Libby the Writing Fairy

  I’m a wonderful painter — have you heard of me?

  Behold my artistic ability!

  With palette, brush, and paints in hand,

  I’ll be the most famous artist in all the land!

  The Magical Crafts Fairies can’t stop me!

  I’ll steal their magic, and then you’ll see

  That everyone, no matter what the cost,

  Will want a painting done by Jack Frost!

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Map

  Poem

  Scattered Stories

  Fairytale Fiasco!

  Super Scribe

  Thrilling Tale

  Success Story

  Happy Ending

  Teaser

  Copyright

  “I wish I could paint like you, Kirsty!” Rachel Walker said, holding up her friend’s picture to admire it. The two girls had gone to a painting workshop at Rainspell Lighthouse the day before. “Mom, don’t you think this painting is really good?”

  Mrs. Walker was sitting in a chair outside their tent, soaking up the sunshine. She smiled and nodded. “You’re very talented, Kirsty,” Mrs. Walker declared, holding up the canvas to take a closer look. “You got Rachel’s hair and eye color exactly right, and that rainbow arching over her head looks beautiful.”

  “Thanks!” Kirsty Tate laughed. “Artie Johnson, the Crafts Week organizer, told me I should enter it in the competition tomorrow.”

  “And she also said you needed to choose a title for it,” Rachel reminded her.

  “How about Rachel Under a Rainbow?” suggested Mr. Walker. He was also seated outside the tent, reading a book.

  “Perfect!” said Kirsty, and Rachel grinned. The girls were spending spring break on Rainspell Island with their parents, and they were having the best time ever! It was Crafts Week on Rainspell, so every day there were different activities for the girls to try. The Tates were staying at a b and b in the village, while the Walkers had rented a large tent on the campground. Rachel and Kirsty were taking turns spending one night at the b and b, and then the next at the campsite.

  “Whenever I look at your painting, it reminds me of when we met the Rainbow Fairies right here on Rainspell Island, Kirsty,” Rachel whispered.

  “Me, too,” Kirsty whispered back. “I’ll never forget our first fairy adventure!”

  “Girls, are you going to a Crafts Week workshop today?” called Mrs. Walker.

  “Yes, Mom, but we haven’t decided which one yet,” Rachel replied.

  “I think there might be a writing workshop this morning,” Kirsty said. “One of the other kids in the painting class mentioned it yesterday.”

  “Maybe we could write a story about the Rainbow Fairies and take it to the workshop,” Rachel whispered. “No one would ever guess it was true!”

  “Great idea,” Kirsty agreed.

  The girls sat on the grass with pens and paper and began to scribble down their ideas.

  “It all started when we both came to Rainspell Island on vacation and met on the boat,” Rachel murmured.

  “I thought we met in the village,” Kirsty said, frowning.

  Rachel thought for a minute and shook her head. “No, I don’t think so,” she replied. “Then we rescued Fern the Green Fairy from the pot of gold.”

  “But we saw the rainbow first,” Kirsty reminded her.

  Rachel felt confused. “Did we?” she asked. “I don’t remember that.”

  “Wasn’t it Ruby the Red Fairy we rescued from the pot?” Kirsty wondered. “Or was it Sunny the Yellow Fairy?”

  The girls stared doubtfully at each other. Suddenly, Mr. Walker groaned in disgust and threw down his book.

  “This story doesn’t make sense!” He sighed. “It’s about a cowboy in the Wild West and it was great so far, really exciting. But now the cowboy just took off in a spaceship. How ridiculous!”

  “Oh!” Kirsty’s eyes grew round. “Rachel, I know why the stories are all going wrong. It’s because of Jack Frost!”

  When Rachel and Kirsty had arrived on Rainspell Island, they’d been greeted by Kayla the Pottery Fairy, one of the seven Magical Crafts Fairies. Kayla had explained that not only was it Crafts Week on Rainspell Island — it was Crafts Week in Fairyland, too! She’d invited the girls to join them for the opening ceremony of this very special occasion. All of the fairies were excited because King Oberon and Queen Titania would be choosing the very best crafts to display in their royal palace.

