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130 Reasons Why I'm Fairy Trash

 17. Shadow (Post-series, Carl Poofypants High)

Friday March 24th, Aurora 175

Year of Soil; Spring of the Sliding Muck

I completed drawing the last little gray flower in an entire field of flowers, and then doodled a happy little vortex among my pretty mathematical equations and interesting vocabulary terms. It was such a lovely little place. Even the flowers smiled up at me. I smiled behind my knuckles, and etched out a few squirrels beside them. Not bunnies. They would eat my flowers.

When Dm. Starchant came by, she slid one paper in front of me face down, and the most recent Advanced Wand Trajectory exam I'd taken on top of my notebook face up. The tip of my Everleady slipped off the squirrel's spiraled tail. Five of the six questions on the first page were X'd out in pink pen. The sixth one had a note beside it that read, You somehow used the wrong formula and got the correct answer. Stapled to the top of the whole thing was a pale blue note card that read, See me after class, Hiccup.

I scanned the note and looked up, but Dm. Starchant had already floated further, passing more exams out to the other four students sitting in the front row with me. Oh dear. I pried the note away from the glowing staple, folded it into a square, and tucked it away in my back pocket. Such a pity. I'd wanted to get to Recent History class early so I could pick out a nice place in the top row where I knew I could stare down at the back of Flickertwist's cute head. Ah, well. Such is life. The decision wasn't mine.

While the Fairy students all around me started packing their things away so they could go to their next class, I flipped over the upside-down paper and held it beside my own. Foop and I were always given different test versions, and his were always easier. I looked between his plain white sheet and the pink marks all over mine. He didn't even get one question wrong.

I tensed my shoulders briefly, then let them release as I stretched my arms. Before Dm. Starchant could turn her crystal ball projection off for the morning, I scribbled down two final notes about Foop's upcoming due dates, then snapped my notebook shut with one hand. The Fairies around me raised their wings and took to the air in a low, audible hum. I drummed my claws against the tabletop, resisting the absent-minded urge to knock on it. I'd gotten smart about that. My nervous habit was tapping on things with the backs of my knuckles, you see, but when you're an Anti-Fairy, you learn your limits pretty quick.

Once all the other students had exited the room, I slung my backpack over one shoulder and approached Dm. Starchant's desk with my fingers laced together at my waist. I dipped my head. "You wanted to see me, dame?"

Dm. Starchant set the last few papers down and turned back to me, mimicking my folded hand gesture. "Hello, Hiccup, and thanks. I just wanted to check in and touch base. We don't get to talk much outside of hex messages anymore."

"You don't need to raise your voice when you talk to me, dame. I speak fluent Snobbish. Anti-Fairies only speak Vatajasa kokeikan." A word that translated roughly to "ceremonially," "non-publicly," or "only in a safe environment where your people won't try to take it away from us." Not that I defined it for her. She was an honored professor. She could figure it out.

My request seemed to catch Dm. Starchant off guard, because she rushed to explain herself: "Foop asked me specifically to speak up when I talk to him."

… Huh. That was odd. Maybe he was sitting in the back of the room that day. I pursed my lips and said nothing.

"How are you doing?" Dm. Starchant leaned one hand on her desk, studying my face. "Is the class moving along too quickly for you?"

"No, I don't think it's too much too fast. I just struggle with math, but I think everyone does."

Her face said, Not this much. She shifted her wings. They rustled. "Do you want to stick with the Advanced class for the rest of the zodiac cycle? It's not too late to transfer out."

"I like it. You're a good teacher. I like the way you use your wand to draw dashed lines on the digiboard. And I like your field trips."

"Well. I'm glad. Just let me know if you would like some additional help. I can recommend some excellent tutors."

I paused. Okay, um… I flexed my fingers, forcing myself to bite back the immediate answer that came to mind and think the phrasing of her question over. Dm. Starchant was being forward, but not rude. Not really. She meant well and was only trying to help. I brought my hands together in front of my chest.

"Ah, you see, that really isn't necessary, Dm. Starchant. Foop has been a tutor in the advanced classes for decades. He'll help me."

This time, she was the one who paused. She dropped her gaze briefly, then flicked it back up to me. "I've noticed the scores you get on your exams don't reflect the grades on your homework assignments. I just worry that you're going to need to be dropped to the regular class if you can't keep your grades up."

"You can be forward about that thing you're trying to say," I said, bracing myself for the storm. "I know indirect communication doesn't come naturally to Fairies. Just be straight with me." Even though I was never straight with anyone else. That's a pride joke, hee hee.

Her lips twitched. "I think Foop's been doing your homework for you. Either that, or you've taken the initiative to copy off his answers."

I tilted my head. "I have other things to do besides work for your class. I don't get to front in the body very much, and I don't like wasting my time on this. Sharing is faster."

"You Anti-Fairies may have no qualms about cheating, but that's not how we do things in Fairy society."

"Collaboration," I corrected. "It's not really cheating. I contribute my strengths, and Foop contributes his. We make an excellent team."

Dm. Starchant folded her arms. "At Carl Poofypants High, we don't give out gold stars for 'teamwork.' The end of the term is just around the corner, and I cannot in good conscience award you a grade you didn't earn. If you want five stars for this class on your transcript, I can reassign you new story problems. You'll have to visit me during my office hours every day so I can ensure it's actually you who completes them, but if you start now and work hard and honestly, you'll be able to pull five stars before I put in the final grade."

