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dinner party. She couldn’t talk to Mom with Snow’s seven coming. Mom would be busy cooking and cleaning and preparing. She would use that as an excuse to avoid any hard questions, just like every other time Julie wanted to have this conversation.
    Her mother turned the oven on to preheat. “We’ll have to cook in two batches. Oven’s too small to hold more than two pie plates. But on the plus side,” Zel said, with a quick grin at Julie, “at least we know it’s never cooked a witch. Or a little German girl.”
    Julie plopped into a chair. She hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted to talk until the chance was gone. “Why do you invite them? They’re so . . .” Rude, obnoxious, condescending. “. . . sexist. Honestly, they make the Brothers Grimm look PC.”
    “Snow deserves a day off,” her mother said. “Come on, Julie. It won’t be that bad.” Julie snorted. Wheedling, her mom said, “I’ve invited your grandmother.”
    “Yeah?” Julie said, feeling a grin spread across her face.
    “She promised to behave this time.”
    Grandma was coming! At last, something to compensate for the flip-flops and the mirrors and the constant humiliation of it all: Grandma. Julie couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t seen her in weeks. The Wishing Well Motel was too far for an easy bike ride, and Grandma only left the motel on special occasions; she regarded it as an almost-sacred duty to personally guard the well against would-be wishers.
    What had her mom said to get her to come? It couldn’t have been the quiche. Julie eyed the eggs and celery warily. She’d have a nice, safe PB&J later, she decided. “Who’s watching the well?” she asked.
    “The three bears,” her mom said. She took a mixing bowl out of the cabinet. “Go on up and change. Anything but jeans. I don’t want to hear the seven’s spiel about girls in jeans.”
    So long as Grandma was coming, Julie would happily wear a clown suit. “Fine.” Scooping up her backpack as she passed through the living room, she headed upstairs. “And put on some socks!” Zel called after her. “You’ll freeze your toes in those shoes!”

Chapter Four
    The Dinner Party
    Julie was always surprised by the number of exceedingly short men her mother knew. All seven of their guests were short enough to rest their chins on the rims of their plates and shovel quiche directly into their mouths. Even seated, Gothel, Zel, and Julie all towered over them. If Boots were here, he and Julie would have laughed about it, but he’d pleaded other plans—he’d promised Cindy he’d help with her mouse problem.
    Lucky cat.
    “Girl!” one of the seven said. Didn’t they know she had a name? She was Rapunzel’s only daughter, and they’d known Zel for five hundred years. You’d have thought they’d bother to learn her name. “Girl,” he said, “I know you haven’t had the benefits of a forest education, but it’s common courtesy to set the table with clean forks.” He held up his fork, which appeared spotless to Julie, and waved it at her.
    She looked at her mom. Zel mouthed, “Please.”
    Julie rolled her eyes and headed for the kitchen for the fifth time (not that she was counting). Zel put her hand on her wrist as she passed. “I know they’re difficult,” Zel whispered softly, “but they’re old family friends. We owe them a lot.”
    Julie made a face. “They call me ‘Girl,’” she whispered back.
    “They called me ‘Long-hair’ for three centuries,” Zel whispered. “Please, Julie. Just be a good hostess tonight. It won’t kill you.”
    Old family friends— what could they possibly owe Snow’s seven? She supposed it was another thing that Mom would never explain, even if Julie ever managed to ask. Julie fetched a new fork. She laid it next to the dwarf’s plate and he inspected it. “There’s a smudge . . .” he began.
    Didn’t this count as child abuse? She held out her hand for the fork and softly whistled, “Heigh-ho, heigh-ho,