Need by Carrie Jones

such a jerk. I was staring, wasn’t I? God, that’s awful. I’m awful.” I can feel my face go all red as Devyn plops himself into the wheelchair.
    “I’ll forgive you this time.” He smiles. He unlocks some gadget thing on the side and starts wheeling toward the front door.
    “Devyn may eventually walk again,” lssie brags, opening the big red door. “He’s got the doctors all astonished. He wasn’t ever supposed to stand after the accident. He’s a good healer.”
    Devyn gets this pained, embarrassed look so I don’t ask about the accident. He changes the subject. “lssie’s parents work late.”
    “At the bank,” lssie explains. She flops on the couch, pats the cushion next to her, then lunges back up. “Oh. I should offer you something to eat. Are you guys hungry?”
    “I’m good,” I say, taking in the room, the coziness of it. It’s almost like a timber frame house, I would guess.
    “Starving,” Devyn says.
    Issie bounds into the kitchen and conies back with a tub of Breyers ice cream. She plops it on Devyn’s lap and gives him a spoon. “You are always hungry.”
    He flips off the top and digs in. “Too true.”
    We watch him eat. Issie falls back on the couch, but she’s so hyper she starts twitching her foot. The silence is big.
    “So…,” I say. “You guys were going to tell me about the man outside the cafeteria. Have you ever seen him before?”
    Devyn swallows. “I’m not sure. He creeped me out, which is not manly, I know.”
    “You are totally manly,” Is announces in a way that makes both Devyn and me blush. She stops twitching. “Devyn looked up some stuff. You are probably going to have a hard time believing this.”
    I wait. “Uh-huh…”
    “You want to tell her?” Issie asks.
    Devyn sticks the spoon in the ice cream carton. It stands up straight. He toughs out the words, “We think he’s a pixie.”
    I wait more.
    Issie rushes in. “Okay. I know it sounds weird, but hear us out, okay?”
    I wonder for a second if everyone in Bedford, Maine, is insane or just Devyn and Issie, and possibly me. I decide to play along. “Okay.”
    “Okay,” Issie continues. “Okay… um…”
    “You said you saw him at the airport in Charleston,” Devyn starts.
    “On the runway.” I pull my legs up under me and settle into the couch. “And then I saw him here.”
    I shudder, remembering.
    “That’s so weird,” Issie says, tapping her fingers against her leg.
    “I know it’s weird.” I nod. I take a pillow from the couch. It’s dark green and has felt leaves on it. I hug it. “I thought I was imagining it. But you guys saw him today, right?”
    They nod.
    I ask the question. “You think he’s a pixie?”
    They nod again.
    The spoon falls over in the ice cream.
    “Aren’t pixies little winged things that dance around flower gardens?” I ask.
    “Not exactly.” Devyn grabs the spoon like it’ll steady him somehow.
    “Why do you think he’s a pixie?” I finally say, trying to take it all in.
    “He gets from place to place really fast and he leaves gold dust where he walks,” Issie says. “Totally pixie ruler behavior. At least, um, according to the Web site Devyn found.”
    “Gold dust? Like Tinker Bell?” I stand up. It’s too much. “Is this a joke? Some initiation prank, like let’s torment the new girl?”
    “We would [_never _]do that to you. That would be so mean.” Issie frowns, all crushed.
    Devyn’s voice raises an octave. “I told you not to tell her the dust part. It sounds stupid.”
    “I know it sounds stupid.” Issie stands up with me. “But it’s true.”
    “Right. It’s true,” I say. I jingle my car keys, itching to leave, but still wanting to hear this for some stupid reason.
    Issie’s practically pleading. “But the Web site said so.”
    “Well, we’re not sure it’s true, Is. It’s a working theory,” Devyn says. His eyes look pained. “I know it seems ridiculous, Zara. I mean, I think it’s kind of ridiculous,