Ouch. I squinted at her directness, then shrugged it off and pushed my smile back into place. My fingers wrapped around the straps of my backpack, the heavy textbooks inside making them dig into my shoulders. "No thanks. I'll just take the grade you think I deserve. I'm just in school because it's fun and I like to learn, but it doesn't bother me if I get a bad score. But, ah, please just don't punish Foop because I cheated off him. He did everything right, and he deserves his stars."

"You're not concerned about how this might affect your future?" she asked.

I looked at her. "Um. I'm a prince. Foop and I are going to be High Count of the Anti-Fairies someday, even if we score zero stars in your class. So no, I actually don't care about this."

She raised her blue eyebrow. The rest of her hair was yellow, but her eyebrows were blue. "Do you know when, er… Foop will be back? I'd like to talk to him about this before you officially decide to reject my offer."

My tongue probed one of my fangs. "Ah, yes… About that. Um. Foop and I had a fight about the sweatshirt I picked up at the Mistleville Pride Festival." I tapped my pencil against the backs of my knuckles. "He's been hiding for three days. I don't think he wants to come out for a while."

Dm. Starchant lifted her shoulders. "Well. If you change your mind, I can extend my office hours for you. Tell Foop he did excellent on his exam, and that he shouldn't let his classmates underestimate him."

Underestimate him. Because we were Anti-Fairies. And Anti-Fairies weren't a people expected to get good grades. Of course. I bobbed my head in farewell and skimmed off for the next class. On the way, I shoved my marked-up test down the hallway recycling tube (sponsored by Rocco's Recycling! I will seek my revenge on them all one day :)) before anyone else could see it. Briefly, I pressed my palm to my eye and let my smile slip. "Mercy me. And it's not even noon yet. I cry."

Well.

We almost never got bullied at school. Not by rough-and-tough Fairy kids with huge fists and cramped lockers, I mean. Taunts and jeers, yes, sometimes we had to take those. Or I did. On most days, Foop ruled the classrooms, but I always seized control away from him when he started packing up. I knew where we needed to go and I knew how not to let their scathing insults break my spirit. High school kids could be cruel, and Foop didn't need to hear what they said about him when the teachers weren't around to watch.

It wasn't usually so bad, but today was worse. I wasn't even doing anything to incite them, just visiting my locker and wishing I had a mirror in there that I could break for a laugh, when I felt a sudden smack! sting my bottom end. My wings jolted out. I hissed through my teeth. Maintaining my cool for one moment more, I drew my books from my locker shelf and turned around.

Aha. Should've guessed it. The ringleader of the trio was freckled, though not much. His name was Boulder. At least, that was his nickname. The two leaner drakes bobbing in the air behind him must be his drones, or something. Poof and Fin called them "the pebbles" because of who they hung around with. A couple of mallard ducks, literally only two instead of a regular-sized batch, pecked around Boulder's feet. Weird. I thought Finley was the only dominant gyne registered for morning classes on this end of campus.

The blue-haired fairy with the freckles grinned at me. "Aww, no smile, sunshine? Don't pretend you didn't want that. You would've dodged away in time if you didn't want it."

Rolling my eyes, I shut my locker with my shoulder and clutched my books to my chest. "Anti-Fairy drakes can't detect auras in the energy field like Fairies can. You have powerful smell and tasting senses, Anti-Fairies have sharp ears to hear magic with, and Fairy Refracts have scrying eyes. You must be very dumb if you still don't get that by this age."

Boulder put out his tongue, all pink and coated with soft bristles, not long and blue like an Anti-Fairy's. With the pebbles crowding on one side of me and Boulder's arm blocking my direct escape the other way, he kept me semi-effectively pinned to the lockers. Unless I, y'know, chose to hiccup to his other side, fly off, or literally take any other method of escape. He shrugged. "Hey, you were asking for it, bluebell. I could see your tail bulging beneath that flotation device of a seat cushion you have from all the way down the hall. If you didn't want that, you would've heard me and gotten out of the way."

"Ah, while individuals do project a unique blend of sounds related to their subspecies, energy level, and gender identity into the energy field, an Anti-Fairy like me can only sort out individual tones or directions when there aren't quite this many people around. The energy field is a communal structure that relays to me the general mood overlying the entire room. Or corridor, in this instance." I flicked my ears for emphasis. "I would be very happy to explain the specifics if you care to skim with me on my way to Recent History class."

Boulder studied me for a moment, then dropped his arm. When I floated past, he and his pebbles tailed me down the hall. The ducks tailed them. "I heard you like Seelie drakes," he said abruptly.

Had since this body was barely out of puppyhood, as a matter of fact. Someone was certainly on top of things. "I'm actually exclosexual. I like Seelie and Unseelie Courters regardless of their gender identity."

The pebbles giggled and whispered, shoving him forward from behind. Boulder grinned and flew a little in front of me. He spread his arms to block a segment of my path. "Well? If you like Seelie drakes, kiss me, then."

I ducked his arm and kept floating on. In fact, I kicked up my heels. "Uh-huh. Ah, my saliva is comprised of the same chemicals that make up battery acid, you see. My gums and tongue neutralize the effects, but if it got on your skin and you didn't wipe it away in a few seconds, it would burn you up very terribly. I think that if I had to, I could be very effective at kissing a lot of your skin and leaving it that way."

