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"It doesn't look like it!" Faith said in her most haughty ten-year-old voice. "It looks like you're just sitting there, while I'm going to have to lug this heavy backpack up four flights of stairs!" Faith didn't seem to notice that the man knew her name when he shouldn't.
"Would you prefer to use the elevator, dear?"
"Of course I would prefer to use the elevator!"
"Then we're of a mind, child. Here, let me give you my card."
The elderly gentlemen held out a small business card to Faith, who took it and read it with some effort and with a puzzled look. "Pr-Pr-Professor Im-Imrash West, PhD, R.A.P.E.M, Sp-Sp-Specializing in the Advanced Theory of Wishes." Faith looked up at the strange man with her big green eyes. "What in the world does R A P E M mean?"
"Royal Academy for the Practical Employment of Magic," Professor West said with a twinkle in his eye, "at your service, miss."
"What a bunch of rot!" Faith snorted and stomped her foot, throwing the Professor's card on the floor. "What does any of that have to do with getting the lift fixed."
"Well, you could wish for the lift to be fixed," West said. "But that seems a waste of your only wish. And besides, I'd need something with much more potential that just fixing the elevator once. Heaven knows, it might break again tomorrow."
"You can't really grant wishes! That's stupid."
"Have it your way, Faith. But it surely wouldn't hurt to try. Just imagine if the elevator was always there to take you up and down, up and down, your very own vertical chariot. But there would be a price to pay - you probably couldn't or wouldn't want to pay it."
"My daddy will pay! My daddy has lots of money!"
"Oh, really? Isn't that nice. But, really, my dear, you should let me explain how..."
"No! I want the elevator to work now!" Faith abruptly interrupted her elder. "Whatever it costs, I wish the elevator will always work for me!"
Professor West, who didn't appear to be too disturbed by the rudeness of the pretty ten-year-old, smiled broadly. "Quite a lovely wish, Faith! I hope you enjoy it as much as everyone else in the building will. But, my dear, what are you waiting for?"
Faith drew herself up to her full four foot four inches and looked at the old man sternly, past the end of her cute little pointed nose. How dare he talk to her like that? She was done with this silliness! She stomped her small foot one more time and spun to march away from him, her long gorgeous hair flying around her again, only to find that the elevator doors were standing open and Mr. Jackson from the third floor was stepping out. What in the world?! Faith turned again to glare at Professor West, but when she did, no one was there. It was all very confusing.
There was nothing for it but to get on the elevator and press the button for the fourth floor. The doors were half closed when a hand reached in and stopped them, and then a gentleman in his late fifties or early sixties stepped into the elevator with Faith. She recognized him, although she hadn't met him and she thought he lived up on the eighth floor, which was confirmed when he pushed that button. Faith noticed that the light for the fourth floor was not illuminated, but she knew she'd pushed it, so she didn't worry about it too much.
As soon as the elevator doors closed, Faith set her backpack on the ground and then reached under her short school skirt to pull down her panties and step out of them. She couldn't understand why she was doing something so strange, but she couldn't seem to stop, either. And once she'd managed to push them down over her white ankle socks, and step her little black shoes out of the leg holes, she looked up to see the man watching her with an expectant air. Faith could feel herself blush, and she knew that the man would see it. Faith's pale complexion and the pretty freckles sprinkled across her young face made it very obvious whenever she blushed, and she knew and hated it.