I pass the night in an excited daze, anxious for the Ferragosto celebration. Any wishes that I hear are answered quickly and diligently, but my heart is still in awaiting the festivities.

It finally feels like, after thousands of years, I will be a part of something other than making wishes come true and watching the world go by without me. I will have a chance to actually live, for a few hours, among real people, doing things that I usually do not—dancing, smelling the scents of those glorious dishes that everyone will make, and simply being a part of them, without having to give away that I am a fairy.

It will be such a different change of pace, that I shiver thinking about what fun it will be.

At long last, I glide down towards the earth, gradually becoming my human self. I come to Earth, expecting chaos and excitement to surround me once more, but this time, there is a surprising difference.

The town streets are completely empty. And quiet. The children are not running or laughing, and the peddlers are not crying their wares as usual.

Instead, all the noise is coming from far down the grassy field, beyond the town. I follow the sounds, almost certain of what such noises could mean.

And indeed, there it is.

The seashore is barely visible with the large crowds of people covering the sand. They move all at the same time, in different directions, like a thousand fleshy waves colliding fast. But the yelling, cheering, and laughter is the magic note—it drives me fast across the grass, while I prepare to join them, taking care not to lose my wand from the folds of my dress.

I slow down the closer I get to the revelry, looking for some familiar faces. When I don't see any at first, I feel myself start to get smaller, and smaller, although I remain the same size. It is terrifying to be in such an excited crowd, to be moved around in so many directions, when I don't even know where I should start.

For a time, I just move with the crowd, hoping that they will bring me closer to the water. I'd like to see its beautiful surface again, with the sunlight dancing every which way, but just enough so that I don't have to see my reflection as the Blue Fairy. But slowly, just moving of the crowd's accord grows tiresome. I start to move away, to resume the search for someone that I may know.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Pinocchio appears right in front of me. I pull in a breath, but stumble backwards, so that Pinocchio has to catch me at my back. He pulls me back up gently, and I notice the way the sun makes him appear a silhouette in front of me.

"Gee, how many times do you think I'll have to save you?" he asks, moving his hands to my shoulders.

"You won't need to worry about me," I assure him. "I'm here to have a wonderful time, not go looking for trouble."

"I hope so," Pinocchio says with a laugh. He offers his hand. "You want to come with me?"

"Where are we going?" I wonder aloud.

"To the water. Everyone is going swimming!"

I feel my heart jump when Pinocchio mentions the water, but I'm taken aback when he mentions swimming. I hadn't thought about that, though I do remember how cold the water was when I stepped in it yesterday. Will it be warmer today, than it was before?

We reach the water faster than I expected. And it is scattered about by the splashing of little children, and the groups of young men and women jumping between the waves. The water splashes white and blue, making rainbows against the sun. A thousand droplets soar across the air, looking like a spray of fairy dust.

"How beautiful," I whisper, in a dreamy daze.

"Yes, I know," Pinocchio agrees. "And it's only ever this pretty on Ferragosto." He takes me by my arm again, his grip pulsing with excitement. "Come on, let's go in! Now watch your dress!"

"What?"

Before I can even ask what Pinocchio is going to do, he takes both my arms, and we dive towards the waves. I barely have time to close my eyes and take a breath, before a blast of cold water flashes across my face. It swallows me whole, turning my hair into waves of silk, and making my skin feel tight. I grope around to find solid ground, but there is water all around me. I cannot even tell where Pinocchio has gone, and my heart speeds up so that I can feel the pulse in my temples.

Finally, two hands grab me under my arms, and hoist me out of the water. I pull in a breath, trying to recover from my surprise.

"Serafina." Pinocchio's gentle voice breaks my thoughts, but my heart is still driving forth uncomfortably. "You okay?"

I look up, lifting my hand to push away my wet hair.

"I didn't scare you, did I?" Pinocchio asks.

"No, no," I lie, unsuccessfully keeping back a cough. A salty taste bombards my mouth, but I swallow it back. "I haven't swum…in a long time. But…the water…I should still like to be in it."

