Prologue: Magic

I sneezed, coughed, and quickly pulled another tissue from the box. I blew into it and sighed, then tossed it into the miniature basketball hoop I’d put over my trash can, and lay back down.

      I wondered if this cold would ever end. I’d been fine until I was eight, and then, out of nowhere (it wasn’t even flu season) I’d suddenly got this strange illness that wouldn’t leave me no matter what.

      My stepmom said it was purely genetic, that I would understand when I was older, and to just ride it out. Easy for her.

      At least we could afford the medicine. Every week Marie (my stepmom) would go to the pharmacy and buy a new stock of cough drops, which seemed to run out almost as soon as she brought them home.

      She’d eventually taken me out of school, which had seemed odd to me at the time, when I’d first gotten the “cold,” but she said that the teachers would understand and I could do school online. At least she gave me her old laptop.

      I sighed again and quickly typed: Cadillac CSV in the search box. I got over a million hits, and browsed through until I found a picture of the car.

      Finally. I found the image on page two, and pressed the button that said: click to enhance image, and found myself staring in awe at the beautiful, blood-red car.

      Of course I knew I’d never get one. I was twelve now, and with the way things were going, what with my “cold” and all, plus the fact that my stepmom couldn’t afford anything that extravagant anyway, all I could do was dream.

      Yep. A twelve year old girl dreaming about owning a first-class sports car. It may sound ridiculous to most people, but when you’re stuck in bed all day, and the only company you have is Charlie Sheen on Two and a Half Men, a dream like that seems like a fantasy worthy of the gods.

      Suddenly feeling irritated, I powered the laptop down and got out of bed. I wobbled pathetically over to the mirror and gave myself a much needed once-over.

      Without even looking, I grabbed the hairbrush on top of my dresser. I kept my eyes closed as I brushed carefully, making sure to get out all of the knots and tangles. I didn’t look until I was totally finished, and when I did, I moaned.

      Looking back at me from inside the mirror was an extremely pale face with pasty white skin and sallow cheeks. My near-black eyes did nothing to compliment that, and neither did my orangey-red hair. I sighed twice, savoring the pity, then pulled a pair of jeans and a shirt from the top drawer of the dresser, got dressed, and slid back into bed.

A few hours later, I was woken up to the sound of my air conditioner turning on. I sat up and groggily turned the volume down on my computer as I pulled out my headphones. Wishing I could be in the show rather than here, I powered down again and fell back to sleep.

When I woke the third time, it was night. The darkness shone through the blinds that always covered my windows, and I pictured the stars, glittering and shining, in a dark navy sky.
      I was about to fall back to sleep again when I spotted the time on my alarm clock: 8:14pm. Only twenty-four more hours until my birthday!
      As I lay back down, a sharp, searing pain suddenly swept through my head. I ground my teeth as I jerked up, trying not to scream, pressing my fingers to my pounding temples as I tried to stimulate some degree of comfort.

      The pain made me dizzy, and my vision gradually became ever so blurry, no matter how many times I blinked and rubbed my eyes. I whimpered softly as the pain from my forehead moved on to the backs of my eyes, and I shut them tight, willing with all my might for the terrible pain to go away.

      Suddenly, another sharp pang of pain shot through my neck. I screamed this time, as the sharp tingling buzzed through every vein and pore known to man. The pain didn’t stop, either, and gradually my screaming turned to hyperventilation as the soreness and sharpness traveled down my neck, into my shoulders, down my arms, and eventually through my chest and stomach, down my legs, and into my feet, until the searing pain covered every part of me.

      My stepmom rushed in then, banging the door open to announce her arrival. When I opened my eyes, I saw she was carrying a large bottle of some purple stuff that looked like my usual cough medicine. I was about to tell her that wasn’t the problem, when yet another sharp pang hit me and I screamed again.

      Marie bent down then, somehow appearing oblivious to the fact that I was screaming and writhing in pain, and twisted the cap off the medicine bottle.

      “Close your eyes,” she instructed. Her tone was surprisingly serious, yet also empathetic. I obeyed at once, still struggling not to scream, and to ignore the supercharged adrenaline that was surging through my body.

      My whole body twitched rapidly as I kept up my best effort to hold still. Marie then rubbed her medicine-covered fingers over my eyelids, and they twitched automatically at her touch.

      “Keep still,” she whispered gently, as if she understood what was going on inside me. I obeyed as best I could, and feeling the surprisingly cool, thick, gummy medicine thinning out and running down over my eyes.

      Marie applied more of the gooey, gummy medicine in streaks across my forehead. She then pulled the covers back, lifted up my shirt, and spread some over my non-existent stomach, and then some more on the bottoms of my feet.

      Gradually, my breathing calmed down. The tingling pain became just small vibrations in my skin, and I could feel my heart thumping wildly against my chest.

      “How do you feel?” Marie asked, a look of genuine concern on her face.

      Without opening my eyes, I took a deep, long breath, let it out, and said, “Fine, now. Thanks.”

      There was a short pause, in which I opened my eyes just a teeny bit, and saw that she was smiling with what I assumed to be relief.

      “I’m glad,” she said.

      I nodded and closed my eyes again as I lay back down on the pillow.



I woke up at around twelve am. I sat up and rubbed my eyelids, surprised to discover that the strange medicine had vanished.

      I ran my right hand cautiously over my forehead, but felt nothing but cold, slightly damp skin. No icky-feeling, gooey medicine their either. I pushed the covers back and checked my feet, then lifted up my shirt and checked my stomach-nothing.

      A sudden shiver ran through my body, making my teeth chatter slightly. I was surprised then, to see that a thin sheen of sweat covered my skin, even though I felt icy cold. I sighed. Probably another fever.

      Though it was really dark, I got up, feeling strangely lightheaded, and ran my hand along the wall until I found the light switch.

      After a very short search, my fingers touched the cool plastic, and I found the little switch and flipped it up, wincing as the sudden light stung my eyes.

      The second the light hit my skin, I started screaming. The heat burned like fire, and my veins were carrying icy cold blood that had a terrible contrast with the heat on the surface.

      My stepmom came in again, again holding the bottle of medicine. “Where do you hurt?” she asked as she frantically started twisting off the cap.

      “Everywhere!” I said desperately. “It’s like fire!”

      Just as Marie was dipping her fingers into the bottle, the searing heat suddenly disappeared. I just stood there, shocked, as the last remnants of heat slowly ebbed away, replaced by a light, bubbly feeling lightly simmering just below the surface of my skin.

      I must’ve had a strange expression on my face, because Marie asked, “Are you all right?”

      I nodded slowly, wondering if I really was all right.

      Then, suddenly out of nowhere the bubbly feeling stopped. My skin turned from totally white to a shimmering golden pattern in about two seconds flat. I sucked in a breath, surprised, as the bubbling feeling started again, stronger now, as my skin began to tingle furiously.

      Right before our eyes, bubbles rose out of my skin and up into the air. The tingly feeling continued as more and more bubbles formed, as if being blown by a little kid, and kept going on and on until my skin started turning light again, until it wasn’t totally pale, but still had a light, creamy golden hue.

      My stepmom gasped.

      I turned to look at her. She was staring in awe at my arms.

      “You’re ready,” she said.