She's sitting on the sink. She grins and ruffles my hair. "It's time to fix this hair!" she says. I hand her the gel, and she opens it. She sticks her hand in, swipes it around. She rubs the gel between her fingers, and begins to run it through my hair. She pushes it back and spikes it up. I push her hand away, fix it the way I like it. Her pixie dust sparkles the air. I breathe it in. "Aw, you're no fun," she giggles. I reach for the spray, but she snatches it away. "You'll have to catch me first," she jumps off the sink. She starts dancing around the bathroom, teasing me. "Give it," I say, but I can't tell if I mean it. I half-swat at it. "Gotta try harder than that," she calls. I launch myself at her, knock her over. I hold her pinned to the bathroom carpet, smiling. I kiss her and kiss her. Take the can back, stand up, spray my hair. Put the can away, but she gets it back out. "Seven Seconds Smoke?" she asks. I grin. "Sure," I say, but I don't want to. She holds the can in the air. "You count," she says. I nod, and she starts spraying the air. I count out loud to seven and she stops. The smell is strong. That's the point. I wait until she starts to sway, and then I cover my nose. Catch her as she falls, turn on the fan. Lay her down in my bedroom, wait for the smell to clear. It does. She wakes a moment later. "Did you do it?" she asks. "Yeah," I lie. She frowns. "We don't have to do it, I thought you liked it," she whines. "I did, just don't anymore," I shrug. "Okay," she nods. That what I like about you, I think. How you don't mind when I do. It was perfect. We were perfect. Perfect. 

I remember her that night. How she stood on her bed, smiling, taunting me. Her sparkly pajamas and hoodie seemed like a prom dress. I wished they had been. I remember how I grinned and pulled her down. My hands on her hips, pulling her close. How I reached in to kiss her, and she leaned forward. Then she had turned to my ear and whispered, "You'll have to catch me first." Her phrase. She always made me work for it.And just like that, she ran from the bedroom. I could hear her tip toe run down the hall. I remember that. I remember her pixie dust smile. I remember how she used to laugh and cry at the same time. How she would pull me in close, and then push me away, and pull me back. She knew that she had control, and I knew she had it too. "You don't make the rules," she would say. Her pixie dust taste in my mouth. My hands in hers. "We'll do it, run away," she had promised. "It'll be dangerous," I'd say. "All the better," she would smile. And her pixie dust poured over me. I would breathe it in. But now there is only the bitter taste left in my mouth. All that was left is gone. She is gone. Pixie Dust is gone too. "Jacey," I whisper into the cold air. One last time to see her bedroom, that's what her parents said. Five minutes, they said. "Jacey," I say it again. "Jacey," I can't stop. "Jacey, Jacey, Jacey" I start shouting. "Jacey!" I scream. And there she is. "It's magic," she breathes in my ear. "Pixie Dust," I say. I reach out to grab her, pull her in, and she disappears. I can hear her voice ringing throughout the room. "Jacey? Jacey, where are you?" I look all around. I hear her parents coming up the stairs, calling my name. "Jacey! Where are you? Jacey!" I shout, whirling around. The attic door opens, and I run past her parents. I run as fast as I can and bolt through the house, out the door. I race down the steps and down the street. I don't stop. I just keep running. 

I don't stop running until I slip. It's been raining for days, and it cleared up now. Just leaving mud on the street. I land hard, on my back, and groan. The pain shoots up through my head, clearing it. For a second, I forget. I stand up, and look for her. I wonder for a second, where she went. I think, for a split second, that I was chasing her. It hits me with a thud, and I sit back down in the street. My butt's all mud, my elbows covered in crap. I can't go home now. "No, stay!" her voice pleads in my mind. My head fogs up, and when in clears, I'm in her room. She's on the bed, pink covers pulled up to her chin. "I have to go, baby girl," I whisper into her ear. Suddenly I hear the door knob rattle. A deep voice shouts from the other side. "Mark? Mark!? MARK!" The voice snaps me back to now. Vincent is shaking me, trying to lift me off the ground. "MARK! Dude! What's up with you?" He looks extremely concerned. "I..." I look past him, and see her. "Jacey," I breathe. "What?" Vincent grabs my arms. "Dude. You ran out of the house. I...I think you need to come with me. Maybe...I...I think we should...maybe I should...We should, I dunno, take a trip to the hospital...or something..." He trails off. I look behind him. Jacey. She's right there. Waiting. "Mark?" Vincent's fumbling for his phone. I take the chance. I bolt. Jacey is faster, she's sprinting up ahead, and I keep following her. We run until we get to the highway. I'm panting, she's smiling. She kisses me on the cheek, and I hear Vincent's shouting coming closer. I don't look back. Jacey grins. "Hey," that's all she says, then she starts moving, flouncy, like slow motion, towards the cars. "Stop..." I whisper. "STOP" I shout. She's gonna get hit, she's gonna get hit. I sprint forward, reaching to push her out of the way of an oncoming van. My finger pass through. She disappears. The van hits me.