"Pete, there's enough hair on your neck I could hide a family of six in there." I opened my mouth to protest when she pointed her wand at me. "Don't make me use this."
"You wouldn't dare." I stood, defiantly crossing my arms over my chest, challenging her.
My mistake. Sparks shot out of the little wand and landed on my head. I smelled the scorched hair as I ran for the door.
Stupid faery.
"Just half an inch off, please," I told Frank, my dad's barber. I settled in the vinyl chair and Frank wrapped the scratchy plastic cape around me. Tink flew to the counter and sat in front of the mirror next to a wooden shaving brush.
"Full inch, Pete. Half an inch is nothing," she said, fingering the bristles on the brush mindlessly.
My eyes jumped to Frank's refection in the mirror. He stood behind me combing through the tangles. He didn’t hear her. I looked back at Tink. She now stood on the counter, smelling all of Frank's hair gels.
"He can't hear me, if that's what you're worried about, or see me, for that matter. Only you can." She looked at me and smiled. "One-inch."
"Make that one-inch," I said to Frank.
"Good choice, son. I was going to suggest that. And I'll give your neck a good shave. There's enough hair back here to clothe a small army," he chuckled. I glanced at Tink, whose smile broadened.
Stupid faery.
"You look so much better, Pete," she said as we walked back to my house. "I'd even go so far as to say almost handsome."
I increased my pace, hoping not to hear any more of the imp's backhanded compliments. She flew on ahead, and for just a moment I could have sworn I saw her talking to a pair of butterflies.
"We've had a productive day," Tink said as I walked up the front steps to my house. "Tomorrow we'll get an early start. I want us to do some jogging."
I stopped dead. "By us, you mean . . ."
"Well, you, of course." She looked at me as if that were obvious. "And for your homework tonight—"
"Homework?"
"Yes. We're trying to improve you, remember?"
"Oh yeah, my mom thinks I'm a geek." I dropped my shoulders.
"Pete, she's just worried about you. Now, when you go inside, I want you to vacuum the house—"
"The whole house?"
"What else do you have to do, and don't you dare say video games or I'll use this on you again," she said, pointing her wand at my head. "Now, after you vacuum, I want you to dust the living room and family room, too."
"And what about the toilets, shouldn't I do them while I'm at it?" I asked sarcastically.
"That would be wonderful," she smiled brightly. "I was going to save those for tomorrow, but if you think you'll have time tonight, go for it."
I slapped my palm on my forehead. "Why am I cleaning the house? How is this supposed to un-geek me?"
"It doesn't really, but I like your mom and feel it would be good for you to get off your butt and help her. See you tomorrow." With that rude statement, she disappeared.
Stupid faery.
It took me the rest of the afternoon to clean the house. Mom arrived as I flushed the last of the bleach down the toilet after I scrubbed it spotless.
"Pete! Everything looks wonderful." She hugged me and started crying. "Thank you so much, son. I had a terrible day at work and the thought of coming home to a messy house felt overwhelming. You just turned my day around." She dried her tears and went in the kitchen to start dinner.
Instead of feeling proud of what I'd done, I felt terrible. I should have been helping my parents out all along. Why did I not see that? Who would have thought a five-and-a-half inch faery could make me feel so small?
I cleaned the kitchen after dinner and did my laundry, along with all the towels in the house. Dad thanked me, and told me how proud he was of me for helping out. He also complimented my haircut. "Frank probably had to use a machete to get through the jungle you had growing on your neck," he chuckled. I sighed and forced a smile.
Completely exhausted, I grabbed my cricket book and curled up on the bed. I still hadn't gotten past page twenty. I fell asleep within seconds of my head hitting the pillow.
*****
“Good job, Pete. I think you cut five minutes off last weeks' time." Tink smiled. I loved her smile.
She had me running twenty minutes a day to strengthen my core, as she put it. I had no idea what that meant but she promised it would help my ape posture. Ape posture? Whatever. I smiled and agreed, like I had a choice with her pointing that wicked wand at me.
