A book

"Okay, here it is," Mike says, pulling a hardcover book out of one of the cardboard boxes. He hands it to you upside-down. You turn it over to look at the front cover, and you gasp. The title is "McGraw-Hill Advanced Thaumaturgy," complete with a red-and-white "Restricted Magic Level 3" banner across the front.

You practically throw it back at him. "You could get in big trouble for having that, can't you? Level 3 -- that's only for, like, grad students and licensed thaumaturgists, right?"

Mike explains, "And my brother John happens to be a licensed thaumaturgist in downtown Chicago. He got his Ph.D. last year, and he didn't need this textbook anymore. But to answer your question, no, we can't get in trouble for having it." He grins. "We might get in trouble for using the spells, if anyone finds out. Good thing my brother taught me a couple of cloaking spells."

Just then, there's a knock at the door. Despite what Mike just said, he hurriedly hides the thaumaturgy book in a box before he opens the door.

"Oh, my God, hi," he says, and hugs the person standing there. You stand up and see that it's an Asian girl with bright pink hair that reaches halfway down her back, who looks a lot like --

Mike finishes the thought for you by saying, "Kim Wu! I didn't know you were going here. I was just showing my roommate my yearbook, and I pointed you out."

"Yeah, remember, they wait-listed me in the spring, and I hear a whole clan of pixies changed their minds last month, so here I am," she explains, and then walks in and shakes hands with you. "Hi, I'm Kim, but I guess you knew that."

You manage to stammer out your name. She looks a lot better in person than she did in the small picture in the yearbook. Asians were as rare as Fae in your hometown, so they seem almost as exotic to you -- and with her pink hair, Kim is about as exotic as it gets. You look into her almond-shaped eyes and catch yourself idly wondering if she has a pink carpet to match her drapes, or if she had a permanent body-hair removal spell cast on her -- you've heard that that's one of the easiest, cheapest spells to hire a thaumaturgist to do. You catch yourself looking down at her bare midriff, at the silver charm dangling from her navel, in the middle of the flawless golden-brown skin of her flat stomach. The charm is a Chinese character, and you wonder what it says.

You snap back to attention when Kim asks Mike, "Did you tell him anything about my curse?"

Mike replies, "Only that the hair was the most visible part of it."

Kim turns to you and says, "Then maybe you should know more."