"Mother Nature didn't intend for Seelie and Unseelie to pair up. That's why she made our reproductive systems different."

I dropped my books on the floor. Spinning around, I clapped my hands to my cheeks. "Oh, golly gee, you're right! People with different reproductive systems can't be together! Oh wow, my word- Someone tell the straights that heterosexuality is cancelled, effective immediately!"

Boulder crossed his arms as I gathered up my books again. "Ha ha. I'm serious, though. Kissing across Court boundaries is illegal for a reason. It's wrong. What argument for it do you have besides, 'It just feels good?' It's Anti-Fairies like you that go around stabbing people to death and saying you just do it because 'It feels good.' When Mother Nature created us, she made it clear that we're not supposed to murder, and that we're not supposed to have cross-Court relations either. So? How can you argue that one of those is okay and still agree that the other isn't?"

Picking up my books gave me a second or two to think. I wanted to tell him that not all Anti-Fairies attacked Fairies with anything more extreme than a bit of bad luck, especially because when a Fairy dies, then an Anti-Fairy dies as a result, and that helps no one. But I knew there were surely cases in the past of Anti-Fairies killing Fairies, and I wasn't familiar enough with history and politics to risk engaging in that argument with him. Instead, I stood and said, "Ah, to be honest, if I'm close enough to a Seelie Courter to stab him with a knife, I will probably be doing something that does not involve stabbing him with a knife, if you know what I mean." I looked Boulder dead in the eye and shrugged, tight-lipped. Whatcha gonna do?

"Tough talk from a needle-neck," he sneered. "How do you even know you like us, let alone drakes versus damsels? You're too young to have experience, even for an Anti-Fairy. Ever canoodled with a Seelie Courter?"

Hmm. Interesting question. You know, I never understood why people claimed our two races couldn't find a way for our bodies to be physically intimate. It seems logical enough to me. Maybe Fairies couldn't comprehend it since their parts are different, but I think it could work if an Anti-Fairy took the lead. I really think it could. I've watched thousands of bat courtship videos over the years when I get bored while cooking supper. I've even moved up to watching videos with actual Anti-Fairies in them (I use earbuds now, since Poof and Sammy get super embarrassed for some reason when they hear the squeaking?) And I've seen what happens between people during the Seven Festivals, or over migration season, or when couples honey-lock. So I understand the general idea. You kind of do that little thing they do. Yes, I think if you took away the part where you hang upside-down, it would work with a Fairy. Maybe not everyone is willing to try, but I can be very resourceful.

We'd continued walking. With Boulder huffing down my neck, I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. "Ah, I haven't canoodled in the most extreme sense, I must confess. I'm waiting for a very special someone to get his adult wings first. At least I know I can find a willing partner when the time is right." I paused, then twisted to peer over my shoulder at him and innocently asked, "Have you ever canoodled with a Seelie Courter?"

If he hadn't been a gyne with a ridiculously low amount of pale freckles on his face, that retort may not have been quite so effective. But I knew people. The pebbles "Ooooh snap!"ped as Boulder stuttered and mumbled. I suddenly had my doubts that they were drones at all. Boulder didn't seem dominant enough to attract them. He probably paid kabouters to follow him around and make him look more dominant than he actually was.

"Cross-Court kisser!" he finally hollered, fuming where he floated.

"And loving it," I shouted back. Just to irritate him further, I swayed my hips as I went. I wondered how much Foop knew about what was going on here in the hallway right now. I hadn't let him into the co-pilot's seat this morning, so he wasn't supposed to hear or see anything inside there. Maybe he could detect my mood, like I sometimes could detect his stress or excitement when he was fronting. Maybe he was curled up somewhere on the floor of our mindspace, covering his eyes or hugging his knees. He needed that sometimes. Sometimes when he got too stressed, he needed a safe place to relax, and the safest place for him to go was inside the mind, huddled on the imaginary couch in his imaginary pajamas with imaginary notebooks and imaginary Skullbeary, while I calmly managed our self-care and life responsibilities up top.

I crossed the school building to Recent History class just before the bell could declare me late. Half the class raised their heads as I came in. Even after all these years, my signals in the energy field probably stabbed cold chills through their consciousness and threw most of them off their groove. I saw a few of them shake their heads as though to rid themselves of some unpleasant intrusive thought. The more dominant folks scooted their chairs back from the connected row of tables, stretching their arms above their heads and taking up space, while those who tended towards submissiveness unconsciously pulled their seats forward and drew in their limbs. A few chairs were still available at the top of the slanted room. Perfect! I started for the one on the far left. I could see all the cuties in the class from up there. Especially Flickertwist. Maybe I just liked everyone's attention on me as I crossed all the way from the door.

Goldie sat alone up there, the seats empty all around her. She saw me coming and pressed in her wings so I could slide by. "Hey," she said. "Don't tell me who's out." For a moment she held her hands folded together in front of her face, then asked, "Hiccup?"

I pulled up my sweatshirt sleeve so she could see the purple bracelet with the moon charm around my wrist. "Ooh, you nailed it today!"

She pumped her arm. "Nice. I'm getting good at this. Glad you made it."

