Goldilocks, Go Home! Read online

  Wickedness isn’t very powerful if it doesn’t help a queen in a fight with a baby bear.

  No diss, Bobby. Just an observation. Anyway, no one likes wickedness.

  Would someone get her out of here?

  The clicker worked. The drawbridge opened. Bobby and the princess took off. That is, Bobby and I took off. It seems I am not a princess, after all. I am just me—Goldilocks.

  Any second, I expected to feel the queen’s clutches. But her highness tripped on her pointy high heels, and that’s how we got away.

  From the other side of the moat, I looked back and saw the queen skulking in the shadows.

  “Give over that clicker!” she cried.

  “My bad,” said Bobby and lobbed it across.

  “Why’d you do that?” I asked.

  “It wasn’t mine,” he said. “Besides, I don’t have a drawbridge.”

  A single path led away from the castle, the same one we’d followed with Coyote. I was afraid the flying monkeys might strike, but they must have been out on banana break. Soon the fog was behind us, and we were in sunshine. I thought we were safe until something on a tree branch caught my eye—a gleaming white crescent, a smile without a face.

  It was the Cheshire Crocodile! And before we could go another step, it had shinnied tail-first down the tree and blocked our way.

  “Look, crocodile,” Bobby said. “We have just escaped from the wicked queen. Compared to her, you’re small potatoes. Now move aside before I get annoyed.”

  The crocodile flashed his teeth and snapped his jaws.

  “Maybe medium potatoes,” Bobby said. “What is it you want, crocodile?”

  “Funny coincidence, but that queen is my boss,” he said, “and I’m here to fetch the heart of the little girl.”

  “You know that’s gross, right?” Bobby said.

  I was too scared to speak.

  “Look, cub, I just work here,” the crocodile explained. “Now hold still, young lady.”

  The crocodile slithered my way, and I thought I was a goner.

  But then Bobby Bear spoke up. “Wait a sec—here’s the thing. The furless one forgot to bring her heart with her.”

  “W-W-Wait, what?” I said.

  “And what’s more, she can prove it. Go ahead,” Bobby commanded. “Show him you don’t have a heart.”

  Have I mentioned you’re not funny?

  I stuck my hands in my pockets and turned them inside out.

  “Nothing in here but lint,” I said.

  The crocodile sighed, and tears welled in his eyes. “I’m going to be in big trouble when I return to the castle empty-clawed again.”

  “What do you mean again?” Bobby asked.

  “You’d be surprised how many creatures travel without their hearts,” the crocodile said.

  “Here’s a suggestion,” Bobby said. “Maybe you could deliver your heart instead, crocodile. Would the queen know the difference?”

  The crocodile admitted that this was indeed a suggestion. A bad one, but a suggestion.

  “Or how about this?” he asked. “What if I quit my job with the queen and come with you? I’m not the smartest reptile in the swamp, but I have strong jaws and a good work ethic.”

  “It’s okay with me,” I said. Pretty much any solution that did not require giving up a body part was okay with me.

  “You could ferry us across the lake on your back,” Bobby said. “It’s easier than going around.”

  I thought so, too. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?

  Bobby here, with a partial list of things that go wrong when you travel with a crocodile:

  He threatened to eat Brer Rabbit.

  He threatened to eat Tanuki, the raccoon.

  He threatened to eat the goose that lays the golden eggs.

  We had to take turns talking him out of things. Brer Rabbit is too stringy, I explained. Tanuki is too tough.

  “I wish we’d meet up with the big bad wolf,” Goldilocks said. “If the crocodile ate him, I could go home to my real parents in the burbs.”

  “Don’t you mean the humble peasant persons?”

  Goldilocks sighed. “I guess they were my real parents all along.”

  “Now you tell me,” I said.

  “Maybe we needed to go on a quest to achieve personal growth,” Goldilocks said. “Don’t you think you’re a little less wimpy? And I’m a lot more careful.”

  “Careful?” I said. “What about the heap of broken furniture at the castle?”

  Right then a flat brown cookie with piped icing and currant eyes shot out of the shrubbery.

  “Can’t catch me! I’m the gingerbread man!”

  “Yummy!” said the crocodile. “Can I at least eat him?”

  “Not if I can help it!” called Kitsune the fox, who was hot on the big cookie’s trail.

  “Go for it and good luck,” I told the crocodile. “For a baked good, that guy is really annoying.”

  Goldilocks and I watched the crocodile take off in a hurry.

  “There goes our ride across the lake,” she said.

  On the long walk home we were quiet.

  I don’t want to be a princess.

  Meanwhile, I used the walk to think up an excuse for why we were so late. Soon I had invented a gripping tale about the frog prince, the Loch Ness monster, and a giant peach. Sadly, I never got to tell it. Approaching the tidy cottage, Goldilocks and I saw Mama and Papa out front, wringing their paws.

