In her world, she never has to turn a handle to open a door. She never has to look for her smaller belongings, keys, socks or panties. When she comes home, her bed is made and her clothes are always cleaned and ironed. Potatoes and apples peal themselves so that she can eat them. Every little cut or bruise on her body heals in a few hours. Her long hair dries instantly. She can resuscitate dead caterpillars, frozen butterflies and little birds fallen from the nest. And if she breaks something by accident ? like one of her mother's little china owls ? she can either use her will to glue the pieces together, or go back in time and change her latest move. She's a short-range witch, with unlimited powers in a small radius of space and time.

In her world, many questions remain unanswered. When she asks one of them, the grown-ups give her the look, the one that says, How can you ask something like this?, and instead they keep feeding her nonsense about speed of light or dinosaurs, all fascinating things were she a normal person. She isn't a normal person. If she gave them her look, something funny would happen to their mouths, and they'd never talk to her again, because it's difficult to talk with one's big sententious mouth full of living frogs. She has done this twice, only twice, because it caused her a lot of trouble and didn't help much with the answers she wanted.

In her world, books are the only friends she trusts. She can always tell when they lie and when they tell the truth, something her powers fail to do with