1 Dewitched by E.L. Sarnoff Read Free Book Online Page A

I spring to my feet.
    Finally! There’s nothing I want to do more than say farewell to these losers. With the exception of poisoning them, Grimm included.
     I’ve made up my mind. Whatever it takes, I’ve got to escape this madhouse.
     
    ***
     
    “People, it’s time to indulge your creativity,” announces Fairweather upon meeting us in the corridor.
    “What’s going on?” I ask Elzmerelda.
    She explains that every day after group we attend one of three workshops: “Enchanted Arts & Crafts” with Fairweather, “Sew-La-Ti-Do” with Flossie, or “The Magic of Cooking” with Fanta.
    “The Good Fairies believe creativity nourishes the soul and builds self-esteem,” she says. 
    What dragon dung! There’s only one thing I want to create. An escape plan.
     
    ***
     
    I end up in the cooking workshop with Winifred. It takes place in the castle’s kitchen, which is surprisingly well equipped and elaborate compared to the rest of this rundown dump. Fanta tells us that today’s project is to make a “delicious crusty bread.” 
    “I’m going to leave you two girls on your own. I’ll come back in a little while.”  She stops short at the door. “Jane, please make sure that Winifred doesn’t eat the dough before you bake it.” And then she’s gone.
    Great! A chance to escape.
    “I love making bread,” says Winifred, already gathering pans, bowls, and utensils. “It’s so therapeutic. It lets you take out all your hurt and anger on the dough, but still the bread turns out delicious.” 
     She’s obviously made bread before. Good. I’ll let her do all the work. When she’s not looking, I’ll split. With a little luck, I’ll be able to sneak a piece for my journey home.
    Luck is not in my cards. Winifred immediately puts me to work.
    “Jane, we need water, yeast, butter, and flour,” she says with authority.
    How am I supposed to know where they are? I’ve never been in this kitchen. In fact, I haven’t been in a kitchen for years. When I was Queen, I had cooks. 
    “Hurry, Jane. We don’t have all day!”
    Maybe it’s time to remind her that I’m still a Queen and don’t take orders from anyone.
    With her hands planted on her wide hips, she taps her foot as though she’s counting down to an attack. The thought of her two hundred-pound body tackling mine motivates me. I’m not ready to die. I have a future ahead of me. A title to recapture.
     I manage to find all the ingredients. Winifred mixes them together in a large earthenware bowl.
    “Now we have our dough,” she says.
    She sprinkles our butcher-block worktable with some of the flour and places the mixture on the surface. “Now, comes the fun part. We get to knead it.”
    We? I want nothing to do with this big glob of goo.
    “Watch.” She plunges her hands into the dough and starts to push, pull, and fold it. “Kneading is great for releasing stress. Try it.” 
    Cautiously, I put my hands into the dough and copy her motions. It’s soft and warm. And you know what? It does feel good!
    “I used to think that making bread was like making love,” says Winifred, her voice wistful.
    A spark of interest kindles inside me.
     “When I first got married, I would caress the dough and stretch it gently. Over time, I started to whack and squeeze it hard.” 
    Something in her relationship changed. Despite my curiosity, I let it go. 
     “Think about someone you hate and pretend he or she is the dough,” she tells me.
    Shrink! Grimm! This fat chick and the rest of those pathetic loonies! I hate them all! To my surprise, I find myself tugging at the dough and bashing it. I break into a sweat as I work the dough harder and harder.
    “Good job, Jane.” Winifred takes the dough from me and forms it into a round shape. Still flat as a board, it hardly resembles a loaf of bread.
    “Do we bake it now?” I ask. 
    “No.” She places a towel over the dough. “We have to wait a half-hour for it to rise.” 
    What! Now, I have to