"Last week we just had my feet tortured, remember, and they were a little sore?" The mani-pedi was the most painful think I'd ever lived through. Why would anyone ever want one, let alone pay for it?
Tink waved her wand and a towel appeared in front of me, along with a bottle of water. I greedily drank the water and headed inside to cool off. Even though we ran late in the evening, July was still July. I jumped in the shower and washed the sweat and grime off me. "This feels good," I mumbled, as the chilly water cascaded over my skin, cooling me down. Why I ever hated showers, I'd never know. Nothing refreshed me quite like they did.
I got out and dress quickly. Tink was going through my yearbook to find me a potential date and I wanted input.
"What about Cami Miron? She's cute, and she's a cheerleader."
"Right. And she dates Jeremy Shane, captain of the football team. Next." I plopped, gently, onto the bed next to her. She had the yearbook spread open, turning the pages with her wand. Repeatedly, she'd stop on a page, crawl up it, look at a picture, shake her head, and crawl back off.
"Cindy Davidson. She has a friendly smile. She's editor of the school newspaper, and she's going to be this year's senior class secretary." She pointed to Cindy's picture with her wand. A stream of light fell over the photo and lit it up.
"I know her. She's very nice," I smiled. "Except she's six-two and I'm five-ten."
"That's not a huge difference," she said, unsurely.
"I'm not going to ask her out, Tink."
"Okay. We'll keep looking."
She turned the page and pointed to the second row, third picture in of Elise Delyser. That in and of itself wouldn't have been so bad, but the bold red heart I'd drawn around her picture was.
"Her," Tink declared brightly. "You can go out with her."
"No." I turned the page. Tink turned it back. "No." I again turned the page. Tink turned it back, and did some magical mumdo jumbo with her wand so I couldn't go to any other page.
"Why not? Have you ever spoken to her?"
"Yes. She's in my computer science class. She's nice, but she doesn’t know I like her and I'd like to keep it that way." In the past whenever a girl found out I liked her, it killed the relationship. I learned my lesson the hard way.
"Pete, you already like her so this will be easier than a random girl from your class. I'll help you. I'll sit on your shoulder and tell you what to say. You'll be so cool and in control, she won't know what hit her." As usual, with Tink's excitement came her glow. I caught myself smiling, but not soon enough.
"I saw that. You want to do this."
I let her have her delusion for now. "I'll think about it."
She nodded. "Good. Now, we need to work on your manners."
"I haven’t farted in front of you all week," I pointed out.
"True, but the fact that you said that word proves my point. And we don't say fa . . . that word, we say toot," she folded her arms proudly, as if her stupid word for fart was a good thing.
"Tink, I can all but guarantee you that if I use the word toot at school, I'll get my tooting butt kicked." Unbelievable. Faery world must be way different than here.
"Hmm. I forgot about the juvenile behavior of teenage boys. Okay, how about fluffed?"
I threw my head back and laughed. "How about, 'Here's a baseball bat, guys, beat the fluff out of me,' because, again, that's what will happen."
"You humans are a very violent bunch. What about expulsion?"
she offered next.
"Excuse my expulsion? How about excuse my fart?"
"Breaking wind?"
"Fart."
"Passing gas?"
"Fart."
"You are being difficult, Pete Pancerella."
Oh no, she used my last name. That meant the wand was coming out. Time to compromise. "Okay, Tink. How about I don't expel gas around girls then it won't matter?"
"You can do that?"
"For crying out loud, Tink. You act like I'm a farting machine! I did it once in front of you on the first day. Are you going to punish me forever?"
"Twice, actually. I heard you slip one out during your mani-pedi."
Dang it! I thought I slipped that one past little radar ears.
"Actually, your gas problems are not what I wanted to discuss. I meant we need to work on the way you eat."
"What is wrong with the way I eat?" Seriously, did she think I did anything right?
"You hover over your food, you don't use utensils half the time, and you make poor food choices." I rolled my eyes as she lectured me about eating more fruits and veggies, sitting up straight at the table, and if I must eat French fries, I should use a fork. I didn’t have the heart, or the guts, to tell her that wasn't going to happen. I'd get my butt kicked for that faster than if I said fluffed.
