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her.”
    “How can he save someone who’s dead?” Frances asks.
    “When he carries her off, the poisoned apple pieces fall out of her mouth and she comes back to life,” I say. “Or something like that.”
    “I thought he kissed her,” Jonah says. “And that’s what brought her back to life.”
    “No,” I say. “That’s not the real story. That’s the Disney version.”
    “Oh, right,” Jonah says. “But it happened in Sleeping Beauty’s story, right?”
    “Right,” I say.
    “I like the kissing better,” Enid says.
    “But that’s not what happened!” I say, getting annoyed. “I mean, happens. I mean, will happen.”
    “It’s romantic either way,” Tara says, swooning. I catch her glancing at Jon.
    “So I don’t die?” Snow asks.
    I take a quick sip of water. “Actually, you do. But then you get better when the prince saves you. And then you get married and live happily ever after.”
    “Everyone lives happily ever after in fairy tales,” Jonah says.
    “Not everyone,” I say. “Not the bad guys.” Fair is fair.
    “Are there fairies in the story, too?” Tara asks, wide-eyed.
    “No,” I say. “Not this one.”
    “Hmph,” Frances says. “That doesn’t make sense. Then why is it called a fairy tale?”
    “Who cares?” Enid says, her eyes dancing. “So is it Prince Trevor? From the kingdom of Gamel? It has to be, right? He’s the only single prince around.”
    Gamel and Zamel? Seriously? “I don’t remember this prince’s specific name. I think he’s cute, though.”
    “As cute as Jon?” Tara asks, and then clamps her hand over her mouth.
    “Not sure,” I say, stifling a smile. “Snow, have you ever met the prince?”
    “No,” Snow says.
    Frances snorts. “I once saw Prince Trevor throw a rock at a stranger.”
    “He did?” I ask. “That’s not very nice.”
    She shrugs. “Well, he was two years old at the time. But still.”
    “A toast!” Alan calls.
    They all lift their glasses.
    “Snow is going to marry a prince!”
    “Hip, hip, hooray! Hip, hip, hooray!”
    Hmm. There is one small problem with all the hipping and hooraying.
    Snow didn’t eat the apple.
    Which means she didn’t get poisoned.
    And if she didn’t get poisoned, then she didn’t die.
    And if she didn’t die, the probably cute prince didn’t bring her back to life.
    So she probably doesn’t marry the probably cute prince.
    Which means Jonah and I probably ruined her life.

h ip, hip, hooray! Hip, hip, hooray! Hip, hip —”
    “Stop!” I shout. “Snow isn’t going to marry the prince!”
    “But you just said she would,” Alan says, confused.
    “She was going to, but then we ruined everything. I’m so sorry. When we stopped Snow from eating the apple, we changed her story.” By we I mean Jonah, but I’m not going to throw him under the bus in front of everyone. “If she doesn’t get poisoned, the prince can’t bring her back to life.”
    Jonah twists his bottom lip. “I didn’t think of that.”
    “We’re so sorry,” I say. “Jonah, apologize to Snow.”
    “Sorry,” he mumbles, beet red.
    “It’s okay,” Snow says, lowering her head. “I don’t need to marry a prince. I don’t mind living with the dwarfs for the rest of my life.”
    “No,” I say, feeling panicked. “No, no, no. That is not the way your story goes. You cannot stay here and clean up after them for the rest of your life!” We have to fix our mistake. We have to. Stories shouldn’t change. They just shouldn’t! Look what happens when they do: Snow loses out on her prince! And she has to stay and clean the dwarfs’ house for the rest of her life! It’s just not fair. And things need to be fair. Judges make things fair, and so will I. “And it’s not fair that Evil Evelyn gets away with her evilness. In your story, she gets punished.”
    “What happens to her?” Snow asks.
    “I don’t remember exactly,” I say, racking my brain.
    “She has to put on burning-hot shoes and dance until she