Chapter 3 - Growing Pains
(...Timmy's room...five months later...)
The last few months had passed rather uneventfully. Nothing had changed too much in Timmy's life. To this day, he was known around Dimmsdale High as the guy who showed Trixie Tang the door. Every so often, someone would stop him in the hall and make a big thing out of it. The truth is that Timmy could've cared less about what happened between he and Trixie.
Ever since that night at the game, thoughts of another brunette filled his head: Tootie. The way she looked, the way she moved; it was like she was a different person. Every time he saw her, he mulled talking to her, but then A.J.'s words would present themselves: "...jocks date cheerleaders." Timmy was neither a jock nor a guy who would appreciate being pummeled by one for talking to his girl.
On top of that, there was a provision that would affect all children in the possession of fairy godparents.
"What do you mean I lose you guys when I turn 18?!", Timmy demands.
"I was sure that Cosmo told you. Didn't he?"
"I knew I forgot something."
"This is so unfair."
With a wave of the wand, Da Rules appears before Wanda.
"I know, Timmy, but it's in the rule book: 'Upon reaching the age of 18 - the traditional age of adulthood - a godchild will lose his fairy godparents forever.'."
As the book disappears, Timmy sits on his bed.
"I can't believe this."
"Don't worry."
"At the very least, we still have lots of time before you turn 18."
A noise from outside Timmy's room causes the brown-haired teen to leap from his bed and open the door. His parents rush by with rolls of wrapping paper in their arms.
"Oh, don't mind us, Timmy. We're just preparing for your 18th birthday."
"After all, it's only a few days away", his mother states cheerfully.
Timmy closes his door. He leans against it and sinks to the floor.
"Wonderful."
(...hours later...)
Having cried himself to sleep (a very rare occurrence), Timmy rests in bed. His fishbowl, however, was short a fish.
(...in the sky...the stroke of midnight on April 22nd...)
Out of nowhere, a new star appears in the crowded field next to a slightly bigger one. With each sentence, the stars illuminate.
"I take it he knows about the provision?", a booming, German-accented male voice intones.
"Yes. I understand that we'll have to leave him forever, but do his memories really have to be erased?", a lilting female voice responds.
"They must. The existence of fairies must remain a secret. We can't afford another Denzil Crocker."
"But Timmy is different. If we could just--"
"The subject is not open for further discussion!"
"Yes, sir."
(...Dimmsdale High...the next morning...)
Timmy shuffles down the hall, a dejected look on his face. He perks up at seeing the girl of his dreams, Tootie, a few yards away. His shuffle becomes a dash, but it's for nothing; Tootie doesn't even notice him as she walks into a classroom. He skids to a stop. The bell rings, and he heads for another room.
(...a classroom...)
A number of students file into the room. Tootie, meanwhile, stands at the desk at the front of the class. Before her is a youthful, dark-haired man.
"Tootie, have you been thinking about college?"
"Mr. McKenzie, you know I have."
"I've been looking over your grades. Not just for my class, but for all of them. Do you have any idea how many scholarships you could be eligible for?"
"I'm just trying to do my best. I never put much thought into it."
"Well, think about this", the teacher said as he hands her a flier. Tootie takes it and heads for an empty seat.
Mr. McKenzie motions toward the blackboard, which has 'Walt Whitman' written on it in chalk.
He starts to talk about the famous poet, but, for once, Tootie isn't paying attention. She stares intently at the piece of paper given to her. The brunette is hooked from the opening lines:
'Around the end of the last year of high school, a number of students think about the next step in their education: college. We are aware of the struggles that people have paying for an institution of higher learning. Do we have an offer for you! To a senior of outstanding academic merit (at least a 3.5 average), we will provide a healthy amount of financial help. Be advised that such an offer is not without certain...requirements. In an essay of no less than 1000 words, tell us what you think education means to you, how much it means and how life can be enriched by it. Deadline: May 28th. Sponsored by the Tang Foundation.'
(...Timmy's room...four days later...)
Timmy gazes out of his window at the night sky.
"I can't believe it. Tomorrow, I lose the two of you forever."
The young man buries his head in his hands and cries.
"Oh, Timmy. Please don't be sad about this."
"Couldn't I just wish myself younger?"
"Well, you could, but..."
"But..."
Da Rules appears before Wanda.
"Sooner or later, you'd have to turn 18."
Timmy opens his mouth to speak.
"And you can't wish to never turn 18."
"Nuts."
"Cheer up, Timmy. Just because you'll never see us again doesn't mean we can't have some fun", stated the green-haired fairy.
"Yeah. You're right. If it's my last night with you guys, I should have fun."
"That's the spirit!"
"I wish I could go skydiving!"