"Yeah." I dropped my backpack on the floor. "Sorry I couldn't catch you at your locker. I was late. Just dealing with microaggressions in Starchant's."

"I'm sure she was just trying to help ya, sugar."

"Oh, yes." I sat on one side of my chair and started fidgeting with my bracelet. I didn't always like making a big deal about when I was out front, because I worried that anyone who might stop themselves from bullying me would bully Foop the moment they knew I wasn't around, but Foop liked me to keep my identification bracelet exposed so he could blame me appropriately if he came back and didn't like what he heard about what I did. We had more than one bracelet, actually. Foop's had a blue star charm. The one of us who was fronting was supposed to always keep their bracelet the farthest down their arm at the wrist. It helped the people around us who actually cared, like Goldie, figure out who was in control of our body without making it awkward. Pinching my tongue between my fangs, I tried to cram my thick sleeve underneath the metal chains. It didn't want to go.

Drk. Weaver hovered at the front of the class with his crystal ball in hand, the thing presumably set to reel his usual opening cinematic. He liked to make a show of it so we could see the calendar scroll across hundreds of thousands of years before settling around our general lifetimes. Drk. Weaver was mint, mostly, and I liked him well enough. He always celebrated the birthday of every person in the class. Even me.

Well, Foop, anyway. Foop had been born on June 13th. We Anti-Fairies celebrated a different holiday on the 13th every single month it didn't fall on a Friday. June 13th was the day of Spring Cleaning, when Anti-Fairies from across the cloudlands helped clean out one of our beautiful Zodiac Temples, or at least tour the insides and learn about what our acolytes actually did. It wasn't a holiday that even registered on the radar of most Fairies, but even if he wouldn't admit it, I think Foop still enjoyed sharing his experiences with Spring Cleaning celebrations with the class every few years. He liked being able to show off and talk up something our classmates didn't know. Bragging is in our shared nature, you see.

As the opening cinematic began to wind down, rapidly approaching the Fifty Years of the Frozen Planet, Drk. Weaver said, "Today we're going to talk about the six humans who invaded Fairy World using technology instead of magic. In fact, many of you should remember your first time living in the Spellementary dorms, and may recall-"

"Everyone knows this story," groaned some rich kid leprechaun in the front row.

Drk. Weaver frowned. "All right. That information will be on your final exam, but if you already know it all anyway, I'll skip a few thousand years ahead in the timeline." He did, to the simultaneous cheers and groans of the rest of the class. Goldie nudged my arm with a playful smile, probably expecting something exciting to come up. But I froze when I saw what year the calendar cinematic landed on. The Winter of the White Sparrow. Drk. Weaver's eyes scanned my row. "Now then. Who can tell me about the Cavatina Project?"

Silence. Everyone in the room simultaneously looked at me while also making the attempt to look away. I printed the words Cavatina Project along the top of my fresh notebook page. My Everleady almost broke.

"If no one remembers the Cavatina Project, then we'll have to start a bit further back."

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Each month he scooted back passed with painful slowness. My lips clenched. No one said a word.

"Foop. You've been awfully quiet back there. Why don't you tell us about black-eggs?"

I stared at the page in my notebook for another second, then raised my eyes. "Ah. Well, yes." I pushed my fingertips up the table that ran across our row, keeping my clawtips high to avoid leaving scratches along the wood. "Is that hyphenated or not, sir?"

"Don't dodge the question, Foop."

"Sometimes the meanings of things change when words are hyphenated," I muttered. "And considering what our lesson almost was today, I'd think you would know that." I picked at the end of my sleeve. "Ah. So. If an expecting Fairy father consumes significant amounts of sugar during his pregnancy, the eggs in the egg nest inside his forehead chamber gradually start to turn gray. If he consumes too much sugar, his eggs will turn black and die."

No one would look at me. Not even Goldie, busy playing with her glittery fingernails. I dropped my gaze, clenching my fingers around my pen.

"And, ah, things are a little bit different for members of the Unseelie Court. Our eggs don't… can't… die. Not unless the eggs die for our hosting counterpart too. So, if a pregnant Anti-Fairy consumes too much sugar, and their eggs turn black, the baby Anti-Fairy will still be born. Some people also call this condition fetal sugar syndrome. A black-egg, hyphenated noun, is an Anti-Fairy who is born from one of those eggs that should be dead, but can't die. Black-eggs aren't…" I blinked. Twice. "They, um, were never alive. They're born dead, but because they can't die if their hosting counterpart lives, they, um… They just exist. They can try to live, but they're very sick. They can't keep down any of the food they eat. They can't sleep. They're starving, tired, and in constant pain every day until they die. That's, ah, that's what black-eggs are. That's it. That's all I know."

"And what is it called when a defenseless nymph is stolen from his parents, threatened with sharp metal instruments, and deprived of a safe place to rest and recuperate?"

I wrote a few sentences in my notebook, then looked up when I realized how silent the classroom was. Drk. Weaver was still staring at me. Huh? I looked at Goldie, then back at him. "Um. I… I don't know, sir."

"Just make a guess."

"Gross misuse of your alternate personality's pottery tools?"

