“D-do you think you can get my papa to live?” she stammered, her eyes bright with unshed glitter as she looked up at me, hope in them for the first time.

“Do you think I should?” I asked, wondering if me messing with pixy culture was the right thing to do. It seemed every time I tried to change things for the better, I messed them up.

Jih’s tears slowed. “I don’t know,” she said wistfully. “I never thought about having just a mother or a father. They were always one thing.”

She looked up as both the sky and the light were eclipsed. “Excuse me,” she said, gathering up Pierce’s clothes and darting away. My hair flew everywhere from her backwind, and alarm filled me as my footing became unstable when Ivy carefully pressed the shirt down, exposing me to the world. Pierce hadn’t shifted yet, and he blinked at me in bemusement. I wondered if I looked like a woman from his time, making me feel even more awkward.

“Rachel?” Ivy’s voice boomed out, and I cowered, hands over my ears.

“Not so loud!” I shouted, and she drew back, uncertainty in her big, fat face. How she looked enormous and the sun and clouds looked the same was beyond me.

“I can’t hear her,” Ivy said to Ceri. “She just squeaks.”

“Well, I can hear you!” I shouted. Feeling exposed, I awkwardly climbed over my shirt to the ground. My feet were bare, and the earth was squishy. Sure, the dress made me feel like a princess, but it was a pain in the ass. I sure hoped there weren’t any rats round. I’d be doing the classic stupid-girl fall if I had to run.

“I couldn’t duplicate the pixy magic that amplifies voices,” Ceri said, and I jumped when Ivy put her face right next to mine.

“Wow, Rachel,” she whispered, sending her orange-juice-scented breath all over me. “You look like a Bite-Me-Betty doll in a prom dress.”

Slumping, I sighed. I couldn’t help but wonder if this feeling of being small was why Jenks was so bad tempered. I was never going to get in his face again. Damn it, I had to get in there. He was alone, grieving for his wife.

A series of clicks drew my attention up, and I blanched at the row of savage faces staring down at me from the top of the picnic table. Holy crap. And I thought they were scary when they were six inches tall. Now they were downright terrifying. Sidereal had his arms crossed, his expression unreadable as a bandaged woman stood on tiptoe and spoke in his ear, her white hair all glittery and her legs showing. She dropped back down to her heels, touching her hair as she looked at mine, making me self-conscious about my red hair color.