I fell asleep somewhere after whole grains and didn't wake until she covered me with a blanket. "Thanks, Tink, good night. I promise not to toot in front of you tomorrow."
"Good night, son. I'm grateful you'll hold in your gas around me, but tell me, who's Tink?"
"Mom." I sat up, blinking to adjust my eyes. "Sorry, crazy dream," I laughed.
"I wanted to thank you for all you've been doing around here lately. It's difficult to keep up on everything. It's nice to have help."
"Sure, mom, no problem. We're a team, right?"
She smiled. Her eyes got all wet. Oh, man, please do not start crying. I yawned and lay back, pulling the blanket to my face. She stood, kissing me on top of my head.
"Yes. We're a team. Good night, son. I love you."
"Love you too, mom." I yawned again for effect. I heard her sniffling as she left. Poor dad would have to deal with her tears.
*****
It’d been six weeks since Tink came into my life. Some days I wondered if Tink ran a boot camp in a former life. She'd taught me, or retaught me, a bunch of useful junk. Of course, she called them useful lessons. Whatever. My parents had taught me most of the useful lessons before, but somehow she got them to stick. She probably used her wand. It certainly had enough power.
I'd grown to enjoy having Tink around. She wasn't so bad, really. She had a good sense of humor, most of the time. Some days my stomach muscles ached from laughing so much. And I enjoyed talking with her. She listened well. In fact, I don't remember a girl, besides my mother, who ever listened to what I had to say.
She could be bossy and dogmatic, but I'd learned to ignore her when she got that way. She picked up on it quickly too. "I'm being bossy again, aren’t I," she'd say. Then she'd change her tone and we'd continue working.
The only two things I struggled with still were video games and Spongy Crèmes. Tink took the power cord away and I hadn't played my games in over three weeks. She insisted we finish reading the books on the book list and until we did, no video games.
And she forbade me from eating Spongy Crèmes, insisting we needed to cleanse my body of all the impurities I'd dumped into it over the years.
I also hated it when she said we because clearly she meant me.
Today would be exceptionally difficult. Because of all the extra work I'd been doing around the house, my parents surprised me with a new video game as a thank you. Laser Wars 2: Revenge of Simon Crawford, but with no power cord, I couldn't play it. I tucked it in my dresser so not be reminded.
"Hi, Pete." Tink appeared as I closed the drawer. She looked strange. Her usual glow appeared more like a dim light. Instead of one of her flowy gowns, she had on feet pajamas with little crocodiles on them.
"I can't help you today, Pete. I have a terrible cold." She sneezed and sparks shot out of her wand.
"Sure. No problem. We were going to do a run and weed my parent's garden." She even had me saying we. "I can still do it."
"I'm really sorry. I took some faerbiotics so I should be better tomorrow." She blew her nose into a sparkly tissue. I decided that Faeries had an affinity to things that sparkle.
"Is that anything like antibiotic?"
"Yes, only it's for faeries, of course. I'll be here extra early tomorrow." Before I could protest her idea of an early start time, she disappeared.
I dressed in some shorts and a t-shirt before heading to the garden. I worked until eleven-thirty when the heat became unbearable. I drank a couple glasses of iced herbal tea and took a tepid shower to help cool down.
Then I sat in the living room staring at the walls, bored out of my mind. Having no desire to read, I thought about going for my run, but that'd have to wait until it cooled off after dinner. I didn't realize just how much my days and evenings were filled with video games until now.
My mom left a box of dishes out so I decided to take them downstairs for her. I slid them onto a top shelf in the corner of the storage room. As I turned to leave, my old gaming system caught my eye.
"I thought dad tossed this." I lifted the lid and pulled out the console. It was huge compared to the new model.
I remembered what dad said when I told him I needed to upgrade my system. "Why couldn't they just build it right the first time? Can you imagine the uproar if I had to tell clients we were digging up their loved ones because we needed to upgrade their casket?" Gotta love my dad and his naiveté'.