Drk. Weaver's lip curled. "Apparently, it's called the 'Anti-Fairies will be Anti-Fairies' loophole. Now, what is it called when the heir to the High Count seat gets away completely unpunished for the crimes they commit towards an innocent Seelie Courter?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Foop." Drk. Weaver pointed his sizzling wand at the digiboard. The crystal ball projection flickered. "As I understand it, you meet with Cavatina's parents every time a Council meeting comes around."

I blinked. "Um. I guess so? But so does Goldie, sir, being the will o' the wisp ambassador in training…"

She winced beside me. Drk. Weaver didn't pause at all.

"And what, pray tell, is the name of the law that prevents them from tearing you limb to limb for what you did to their son in the Winter of the White Sparrow?"

I glanced sideways, then back up again. "Drk. Weaver, I don't like to cause problems, but it seems to me there are quite a few capable minds in here who could also answer this question."

He tapped his wand against his palm. "I'll rephrase it. On paper, what is the reason you're allowed to attend this school instead of rotting in a prison cell with the rest of your crazy people right now?"

"Ahh…" I folded my hands in front of my chest. My toes curled in. "Drk. Weaver, as much as I really hate to say this, I'm afraid you are very mistaken in directing your anger towards me. Foop is always punished for his crimes. I would love to impart the specifics of the Cavatina Project upon you, but I'm afraid I wasn't fronting or even co-fronting in the body at that time. I know nothing. You'd want to ask Foop about that sort of thing. I'm only Hiccup."

"I believe a debate is in order before our final exam comes along. I would very much like to hear when you think your people will shape up and realize that it's morally wrong to attack innocent bystanders. Tell me: Why do you get away with torturing children without receiving more than a slap on the wrist in reply simply because you're a prince?"

"A slap on the wrist?" I repeated, my lips trembling.

"I haven't seen you punished as you deserve," he sniffed. His wings flickered and glinted.

"Ah, excuse me? Are you seriously implying that being in and out of Plane 23, the Pivotverse, prisons, asylums, and psych wards for 37 straight years is not an unethically traumatizing experience for a newborn?" Before I could stop me, I found myself on my feet. My wings flared. "Are you implying, sir, that Foop faked all the trauma he suffered during the Fifty Years of the Frozen Planet which led to my existence?"

Drk. Weaver's arms dropped. "You're really committed to this whole charade, aren't you? You legitimately think you're a different person when you pretend to be Hiccup. You're a textbook case for facetious disorder if ever I saw one."

"I am literally a textbook case for dissociative identity disorder!" I slammed my fist down on the table. Snowflakes and electric sparks exploded in all directions. "Fine! Maybe Foop doesn't technically take all the punishments he deserves, but that's because it's my job to protect him and our body. I don't give a basilisk's rear if he hurts people! I don't care if you all think he's a bad person! He still didn't deserve everything he and I have been through together! He's my little brother, and I love him. It's not Foop's fault that I refuse to let him suffer. He's a part of me. I won't let him taste anything like the terrible trauma he had to go through as a pup ever again! It destroyed him. It literally shattered his mind, and this is how he copes with pain now. Your people did this to us! You could never understand. I'll happily take any punishment you throw at us so I can protect him. Like I'm doing right now, and like I always will."

As I huffed and blinked at my tears, Drk. Weaver turned his back. Linking his hands behind him, he floated up and down along the front row. "Class, today we're going to discuss why the Orchid Code goes against the very concepts of safety and equality that the Delegating Administrative Rules of the Known Universe stand for."

Without blinking, I grabbed my notebook and my backpack, slammed my chair against the table, and stormed out of the room. Red poppies sprouted from the carpet wherever my tears fell. "Hiccup," Goldie called, rising to her wings. "Hey! Hey, wait up!"

Back in the comparative safety of the hall, I huffed and faced her, swinging my backpack in my hand. Not at her- just a bit around by my knees. I hadn't had the energy to yank the pack over my shoulders. "If you're trying to make me feel better, it won't even work."

"Hiccup," she pleaded, "don't let him get to you."

"I'm not going to sit there and take that!"

She tried a different tactic. "Won't y'all stay for me? We have study group tonight, and you always take the best notes."

"You take the best notes. You're not the one who switches in and out with another personality multiple times a day most days of the week."

Goldie bit her lip. A twirl of golden hair drifted in front of her face, and she tucked it behind her ear with all the rest. "Well, if y'all ain't sitting through that class, then I'm not either. I want Mr. Webber to know I stand with you, and not him or any a' those horrid things he said."

"He's a kabouter," I said, avoiding eye contact. I dug around in my sweatshirt pocket. "You're supposed to call him Drake instead of Mister. And his name's Weaver."

She shrugged. "Pah, that. Listen, if he can't bother to get your name right, why should I bother with his?" Her buttery wings filled a quarter of the hallway all on their own as she floated around to face me. "You wanna grab a li'l early grub? We'll get our notes from Sputter later."

My fingers clenched around the tiny crystal ball on mine and Foop's lanyard. I drew it from my pocket. "Ah, no offense, Goldie, but I just want to go out with my mum today. I need to be away from Seelie Courters right now."

"Oh." Goldie hovered for another few seconds, then pulled back. "See you later, then."

We parted. The halls were largely empty, and being a lone anti-fairy wandering about during class time surely made me incredibly conspicuous to the whole security system. I kept my hands out of my sweatshirt because of that, and away from the wands fitted in the sheaths on either hip, so everyone could see I wasn't secretly holding anything. Foop hadn't come out front for three days now, but it had seemed polite to bring his wand to school anyway. I liked it when he made the specific effort to bring mine even if he didn't expect me to pop out and use it, after all. He must like it too. At least he was left-handed and I was a northpaw, so that made it easier to carry both.

