By Elizabeth Jane Shelton

“Evie! Wake up!” I shake my sister, careful not to touch her skin, and grimace at the new color engulfing her favorite fluffy blanket.

“Tiff?” Evie yawns. I back away. She opens her eyes, takes one look at me, and shrieks.

“Shhh!” I wave my hands, eyes wide.

“What happened to you?” she hisses, throwing back her blanket and springing out of bed. She does a double take, cheeks flushing. “And what did you do to my blanket?”

I bite my lip. “I might have ticked off a pixie.”

“Why were you messing with a pixie?” Her voice goes up another octave, and I wince. I haven’t heard her at operatic levels since The Great Teddy Bear Incident.

“Listen, I know making deals with genies is safer, but pixies are so much cheaper.” I cross my arms. “Besides, it’s not my fault she didn’t like what I thought about her dress.”

Evie takes a step toward me, but I scramble backward, trip over a pink fluffy armchair, and land on my back with an oof. The moment my hands touch the beige carpet, it becomes a magenta carpet.

The chair? Oh, the chair isn’t my fault. That’s just Evie’s bad taste.

She jumps on top of her bed as if the floor is pink lava, but I wave a hand. “Don’t worry, you have to make contact with my skin.”

Evie sits cross-legged on her now-fuchsia blanket and puts her head in her hands. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

I huff, set the fluffy armchair upright, and sink into it since I can’t possibly do any more damage there. “It was for my date tonight.”

“The one I told you not to worry about?” She gives me a pointed look.

I’m sure my face matches the chair. “I know, but I just got so anxious about it. I don’t want to mess this up.” I wring the hem of my favorite shirt, long since converted from black to blush, in my hands. “You’re always so confident on your dates! And guys seem to really like you. So I asked the pixie to make me more girly.”

Horror and pity mingle on Evie’s face. “Tiffany. We talked about this!”

“Yeah, yeah. For whatever reason, the pixie didn’t like the idea much either. She made me drink a truth potion to find out why I was asking, and I… well.” I grimace. “I might have told her she looked like a four-year-old’s Barbie doll. She didn’t like that, so now I have this.” I hold up my hands and wiggle my fingers miserably. “She called it ‘The Tiffany Touch.’”

Evie wrinkles her nose. “Like the Cheese Touch?”

I frown. “Or the Midas Touch?”

“Oh, right. That. Well, did she say when it would wear off? If you didn’t agree to it, a pixie curse can’t last that long.”

“But my date! I can’t go out with someone whose car is going to turn into the Barbie-mobile the second I get in! And gloves aren’t exactly summer date attire, even for me.”

“Just tell him you’re sick and need to reschedule!”

“I can’t. I already texted him I’d see him tonight.” I put my head in my hands. “I’m doomed to be alone forever.”

“To be fair, you did this to yourself.” Evie raises an eyebrow. “If you could stop trying to be like everyone else, you wouldn’t be in this mess. This guy liked you before you went and turned your hair pink, remember?”

The blood drains from my face. “My hair is pink?” I jump up, look in Evie’s mirror, and see a near-stranger with a bubblegum pixie cut—the irony is not lost on me—in a pink Minotaurs jersey. Oh, fae. “I’m going to kill that pixie…”

“Yeah, that’ll help.” Evie rolls her eyes.

I begin pacing. “Maybe I could wear a Morphsuit so I don’t touch anything?”

“Even better.”

I glower. “Your sarcasm is so appreciated.”

A peal of hysterical laughter fills the room, and with a flash of light, a tiny pixie appears, no taller than a coffee mug and dressed in a frilly pink sundress. She wipes a tear from her eye. “Oh, I am so good! The look on your face when you saw yourself in the mirror!” She mimics me, then giggles so hard she somersaults in the air, wings buzzing.

“You!” I growl, then dive toward her.

She poofs and reappears near the door, and I smack into Evie’s nightstand, dyeing it hot pink.

“Now, that’s not nice!” The pixie puts her hands on her hips. “And here I was, ready to put you back to normal.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Better.” She sniffs. “Now, I won’t do anything until you’ve learned your lesson. Have you?”

“That pixies are cheap and I should get a genie next time?” When her eyes narrow, I raise my hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Of course I’ve learned my lesson.” I bite my lower lip. “What lesson did I learn?”

“That you don’t need to change for a boy, silly!”

Evie grins. “I like her.”

“Traitor,” I mumble. Then I sigh. “But you’re right. I have to find people who like me for me—sports and T-shirts and all.”

The pixie nods approvingly. “Good enough.” She waves a hand. “Now, go enjoy your date tonight! Maybe I’ll even peek in.”

She whirls into a sparkle of light.

“Wait!” Evie says suddenly, jumping up. “Aren’t you going to put everything—”

The pixie vanishes in another fit of giggles.

“—back?”

Several hours later, the doorbell rings, and I answer dressed in a fresh Minotaurs jersey and jeans. “Hi, Charlie.” I pause, spotting his own jersey. “Oh! Go Minotaurs!”

“Hey! Wow, we match!” Charlie grins. “Also, nice hair.”

I run a hand through my still-bubblegum-pink pixie cut and smile. “Thanks! It was sort of spur-of-the-moment, but I think it’s growing on me.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Elizabeth Jane Shelton has loved stories of every kind since she was young, although fantasy is her favorite. She strives to write stories that are both entertaining and meaningful, and she hopes to impact others and honor her Creator with her writing. If she’s not working on a story, it’s probably because she’s writing code at her job as a software engineer.

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