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    © Tera Lynn Childs

    The Twelve Days of Stella
    3
    “Stella?” Phoebe shouted.
    “Right,” she said, pulling herself out of the candy-induced reverie. With one wave of
    her hand, the downpour ceased, leaving them standing in three inches of Skittles.
    ***
    Stella stirred up the blueberries from the bottom of her
    yogurt while watching Phoebe shovel the Skittles into
    garbage bags by the bowlful. Maybe she should give
    Phoebe a hand, but she was having too much fun
    watching her stepsister labor over the results of her
    misfired powers.
    “I don’t see why you won’t just zap them all away,”
    Phoebe complained. “I know you can.”
    “Of course I can,” Stella replied between spoonfuls of blueberry yogurt. “But you would
    hardly learn your lesson if I make your problems disappear. You’re just lucky Daddy’s
    not here to see the mess.”
    She smiled with satisfaction at the look of horror on Phoebe’s face, even if it wasn’t
    really justified. Although Daddy could be a bit of a stern disciplinarian, he had a soft
    spot for Phoebe that made Stella’s ears itch. He never let her get away with half the stuff
    Phoebe did. If Stella had been the one who visiomutated all the water in the house into
    glitter, she would still be grounded. Just like they were still finding glitter in the
    bathroom.
    Hrmph. Stella would let Phoebe struggle a little longer with the manual Skittles removal
    before reversing the results of her misfire.
    “Hey, what’s this?” Phoebe asked from where she was digging rainbow candy from
    beneath the sofa. “They feel like paintings.”
    Stella froze.
    She had forgotten about the paintings she’d hidden away so she wouldn’t have to face
    the reminders of bittersweet memories. Paintings she hadn’t laid eyes on in years. And
    now Phoebe was pulling them out into the light.
    “Wow,” Phoebe said as she set the paintings onto the sofa and studied them. “They’re
    beautiful. Who painted them?”
    Stella set her half-eaten yogurt on the kitchen counter and went to stand next to Phoebe.
    There were four canvases. The first three were goddess portraits, commissioned by
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    © Tera Lynn Childs

    The Twelve Days of Stella
    4
    Hera, Athena, and Artemis. The fourth was a portrait of a hematheos woman with looseflowing blonde hair, soft gray eyes, and a joyful smile.
    “My mom painted those,” Stella answered, pointing at the goddess portraits. Then,
    facing the painting she could never bring herself to destroy, she said, “And I painted
    that one.”
    “Stella ...”
    Phoebe’s voice had taken on such a strange tone of awe and surprise that Stella couldn’t
    help turning to meet her steady brown gaze.
    “That’s amazing.” Phoebe shook her head, like she couldn’t quite fathom the situation.
    “I didn’t know you painted.”
    Stella looked back at the portrait she’d done, the portrait of her mother.
    “I don’t.”
    ***
    As Stella flicked her hand at the room, sending the sea of
    Skittles back into oblivion—except for the jarful she
    zapped onto her desk ... for later—she wished she’d just
    cleaned up the mess in the first place. Then she wouldn’t
    be facing Phoebe’s questioning look about the paintings.
    But it wasn’t like she had to stay and answer those
    questions.
    “I’m going out for a while,” Stella said as she snatched the portraits off the sofa and
    headed for her room. “Try not to bring any more plagues to the house before I get
    back.”
    She could practically hear Phoebe’s teeth grinding behind her. That almost made up for
    her discovering the paintings.
    Stella quickly slid the canvases under her bed. They should be safe from Phoebe’s
    curiosity—and her powers—until Stella could decide what she wanted to do with them.
    Now that they’d come out of hiding she couldn’t just put them back and forget.
    When she heard Phoebe’s door slam—not an unusual occurrence—Stella stepped