“What the hell was that?!” Lars cursed.

“Skills,” Sophie retorted as she leaned in, bringing her face closer to the television screen.

“That was bullcrap and you know it!” Lars sneered. Admittedly, Sophie realized she was being cockier than she could back up as she trapped Lars’ character in a corner of the game stage and proceeded to hit him with punch after punch from her character. Lars mashed his buttons, prompting his character to jump over Sophie’s.

“No!” she cried.

“Oh, yes!” Lars responded. He began to pummel away at her character in turn, bringing her health points dangerously low. Knowing she was only seconds away from losing the match, an idea occurred to her. With a combination of button presses just as her character hit the lowest health point position possible before actually hitting zero, her character dropped to the ground.

“Woohoo!” Lars cheered, letting his controller drop into his lap as his hands shot above his head. He faltered. “Wait, isn’t there—”

Sophie’s character jumped back up and launched a surprise attack at him, knocking his health to zero.

MATCH WIN flashed across the screen, indicating Sophie’s victory over Lars. “You forgot that comes up when you win, didn’t you?” she asked.

He fell back onto the bed. “I don’t have this game at college, Soph. More important things fill the space up, like how to kegstand, or how to skim chapters so you don’t actually have to read the whole damn thing.”

Sophie rose from the bed, patting Lars’ leg as she left the room. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The rest of the break was enjoyable enough that Sophie could almost forget about her heartache and the stress of the Heathers. She and Lars played video games, she got to help her mom prepare for the big Thanksgiving dinner, and in general, the business of the holiday provided a pleasant distraction.

She was interrupted from her victory lap by her mother calling from downstairs. “Sophie! The potatoes are done, help me pour them out, please!” She found herself strangely relieved to be taking a break from the game. Lars was always quite loud when gaming with Sophie, but he’d been a lot more annoying and dismissive today than she was used to. 

She trotted down the stairs to the kitchen, passing by her father as he worked away on the placement settings for the table. 

“Having trouble there, Dad?” Sophie asked as she eyed the peculiar scene her father was absorbed in; he held an intense stare while gazing down at the plate and silverware below, almost as if he expected it to speak. His eyes flicked up toward Sophie and a flash of embarrassment ran across his face.

“Oh, hey Soph. Nah, just trying to remember the silverware portion of an etiquette class my parents made me take when I was your age.” He held up one of their small spoons Sophie’s mom usually kept in the china cabinet. “I can’t for the life of me remember where the tiny spoon goes — is it outside of the bigger spoon? Or before the knife?”

Sophie held her phone up for her dad to see and shifted the placement of the spoon for him. “Looks like it’s between the knife and the bigger spoon. At least according to Google, anyways.”

He scratched at his chin. “Huh. One of these days I’ll remember the internet exists. Thanks, sweetheart.”

Sophie made a show of displeasure as her dad kissed the top of her head. “Ugh, gross, Dad.”

“Just ‘Dad’ is fine,” he chuckled. Left rolling her eyes at his terrible joke, Sophie entered the kitchen to find her mom standing over a large silver pot with steam rising out from the top.

“Help me dump these out, yeah?” her mom looked to Sophie with a faraway look, likely reviewing the other dozen or so things she needed for dinner in her mind.

“Me?” Sophie asked, a small note of hurt resounding in her voice. That pot was pretty big — there was no way Sophie could lift it by herself with the strength her new body contained. Was this a holdover in her mom’s mind from before the Well?

“Yeah,” her mom replied unexpectedly jovially, adding; “What? You don’t think we can lift it by ourselves? Here I was thinking I raised a strong, independent young lady.”

“Oh!” Sophie exclaimed, suddenly realizing what her mother was saying. “Sure thing!”

After the two of them carried the pot over to the sink, Sophie’s mom gestured to the pot’s lid on the counter next to her. “Okay, grab that lid and hold it up to the top but keep a small gap between the pot at the bottom. That’s how the water’ll get out.” Sophie nodded and did as instructed while her mom titled the pot, allowing the boiling water to empty into the sink. Steam rose from the sink into Sophie’s face.

“Aw, my hair,” she groaned, knowing that the steam would make her hair frizz up like it had when Heather M. had insisted on an impromptu spa trip.

“Hush.” Her mother chuckled with a roll of her eyes. “Your hair looks fine.” They pulled the pot back off the sink ledge and set it onto an unused stove burner.

“Do you know how much product I put in here?” Sophie plucked at one of her curls, inspecting it for damage.

Her mother replied with a worn glance. “Considering it’s my bank account they’re getting bought with? Pretty acutely so, actually.”

Sophie blinked sheepishly. “Oh. R-right.”

A ring of the doorbell echoed through the air, interrupting the two.

“Oh, that’s Mama,” Sophie’s mom laid down the hand towel in her hands and walked over to the door, opening it to reveal Sophie’s grandma.

