. “You don’t mind?”
    “A giant white rat is cool from Coolsville, man.”
    That sounded pretty positive. “Thanks,” I said shyly. “I think being a Poet is pretty cool, too.”
    Espresso blushed an uncomfortable red that clashed with her coppery hair. “That’s jive, man. I’d rather groove on giant-slaying.”
    I looked at her with surprise. “You’ve slain a giant?”
    Espresso shrugged. “I know a poem about one. You want to hear?”
    Fortran nodded eagerly. Espresso folded her hands and began to recite.
    “Isabel met a hideous giant,
Isabel continued self reliant.
The giant was hairy, the giant was horrid,
He had one eye in the middle of his forehead.
Good morning, Isabel, the giant said,
I’ll grind your bones to make my bread.
Isabel, Isabel, didn’t worry,
Isabel didn’t scream or scurry.
She nibbled the zwieback that she always fed off,
And when it was gone, she cut the giant’s head off.”
    I thought this through. “I don’t quite get it,” I said. “What did she cut his head off with?”
    Espresso gave me a look. “It’s a joke, man.”
    “I knew that,” I said hastily, and laughed. “Funny.”
    “Did you make that up?” Fortran asked.
    Espresso shook her head. “That would be a mortal named Ogden Nash. I told you, I’m not a Poet.”
     
    Bergdorf didn’t show up after lunch, so Fortran’s guide, Abercrombie, took both of us to Basic Manners. He was one of Tiffany’s gang—tall, blond, heavily starred, and as snooty as an elf lord. He led us upstairs to a door that looked like every other door. “Welcome to the nursery,” he said, and went away.
    Fortran opened the door. “Oh, nuts,” he said. “He’s brought us to the wrong room.”
    Looking at the fifteen round, rosy-cheeked little faces turned to stare at us, I had to agree. Except for the gray sweaters and no wings, they looked like a nest of Victorian fairies.
    “Eyes front!” We all snapped to attention. It was the tutor I’d met in the hall earlier, the Diplomat. “Clearly,” she went on, “we all need more practice on focus and cultivating a pleasant expression. Neef, Fortran, welcome to Basic Manners. Fortran, you may be seated.” Fortran slipped hastily into an empty desk. “Neef, if you could step to the front of the class?”
    I stepped, doing my best to look cool, and bobbed the Diplomat a curtsy.
    “Please face the class, Neef. I wish to present you to the other students.”
    I turned and watched everyone work on their pleasant expressions. They weren’t very good at it.
    The Diplomat folded her hands at her waist. “Neef is a new student,” she announced. “She comes from Central Park.”
    Everyone’s eyes bulged with the effort of not reacting. I curved my lips in what I hoped was a friendly smile.
    “You’ve all heard about Central Park Folk,” the Diplomat went on. “They’re primitive, backwards, stubborn, uneducated, and violent. Their music is old-fashioned, and they all hate City Folk.”
    My smile became a frown. “That’s not fair,” I exclaimed. “How would you like it if I said that City Folk are stuck-up, snotty, stupid, and prejudiced?”
    The Diplomat didn’t even blink. “I’d