I padded my tutu, more for show than actually searching, but came up with nothing. I remembered the wand in my hand when I was shrunk, but lost track of it afterward. I didn’t remember it being in the jar with me.

“I don’t have it.” I said. Wellowyn tsked at me as she put her hands on her hips.

“Now, Brianne, you can’t very well use magic without your wand.”

There was something of a real, honest scolding in her voice, a tone that reminded me of my mom. And I had that same reaction to her that I had my mom: I sighed and rolled my eyes.

“It’s not like I know how to use magic, anyway.”

“I could teach you,” Wellowyn said, a shark’s grin on her face.

“For a price.” I said.

“Of course for a price. But it will be a fair price for you, dear sprite.”

“Uh huh,” I said. But Wellowyn never stopped smiling.

“In any case, dear, I think it time you get down from there and get to work.” She brought her hand, palm up, to be level with the mantle I stood on. I looked at it cautiously, but didn’t move. For one, crazy second I thought about jumping down again. Despite being something like a billion feet in the air, the fall was survivable.

I turned back to her hand, which Wellowyn held perfectly still in front of me. All I needed to do was take two steps and I would be standing on it. But the image gnawed in my mind. The jar was one thing; in a way, it was safe. Standing on a palm larger than myself put my tiny life in Wellowyn’s hand. And then I had a thought.

“I’m like, your guest, aren’t I? A guest in your house.”

Wellowyn nodded, her eyes sparkling. She said nothing.

“And, it’s considered a mark of shame to harm a guest in your house, or even to allow harm to come to them.” Then, I walked forward and onto the fae woman’s hand, feeling nervous and embarrassed, but safe.

“You see, you are a real fairy.” Wellowyn said. I blanched, but kept still as she began to move, and her hand was remarkably steady. I thought she would take me to wherever she wanted me to work. But she didn't.. Rather, she moved into an open space in her living room and kneeled to bring me to ground level. I hopped off a few inches from the blue rug (which, for me, felt like jumping from a 3rd story balcony. Yet I landed easily.

I didn’t expect what came next, as Wellowyn spoke as my back was still turned. I could hear it calling, though, from high above, imperious and forceful as chains. “Sprite Brianne, fairy of the house of antiques, it is time for you to grow up.”

Something powerful, electric and full of tickling energy washed over me. I gasped. I didn’t understand what the words Wellowyn had said meant, or what the strange power was, or why I suddenly could see into her eyes while my shoes still stood on carpeted ground. I looked at myself, at the living room, and Wellowyn herself. I had gotten so used to seeing only one part of her at a time that I had forgotten how beautiful she was all together. Moreover, I had gotten so used to thinking of Wellowyn as a living, moving statue, that it confused me to be her size. As if I had suddenly found myself face to face with the Statue of Liberty. I didn’t feel normal. I felt gigantic.

“How . . .how did you do that?”

“Magic,” Wellowyn said, “of course. And I can show you how.”

I bit my lip. I desperately wanted to know how to make myself this size again. I needed to know, if I was to have any hope of reclaiming my real life. But that’s what she wanted me to say. And that would put me into her debt. “I . . . appreciate the offer, Wellowyn,” I said finally, putting on my most gracious voice, “but I think I’ll decline for now.”

“A pity.” She sighed. “Then, let us get you to work. I’m sure there is a sink full of dirty dishes for you to clean.”

“And I spent the rest of the night doing the weirding woman’s chores. But at least I was big!” I said with a smile.

“Did you try to escape?” Chris asked. It was practically the first time he had said anything since I started. In fact, he had been very static, sitting in his chair, listening to me. I wanted him to talk, and ask questions, to give me some sign he cared. But he made no committal noises that I took slightly for small judgements. Until now.

“Um, what?” I asked.

“This weirding woman made you big again, so did you try to escape?” I had told Chris nearly everything, except, mainly, for Wellowyn’s name. It . . . wasn’t a good idea for mortal’s to know a fae’s name. And I really didn’t want anything to happen to Chris because of me.

I furrowed my brow, “I would have insulted her and been a poor guest if I tried to run.” I said. For me, that’s truly where it ended. But not for Chris. He jumped out of his chair, taking me aback.

“Screw being a good guest! This crazy fairy --”

“Fae,” I corrected.

“Whatever. This crazy bitch cursed you to be like this, and then gets you to do her chores? And you let her?”

“I made a deal with her,” I said, honestly confused by Chris’ reaction. I had to put myself back in my old mindset, back into what I was feeling last year, before I could really understand him. It was strangely hard to do. Had I ever thought of breaking a deal so easily before?

“Screw deals!”

I got up and went to Chris, who paced through the living room. He had been so still, so non emotional, it was hard to gasp all this anger, especially for something I didn’t feel angry about.

“Listen, Chris, I know it’s hard to understand. It was hard for me to understand. But things like deals, and hospitality, they’re different for fairies. They’re different for me.” He looked at me blankly, and I searched for some way to explain. “It’s like . . .”

“You’re not a fairy.” He said, his voice suddenly firm.

I took a step back and made a gesture to my body, from glittery tiara to fruffy tutu, “I've got pointy ears and wings that say otherwise.”

"Brian, listen to me," Chris said, grabbing me by the shoulders. I sucked in my breath as he used my human name. It wouldn't have bothered me an hour ago if he had called me that, but it did now. "You are not a fairy. This is weirding woman put some fucked up curse on you."

I started to speak, to deny what he was saying. I had to convince him that the girl in front of him was me, and what I wanted to be. But he kept talking, a hardness in his voice that stopped me silent.

"And I'm going to break that curse."