"Okay," says Pinocchio. Then, to my surprise, he lifts his hand, and brushes back the rest of my hair behind my ear. His fingertips rub against my ear, and I keep back a gasp at feeling his skin—I still find it hard to believe how Pinocchio has changed from the day I transformed him.

So I have to say it.

"You're such a gentleman, Pinocchio," I say. "Thank you."

"Sure," he says. "But I guess I shouldn't have just pulled you into the water. I'm sorry."

"No, no, don't be," I reply quickly. "I haven't been in the water for so long. And it's such beautiful water, too. Although—" I shiver a little "—the water can be a little chilling."

Pinocchio chuckles lightly. "Isn't it always the way?"

I shake my head, looking at Pinocchio, and then back at the clear water of the sea. It's rolling and sweeping from everyone swimming through the waves, and the sunlight bouncing on the surface makes it all the more breathtaking.

"Why don't we wade into the waves?" I suggest, gesturing back to the water.

Without a second's hesitation, Pinocchio holds out his palm. I reach to take it, though once more, I can't stop the jolting of my heart. A fairy's heart is tender, but this is becoming an exercise for mine.

The two of us step deeper into the water, until we are up to our waists. The further we go out, the faster Pinocchio steps through the water. He starts a hopping rhythm over the waves, which splash onto him as though he were a rock on the shore. The spray flings away from him, plopping onto my skin, catching me in my eye.

Pinocchio hears my little surprised cry, and turns to me.

"Don't be scared, Serafina," he says softly. "We're just beginning on the fun out here."

"What shall we do?" I want to know, both scared and excited.

"You'll see." Pinocchio finally stops wading in, and holds his arms to me. "Come here."

Slowly, I step into Pinocchio's arms, and he holds me, shifting his arms to get comfortable with my form. My arms are pressed up against his chest, as a shiver—left over from our last escapade into the water—takes me by surprise.

"Serafina, you're shivering," Pinocchio notes. His fingers clench my waist, forcing another shiver across my body. Without thinking about what I'm doing, I push deeper into Pinocchio's arms. I don't understand what is happening to me, but, somehow, I find that it isn't so terrible from where I am. Pinocchio's body is warm, the sun starting to dry him off. The warmth spreads onto me, strong enough that my fairy skin soaks it up like a flower. Is this really the same boy that I gave the gift of life to, and then made into a true human being?

"You okay now?"

Pinocchio's voice shatters my thoughts again, and I have to pause before I look up at him. In a matter of moments, the sun has dried his black hair so that it tumbles a little in the breeze, like midnight grass. The sun makes his face look a silhouette, the stray rays bringing more light into his bright blue eyes.

The eyes that once stared blankly at me as painted circles, before they were made real. I still can't find the strength to believe it. I have to know it.

I pry one of my hands from between our bodies, and touch his cheek with my fingers. The skin glows pink beneath them, and I smile. The sweet glow on his face isn't the same airbrushed rouge—it's for real.

Pinocchio smiles beneath my touch. He then opens his mouth to say something, and, as I then tense up to hear what he will tell me, he stops. The smile fades a little.

"Your…your hands are very soft," he says instead, and he reaches up his own hand to take mine. He holds it, and his warmth wafts onto me as though it were a real little flame. I forget that he even spoke to me, that I should thank him, but the sensation is too strong for me to think.

Pinocchio quickly looks over his shoulder at the revelry still taking place on the seashore. Some of the people have left the water, and are standing around the musicians playing their instruments on the sand. They are tapping their feet, and swaying their bodies merrily. And Pinocchio turns back to me, his eyes timidly meeting mine.

"Um…how about we go back to the beach?" he asks. "I think they'll ask everyone to dance soon."

"Oh," I say, shocked at seeing such a drawback from his happy emotion. I thought perhaps he would want to stay out here longer with me; I thought, maybe he would still want to swim. But there might still be a chance. "Do you suppose we can dance together?"

"Absolutely," Pinocchio says, before he leads me back from the water. I'm glad I have his consent to still spend time with him, but the shyness in his voice sounds like a warning to me.