  “We were worried sick!” Mama cried before squishing us in a big bear hug.

  “It looks like the western woods aren’t enough for the wolf anymore,” said Papa. “He’s been prowling our neighborhood, too.”

  “Those poor Pig Brothers have lost TWO houses,” said Mama. “But where have you been all this time? Honestly, I don’t know whether to give you porridge or put you in time-out.”

  The porridge tasted so good—

  —that I told them the real story.

  “When Goldilocks and I returned to the tidy cottage,” I concluded, “Mama and Papa Bear fed us lovely porridge, and generously forgave us for everything. The End.”

  Yeah, it was. Because Mama and papa were scowling.

  “You disobeyed us!” said Papa Bear.

  “And you fibbed!” said Mama Bear.

  “But we didn’t get eaten,” I reminded them.

  When Mama and Papa continued to scowl, I began to feel bad.

  “I won’t lie anymore,” I said. “It’s wrong, not to mention super stressful.”

  “Promise?” Mama said.

  “Cross your heart?” Papa said.

  I did.

  And everything would’ve been great—except you had to keep on with the promises.

  “Bobby will also make his own bed every morning—”

  “I will?”

  “And dust the parlor on Tuesdays, and scrub the toilet—”

  “Wait just one minute. What are you going to do, Furless?”

  “I’d love to help out,” she said, “but, alas, I won’t have time. The new moon’s TWO days away, and soon I’ll be going home.”

  Don’t tell, but the idea of Goldilocks leaving made me just a little bit sad.

  I mean, who was gonna help me dust and scrub?

  TBH, I was so glad to be back in the tidy cottage, I forgot all about the wolf’s attack on the Bacon Boys.

  The Pig Brothers, I mean.

  Luckily, Bobby remembered. “What’s the story with the wolf and the pigs?” he asked. “Are the three of them okay?”

  Papa Bear did not draw out the suspense. The big bad wolf had trashed the houses of TWO Pig Brothers, and the guys had barely escaped with tails and trotters.

  This all sounded familiar.

 
“Was one house made of straw and the other of sticks?” I asked. “Was huffing and puffing involved?”

  Papa’s Bear’s round eyes got rounder. “How did you know?”

  “Story hour at the library,” I said. “And there’s no time to waste. If all three are in the brick house now, we’d better get over there fast.”

  The big brick house was only a hop, skip, and jump from the tidy cottage.

  Not surprisingly, the porkers looked peaked when they answered the door.

  “Good to see you,” the first pig said. “After what’s happened, we’re kind of freaking out.”

  Mama nodded kindly. “The wolf freaks us out, too, and we have sharp teeth and claws.”

  “Besides that, bears are not made out of tasty bacon,” I added.

  Tell me about it. I felt really bad.

  Mama Bear took over. “Little pigs, meet Goldilocks,” she said. “Goldilocks, meet the pigs.”

  “Can I just say I love your show?” I said. “Talk about barnyard chic! I am probably your biggest fan! But if you hope to be renewed for next season—or even survive till dinnertime —we have work to do. The wolf is going to come back. When he does, he’ll try to blow this house down. Only it won’t work.”

  “Of course it won’t,” the first pig said. “My brick house was built to last.”

  “Oh, get over yourself,” said the second pig. “Who knew the wolf would go all weather system? That’s not usually how he operates.”

  “Usually, he grabs you by the throat and chomps,” the third pig explained.

  “Thank you for sharing,” I said. “Either way, he’ll be back. And when huffing and puffing fails, he’ll try to get in through the chimney.”

  The pigs stared for a moment then started to laugh.

  “You’ve mixed up your stories,” the first pig finally said. “It’s Santa Claus with the chimney. You know—red suit? Reindeer? Normal-size teeth?”

  “We don’t have time to argue,” I said. “Put a kettle on the fire to boil, and when the wolf comes down the chimney—splash!—you’ve got wolf soup.”

  And then what happened?

  No, he sure didn’t. Instead, he said, “Little pigs, little pigs! Let me come in!”

  The pigs didn’t know the next line, so Goldilocks coached them. “No, not by the hair of my chinny chin chin,” she whispered.

  “No, not by the hair of her chinny chin chin!” they chorused.

  The wolf, at least, picked up his cue: “Then I’ll huff! And I’ll puff! And I’ll blo-o-o-ow your house in!”

  All of us were trembling with fear.

  All of us except Furless.

  Working fast, we put the kettle on the fire and filled it with water.

  Meanwhile, the wolf blew up a windstorm. The rafters and windows shook, but the house did not fall down.

  At last the wolf ran out of hot air and the wind died. It was quiet. We looked at one other. Were we safe?

  We were not safe. There was a thud from above and the echo of scritch-scratching claws from the fireplace. The wolf was on the roof!

  It was then that I made a miscalculation. I thought of how the wolf must feel. By the chimney in the cold, he was peering into the soot, thinking of bacon dinner, never suspecting he had in store a hot and watery death.