  But as Rachel and Kirsty watched Queen Titania give her opening speech, Jack Frost and his goblins had appeared. They tossed paint-filled balloons into the horrified crowd! The Magical Crafts Fairies and Queen Titania herself had all been splattered with bright green paint, and in the chaos, Jack Frost and his goblins had stolen the Magical Crafts Fairies’ special objects. What a mess!

  “I am the best artist ever — no one else is allowed to be better than me!” Jack Frost had declared. Then, with one flick of his wand, he’d created a magic ice bolt that swept him and his goblins away to the human world — along with the magic objects. With the help of the Magical Crafts Fairies, Kirsty and Rachel had agreed to track down as many of the special objects as they could. Both girls were determined to make sure that crafts in the human and fairy worlds would still be fun, instead of being ruined forever by Jack Frost’s selfish behavior.

  “Yes, Libby the Writing Fairy’s magic object is still missing,” Rachel murmured. “That’s why our stories are all jumbled!”

  Kirsty bit her lip anxiously. “Rachel, wouldn’t it be terrible if stories everywhere were mixed-up messes?” she cried. “We’d never be able to read our favorite books again!”

  “I know.” Rachel sighed. “Jack Frost has really done it this time!”

  “Let’s look at the Crafts Week pamphlet and find out more about the writing workshop,” suggested Kirsty.

  The girls dashed into the tent and found the pamphlet. Rachel flipped through it.

  “Here it is,” she announced. “Writing workshop in the park, led by best-selling children’s author Poppy Fields.”

  “Poppy Fields!” Kirsty exclaimed, thrilled. “She’s one of our favorite writers!”

  “I know!” Rachel agreed with a huge smile. “She’s amazing. I love the way she retells old fairytales. I have all her books.”

  “Me, too,” said Kirsty, grinning from ear to ear. “Let’s head over to the park now. Maybe Poppy Fields will be able to help us with our story!”

  The girls hurried off to the park in the village. When they arrived, they followed the signs and saw a group of kids seated on picnic blankets near the playground, waiting for the writing workshop to start. A dark-haired woman was perched on a beanbag chair in front of them, a pile of books by her side.

  “Look, Kirsty,” Rachel whispered excitedly as they found a place to sit. “That’s Poppy Fields — I recognize her from the picture on her books!”

  Kirsty and Rachel were both thrilled when Poppy grinned at them. “Welcome, girls,” she called. “You’re just in time. Hello, everyone, and welcome to my workshop!”

  “Hello, Poppy,” the group chorused.

  “I know you’re all here because you love stories,” Poppy went on. “And so do I! I thought I’d start our workshop by reading a couple of my very own stories to you.” She chose a book from the pile and opened it. “This is the story of Sleeping Beauty. Once upon a time, many years ago . . .”

  Rachel and Kirsty settled down to listen. But it soon became clear that the story of
Sleeping Beauty was completely wrong and very mixed-up! Princess Aurora pricked her finger on a knitting needle, not a spinning wheel, and she was only asleep for five years, not a hundred. Then, when the handsome prince woke Sleeping Beauty with a kiss, she yawned and went back to sleep! All of the kids laughed. Poppy, who’d been looking more and more confused as she read, quickly closed the book.

  “Let’s try another one,” she suggested, picking up Little Red Riding Hood. But only two pages in, as Little Red Riding Hood walked through the woods to her grandmother’s house, the wolf pounced on her and gobbled her up. That was the end of the story! Poppy looked shocked and the girls glanced sideways at each other.

  “Poor Poppy,” Rachel whispered. “She doesn’t know why all her stories are going so wrong.”

  “But we do,” Kirsty replied in a low voice. “This is all because Jack Frost’s goblins stole Libby the Writing Fairy’s magic object!”