While I stroked my thumb along the surface of the keychain crystal, I pressed my hip against the button of a water fountain on the wall. By the time I took a sip, someone had connected their crystal to accept my scry. Thankfully, my mother. Nice to see that charm bracelet was working out for her. That was my idea, you see.

"Mum?" I wiped my dripping mouth with my sleeve. "It's Hiccup. Ah, can you come and take me out for lunch s-so I won't be tempted to hide in the lavatories while I eat?"

Her small face squinted up at me. She sat in her office in the Blue Castle, probably busy checking over reports translated into picture cues, but not too busy for me. "Huh. I coulda sworn your lunch break di'n't start 'til afternoon."

"Drk. Weaver let us out early today." I held the crystal ball on my right side so I knew she wouldn't see if my left hand reached up to rub my exhausted eyes. "Sammy, Poof, Fin, Goldie, and Skeeter are still in class, and Kelsia's working, so I can't eat with them. Would you care to join me?"

"I reckon I'd like a lunch date with my own son very much."

Mum always knew how to make me feel better. "Ohh," I said, almost laughing as it left me. My toes and fingers squeezed. "Great! Um… How about at Anti-D'Hielo's? Remember that one? Golly, we haven't been in years, and last time Smoky came with us. It's by that one place that serves steak, across from the Fairy Fro-Yo. I just… I really need some authentic Anti-Fairy culture today."

"I'll be there in a wandshake, lambchop. Jist let me try remembering where I put your daddy's quill." She looked around, her forehead creased. "Huh. Oooooooor… I guess there's no rule sayin' I have ta leave him a note when I go out…"

"Ooh, but, isn't he still in jail because of how everyone thought we disrupted the Snobulac tribute ships and ignited their fury against Fairy World?"

"Nah. The Fairies finally realized he didn't do nothin' wrong, so they let him out." Mum looked under a coaster on the desk. "I'll tell him I'm gonna join you."

Her phrasing was deliberate, and she waited for a moment, one ear turned towards my crystal while she kept her eyes averted, to see if I would invite him along. I shook my head. Not him. Not today. I just needed my mommy today. "Thanks, Mum. I'll see you there."

Despite the fact that classes were in session and there was no doubt Foop and I would both get dinged for cutting, I left the high school and even the high school grounds. I first considered leaving through the cafeteria, hoping I could blend with the crowd who liked to take their lunches out back, then realized trying to hide from watchful eyes wasn't going to happen for obvious reasons. So I just floated out through the front door instead. As soon as I left the Class 4 poof-proof bubble around the school, I waved my wand and whisked over to the dining district in the neighboring town.

Anti-D'Hielo's was one of the only places in Fairy World that served traditional Anti-Fairy cuisine in traditional Anti-Fairy ways. I could think of a few establishments that served supposedly native dishes for a cheaper price, even when including the cost of hiccuping there with a wand, but I liked Anti-D'Hielo's. Foop didn't care if his meals were cheap so long as it was food he recognized, and would devour a tuqawr of kywtici wrapped in a cone of bakery paper from a greasy spoon cafe in just a few bites while sprinting across campus. I'd gladly pay by the buckets for the authentic atmosphere.

I landed on the teleport pad outside the garden, next to a stream and a bronze statue of a donkey taller than I was. The donkey was Twis' sacred animal, out of respect for the food he provided us from the clean soil every year. The cooking building was identifiable instantly by its arches and its rounded rather than scooping roof. It was the only establishment I knew in Fairy World that was guaranteed to be made of wood imported from Earth, instead of from trees ripped out of the cloudlands. The stone had been hewn from native foggilite quarries around Dragongasp Point; my family had contributed to the groundbreaking on Hy-Brasil's Day one summer when Foop was in his early sixty-thousands.

Not that Mum and I would even be eating inside that skinny building. That would be silly- that's where they cook! I removed my shoes and left them on one of the flat stones lining the stream. Then I passed beneath the trellis archway, laden with paper flowers at this time of year, and stepped into the dining courtyard. The rough stone scraped pleasantly beneath my bare toes. I moved carefully to avoid treading on any of the cracks. Circular tables were arranged neatly around the edges of the garden. The tables were low, of course, because modern chairs hadn't been invented by our people. We used them at the Blue Castle and many of our restaurants in Anti-Fairy World because the Fairies had taught us that chairs with high backs were proper, but Anti-D'Hielo's strove to get in touch with our older traditions. Rather than sit in chairs, we knelt at low tables. Proper meals weren't to be enjoyed upside-down.

Braziers crackled and glowed. The stream divided the courtyard in half, and there was a little bridge to walk over to the tables on the other side. Tall, lean trees with gorgeous black bark stretched into the sky, filling the air with rust-colored leaves. Brown lanterns hung in strings from the branches, although the candles inside wouldn't be lit until evening. Amazing, really, that a place like this could exist in the middle of a fussy city. My attention briefly captivated by the familiar taste of home, I accidentally walked straight into a Fairy - a Fairy! - floating towards my trellis arch as he sipped from a brown disposable cup. I gasped and floated to the side.

