It's a Love Thing Read Free Page A

very much.
    “ Don’t. Call. Me. Tinker
Bell!” she spit out. She tried to zap me again, only this time I
was ready for her. I ducked behind the sofa. I felt it move a
couple of inches as the sparks hit it. That one would have really
hurt.
    “ Fine. Stop zapping me.” I
was exhausted and needed to fall into a deep sleep. I’d promise the
figment anything if it meant sleep.
    “ Up to bed, now. We have a
big day ahead of us. Move!” she ordered.
    So done with this dream, I marched up
the stairs as she floated behind me. I watched her nervously over
my shoulder in case she decided to point the wand at me again. When
I got to my room, she smiled.
    “ Now, wasn’t that easy?”
she asked sweetly.
    “ Yeah.” Whatever,
pint-sized witch! I went inside and shut the door before my
imaginary friend could follow. No more Spongy Crèmes and soda for
lunch, I promised myself before falling into a—thankfully—dreamless
sleep.
    *****
    “ Pete. Pete. Peter!”
Someone shook me and I bolted up straight in my bed. I looked
around half expecting to see the miniature hot demon. Instead I saw
my mother.
    “ Sorry, son. I want to
remind you to take a bath and clean this room while I'm at work,
it's disgusting.” I nodded at her request before dropping onto the
pillow. “I mean it, Pete. And no video games today. I want you to
finish the book you started last night.” She set the book onto the
side table next to my bed. “You left it downstairs on the floor,
young man. Is that any way to treat a library book?”
    “ No, mom,” I muttered from
under the pillow.
    “ Peter! Do not go back to
sleep. If you don’t do what I said, you’ll be grounded from video
games for a week, do you understand?”
    “ Yes, mom.” I pulled the
pillow off my head and sat up. She stepped back and plugged her
nose.
    “ Shower, now!” And with
that rude demand, she turned and left.
    I glared at the clock. "Seven a.m. I’m
so going back to bed. This is my summer vacation, for crying out
loud," I mumbled before dropping back onto the bed. I began snoring
almost immediately.
    “ Da da dada da, da da dada
da.”
    What the . . .? I swore I
could hear a bugle, and it sounded as if it were playing . . .
Reveille? I peered out from under my pillow and there it hovered. The six-inch
demon girl, her wand at her lips as if she were blowing on a bugle,
with sparks flying out the other end. Oh no! I was in hell. Who
knew the devil was a girl?
    “ It’s just a dream. It’s
just a dream,” I repeated, snagging the pillow over my ears,
frantic to drown out the make-believe sound.
    No, not a dream, a nightmare! A
full-blown nightmare. The bugle’s notes crashed on my eardrums,
causing me to jerk with each note.
    “ Peter Pancerella, time to
rise and shine. I let you sleep in.”
    I peeked out at the clock. "I hardly
call eight-ten sleeping in," I said to her, and she
smiled.
    “ Don’t make me regret my
kindness.” Thankfully, she stopped the horrible bugle sounds and
now chirped away as she flew around the room.
    “ My, my. Cleaning is not
your strong suit. What’s that horrible smell?” she asked, plugging
her dainty nose.
    This cannot be happening. Six-inch
people didn't exist, especially six-inch people with wings. I was
dreaming again. That had to be it. I pulled the pillow back over my
head and began reciting the Lord’s Prayer–just in case I was going
crazy.
    The room fell silent. “Thank you,
God.” Only when I removed the pillow, she was still there with her
arms folded.
    “ Are you done with your
morning prayers?” she asked politely. I rubbed my eyes. “If not, I
can wait,” she assured.
    “ You can’t be real.
Six-inch, flying people do not exist,” I sputtered out.
    “ Five-and-a-half inches.
I’m a little small for my age,” she replied. I think she actually
blushed, but it was hard to tell on a face so tiny.
    I jumped and began pacing around like
a crazy man. Why not, since I was crazy!
    “ Relax, Peter. You’re