Clover Quinn's sixteenth birthday, the magical day she was to receive the powers of a fairy godmother, was turning into a disaster.

Crouched on the rickety roof of a chicken coop, Clover gasped for air as a large, furious rooster flapped its wings, trying to land on the roof and peck the teenage fairy. Throwing eggs at the rooster had only enraged it further. "You know," she shouted, her voice strained in frustration, "you could help instead of laughing at me, Lily."

Outside the fenced-in chicken run, her human friend since childhood wiped away tears of laughter. "I'd sooner fight a mountain bear than that rooster. Why do you need so many eggs, anyway?"

Clover kicked a foot in the rooster's direction. "They're for the baker."

"Well then, why isn't he here?"

"He's too busy making the pies and extra pastries for my birthday party tonight."

"And what do you need extra pastries for?"

"To exchange with the candlemaker for my centerpiece candles. I don't have enough money to pay her—aaand to pay the fiddle player."

"Fiddle player?" Lily's head popped up, eyes wide. "Tell me you convinced Declan O'Shea to come into town to play for your party," Lily said, her eyes wide with disbelief. "You know, someday—".

"—You're going to convince him to marry you."

Lily's excitement had her mouth racing to keep up with her thoughts. "I need to get a bath…and comb my hair. What am I going to wear? I should wear a dress…but then I'll need to borrow nice shoes I can dance in."

Clover swatted at the rooster and yelled, "There won't be a party to dance at if you don't help me gather eggs."

The tomboy was already climbing over the fence as she said, "I'll distract the rooster while you sneak into the coop." She waved her arms. "Hey, you big, dumb rooster. You're done keeping Clover from hiring my future husband!"

While Lily ran around in circles and stayed just out of the rooster's reach, Clover filled two buckets with eggs. Both girls were covered in dirt and feathers by the time they escaped.

"Thanks, Lil. I owe you."

Lily was already in motion as she said, "Thank me later. I have to run."

"But the party isn't for another twelve hours."

Covered in mud, feathers, and chicken manure, Lily said, "Look at me. It will take hours to make myself Declan O'Shea ready."

"You do look like you could hire yourself out as a scarecrow."

"Funny," Lilly said before she paused and pointed. "Is that chicken poop on your shoes?"

Clover looked at her feet.

"Ha! Made you look. Go run your chores. See you tonight," Lilly said as she hurried home.

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The tiny Irish village of Glenaleen sat nestled in a lush emerald valley split by a mountain stream. Villagers spent their days herding sheep, working at the lumber mill, or casting their fishing lines into the meandering stream. Less than two dozen thatched roof cottages clustered around a central market square.

A human could stroll from one end to the other in ten minutes. For a petite fairy girl the journey took twice as long—when her arms weren't full. Two buckets of eggs, Clover discovered, felt like two buckets of rocks for her. I should have waited to tell Lily about Declan and had her carry the eggs.

The heavy buckets of eggs swinging precariously at her sides, she lumbered toward the bakery. Just a little further, she kept telling herself, gritting her teeth against the strain. The kind-hearted baker noticed her struggling and rushed out to assist her.

"You're just in time," he said, his voice urgent. "The first tray of pastries is fresh from the oven. Miss Brennan loves her pastries hot. Hurry before they cool."

Clover handed over the second bucket of eggs and grabbed the tray of pastries. She hustled as fast as her short legs could manage to the candlemaker's shop. Balancing the tray in one hand, she grabbed the door handle. The door swung open, jerking her off balance.

No, no, no! Clover's heart sank as she watched half the pastries fly off and hit the ground.

"I'm so sorry," said the customer. Clover recognized him as one of the local hunters who lived at the base of the mountains.

Her jaw tightened. How did he not see me? Instead of demanding compensation for the dirty pastries, she reminded herself today was special, forced a smile, and swallowed her frustration. "It was my fault, really. Didn't have a proper grip on the tray."

"Well, I'm sure the birds will enjoy them," he said and walked away.

This time, she backed through the door. The candlemaker, Saoirse Brennan, was immediately drawn to the mouth-watering scent of freshly baked pastries. She set aside the candle pins she'd been placing into candle molds and snatched the tray of pastries from Clover. "Where's the rest?" she asked, while popping one into her mouth.

Even with the baker's warning, the woman's ravenous fixation on the pastries surprised Clover. Her voice flustered, she replied, "I dropped them. Sorry."

"Hmm. This isn't enough to cover the candles you ordered," Miss Brennan said out of the corner of her mouth.

I knew I should have asked him to pay. Too late now. I have to make this work.

"Will you accept half now and half tomorrow?" That seemed like a fair compromise, although it would mean helping the baker again in exchange for more pastries.

The woman nearly choked on the third pastry as she spoke. "Sure, if you want half as many candles."

"The party is tonight. I need a centerpiece for every table."

Miss Brennan's eyes lit up. "That's right! You're the fairy girl who's going to become our fairy godmother." She rummaged under the counter and pulled out a box of rejects. "How about these odd-sized candles, free of charge?"

Despite living in Glenaleen since age two, a third of the townspeople hadn't bothered to learn Clover's name. When they called her 'fairy girl' they meant it kindly, of course. It always made her feel like she would only ever be considered 'Other'. A curiosity living among humans. Hearing it today of all days cut like a knife.

Lost in thought, Clover realized the candlemaker was waiting for an answer. She eyed the odd assortment of candles warily. "How long will they burn? I ordered eight-hour candles."

The candlemaker picked out the largest candle and eyeballed it for a moment. "They're not as big, but if you light them at seven, they should last until midnight. Make sure they're in a candleholder. The ends aren't capped so you could start a fire if they burn for that long."

Clover sighed. She had no other choice. "I'll take the candles and candleholders. Could you give me a birthday discount?"

Saoirse scrutinized Clover like she was seeing her for the first time. "Is it true you'll be able to grant wishes?"

"That's what I've been told."

"I've heard the fairy godmother in Bryn has made them prosperous with her magic. Consider the candleholders a gift… for now, so long as your magic isn't a trick like the fake magician in the traveling circus."

"Thank you." Clover scooped up her items and exited the shop. She dropped the candles and holders in her hut. With the last of her trades completed, she grabbed her coin purse and hurried to the market square.