The Matilda Effect

A note for readers: This is fan fic inspired by Matilda, The Musical, that explores a possible, what-came-next, timeline for Matilda and her friends.

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"I've had a fizz!" Matilda called, her voice echoing off the walls of the palace. "Mom! Mom! I've had a fizz!"

"That's wonderful, dear," said Miss Honey, carefully arranging her face into a smile as her adult daughter rushed into their vast library. "And what kind of fizz is it today?"

"A story," said Matilda, her eyes wide and excited.

For a moment, the smile on Miss Honey's face softened into genuineness as she saw a hint of the child Matilda once was, even as her stomach dropped in dread.

A story.

Everyone knew that when Matilda said 'story' she really meant 'vision.' Visions of things that had already happened, things that were happening now.

Or things that would happen in the future.

You never knew which until it was too late.

"Well, you better tell it then," said Miss Honey.

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Once upon a time, in a dark, damp dungeon-like den, a group of shadowy figures met. They spoke in whispers, even though no one could possibly hear them through the thick walls.

"I...I hereby call this meeting to order," whispered Lavender, one time trusted friend of the empress, turned traitor.

The room stilled, but only for a moment.

"She knows everything," Amanda said, tonelessly, her eyes directed blindly at a dark corner. "Everything..."

"Not everything," said Lavender. "That's impossible."

"Everything she does is impossible," hissed Nigel.

Lavender hesitated for a moment and the rallied. "So?" she demanded. "So what if she hears what we have to say?" She turned her eyes to the ceiling as if addressing a deity and said, "Pay attention, Matilda. It would actually be nice if, for once, you were listening."

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"My dear children..." Miss Honey whispered, despite herself. Her mind flooded with memories of young, bright faces, all turning to her for knowledge.

For help.

Why had she been so slow? If she'd stood up to her aunt sooner, if she'd put a stop to it all before Matilda came along, then maybe--

"Quiet, mom, I'm talking," said Matilda, impatiently.

"Of course, my dear. Do go on."

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"Who would like to go first?" Lavender asked.

"I will, "said Bruce Bogtrotter, his clear voice shattering the silence that had gone on for just a few seconds longer than was comfortable.

Bruce took a deep breath.

"I was a pudgy child. Nothing unusual, but enough for kids to make comments. You know how kids are..." He paused. "Well, how kids used to be, anyway. Lots of kids survive being the pudgy one. I had to survive worse. That cake. Chokey..." He trailed off again, his gaze joining Amanda's as they each contemplated scenes only they could comprehend.

"Go on," said Lavender. "We have to talk about these things, or else we'll explode."

"I was grateful, so grateful," said Bruce. "Matilda made me a hero. A hero for eating a cake." He snorted derisively. "It was her glory, though. She was the one who said 'no.' I was just there. It could have been any of us..." He trailed off again. "I was so grateful," he whispered. "But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. I've been grateful for 23 years, and still she keeps taking, and taking, and taking..."

"It doesn't help that everyone knows us," said Eric, picking up the thread when it became clear that Bruce couldn't go on. As always, he wore a beanie, pulled tightly over his ears because, despite popular belief, while the ears of young boys do stretch, they do not snap back into place the moment they are released. "We're Matilda's Classmates. The Kids Who Were There. She does or says anything and everyone looks at us to respond. There's no right answer. We disagree, they say too little too late, why didn't you stop her as a child. Because I was a child too, maybe? This all started because a child was left to handle grown up problems! Let's not pretend more of that was the solution! And if we agree, then, well, we're just part of the problem, members of the regime..." He tugged on his beanie, a nervous tick that gave away the rage fuming beneath his relatively calm words. "She hasn't spoken to us in a decade, but it doesn't matter. Every time she twists the world, the world blames us. It's safe to blame us."

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Miss Honey wiped away a tear that burned hot with shame, but Matilda didn't notice. She was staring into the middle distance, seeing things only she could see.

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"Sometimes," said Amanda, suddenly, "I think it would have been better if I'd died that day."

Amanda seldom spoke at the secret gatherings, although she always came. Everyone knew which day she was referring to, the day that Miss Trunchbull threw her over the fence by her pigtails, an event she survived miraculously unscathed. It was commonly believed that Matilda had softened her landing somehow, saving her, that it was the first time the Little Genius had used her powers, even though she hadn't realized it at the time. The original Matilda Miracle.

"I...I shouldn't have gone along with her for so long, I'm so sorry," whispered Amanda.

"It's alright, we understand," said Lavender, throwing an arm around Amanda's shoulders, her arm brushing her friend's cleanly shaven head. "I did too. It was so hard to admit that--

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Miss Honey blinked. "What did Lavender say next, dear?" she asked, hoping with all her heart that Matilda's fizz had passed.

"--that Matilda had gone bad," Matilda finished.

Miss Honey's heart sank, but she tried to keep her voice cheerful

"And was this past, present, or future?" she asked.

Matilda paused, and then smiled.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "If it's not right, you have to put it right. It doesn't matter when it happened, they're clearly not remembering things the right way. There's something broken in their heads. I can change their minds.

It's up to me to fix it."