Chapter 2 - New Wrinkles
The sun shines brightly through the window of Timmy's bedroom. He turns a little in his bed and groans. He doesn't seem ready to get up yet, but then this is Saturday morning, when one has a right to stay in bed.
His goldfish bowl explodes with life as two fish swim from out of the plastic castle. No sooner do they emerge than the container fills with smoke. Twin streams of mist rise out and materialize into a pair of small creatures. One of them - the one with somewhat messy green hair - wears a white shirt, black pants and a tie. The other - whose hair is done in a swirly pink bouffant - wears black pants and a yellow shirt.
With a smile, the two of them float down to Timmy. They look toward each other and take a breath.
"Good morning!", they shout in unison. This garners the desired effect from the twelve-year-old boy: a loud shout and a leap from the bed onto the floor, his legs entangled in the sheets.
"Yeah, right." Timmy's tone suggests that he wasn't in any mood for such a rude awakening.
"Sorry about that, sweetie...", blushed the pink-haired creature. "...but we needed to get your attention." Her somewhat high voice lilts with a motherly concern.
Timmy pulls the bedding from his feet. "About what?"
"About last night's fairy meeting." The being with green hair sounds quite animated, like a small child with a brand new toy. "They had the most delicious hors d'oeuvres." He licks his lips for effect.
"Is that all?" By this point, exasperation creeps into Timmy's voice as he stands up.
The female shoots a look to her counterpart. "More importantly, Cosmo, there was also the matter of a rogue."
"A rogue?" For the first time today, the boy seems interested in what's happening.
"Yeah, like in the comic books." Cosmo pulls out his wand and points it at the female, who closes her vibrant pink eyes as the magic beam envelops her. When she opens them, they are now green. She flies over to the mirror on the closet door. Her pink hair is now brown with white bangs in front. Her outfit is now a yellow bodysuit. "Nice hair, Wanda." She can't help but glower a little as she flies toward him.
"Thanks, but I never liked the brunette look." Wands grabs the front of Cosmo's shirt and plants her lips onto his mouth. His fingers curl up from dehydration and he falls to the floor.
Timmy rushes to Cosmo's side. The fairy twitches a little. It's best not to tamper with your wife's appearance without her permission. "Will he be all right?", he states with more curiosity than worry.
Wanda waves her wand over herself, allowing her old self to return. "In a while."
"Now, about this rogue..."
"It's more like a rogue fairy." Wanda waves her wand. A file appears before the group. Paper-clipped to the cover is a shot of a scowling fairy holding a plaque across his chest. The numbers on it read '0773H'. "Apparently, he's on the loose granting wishes that shouldn't be granted."
"Sounds weird, but I'm sure it's nothing you two can't handle." Timmy walks toward his door.
"Actually, we're going to need your help on this."
Timmy stops in his tracks and lets out a sigh. "What would I have to do?"
"Just keep your eyes open for anything unusual; at school, on the street."
"I'll do my best."
"We know you will, honey."
Cosmo opens his eyes and shakes his head. "Wanda, I thought I was 'honey'." There is naive concern bordering on worry in his statement.
She smacks her head. "Oh, right." She points to Cosmo. "You're 'honey'..." Her finger shifts over to Timmy. "...and you're 'sweetie'."
The boy smiles a little. "Glad we got that cleared up."
XxXxXxXxX
A lump covered in bedsheets sits atop Tootie's bed. The girl wasn't much for sleeping directly under the covers, but - as it does to the best of us - her body sometimes moves of its own accord.
"Tootie, dear, time for breakfast!", her mother calls up to her. Given the distinctly feminine groans coming from underneath, the girl obviously had plans to occupy her bed for quite some time. On the other hand, the smell of pancakes and sausage (which she could always detect even on the house's second story) is just too seductive.
Tootie hops out of bed, making a surprising 'thump' on the floor next to her bed. She shrugs it off, even though she hadn't made that noise before. One thing she can't ignore is the feeling of vertigo that hits her after the 'thump'. A person with a low center of gravity shouldn't possess that sensation, should they? She grabs her glasses and walks to the door.
The lights illuminate the bathroom just a few doors from her room. She grabs her toothbrush from the rack beside the mirror, though it didn't seem as much a reach as before. She applies the toothpaste and begins brushing. After a rinse and spit, she smiles, but more to bare her teeth than for happiness.
She lets out a low sigh. Just how much longer would these braces have to be on? Her teeth seem to be plenty straight as it is.
Tootie walks back to her bedroom. She gazes at the full-body mirror on her closet door. 'Full-body mirror'. What a joke. This was for people who just had to care how they look every moment of every day. So why does she have one?
She's just an ordinary girl, with an ordinary hairstyle and an ordinary complexion and an ordinary look. Her glasses hide her natural beauty (or accentuate it; eye of the beholder and all), her figure is pretty normal and her legs go on forever...at least as much as a twelve-year-old girl's...can.