I set the console back in the box, knocking the power cord out as I did. And yes, without a second thought, I grabbed the power cord and ran upstairs, praying it fit my new system.
It did. It had to be a sign from God that He meant for me to play my new game today.
No. Don't do this. Tink will be very upset with you, I lectured myself, and added, but if she doesn’t find out, she can't get mad.
I plugged in the 765 Macro Laser Pistol into the charging unit. It lit up with a familiar hum. A hum I dearly missed. While it charged, I went downstairs and made myself some lunch: a green salad with left over grilled chicken. Tink would be proud, of the salad anyway. She probably wouldn't be too happy about the box of Spongy Crèmes I found while hunting down the salad dressing.
I slipped the box under my arm, picked up my salad along with a fork, and ran upstairs. I ate the entire salad before eating any of the Spongy Crèmes. I fell asleep sometime after the sky went dark with the laser gun still in my hand, and didn't wake until a bolt of lightning zapped me in the chest.
I jumped, knocking a half-eaten Spongy Crème off my stomach and onto the floor. Tink floated before me with her tiny arms crossed, tapping her foot in mid-air.
"Tink, let me explain."
"Explain? Explain this." She pointed her wand at a poor defenseless Spongy Crème. It exploded, disappearing in a puff of smoke.
"And explain this," she repeated and demolished another Spongy. She gave the remaining Spongy's the same treatment.
"Come on, Tink. Don't you think you're overreacting a little?"
"Overreacting? I've spent the last several weeks teaching you how to exercise and eat properly, how to behave and not fart in front of a g—" Her hands slapped over her mouth and her eyes flew open wide as she dropped the f-bomb.
"You said 'fart'," I pointed out needlessly. I loved watching her cringe when I said it. "Tink said fart. Tink said fart." I hopped around playfully as I said the word over and over.
Big mistake. Somehow, I forgot about her stupid little wand. She zapped me repeatedly as I tried in vain to duck behind furniture.
"Enough!" I jumped out from behind my dresser and stood firmly in front of her. "I've done everything you've asked of me, and never have you complimented me. Never h
ave you pointed out how much I've improved. It's always, 'Tomorrow we need to work on this or that,' but never 'Good job today, Pete.' If I want to take a day off every once in a while and eat a few Spongy Crèmes and play a few video games, I've earned that right, Tink. It doesn’t mean I've fallen off the wagon and will revert to my former geeky self. It just means I love these things and I want to indulge in them," I said, adding, "in moderation."
She floated there silently for a few moments looking at me. "I'm sorry. You're right. I should have told you you're doing a good, no, great job. And I should have pointed out your improvements."
"That's okay. So we're good now?" I held up my fist and waited to see if she'd pound it. She did.
"We're good. But about the Spongy Crèmes."
"Tink, enough already. I know they're bad for me, but like I said, in moderation."
"Okay. In moderation." She smiled, then asked, "How often is moderation?"
"I'm taking a shower." I gathered some clean clothes and left the room. I came back and found her thumbing through the instruction manual for Laser Wars.
"This is very violent, you know."
"Yeah, well, I'm a guy. We like violent."
She giggled. I did like her giggle. "Your clothes are too big for you. You've lost weight, though after yesterday—"I raised a finger. She stopped.
"Guess we'll have to go to the mall and buy some. I hate shopping," I mumbled.
"I have a better idea." She flew to the top of my dresser and with a wave of her wand, clothes appeared on my bed, stacks of clothes, stacks of brightly colored clothes. "These are the latest styles," she beamed. "Take your pick."
"Where did they come from?" I held out a pair of orange and gold pants I wouldn't be caught dead in. I looked through the pile of clothes, but there was nothing I would wear.
"One of my sisters helped an up and coming designer get his designs into a prestigious fashion show. He gave her all of these clothes as a thank you.
"Tink, I appreciate it and everything, really I do, but they are too small." Thankfully. I held up a purple and pea green shirt with huge billowy sleeves. "These are made for anorexic male models. I could never get it buttoned."