Chapter 3 - Off Balance
If Saturday is a lazy day in the eyes of a child, then Sunday is absolutely comatose. Timmy has been walking around Dimmsdale for the past few hours.
It would be so easy to cure this boredom with a little magical assistance. Unfortunately, Cosmo and Wanda were absent from the bowl when he woke up this morning. They left a note, however: 'At another meeting. Will see you later.' This rogue fairy must really be a 'Def-Con 4' situation to separate a child from his fairies.
Timmy stalks down Baxter Street. A lot of history resides on this pavement. For example, the foot of the tree the young man is passing is the very spot where, thirty years ago, the winner of the Dimmsdale Hot Dog Eating Contest lost his lunch after (seemingly) successfully ingesting 116 franks in only five minutes. Also, the street lamp only a couple of yards away is the same one that a marathon runner crashed into while carrying the torch through for the 1984 Olympics. The man left quite a dent, but it was smoothly buffed out.
The boy passes by an antique shop. There are several items decorating the front window, such as an old rocking chair and what appears to be a first edition copy of Hemingway's "The Sun Also Rises".
With a scoff, Timmy turns away from the ancient display. He may be bored out of his skull, but there is no way he's going to set foot in an antique shop to rid himself of boredom. No way, no how.
XxXxXxXxX
The rays of the sun peek into the window of an expansive bedroom. The figure under the sheets stirs. The silken covers fly off the head of the bed. Trixie stretches her arms and lets out a strong yawn. There's nothing like a good nap to help one relax. She rubs her eyes to clear her vision. The view in front of her is a blur.
Her hands grind in her eyes once more. Things are still fuzzy. She starts to whine nervously as she shakes her hands, unsure of what to do.
"Mom!", the rich girl wails.
A woman of medium height and Asian descent rushes into the room.
"Oh, honey, what's the matter?" She takes her daughter's hands.
Trixie looks up at her mother, who appears clear as a bell, than toward the open door, where things are clouded.
"Something's wrong with my eyes." Aside from the apparent, there are tears present, as well.
"You're not going blind, are you, 'cause we'll find a donor in no ti--"
"No. It's like...well, I can see you just fine, but things look so fuzzy far away."
"Oh." Mrs. Tang cares deeply for her daughter, even though she sometimes feels the need to throw money at a problem to solve it, a trait that Trixie shouldn't be learning, even inadvertently. "Well, it just sounds like you need glasses."
"Glasses! Mom, I can't! My reputation will be ruined!" Trixie grabs her mother's arm, on the verge of hysteria. To someone, for whom, reputation is important, this is perfectly understandable.
"Trust me, you don't want to go through life squinting at everything."
"Can't I squint and still be popular?"
"This is not open for debate. You're going for an eye exam first thing tomorrow." Of course, Mrs. Tang can be a firm parent when she wants. She walks out of the room.
Trixie groans as she gets out of bed. She takes a few casual steps...and falls to the floor. She looks back at her foot, which is caught on a stuffed teddy bear. The rich girl gazes at the toy.
"How in the world did I miss that?"
XxXxXxXxX
Timmy looks around. He can't believe he's in an antique shop. Hemming and hawing for twenty minutes on a Sunday can yield unusual results. The teenaged boy at the front counter seems even more surprised. With the exceptions of people who seemed to be around when the merchandise was new, customers are a rare thing at the shop and it's a wonder the place has stayed open as long as it has.
The boy gazes at a pair of swords propped against the wall. He reaches his hand up to touch them.
The clerk's brown eyes aim toward the visitor. "Uh, little dude. You're not supposed to touch that."
Timmy pulls his hand down, a sour look on his face. He continues on to a mirror. Given the thin streaks made in the dust, someone has been over this piece as early as yesterday.
The dark-haired teenager returns to his magazine. It is one devoted to the art of popular music. The look on his face suggests that he could care less about what goes on in the store.
He turns a page and his eyes goggle. On the page is a beautiful model. For guys like him, it was cruel to have to look at her and know that this is as close as he'll ever get to her. Maybe things will turn around for him when he starts college in the fall. It doesn't matter what she's selling (some new product guaranteed to give your hair more lift, in case you were wondering). He would still like her company.