"Drk. Cherrywell!"

He sounded equally surprised to bump into me. "Foop?"

"Um…" I tugged hintingly at the hem of my sleeve. My crescent moon charm flashed. "Hi. I hope you had a good lunch break, professor."

Drk. Cherrywell shifted his wax and paper goblet to his other hand. "I did, actually. You know I love myself a taste of your beautiful culture. I even rewatched my time lockbox recordings from last week's assessment and finished my grading while I was in there. Feels good to be done."

Oh my smoke. He didn't. Not during a nice meal. Not in front of everyone. I almost died of secondhand embarrassment right there on the spot. Instead, I just twitched my ears and pulled my sleeves over my hands. "Oh. Okay."

"I'll admit, Hiccup, I'm very impressed. I certainly wasn't expecting you to outperform Foop on this assignment."

The way he phrased it wasn't a compliment at all. "Why, thank you so much," I said anyway. I lifted my arms in the air and waved them back and forth a bit. "Foop gets embarrassed about shaking his tail, but I just really get into dancing, you know?"

Drk. Cherrywell nodded. "You did very well. And don't forget, your write-ups are due tomorrow morning, before first period. That does go for both of you."

Was that a threat? My hands went into my sweatshirt pocket, but only for a second. I brought them together in front of my chest and put on my most endearing smile. "Ah, I thought we agreed that I could have until Sunday to finish it? It's hard for me to stay out in the body for long."

Drk. Cherrywell pointed two fingers at me with the hand that still clutched his wine cup. "If you had time to fritter away hours on the phone making get-together plans" (He didn't use the word date) "with my son Skeeter last night, you had time to write a two-page reflection on what you learned during this unit."

I curled my interlaced claws into my knuckles. "Oh, dear. One of us isn't going to be very happy tomorrow, are they?"

He shook his head in apparent annoyance. Leaning his shoulder against a smaller donkey statue than the one by the teleport pad (which he was not supposed to be doing), he said, "I'll never understand why they let you into Advanced Communication Dance in the first place."

"Ah, I may not be a gyne, but I'm still a prince, and I may need to know how to waggle dance someday. And, I'm allowed to be in the same classes that Poof takes because unlike most Fairies, supposedly, he wasn't born with a Finella reflex that supposedly should drive him wild with the urge to kiss his Anti-Fairy counterpart. They said."

His eyes narrowed when I said "waggle". "I didn't mean because Poof was in there. And it's 'kill', not 'kiss'. The Finella reflex is the urge all Fairies are born with that drives them to kill their own counterparts should their counterpart cross into their territory."

"Is it, though?" I maintained a completely straight face, staring at him with my eyes wide and hands still folded in front of my chest. Drk. Cherrywell sighed.

"You can have a deadline extension. You have until classes start on Friday to turn in that paper."

Briefly, I closed my eyes. Foop had finished his write-up last week. Me? I hadn't even started. I thanked Drk. Cherrywell anyway, pet the donkey statue twice between the ears, and continued through the courtyard. My shoulders slumped. Oh, why did there always have to be so much work to do in the world?

If my mother had passed beneath the trellis arch alongside me, Munn's presence would have tripped the sensors, and we would have been introduced to everyone in the courtyard with a flourish. But, I didn't carry Winni's favor. Someday (even if Foop thought he didn't have to), but not yet. It wouldn't be proper for everyone to stop eating and greet me, the mere heir presumptive, with their knuckles pressed to the right sides of their chests where the Breath symbol would be if the zodiac cycle pattern was printed on their shirts. Anti-Cosmo and Anti-Wanda, yes. Me? No, it was okay. Only if they wanted to.

In the time it had taken me to cross the school and have my discussion with Drk. Cherrywell, Mum had made it to Anti-D'Hielo's. She stood now on one side of the courtyard, chatting with a table of six Anti-Fairies who (judging from the ribbons and feathered cloaks) were out celebrating someone's wedding. Her small ears flicked instantly my way when she detected my arrival. Following her lead, the group at the table turned to see who was important enough to distract their friendly High Countess. Their faces broke into enormous grins when they heard it was me. Everyone raised their hands, clapping lightly and shaking their wrists in that way we Anti-Fairies did.

I took a hesitant step, searching for the table with its seven colored chairs where Mum and I were supposed to be seated. Every traditional Anti-Fairy eating establishment had one set aside, always kept clean and ready in case the mediums of the zodiac spirits should ever show up. Mediums didn't need to bother with reservations unless they were arriving with more than seven people. Officially, I didn't have to sit at the medium table if I didn't want to, because I was young and didn't carry Winni's favor. If I ever came here with friends, I could eat with them in a normal place. But Mum represented the spirit of Sky and Acceptance, Prince Monday, on the camarilla court. It would be disrespectful for her to sit anywhere besides the spot so lovingly kept prepared for mediums every day.

Too emotionally drained to hold conversation with a half-dozen cheerful strangers, I was going to bypass them entirely, until a pup jumped up from her woven mat and hurried over to me. One of the older damsels (probably her mother) called a request for her not to bother me, but the child didn't listen. She still had blue canetis rings weighing down her ears. Not even fifty years old yet, little thing. She stopped in my way and presented her hands up to me like an overturned dish, or a begging animal.