  “I think someone’splaying a joke on me,” Poppy murmured, shaking her head. She forced a smile. “OK, everyone, why don’t we write a new story together? That’ll be fun! Can anyone think of a character we should write about?”

  Everyone was silent. The girls racked their brains, but they couldn’t think of a single idea.

  “We could write about the park,” a boy in the front row suggested.

  “The park can be the setting for the story,” Poppy explained gently, “but we need a character, someone who does something interesting.”

  This time, there was an even longer silence. Then a squirrel scampered past, tail waving.

  “Our character could be a squirrel,” Poppy said. “What do you think? Does anyone have any plot ideas?”

  “The squirrel could run up a tree,” Rachel offered hesitantly.

  “Good start,” Poppy replied. “Why does the squirrel climb the tree? Is he looking for something?”

  Everyone stared blankly at Poppy.

  “My brain won’t work!” Kirsty muttered, frustrated.

  “He could be looking for another squirrel, I guess,” Poppy said with a shrug. “But that’s not very exciting, is it?”

  No one had anything to say — and Poppy seemed to be out of ideas, too! The girls could see that the writing workshop was getting worse and worse. They had to do something!

  “How about you try writing your own stories?” Poppy said at last. She began handing out pretty notebooks with painted covers. “Then you can read them out loud to one another when you’re done.” She gave Kirsty a pink notebook decorated with daisies, and Rachel got a blue one with a golden sun on the front.

  “I can’t think of a single thing to write!” Rachel sighed. She put her notebook down on the rug and began digging through her backpack for her pencil case. “This is going to be the most boring story ever!”

  Kirsty pulled a pen from her pocket and began scribbling down what they’d just said about the squirrel. But then she spotted a faint glow hovering around Rachel’s notebook. Kirsty looked closely at it, confused. It almost seemed like the painted sun was glowing with a magical golden light.

  “Look, Rachel — fairy magic!” Kirsty whispered, nodding at the notebook.

  Quivering with excitement, but trying not to show it, the girls moved to the edge of the picnic blanket where no one else was sitting. Carefully, Rachel opened her notebook. A cloud of shimmering sparkles tumbled out, followed by a tiny fairy!

  “Remember me?” the fairy whispered in her sweet little voice, flicking rippling waves of golden hair out of her eyes. She was barefoot and wore a flowy, sea-green dress sparkling with silver stars. “I’m Libby the Writing Fairy.”

  “Libby, you’re just in time,” Kirsty told her. “Our writing workshop is a total disaster!”

  “We can’t think of a single idea,” Rachel added.

  Libby frowned. “How terrible!” She sighed, then landed lightly on the blanket, staying out of sight behind Rachel and Kirsty. “I knew this was going to happen when Jack Frost stole my magic notebook. We can’t let him win, girls! What would our human and fairy worlds be like without stories?”

  “Terrible!” the girls said together.

  “I love good stories,” Libby continued, “but stories will never turn out right again unless I find my magic notebook! Will you help me?”

  Rachel and Kirsty nodded eagerly.

  “We love stories, too,” Rachel told the little fairy. “But I don’t think there will be many good ones written here today!” She glanced around at the rest of the group. Everyone was staring blankly at their notebooks. Libby and the girls could see that they’d hardly written anything! Poppy was walking around making suggestions, but she looked unhappy, too.

  “Jack Frost has ruined everything!” Libby said, tears in her eyes.

  As Kirsty watched the other kids, her eyes fell on someone she hadn’t noticed before. On the farthest corner of one of the picnic blankets, separated from everyone else, sat a boy in a floppy sunhat. He had a notebook on his lap and was bent over it, scribbling as fast as he could. As Kirsty watched, he paused, read what he’d written, and chuckled gleefully to himself. Then he went back to scribbling.

  “Rachel, look at that boy sitting over there by himself,” Kirsty whispered. “He seems to have tons of ideas. He can’t stop writing!”

