The worst part was, Carrie had done this to herself. Well, most of it. After giving her all for the theater department, her blood, sweat, and tears, for four years, she deserved the lead actor. Pinocchio wasn’t a prestigious role, but it should have been hers. Instead, it went to dweeby, short, Terry. He’d only been with the school for a year and a half!

Fortunately, Carrie knew magic.

After the cast list came out, she prepared the mother of all fortune changing spells. One mystical incantation later, she would be Pinocchio and Terry would be…who cares? In her attic, she channeled the fates, invoked the spirits, and unleashed her power. And she became Pinocchio. Not just in the play, but for real!

She stood in her attic, staring at her wooden limbs that clicked and clacked as she moved, and her nose would grow when she lied. Fortunately, it shrank again when she told the truth. Her brother thought it was hilarious, her parents thought it was embarrassing, and her teachers were annoyed. But Mrs. Clark thought it was brilliant.

“In our play, our Pinocchio will be played by a real puppet!”

Carrie was mortified, but at least she got the part.

“Grace and Terry, change of plans. You’ll be Carrie’s puppeteers.”

“Wait, but I can move on my own! I can talk!” She tried to say as the students began to gently hook strings onto her. With each string, her ability to move that limb went away, until she couldn’t move at all.

They kept her in the theater room for practice until the show, and Mrs. Clark decided Carrie wasn’t even going to speak her lines; Terry would.

As the curtains came up, Carrie sat there, unable to move, unable to speak, hopeful for her own Blue Fairy to turn her back into a real girl when this play was over.