The brunette looks down at her legs. They certainly weren't this long when she went to sleep last night. She wasn't one for nosebleeds or fainting, but given this sudden change, Tootie looks to be five seconds away from either action. Just when she seems to make a choice, a knock at her door brings her back to reality.
"Tootie, your breakfast is getting cold."
The girl snaps her head toward the door. It opens and her mother walks in.
"Now what is so important that you'd miss breakfast?" Though her hands are on her hips, her expression is one of mild displeasure.
"Mom, something very weird is happening here."
"What is it?"
"Well..." Tootie stretches her arms out and gestures to her legs, which seem to be eight inches longer than they used to be. Much to the girl's surprise, her mother starts laughing.
"What's so funny?"
"Tootie, this is just puberty. You're becoming a woman." The girl grimaces; some years ago, she overheard her mother talking to Vicky. Her sister complained of severe aching...and unnatural bleeding. The phrase 'becoming a woman' was present in that conversation, as well.
"Oh, not like that." The woman walks her daughter to her bed and sits down with her. "Not for a while at least", she murmurs quickly. "You know, I was also kind of short as a girl, then one day, I woke up with a little more downstairs...and a lot more upstairs." She chuckles at the memory, but Tootie seems to miss the euphemism.
The woman rubs her back with her hand. "These things are a part of growing up. They're to be embraced, not feared."
Tootie sighs. "I guess."
"Yeah. Now let's go downstairs. I only made so many pancakes and you know how your father gets." The two of them stand up and go to the door.
XxXxXxXxX
Nothing says 'lazy Saturday' quite like wandering around the mall, except perhaps planting one's butt in front of the television for cartoons.
Timmy rides the escalator to the lower level. He steps off of the moving staircase and heads for the comic book store. The spring in his step and the smile on his face suggest that he is particularly elated about being here today.
He goes into the store and saunters toward a comic rack. The hand-written sign announces 'new material'. The boy plucks a copy of "The Crimson Chin" off of the rack. No wonder he seems so happy.
He starts to open it, but hesitates. One problem that Timmy has with comics is that when he ends up reading it in the store, he has no desire to buy it. Why buy something you already tried out?
XxXxXxXxX
Timmy walks out of the store, "Crimson Chin" comic in hand. Given the expression on his face, waiting is not an option when it comes to reading it. Without thinking, or stopping his walk, he buries his face into the book. Of course, it's hard to see where you're going in a situation like this.
"Wow. Picking up from the last issue. 'You're reign of terror ends here, Farm Boy.'" In the book, the Chin rears his fist back. 'BAM!'
Timmy is knocked onto the ground. He rubs his head and looks at the person in front of him.
"Trixie?" Indeed it is, with several shopping bags askew on the floor around her.
The Asian girl gasps. "You", she states in surprise. "You!" Now batting for surprise is anger.
Timmy stands to his feet. "Yes."
"I know you." She waves her hand around. "What's your name? I see you in school all the time. You're always at my locker..."
"Timmy." He extends his hand to her. "Timmy Turner."
She slaps his palm away. "No, that's not it."
"But it is. Let me help you up."
"I can get up on my own, thank you." She practically growls the last two words.
He looks down at her. "Fine. I was just trying to help."
Timmy walks away. Trixie plants her hands flat on the ground and pushes herself up. She stands to her feet and dusts herself off. She gathers the bags - three in each hand - and looks at Timmy. Her angry expression softens to one of sympathy, almost like she feels remorse for snapping at him.
XxXxXxXxX
Tootie stands in front of her mirror. The first time this morning, it was out of regularity turned fear. This time, it is because of morbid curiosity. She looks herself over; is this really her?
She never thought of herself as gangly, but her increased height may argue otherwise. Girls this tall were usually plain Jane types. Tootie feels a sudden pang. She grabs her head and rears back a little.
A more confident expression is on her face. She walks out of her room.
XxXxXxXxX
Tootie sits in front of her mother's vanity mirror. She applies lipstick to her lips. The girl purses her lips and licks them a little. "Wow." She looks at the side of the container. "Now these are kissable lips."
The bedroom door opens. "Tootie, what are you doing in here?"
"Well, I was just...coloring...with my lips."
The girl's mother cocks her head a little and walks over. "Don't worry. It's a natural impulse for girls to wanna try on make-up."
"Mom..." The woman stands her up.
"But you really should ask first. Besides, looks aren't everything."
"Yes, mom." Tootie's mother walks out of the bedroom. The girl is halfway out the door, herself. She looks back at the cosmetics table.
She rushes back and grabs a little brush. "This blush would look killer on me." She happily applies the blush to her cheeks. This is quite unusual, as Tootie is seldom, if ever, one to disobey her parents.