A wave of the wands and...poof!
(...a plane...moments later...)
The aircraft cuts through the sky, which is red because of the setting sun. Timmy stands near the open door. A skydiving instructor is at his side.
"Where are we?", he shouts, so as to be heard over the roar of the plane's engine.
"I'd say somewhere over the Midwest."
"Is this safe?"
"Perfectly. You just have to make sure you pull the ripcord at the right time."
"Okay."
"On the count of three. One..."
Timmy exhales.
"...Two..."
He readies to jump.
"...Three!"
The young man leaps out of the plane. He flows through the air, yelling the whole way. At such an altitude, light-headedness is to be expected, and Timmy was no exception. A couple hundred feet later, Timmy reaches for the ripcord and pulls it...but nothing happens.
"Oh, nuts."
The ground starts to get a lot closer. The yelling that once stood for excitement now constituted fear.
"I wish I had a parachute!"
In a puff of smoke, the request is granted. Timmy is jerked higher up by the gust of wind carrying the pink-hued parachute. Timmy looks up and smiles.
"Feeling better, sweetie?"
"A lot. Thanks."
"Is there anything else you want to do?"
"You'd think so, but no. Not really."
Timmy knew well enough that, over the last few years, he'd been everywhere and done everything because of Cosmo and Wanda. Skydiving was one of the few things he hadn't done. As he floated to the ground, he reflected on the many good times.
(...Timmy's room...a couple of hours later...)
Timmy rests on his bed.
"Wow. This may sound weird, but I'm kind of going to miss those near-death experiences."
Cosmo floats beside him. "If we can get a response like that out of one godchild, then it was all worth it."
All of a sudden, the room starts to shake.
"What's going on? Is this an earthquake?"
"I'm afraid not."
"Timmy, could you turn down that earthquake up there?", shouts his father.
At that moment, the shaking stops and a light appears in the room. Timmy and his fairies shield their eyes from the brightness. An imposing, muscular figure steps out of the light.
"Timmy Turner..."
The young man lowers his arm and stares at the apparent source of the ruckus: Jorgen Von Strangle.
"It is time."
"Already? But we only have..."
Timmy checks his watch. It reads 11:59:12 and it's still ticking. He lets out a sigh.
"Don't I have time to say goodbye?"
"If you must."
Timmy turns to his fairies.
"I want to thank the two of you. I've had so much fun all these years. And I've learned so much. At least, I'll have the memories."
Wanda had been trying to keep her composure, but at this point, there was nothing to stop her from allowing her tears to flow freely. Cosmo joins her in weeping, followed by Timmy. The three wrap each other in perhaps the biggest hug they ever experienced.
"I love you guys."
Jorgen clears his throat.
Timmy lets go and watches as the two fairies fly away.
"I'll miss you."
"No, you won't", Wanda said quietly as she flew back and kissed him on the forehead.
The three magical beings disappear in a blinding flash of light.
(...the next morning...)
Timmy tosses and turns in his bed. The alarm in his watch chimed 7:00am. He groans in response. The chiming ends and the brown-haired lad can once again enjoy peace and quiet...
For about three seconds...
"Timmy!", the Turners shout in unison.
Another groan from the young man as he turns away and wraps his pillow around his head.
The door bursts open.
"Happy 18th birthday!"
"Can't I sleep some more; two or three hours?"
"No, you can't!" they cheerfully declare.
Timmy turns over and faces his parents.
"Fine. Even though it's just another day."
The Turners leave the room. Timmy sits up and stretches. He looks over at...the empty fishbowl on his otherwise vacant night table. He shrugs his shoulders and stands to his feet.
(...the living room...15 minutes later...)
A fully-dressed Timmy sits on the couch surrounded by open packages of socks and underwear. The sullen look on his face showed (pretty clearly) that he could've cared less about what was happening. His birthday had truly become just another day.
"I know that you're impressed with these gifts, Timmy, but the best is yet to come."
(...the front lawn...)
Timmy's parents lead him outside. His backpack in hand, the young man looks out at the package in the driveway: a car covered in wrapping paper.
"I wonder what it could be", Timmy cracks flatly.
"Let me tell you, it was no picnic getting the wrapping paper around the car, but with me supervising, your mother was able to get the job done."
Mrs. Turner elbows her husband in the stomach. Mr. Turner reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key.
"Wanna take her for a drive?"
"Sure", Timmy drones as he takes the key.
Timmy rips most of the wrapping paper off and climbs in, leaving a few scraps attached with tape on the bumper and roof. The engine starts up and the car pulls into traffic. The Turners wave at their son.
"There goes our son, honey."
"Yes, but it's weird."
"What?"
"You think he'd be happy about getting a new car."
"Yeah."