Free Who Needs Magic? by Kathy McCullough Page A

that I saw, but who knows?”
    “I’m sure you misunderstood, honey.”
    “You’re as bad as she is! Everybody’s calling me a liar.”
    “I’m not saying that, Delaney, but it seems strange that in my whole life, I’ve never met another one, and my mother never met another, and as far as I know, my grandmother never did either.”
    “As far as you know? That’s not very far. You never have an answer when I ask you things like why can’t wedo wishes for ourselves or why we only have one client at a time.”
    “That’s just the way it is.” Dad reaches up to help me, but I yank the lights out of his reach.
    “That’s not a real answer. And it makes it difficult to argue back when somebody like Ariella says you’re not a real f.g.” I climb off the ladder.
    “That’s ridiculous.”
    I march past him and pick up the last string of lights. “What’s ridiculous is a fairy god
father
. And an f.g. who hates pink and hates people.”
    “You don’t hate people.”
    “I may not hate all of the people all of the time, but I hate all of them some of the time, and I hate some of them all of the time.” I plug the new string into the last one and then zigzag the lights down along the little looping wire fence bordering the lavender.
    “That’s definitely a new spin on the quote. But no matter what this Ariella says, the fact is, you
are
a fairy godmother.”
    “A fact is provable, and you can’t prove it. In
fact
, it would be easier to prove it wasn’t true. I need an extension cord.”
    Dad disappears into the shed and emerges with a nest of tangled green cable. But instead of handing it to me, he holds on to it, as if he’s absorbing some silent message it’s giving him. Finally he’s come up with somethingsupportive to say that will crash a hole through Ariella’s logic and crush my doubts. “Maybe she’s right.”
    “What?”
    Dad carries the cord over to me. “We already know the genetic makeup in our family has mutated over time. The ability isn’t supposed to pass from a mother to a son, or from a father to a daughter. So maybe it’s morphed into something else. A lesser version.”
    I grab the cord out of his hand and yank the tangles apart. “I am not a mutant
or
a morph. And I am
not
‘lesser.’ ”
    “That was the wrong word. I don’t mean lesser in the sense of inferior.”
    “Really? Because if I looked ‘lesser’ up in the dictionary, I’m pretty sure that would be the definition.” The cord practically unwinds by itself, like it’s afraid of me, which it should be, because I am
pissed
.
    “Your powers may not be as strong in some areas, but you’ll make up for it in other ways.”
    “What ways?” I slam the plug end of the light at the socket end of the extension cord, but it won’t go in. When Dad tries to take it out of my hands, I spin away from him.
    “Well … we’ll have to see.”
    I give up on the stupid lights and throw both cords onto the grass. “I’ve already had my identity messed with enough in one year. I really don’t need this existential torture.” I put my hands on my hips and face Dad. “I
am
an f.g.” I’m vaguely aware that I’ve assumed a superhero pose. I can see why they stand this way. It gives you confidence.
    Dad picks up the cords and attaches them. “What we should do is get together as a group.”
    “Why? So you can gang up on me?”
    “No. Because you’re right when you say I don’t have all the answers. I was so resentful of inheriting the ability myself, I barely asked my mom anything. By the time I was curious, it was too late.” He carries the plug end of the extension cord over to the outdoor outlet. “Wouldn’t it be great to meet and trade information?”
    I picture sitting across from Ariella and her mother and her grandmother at a big conference table, like in the movies when lawyers meet. The three supreme f.g.s smile their snide superior smiles at me while Dad types away on his laptop, taking down their