Over the Faery Hill - Jennifer L. Hart Page 0,48

right down on the tip of my tongue when another voice called out, “I just got out of the shower!”

It was my voice. My much younger voice. And judging from the footsteps heading this way, my echo self was about to walk right in and catch me sniffing her leotards like a total freaking creeper. Hastily, I dropped the clothing and darted for the closet an instant before the door was pushed inward.

My younger self appeared wearing a blue bathrobe, her hair swathed in a towel. With the kind of absent gesture one makes when truly alone, she slid out of the robe, hung it on the hook on the back of the door, and bent to snag a clean pair of underwear out of the heap of them spilling from a crooked drawer. She moved easily with a fluid grace I had all but forgotten. A few bruises were normal from practice, but no signs of the bandages and carnage post-accident.

My first thought—I opined later—should have been it worked! Or maybe I can’t believe it!

My actual first thought was Alina was right, I did get fat.

Because I had forgotten what it felt like to look like that. Lithe and strong and flexible. The muscles in my thighs and calves pronounced, my core strong and tighter than any drum. Once upon a time, I had been able to count on my body. It did what I commanded it to do. The supple muscle would move and respond the way it had been trained, never failing me when I was carrying dinner to the table or a stack of plates to the dishwasher. In that body, I could—and had—moved for hours nonstop, pain-free.

“Girl, you don’t even know how good you’ve got it,” I muttered

“Huh?” My PYT self slid a tank top over her perfect breasts and then turned to face the closet. One dark eyebrow rose. “Is someone there?”

Oh shit. Frigging fabulous, Joey. I knew myself well. Any minute she would yank the closet door open and shriek because a middle-aged woman in plaid pajamas had appeared in her bedroom.

Totally what I would have done.

Sucking in a deep lungful of air I closed my eyes and prayed for inspiration then marched out of the closet.

Well, fell is more accurate a description as, unbeknownst to me, my foot got tangled in the shoulder strap of my gym bag. Down I went like a ton of bricks. Instinct took over and my hands went out to brace myself before I face-planted on the hardwood. My bad wrist sang in protest but at least I didn’t break my nose again.

“Who the hell are you?”

I looked up to see young Joey, hands on barely-there hips and a scowl on her face.

“Um…hi, Joey.” The wretched strap had me good. My fingers dug and twisted to untangle the stupid piece of nylon, but it was like I’d been seized by a python that smelled of gym funk. The other me bent down and tugged on one end, helping free me from captivity. Finally, I shook it loose and then scrambled to my feet.

She resumed her stance, only her arms moved to cross over her chest. “How do you know my name? And why were you in my closet?”

My wrist was killing me from where I’d caught myself and the pain had blotted out the implausible story, I’d concocted about being a long lost relative on my father’s side, which would explain how I knew certain things about her. But no relative would have been blundering about in her closet and wrestling with her gym bag. Stupid Robin Goodfellow and his stupid faery antics….

A lightbulb went on and I met her—my—eyes. “I’m your faery godmother.”

Young Joey blinked. “Say what now?”

“Your faery godmother. Like in Cinderella? You know, be home by midnight before your ride turns into a pumpkin and all that.”

She appeared skeptical. “Where’s your magic wand?”

My hands were obviously empty. “I don’t have a—”

A magic wand with a glittering silver star on top appeared in my hand.

“Awesome,” my younger self’s eyes were huge as she stared at the object. “So, like, are you here to help Bill Tucker fall in love with me or something?”

Bill Tucker was the guy who was destined to get in an accident that evening. “Oh no, this isn’t about Bill. I’m here to help you with your gymnastics.”

Her eyebrows pulled together. “Oh, I’ve got that covered. What I really need is a way to get Bill’s attention.”

“Trust me, you already have it,”

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