Free Who Needs Magic? by Kathy McCullough

tiny folded-out piece of paper. “What are you reading?” I ask.
    I don’t feel like talking, but mindless conversation should, by definition, clear my mind, which has already started replaying my conversation with Ariella. Once again I try to mentally fix the past, coming up with great arguments—which she immediately shoots down.
    Even in my imagination, I lose.
    “It’s the instructions to the lights we bought for out back. I thought I’d put the lights up tonight, since I was home early.”
    “What instructions? Don’t you just plug them in?”
    Dad drops the paper on an end table and stands. “Since you’re the expert here, why don’t you help me put them up?”
    “It’s dark out, in case you haven’t noticed.”
    “Isn’t that the best time to hang them? So we can see what they look like up? We’re not going to have them on during the day.”
    It’s a good point. And Ariella’s going to keep creeping into my brain if I try to read or watch TV, so although it seems insane, the only way to
maintain
my sanity is to agree.
    “Don’t forget to bring the instructions for walking down the hall,” I say. “And the ones for opening the door. And the ones for—”
    Dad takes my arm and guides me out of the room. “You’re not always as hilarious as you think you are, Delaney.”
    But obviously I am, because he’s smiling when he says it.

    Dad carries the stepladder out from the shed as I lift the rest of the lights out of their boxes and set them down on the new patio table. The yard is eighty times better than when I arrived, when it was nothing but weeds and dust. There’s lavender along the brick wall that separates our yard from the one next door, and red bougainvillea spidering up the side of the garage. It still needs work, but thelights, which were my idea like everything else that’s been added, will help a lot.
    “We should start behind the gardenia bush and then string them along the top of the back—”
    “Um, excuse me,” I say. “Which one of us is the one with taste?”
    Dad sets the ladder down on the grass. “I don’t think this requires a fancy design, Delaney. You’re the one who commented that you only need to plug them in.”
    “Do you want it to look pretty or boring? I’ll let you decide.”
    Dad sighs and gestures at me to take over, which I do, directing him to drape the strings in a series of spirals and waves around the trees and along the walls. This was a good idea. The air is floral and sharp and full of mind-cleansing, confidence-juicing oxygen.
    “So did you have fun with your friend, Delaney?”
    “She’s
not
my friend.”
    “You said you knew her from the mall.”
    “I said I
met
her at the mall. And I should’ve followed my instincts and never talked to her again. Then I wouldn’t have had to spend all night having her tell me
I’m
the freak.”
    Dad repositions the stepladder along the wall. “She told you you’re a freak? Why?”
    I hand him another string of lights. “Because I’ve only had one client, my magic is lame and I don’t sparkle.”
    Dad stops halfway up the ladder and turns to me. “You told her you’re a fairy godmother?”
    “She’s one too. The supercharged version. Eighty-two wishes granted and she’s not even fifteen yet. She got her first client when she was
nine
!”
    Dad steps down to the grass. “That’s not possible, Delaney.”
    I grab the lights from Dad and climb up the ladder. “That’s what I thought. Until today.” It was a
horrible
idea to come out here. My brain was almost Ariella-free and now she’s stomped her way right back in. I concentrate on stringing the lights, but my mental picture of Ariella won’t go away. “You should see her. She fits the part perfectly, with all her glitter and blondness. She’s practically sprouting wings.”
    “Maybe she came from a costume party.”
    “I didn’t say she actually
had
wings.” I pause mid-string and think about this for a second. “At least not