“Grams!” Sophie found herself shouting through a wide smile before stopping short. Her grandmother hadn’t buffered yet, she wouldn’t know who Sophie was. Thinking on her feet, she quickly strode up to the older woman decked out in a blue half-button blouse with the sleeves rolled at her elbows and a colorful stitched scarf complete with tassels at the ends draped around her shoulders. Stylish black jogger pants with white accents led down to simple leather sandals adorning her feet. Her grandmother’s eyebrows, nearly as dark as Sophies with sparse amounts of grey sprinkled in, briefly rose as she approached. Before she could get a word in, however, she cut Sophie off.

“Sophia!” Her grandmother smiled widely, clasping Sophie’s hands between her own. “Just look at you, effervescent and beautiful as always. How are you, dear?”

Sophie was left blinking. “Um… g-good.”

Her grandmother rubbed her thumbs along the back of Sophie’s hands. “Good to hear, sweetheart. Remind me later, I’ve got a present for you.”

“S-sure, Grams,” Sophie stuttered in a near breathless voice.

How did she…?

Her grandmother greeted the rest of the family with open arms, though every once in a while she would sneak a gaze back toward Sophie, basking her in the light of the same sky-blue eyes Sophie and her mother had. The faint wrinkles lining the skin around them betrayed her true nature; Sophie was well aware that her grandmother often hiked several miles at a time and was likely in better shape at sixty then she was at seventeen.

“Goodness, Lars, I’ll never get used to seeing you all grown up!” she exclaimed warmly as she hugged Sophie’s older brother. “How are classes? Is that girl still giving you trouble?” 

Lars pulled away from her embrace, confusion evident in his expression. “How did you know about Moni—” 

Before Lars could further question the apparently surprising inquiry the woman had lobbed at him, Sophie felt the familiar pinpricks on her neck. In her mind’s eye, she saw Lars about to knock over a wine glass perched precariously on the kitchen counter behind him. As was second-nature these days, Sophie twisted around to secure the wine glass before it could be spilled — only to discover that her grandmother had already done just that.

“I thought so,” her grandmother said cryptically.  “Looks like I was right.”

“Wha—” Sophie murmured.

“About?” asked Sophie’s mother, shooting them both quizzical looks.

Her grandmother surveyed their family members and laughed the incident off. “I just figured the boy was about to break something. Those elbows of his are a menace.” Sophie’s family readily accepted her excuse, but Sophie couldn’t tear her eyes away from her grandmother.

She knew plain as day. Her talent wasn’t unique.

Her grandmother shook her head. “I’ll tell you later, child.”

Before she could puzzle over her grandmother’s mysterious statement, Sophie was called to help set the dinner table.  A delicious mix of aromas, sweet and savory alike, filled the dining room as turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry relish, and the other usual fixings made their way to the table. 

After the Swans trickled in and sat down, serving platters were passed around and cups were filled. Sophie found herself filling her plate far less than she had in previous years, determined to keep her portions restrained to stay in line with the diet Heather M. had placed her on. Irritatingly for her, Lars zeroed in on her dissatisfaction and ribbed and tweaked her incessantly. She began to feel honest-to-goodness nostalgia for his previous state of confusion. Thankfully, her grandmother tolerated only so much and took Lars to task with a well-timed change of subject. 

“So, Lars.” Their grandmother patted at her mouth with one of Sophie’s mother’s dinnerware napkins. “Tell me about Monique. She’s been leaving notes on your door’s markerboard, yes?”

Lars dropped his spoon, splattering potatoes across his plate. His cheeks turned pale. “Wh-what? You know about that?”

“Clairvoyance,” she snickered, gesturing wildly at him.

“Who’s Monique?” their mom asked.

“Nobody!” Lars quickly replied. “She’s nobody. Honestly!” Their parents began to question Lars regarding a girl who had been pushing herself onto him at college as of late, much to his dismay. Relieved to have a break from Lars, Sophie finished her dinner and gathered the plates once finished; ignoring the persistent concerned expression emanating from her mom when she wasn’t occupied with Lars’ increasingly outlandish tale of how he and this girl had met.

“Sophie, I can help you with the dishes,” her mom called, rising from the table to join her in the kitchen. 

“Sure thing, mom!” Sophie groaned inwardly. Not only was she stuck again with washing the dishes (for some reason, even before the change it was always her who was tasked with it), but now her mom was coming to corner her to talk about something, probably her diet again. If she had to sit through one more “healthy weight” lecture she figured she’d pull her hair out. She was relieved, then, when her grandmother appeared instead. 

“I’ll help,” she chimed as she walked in.

“Oh, mama, you don’t have to!” Sophie heard her mother reply. 

“Nonsense — you did all the cooking, let me help clean up, it’s only fair.  Besides, I like being able to spend time with my granddaughter.”

Seconds later, her grandmother had joined her scrubbing of pots and pans at the kitchen sink. She smiled warmly at Sophie as she grabbed a handful of silverware in need of cleaning.

“So, uh, Grams,” Sophie whispered over the rush of water from the sink and the clatter of plates.

“Yes? I imagine there’s quite a bit on your mind, especially since you started messing with a Spirit Well.”

“W-what?” Sophie sputtered.