As Timmy walks away from the mirror, a figure appears in the reflection, hazy from the dust. A figure with what appears to be a magic wand...
The teenager sighs. "What I wouldn't give to wake up to a body like this."
Timmy sets a needle on a phonograph. The wand waves. In a puff of smoke, the figure disappears from view.
The old time melody is upbeat, laden with horns...and loud. So loud that the moans from the front of the store are drowned out.
The young man closes his eyes and starts to yell in a voice that gets higher with each moment. Whatever is happening, he seems to be in a good deal of pain. As his thin lips gain an unusual fullness, he falls behind the counter.
Timmy, meanwhile, snaps his fingers to the beat, a smile on his face. He wasn't much for the older variety of music - namely, the kind without words - but he has to admit that this is a catchy tune.
A hand grips the edge of the counter. Strangely enough, it is a hand with a French manicured tips. A feminine figure rises from where the teenager fell. A grunt escapes from ruby red lips as the woman stumbles to her feet.
She looks around, taking note of her surroundings. It's the antique shop, all right. The girl staggers around in a black dress that seems too small for her, taupe stockings that show off her long legs and a pair of red heels. Oh, and her long, blonde hair looks fantastic.
"Whoa." Her voice is a sultry whisper.
The utterance interrupts Timmy's jam session. Out of surprise, the boy knocks the needle away from the record.
The twelve-year-old takes in the sight of his guest. "Wow. You sure are pretty. Are you taking over from the guy who was here?"
"Ha. Very funny, little dude."
Timmy heads for the door. The woman staggers toward the record player and turns it off. She wanders toward the mirror and gazes into it. Her now blue eyes are transfixed by the reflection. Her hand wipes away the dust covering her face. A gasp comes from her mouth. She stares at the girl and looks down at her body.
One thing is certain: showering is going to become an interesting new experience.
XxXxXxXxX
Tootie rummages through a bin in a thrift store. Her thinking is that she may need some new outfits, and since there isn't a lot in Vicky's closet to help her out (for some reason, the redhead isn't much into girly clothes), why not do a little shopping? A thrift store may seem an unusual place for this, but Tootie only had so much money in her piggy bank.
Her hands run across a purple angora sweater, just like the pink one so fancied by Trixie Tang. She rubs it, feeling the softness of the material.
"Oh, now that is nice." With a smile, she picks up the sweater and slings it over her shoulder.
XxXxXxXxX
Tootie strolls down the street, a paper tote bag in her hand. Timmy approaches from the opposite direction, which stops her dead. She is a little nervous; this is the first time she's seen him since the growth spurt. What will he think of her, now? What did he think of her then? She takes off her glasses and puts them in the bag. She has always needed glasses, but, given the clear view ahead of her, they may become a thing of the past.
The girl takes a gulp and walks forward calmly. She passes by Timmy like he wasn't even there.
The boy takes a few steps. He does a double-take at the vision behind him. As fast as his legs will allow, he runs to catch up with the girl.
Tootie fails to acknowledge the person beside her. Timmy runs in front of her, stopping her from further movement.
"Um, hello." He does his best to mask his nervousness, but it's a struggle.
"Hi." She is calm and more than a little polite.
"So..." Tootie is on the edge of her non-existent seat. She can't wait to hear what he has to say to her.
"Are you new in town?", the boy asks with considerable eagerness.
The girl's eyes goggle a bit. She's wearing the same old outfit (plaid skirt, white shirt and black vest) and the same braces fill her mouth. Though her hair is down and her legs a few inches longer, she's the same old Tootie.
She looks away. "Um...yes, I am!"
"Do you like it here?"
"Yeah, it's pretty nice." She gives him a brief look of incredulity; he really doesn't know who he's talking to.
"What's your name?"
"It's..." She can't help but hesitate. She isn't ready to reveal herself just yet. Timmy is talking to her of his own accord. Who knows what might happen if she tells him who he's really talking to?
"What is it?"