  Rachel glanced at the boy. At the same moment, he happened to look up for a second, and Rachel spotted a long, green nose under the brim of his hat.

  “That’s not a boy,” she said to Kirsty and Libby. “He’s a goblin!”

  “What should we do?” Kirsty asked anxiously.

  But before they could say anything else, Poppy also spotted the goblin writing away. Her face lit up, and she hurried over to him.

  “You seem to have a lot of ideas!” Poppy said with a smile. “How much have you written?”

  “Pages and pages!” the goblin said proudly, flipping through his notebook. Rachel, Kirsty, and Libby could see that he’d already filled almost half of it.

  “Would you read your story to us?” Poppy asked. “We’d all love to hear it.”

  “It’s not finished yet,” the goblin mumbled.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Poppy assured him. “Don’t be shy! Stand up, and let’s hear it. What’s your story called?”

  “It’s called The Greatest Goblin Who Ever Lived!” the goblin replied proudly. He climbed to his feet, cleared his throat, and held the notebook up. As he did, Libby let out a horrified gasp.

  “I see why that goblin is such a good writer,” she declared indignantly to Rachel and Kirsty. “It’s because he has my magic notebook! We have to get it away from him — but I don’t know how!”

  Kirsty and Rachel looked more closely at the goblin’s notebook. They could see it glowing faintly with a golden haze of magic!

  “Once upon a time,” the goblin read, “Jack Frost lived in a castle made of ice in the middle of a dark, snowy land. Jack Frost was grumpy and selfish, and all he did was order his goblins around and make them do what he said.

  “‘Do this!’ Jack Frost yelled. ‘Do that! And hurry up!’

  “The goblins always tried their best, but Jack Frost was never satisfied.

  “‘You fools!’ he would roar furiously, shooting bolts of ice at them from his magic wand. ‘I’m fed up with all of you!’

  “The goblins would scurry around and try even harder to do exactly what Jack Frost wanted, but he was never happy.

  “So at last, one brave goblin decided to stand up for himself. . . .”

  As the goblin read, Rachel, Kirsty, and Libby exchanged amused glances. According to the author, the goblin in the story was smarter, braver, and more handsome than any other goblin, ever. It was obvious that the goblin was writing about himself! However, when the goblin described how his hero got the better of Jack Frost, pelting him with a flurry of huge snowballs until Jack Fros
t begged for mercy, everyone in the audience was spellbound — even Libby and the girls. The story was thrilling!

  “And so the handsome, brave, smart goblin became Emperor of the Ice Castle,” the goblin declared. “And he ruled over Jack Frost and the other goblins wisely and well. But behind the scenes, Jack Frost was plotting and planning dark deeds! He was determined to regain his Ice Throne and rule the kingdom once again. . . .”

  The goblin stopped reading, and everyone broke into applause.

  “That was wonderful!” Poppy gasped. “So imaginative!”

  “Tell us what happens next,” begged a girl, but the goblin shook his head.

  “I haven’t finished the story yet,” he said, and the audience groaned with disappointment.

  “The goblin’s story is a big hit,” Libby whispered to Rachel and Kirsty. “But it’s my magic notebook that turned him into such a wonderful author!”

  “Can’t you write the rest of it now?” Poppy asked the goblin. “Everyone is eager to hear what Jack Frost does next. He’s a wonderful character — a real bad guy!”

  “You’re lucky that Jack Frost isn’t here!” another boy called. He was sitting in the back of the group, wearing a bright green hat. “Otherwise you’d be in big trouble!”

  Rachel could see that the goblin looked nervous when he heard that.

  “We’ll take a break to have some juice and cookies,” Poppy announced, smiling at the goblin. “That will give you time to write more of your fantastic story!”

  “Maybe we should try and get the notebook back now,” Kirsty suggested quietly to Rachel and Libby. “I thought of a plan that might work.”