Her grandmother’s shoulders shook under the weight of a heavy chuckle as she kept her eyes focused on the dishes beneath her fingers. “Don’t start, Sophie. Leaving aside the stench of it on your aura, lots of girls develop quickly but I think we both know your path was supposed to be a bit different, no?” Her grandmother nodded. 

Sophie gazed down at her chest forlornly. She wasn’t sure how, but her grandmother had seen right through her. “What do you mean by that?”

Her grandmother looked askance for a moment. “Why don’t I skip straight to the big picture, yes? That way you can draw your own conclusions for the littler things. Sound good?”

Sophie vigorously nodded her head. Finally, answers to all of her questions.

“To start with, let’s talk about those visions you’re having. About things that are going to happen before they happen. I know you have them, I could see it in your eyes when you were a baby, and I could feel it when we reached for that glass. Tingles on the back of your neck, yes?”

“Y-yeah,” Sophie whispered in reply.

“That’d be ‘Women’s intuition’, at least that’s what my aunt called it. She had it, I have it, and it looks like you have it, too.”

“‘Women’s intuition’?” Sophie’s mind reeled. She wasn’t the only one. Were there more outside of her family? She struggled to contain the plethora of questions bouncing from the tip of her tongue. Remembering herself, Sophie blushed. “Yeah, uh, I guess I do have it.” She felt a rush of relief, a comforting warmth that emanated from her chest. The fact that there was a name for the initial strangeness that had crept into her life, that she wasn’t alone in having it, made the world seem like a much more comforting and comprehensible place.

“You certainly do. And, I imagine, you’re seeing weird animals popping up around the forest?”

“Yeah.”

Her grandmother smiled. “Sounds about right. Maybe a bit faster than myself, but I guess I’ve only myself to use as a benchmark. I should say, witnessing someone else go through the awkward clairvoyance dreams is certainly going to be a treat.”

Sophie struggled to keep up with the pace at which her grandmother’s mind was moving, leaving her lagging behind each new errant thought that passed her lips.

“Now,” her grandmother’s posture stiffened somewhat; tell me, how did you get mixed up in this business with the Spirit Well, and how many wishes have you personally made?”

“I’ve — I’ve only made a few,” Sophie stammered.

Her grandmother’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll need details, lass. How many exactly have you made?”

“T-three,” Sophie quickly replied. “But they weren’t huge. Just changing my ID’s, making it so that everyone would think I was always this way, and making my girlfr— ” Sophie’s voice caught in her throat. “My friend, Chloe, immune to that last one. And,” she added sheepishly, hoping that pointing it out would help her case, “I didn’t make the one that made me like… like this.”

“And how many benefited you directly? Even if you didn’t utter the wish.”

“More,” Sophie mumbled as she struggled to recall exact numbers. A cold look from her grandmother didn’t help. “Five, I think. There was a beach trip involved at one point and my cold got cured.”

Her grandmother turned and leaned against the kitchen counter with a pensive frown. “Sophie, sweetie, let’s get this out of the way. Memory and reality-altering wishes, even just on a piece of paper here or a computer system note there, are huge wishes. Sure, it’s nothing like wishing someone out of existence, but it still requires a very focused and sustained touch. All wishes are huge wishes when you’re dealing with a Spirit Well. That’s why they’re usually created with a small number of coins, so that people will only make wishes if they’re truly important. Of course, everyone feels that their wish is important enough to be worth the risk and they find ways around this limitation. I’m guessing that’s happened with your well?”

“They put a hair trap in the hole.”

Her grandmother gave a small chuckle. “That would be clever if it weren’t so foolhardy and dangerous. Our world is very carefully held together by bonds you or I can’t see but exist nonetheless. Wishes alter and pervert those bonds, ultimately weakening the very fabric you and I walk on. Nod for me if you’re still following me.”

Sophie weakly nodded her head, thinly veiling that she was completely lost.

Her grandmother’s hand brushed just beneath Sophie’s shoulder as her expression turned somber. “This part is important. How many have hurt you?”

Sophie involuntarily pulled away from her as her breath quickened. “I… I don’t know.”

“Listen carefully, Sophie,” her grandmother said softly. “I’m not going to tell you which of the wishes to remove. That’s something only you can decide. But I want you to know that you have the power to end this.”

Sophie shook her head. “I don’t. They have the coin. They can do anything.”

“You do,” her grandmother said firmly. “You’re strong enough and you’re clever enough that you can find a way to repair most of the damage. And it won’t just be the world that feels better. I think that you’ll find that you’ll lose less than you think.”

“But if I undo all the wishes—” Sophie began, but her grandmother held up her hand.

“I would never tell you to do that. There’s no perfect solution to this problem, but I’m sure the world will carry on with a few smudges on reality.”

Sophie took a step back. She didn’t know why she couldn’t see it before; if she could get that coin she could safeguard her body while ending all of this. It wasn’t a zero-sum game.

But she couldn’t do it by herself.

“I… I need to go.” She hurried towards the front door.

“Aye, and be sincere about it,” her grandmother called out the still-open door as Sophie took off down the sidewalk. It wasn’t a far run. She’d made it hundreds of times by this point, after all.