"My name is Ginnie." No one at the school ever bothered to learn Tootie's real name, so insignificant she was considered to be. Her nickname comes from a family story that embarrasses her to no end. This has long overshadowed her birth name - Virginia.
The boy extends his hand. "Nice to meet you, Ginnie. I'm Timmy Turner."
'Ginnie' returns the gesture. "The pleasure is entirely mine."
Timmy cups her hand with his for a few moments. Then again, it is a soft palm, the softest he's felt in his short life.
"Um, sooner or later, I'm going to need my hand back."
The boy lets go of Ginnie's hand. He rubs the back of his head with it. "Sorry."
A giggle emerges from her mouth. "That's okay. I just know we're going to get along great." As she walks away, she turns and waves. "I'll see you around, Timmy."
"See you!" Timmy waves back. He turns and skips down the street merrily. He stops suddenly and looks around; someone might've seen him. He continues on his path walking normally.
XxXxXxXxX
Monday morning. A time dreaded by young kids everywhere. As soon as the final Friday bell sounds, they acclimate themselves to not being trapped in school. To enjoy all that the weekend has to offer...and then, they're back in school a couple of days later.
The kids of Dimmsdale Elementary trudge through the hallways. It is a sluggish period; not quite the beginning and not quite lunch. Timmy's smile is a sharp contrast to the collective of lethargy around him. Yesterday, he couldn't stop thinking about that Ginnie, that captivating girl from Baxter Street. He had no idea if he would see her again; where she went to school, where she hung out.
His eyes widen to dinner plates. There, getting a drink at the water fountain, is Ginnie, who looks very nice in her purple sweater and white skirt. Timmy clears his throat.
Ginnie turns around. "Oh, hello", she states with feigned surprise. "Timmy Turner, right?"
"Yes." Timmy gazes at the girl for a while.
"Is there something I can do for you?"
Timmy snaps out of his daze. "Oh, man, was I lingering again? I'm sorry."
"It's all right. You did nothing wrong." For Toot...Ginnie, every second she spends with Timmy is like a blissful eternity, so she has no problems with taking his time.
"Um...I don't do this very often, but you're really pretty and nice and I was wondering if we could go do something sometime." The boy quickly forces the words out of his mouth like so much literary vomit.
"Timmy, did you just ask me out on a date?"
The boy's nervous look becomes one of fear. "Yes", he squeaks.
Ginnie takes him in her arms. "Oh, I would love to!"
"Great. We could meet in the park around four."
"That sounds good."
Timmy runs off. "I'll see you later." He passes Trixie. "Hey, Trixie." He doesn't even stop for her. He never doesn't stop for her.
Trixie approaches the new girl, apparently having seen the whole thing. Ginnie is about to walk off. Trixie taps her on the shoulder.
"Just what do you think you're doing?"
Ginnie turns around. "I beg your pardon?"
"The outfit: the sweater and the skirt." Trixie sniffs the sweater, shocking the "new" girl. "Ah-ha! It's not even from a designer label."
The girl puts her hands on her hips. "So, what, this is your look, all of a sudden? You have a copyright on it?"
The rich girl extends her index finger. "It's still tied up in court, but, soon, it will be. It will be!"
"And, what, are those glasses part of the look, too?" Trixie, initially, resisted putting them on, but her mother started to say how this was the best thing for her. Halfway through the ride to school, she put on her glasses, surprised at how natural the feeling was to wear them.
Trixie gasps. She fumbles for her specs and takes them off. "Just stay away from my look...and my not-boyfriend." She almost growls the last few words and walks off. Ginnie scoffs as she heads in the opposite direction.
XxXxXxXxX
Ginnie flips through her closet. It is hard for her to decide what gives her a bigger high: that she will soon be meeting Timmy for a date or that she stood up to Trixie Tang. She isn't one for low self-esteem, but she hadn't, at least not until today, possessed the nerve to take Trixie on. She pulls out an old outfit: a fancy blue skirt and a black top.
She tosses the clothing onto her backpack. Unusually, it hasn't been opened since she left school about a half-hour ago. For Ginnie, the thinking is that it would always be there to do later in the day.