  I mean, he was big and bad and a wolf—but no one deserves to boil!

  What could I do? I had to stop him.

  “Wait, Mr. Wolf!” I hollered. “Don’t come down—it’s a trap!”

  The scritch-scratch stopped, four paws pit-patted, and the wolf leapt to the ground.

  “It was the human’s idea, I bet!” he called. “Look out, yellow-hair! I’ll be back!”

  Meanwhile, Mama, Papa, and the Pig Brothers were glaring at you-know-who.

  I mumbled, “So sorry,” and looked at Goldilocks. “Didn’t you say the wolf’s misguided? He might not be evil at all.”

  “I said that before he threatened me,” Goldilocks said.

  “What does story hour say we do next?” the first pig asked.

  “It doesn’t,” Goldilocks said. “According to story hour, the wolf’s dead and you’re living happily ever after. From here on out, I guess we’re on our own.”

  Was it a mistake for me to save the big bad wolf?

  Because of me, he would be back.

  Because of me, Goldilocks was in danger.

  At dinner that night, I tried to explain. “It’s not as if wolf soup would taste good. What about the fur? What about the teeth? What about the horrible screams of pain?”

  No one answered, and I felt terrible.

  After dinner, Mama did the dishes while Papa watched the Cubs on TV. Fur and teeth brushed, I went to my room expecting another night on the leaky old air mattress while Goldilocks did her tossed-salad routine in my bed.

  Only Goldilocks wasn’t there.

  Instead, I found a note on my pillow.

  I put the note back on my pillow.

  I felt sad.

  I felt lonely.

  I felt annoyed!

  But I felt something else, too.

  A surge of courage.

  It was enough to push me down the hall, through the kitchen, and out the door.

  After that, my natural wimpiness returned.

  In the dark woods, bats swooped, owls hooted, and the moon played shadows with the trees. When Kitsune the fox yipped for her husband, I jumped.

  I thought of the cottage, safe and warm. I thought of my very own bed.

  Then I thought of Goldilocks. She was yellow-haired and furless and thought she was so funny. But she needed my help. And she was going to get it.

  I bet you’re thinking Goldilocks never would have left the tidy cottage unless she had a foolproof plan.

  But the truth is I didn’t have one…unless you consider Run Real Fast to be foolproof.

  I never counted on the consequences of so much porridge. Not to mention days without P.E. class. I was out of shape.

  Soon I was breathing hard and stumbling over roots and rocks in the dark. When I stopped to catch my breath, I heard running steps behind me. I thought that I was done for!

  “Don’t hurt me, Big Bad Wolf!” I cried. When I turned to look, there was Bobby Bear. “Oh,” I said. “Only you.”

  “Sorry to be a disappointment,” he said.

  “Story of your life, right?”

  “You’re so funny I—”

  “—forgot to laugh. I know, Bobby. I know all your shtick.”

  “Is this the appreciation I get? Never mind rescue. I am going home.”

  “No, wait,” I said, and reached for Bobby’s paw. “The truth is I’m scared.”

  Weren’t you scared, too?

  And I’m a klutz. No wonder we’re such a great team.

  “Together we escaped the wicked queen,” Bobby reminded me. “We can escape the wolf, too. Come on!”

  Unfortunately, the wolf disagreed and told us so just then with a hungry, blood-curdling howl: Aw-rooooh!

  It was coming from far away, but still my heart went thud.

  “T-T-Tell me again how we’re going to escape?” I said.

  “No time for discussion—run!”

  Bobby was fast on TWO legs, but I teetered, wasting precious time.

  If I was ever going to see the burbs again, I needed a better plan, and soon I thought I had one.

  “Wait, Bobby. Let’s stop here and cry ‘Wolf!’ Someone’s bound to come and help us.”

  “Didn’t they cover that at story hour?” Bobby asked.

  “Or how about this?” I said. “We find a woodsman, and chop-chop-chop?”

  Bobby made a face. “That’s as bad as boiling. Also sexist. Why not find a woodswoman?”

  Bobby reached back and tugged m
e along, but by now it was too late. Another howl told us the wolf was closing in, and then his stinky stench filled the air. I looked back over my shoulder and—yikes—was I sorry. Crashing through the brush came Big Bad himself. His black pelt gleamed. His red eyes glowed. Slobber dripped from his long white teeth.

  And that’s when something unbelievable happened.

  Bobby abandoned me!

  Before I knew what was happening, he’d dug his claws into a tree trunk and shinnied into the branches.

  Suddenly, I was by myself on the path, facing the wolf alone.

  Oh, come on. You didn’t think I’d for real leave Furless by herself, did you?

  I mean, annoying as she was, I didn’t want her to end up wolf kibble.

  Agile as a circus bear, I flipped upside down, spread my claws, caught her by the collar, and yanked.