It's a Love Thing (5 page)

I wonder where my mom put
that fly swatter.

While I tried to remember, she pulled
out her wand from her sleeve, and waved it around a few times. A
small pink cell phone appeared, floating in front of her. She
slipped it into her hand, and with her wand pointing at her throat
she said, "Hello, my name is Pete Pancerella," in my voice. "I'd
like to set up an appointment." She continued, laughing and joking
with the receptionist. Of course, a complete stranger she's polite
to, but to me? Not so much.

I squirmed a little, tugging on my
underwear. They must be from last summer also. I flopped onto the
bed and accidently knocked a picture frame off the wall. I scooted
it under the bed with my foot so I wouldn't step on it. It was one
of my favorite pictures of me and dad all dressed for a day of
fishing. I would hate to have it ruined.

"All set for Thursday. That will give
us a few days to work off some of the rough edges." She smiled as
if she hadn't just insulted me.

"I do not have rough edges, thank you
very much. I am a well-mannered, well-behaved, classy
guy."

"Oh really? So, dropping onto a bed as
if it were a swimming pool is well-mannered? Or were you referring
to the kicking of a photo under the bed because you're too lazy to
pick it up as well-behaved?"

I'm going to walk to the
store myself and buy a fly swatter, so help me.

She narrowed her eyes and continued
her unprovoked attack. "And can we really define classy as the
passing of noxious gas while tugging a wedgie out of your butt
crack?"

Oops, didn't know she heard
that.

"As I was saying, this will give us a
few days to work you over, ah, I mean, help you become more
polished." Her fake slip didn't scare me. Seriously, how much
working over could a six-inch faery do to a guy like me?

*****

“
I don't understand why I
have to take another shower. I just took one yesterday, remember?"
I even had to put on a different t-shirt today. Obviously faeries
don't have to do their own laundry, because if they did, they'd
understand why you wear an outfit more than once. I did notice she
had on a different dress today. This one was yellow and had sparkly
things on it. I liked watching her fly across the room; it looked
like flashing lights.

"Most people bathe daily, Pete. Every
other day at least." She shook her head, pity etching her
brow.

I ignored her. "When you left last
night, you said we'd start lessons today. What kind of lessons? And
why do I know I'm not going to like it?"

"Open-minded people go further in life
than close-minded people, Pete."

I nodded so she'd stop the lecturing.
Bored, I flopped onto my bed, waiting for the lesson to
begin.

The bed vanished.

I landed hard on the floor amongst the
junk I'd shoved under the bed at one point or another, my legs and
arms flailing about in surprise. I looked at Tink. She stood smugly
on my dresser, tapping her wand against her hand. She did it. She
made my bed vanish.

"Why?" was all I said.

"One should never drop on furniture,
Mr. Pancerella. I thought maybe if you dropped clear to the floor,
you might remember that lesson a little easier."

I got up, rubbing the now tender spot
on my butt as I did. She waved her wand, my bed came back fully
made.

"Thanks," I smiled.

"I did that to show you what a
properly made bed looks like."

"I know what a properly made bed looks
like, Tink."

"Oh? I've never seen it made during my
visits. I just assumed you didn't know how."

Good grief, she's one
obnoxious faery.

She made me practice sitting for two
hours. Sitting on the couch, on the bed, on a chair, everywhere. My
thighs ached. And when she finished torturing me with that, she
made me practice walking.

"No, no, no, Pete." She flew across
the living room and hovered in front of me. "Shoulders back, hips
tucked, not the other way around. You look like an ape walking this
way." She dropped her head into her hands.

"Well, they say we come from apes.
Maybe I'm just a natural kind of guy."

"They also say there are no such
things as faeries, yet here I am."

She had a point there. I tucked my
butt under, pushed my shoulders back and tried again. It felt
awkward, stupid, unnatural, and Tink loved it.

"Yes! That's it. I knew you could do
it. Practice for another hour and then you can take a
break."

"Wait," I dropped my shoulders and let
my butt do whatever it wanted. "You want me to walk all
supermodel-like for a whole hour?"

"No, that would be ridiculous and a
complete waste of time." She smiled and patted my arm with her tiny
hand. I didn't feel a thing. If I hadn't watched her do it, I never
would have known. "You'll have to do this for the rest of your
life. I just want you to practice so that it becomes second nature
to you."

"The rest of . . . This is ridiculous.
Why? Why do I have to do all this?"

"Because your mother is worried about
you. She's afraid no one will want to marry you and you'll live
with her forever."

"My mom wants me to move out? Am I
really that hard to live with?" That hurt, a lot.

"No, silly, she wants you to find
happiness, like all mother's want for their children. She knows she
won't live forever, Pete. She's concerned."

"I'm only eighteen, it's not like I'm
a forty year old man living in her basement, leaching off
her."

"Yet," Tink said.

"Yet? What exactly is that supposed to
mean?"

"How many dates have you been
on?"

"This year?" I asked stalling for
time.

"Ever," she replied dryly.

"Um, well, here's the thing. I'm
pretty busy—"

"Playing video games?"

"Tink, I am captain of an online team.
We ‘travel’," I made quote marks in the air when I said travel
because all our travel we did over the internet, "the world,
competing—"

"Against other geeks who also have no
life. You're eighteen years old and have never been kissed. Pete,
you've never been on a date. Don't you want to have your heart
broken a few times?"

"Yeah, there's a goal, get my heart
broken. I'll add that to my bucket list first thing in the
morning."

"It's on my bucket list. A broken
heart is a rite of passage. It's your first love, your first kiss.
They say you never forget your first love."

"And who exactly are
'they'?"

"I can hardly wait for mine," she
sighed, ignoring my astute question. "Don't you want to fall in
love?" Tink asked.

"Sure. I'm hoping to skip the whole
broken heart thingy though, but yes, I'd like to fall in
love."

Out of nowhere, she began glowing
brighter. I'd only been around her for a couple of days, but I knew
what it meant when she did that. It meant she'd come up with a
brilliant idea, at least she thought it brilliant. Yesterday I
cleaned the entire kitchen for my mother. Yeah, brilliant. I sat
down, carefully, and braced myself.

"I think our goal should be for you to
ask a girl out on a date. A real live date," she beamed, truly
proud of her crazy plan.

"A date? As in going out somewhere,
and I have to pay?"

"Yes. It's perfect. Who should we
ask?"

"We?" I jumped up and started pacing
the floor, wondering if the AC had stopped working, because
suddenly it felt hot. I went over to the thermostat and tapped it.
Seventy degrees. I turned it down to sixty-eight.

"Don't worry, I'll help you. I'll sit
on your shoulder and tell you what to say, sort of like in Cyrano
de Bergerac."

"Sir who?"

"Oh, for crying out loud, Pete! Read a
book once in a while."

She flitted around the room thinking
out loud as she made a list of things we needed to do to get ready
for my date. I sank, softly, onto the bed, and covered my ears with
my hands, blocking out her sweet melodic voice.

"Okay. First we need to get a haircut.
Let's go."

"We? Wait. When did I agree to this?
My hair is just fine." I ran my fingers through the brown strands.
Okay, it needed to be brushed a little, but it didn't need to be
cut. "Forget it. I'm not going."

"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.