XxXxXxXxX
Wearing the outfit, Ginnie strides out of her room toward the stairs. On her way, she passes an open bedroom, where Vicky reads a book on her bed. She doesn't look happy to be reading the book.
The red-head catches a glance at the girl outside her door. She rushes out to meet her.
"Well, if it isn't my even-though-she's-a-bit-taller, she'll-always-be-my little sister. Going somewhere?"
"Yes. I have a date."
"You...a date?" Vicky starts to chuckle. After a few moments, the chuckles graduate to full-fledged guffawing.
Ginnie folds her arms. "Are you quite done?"
Vicky puts her finger up. "Not quite." She lets out a few more laughs, then wipes a tear away. "Okay, now I'm done."
"I guess I had that coming. After all, you have so much to teach me about dating..." Ginnie snaps her fingers. "Oh, that's right. You've never been on any dates. How silly of me." She usually lets Vicky have her way, but tonight, she is empowered to defend herself. It must be the puberty.
The dark-haired girl flips her hair and turns down the stairs. "See you later." She adds a wiggle-fingered wave to give an extra touch of condescension. Vicky stands in her doorway fuming.
XxXxXxXxX
Timmy looks into his mirror and combs his hair. For a moment, it looks neat before reverting back to its somewhat messy form.
He walks to his bed and grabs the shirt lying on it. With a poof, his fairies appear in his room.
Wanda is the first to speak. "Timmy, did you manage to find anything on the rogue fairy?"
The boy puts on the shirt. He refuses to stand still, so excited is he. "I'm afraid not. But I did find something better."
The pink-haired fairy flies to keep pace with him. "What?"
"A pretty girl."
Wanda sighs. That's a twelve-year-old boy for you.
"That sounds nice." Cosmo can always latch on to a raft of good news in a river of bad news.
Timmy puts on his pink hat. It's amazing that he's had it for so long...and that he still wears it. "We've got a date today."
"Even considering the situation, don't you think you're moving a little fast? I mean, you only just met."
"Yeah, Wanda, but...it's like I feel something with her. Something electric. You know what I mean?" Timmy walks toward the exit.
"I do, Timmy, but..."
"Don't worry so much." With a warm smile, he closes the bedroom door.
XxXxXxXxX
Timmy looks around the park from a bench. There are people running and sitting around, but none of the citizens match the description of the person he seeks. His eyes move to the cobblestone path. A smile threatens to split his face in two as he sees who's walking on it.
"I hope I'm on time." Ginnie smiles sweetly at the boy.
"You're here. That's 'on time' enough for me." Timmy's hope that the statement didn't sound quite as dumb as it did in his head is immediately dashed as embarrassment colors his face. Ginnie, however, giggles at the remark. It is probably a moot point; neither of them is wearing a watch.
"So, what do you want to do?"
"Well, you're new in town. Maybe we could see the sights."
"Uh, yeah. Sure." Of course, she has lived in Dimmsdale her whole life, but there are worse ways to tour the town.
XxXxXxXxX
Timmy and Ginnie had spent the next hour taking in some of what Dimmsdale had to offer: The Convention Center, The History Museum and the mall. Unsurprisingly, the most time was spent at the mall.
They stroll through the park, hand in hand. After some walking, they find the same bench on which Timmy was sitting when the date began.
"I must say, I had a wonderful time." Ginnie sits down.
"Thank you. So did I." Timmy joins her.
"I had no clue your town had so much to enjoy." Ginnie bites her lip a little out of guilt. She could never lie to him...not usually.
"It's kind of surprising, I know, but that's Dimmsdale for you."
Timmy looks toward the sun, which seems to be setting. He looks at Ginnie. "Isn't that sunset romantic?"
"Yeah, it kind of is." There is uncertainty to her words.
He gazes into her eyes, her soft violet eyes. His lips pucker. He moves in for the kill.
Ginnie stands up, which causes Timmy to fall onto the spot where she was sitting.
The boy picks himself up. "What's wrong? Oh, man, I'm moving too fast." The girl walks off, her nose in the air for some reason. "Wanda was right." Timmy looks as his dream girl leaves him, but, aside from being a bit forward, he can't understand why.