The Wrong Spell

"I've told you a million times that that guy is a quack! Why did you go see him?"

She stared at her feet. Or at least where both her feet should be. "I wanted a good focusing spell. It's finals week! He said he knew a really good one, and, well, Cindy said--"

I threw up my hands. "Oh for the love of-- You seriously believed Cindy? Your ex-girlfriend who told you that you could mix fairy dust in your lattes to help you sleep, but instead you ended up strung out for a week?"

"She said it worked for her!"

"Cindy says a lot of things. Come on, you know you shouldn't believe that granola witch stuff on MagiBox! Most of them are fake and none of those spells are good for you! And this guy is one of the worst!"

"I know! I'm sorry! But what do I do now?" she asked me, pointing to her body that was now half invisible.

I sighed and grabbed her visible arm, heading for the magic carpet taxis. "Now, we take you to the temple to see a real Healer. Hopefully, they can figure out what that two-bit madman did to you!"

"Ok," she said, contrite.

"What am I going to do with you, Mabel?" I said. "Honestly!"

"I said I was sorry," she repeated, lip trembling now.

I sighed. "I know. It's ok, Mabel. I'm not completely mad at you. I'm mostly mad at the bastard for taking your money and leaving you in the lurch." I patted her hand as we got on the taxi. "It'll be ok."

"Ok, Dad," she said. "It is kind neat to be partially invisible, though."

I sighed and told the carpet driver where to go. This girl is going to be the dread of the Mages Guild some day! I thought.