"Ben'argenta, Väika! Sina'tava Hera Anti-Odaviska d'colimperia Anti-Sukelijärveii. Koh sintu caneti?"

I actually smiled. If she spoke Vatajasa that fluently, she was probably from the Far West Region. I identified as Far Westian myself, even though Foop was born in the High South Region. Either Hera came from there, or the Anti-Fallingwater colony simply made a conscious effort to teach their pups our old ways. Taking her hands in my own, I replied, "Ben'argenta, Hera Anti-Odaviska. Sina'rija Väika Nebula Anti-Cosma d'colimperia Anti-Fairywinkle. Zodii d'Higetõkklo. Canetisana?"

"Zodii d'Caelumava."

"Ah, Caelumava! Nutiki ko d'imaline." I released her hands. "Minjina d'nuttavum, sinella'rija Vürstlik Anti-Wanda, autu Zodii d'Caelumava d'sintu."

"Cralái! Sina kova kai." Hera folded her arms and looked me up and down, cocking her hips just so. She nodded knowingly. "Koh tänagenta Nebula sintu, Väika?"

Touched that a mere pup understood her prince's situation enough to ask the innocent question, "Which Nebula are you today?" I said, "Tänagenta sina'rija Hiccup."

"Ah! Sina kova Väika Hiccup meliorpa Väika Foop."

I chuckled at her favoritism and wagged my claw. "Abscon salaductum ära ex Väika Foop. Väika Foop autu ko d'imaline."

Hera flapped both her hands downward dismissively. "Päevgenta minjina d'Väika sta Foop, sina kova Väika Foop meliorpa Väika Hiccup."

"Ah? Tepante?" Pretending her wishy-washiness hurt me, I traced an imaginary tear down my cheek. Hera grinned.

"Tepante, Väika. Sintu d'saatar. Sin'tari zodiiasco. Sin'tari tõkklavie." It's your fate. It's decided. Such is the command of the breath of life.

I shook my head in mock disappointment. Hera bowed and flew back to her parents. Her mother had her face in her hands, mortified into silence but laughing all the same. I paused by their table long enough to prove I had taken no offense at the child's enthusiasm. You know, it was really nice to see my people again. Sometimes, when I spent my days locked up in Carl Poofypants High, or shoved away inside Foop's head, I forgot that there were actually other Anti-Fairies like me who were allowed in modern times to live, work, and thrive just one city over. Maybe I should eat at Anti-D'Hielo's more often. Oh, but then people might begin expecting me, and I should hate to disappoint them if I didn't always show.

Thankfully, my mother sensed my anxiety and led me over to our reserved table before long. It stood in the center of the courtyard, framed by trees and giant blooming plants with long, slender leaves. Nice and low. Perfect for sitting by on a cushion. I placed my backpack on the ground. After taking my mother's hand while she sat and ensuring she was comfortable, I sat myself and adjusted the black tablecloth's edge over my lap.

"Ah, thank you for coming all the way out here on such short notice, Mum. The only place they serve anything relatively Faeumbran on campus is in the rooftop restaurant, and it's run by Fairies who take Anti-Fairy Studies classes and serve quick-and-easy meals for their class project every year. I'm looking forward to this. Please don't let me rush off to the loo and throw up when I'm done eating."

"Awww." Mum clasped her hands on the table and smiled at me. "'Course not, spiderbum. I e'en went ahead and ordered your favorite fried noodle shells as soon as I got here. High Countess privileges, h'yuck. Fastest service in town you kin get."

I looked at her, keeping it together. And then, abruptly, dropped my head into my folded arms. "Mama, this term was so h-hard."

"Shh, shh," she murmured, reaching out to wrap her fingers around my wrist. Her thumb slid across the moon charm on my identification bracelet. "S'okay, baby. Don't mind anyone starin'. Let it all drip out."

I shook my head, but left it buried in my arms. I mimicked her wrapping gesture by clinging to her fingertips. We didn't say anything until our food arrived. Mum's the only one who never made me talk when I didn't want to, even though she could tell how stressed I was. Father would be going bananas trying to unravel me, and frustrated that I would dare withhold things from him. My roommates kept an awkward distance when I got upset, but that was because they didn't really like me. Even Foop viewed me as a code to be cracked and dissected, and badgered me incessantly about my sad feelings when he could. Mum understood me. I loved my mum.

"Food," she finally said, letting go of my hand. I nodded and, slowly, lifted my head. She really had ordered me a bowl of fetika yika. It even had shrimp and sprinkled cheese. My favorite.

"Goody, goody," I mumbled. I took the ishredsi bowl and served her a portion, then served myself and returned the bowl to the serving tray. Mum took the wine pitcher and filled our goblets. When our server returned with a puff of bunae dough, I lifted it delicately between my claws, and reached across the table. Mum opened her mouth. Very carefully, I placed the tiny pastry on her tongue.

"Good?" I asked as she chewed.

"Mmhm. Delicious, Puck."

"Oh, good."

Near the end of her reign generations ago, Anti-Shylinda, who became the very first High Countess of the Anti-Fairies, had been stricken with almost full-body paralysis after Saturn's hotblooded medium attacked her under a white flag of peace. With Anti-Shylinda unable to use her arms, her mate Anti-Kahnii had fed her spoonful by spoonful at the very first Unity Hunt Banquet with such tenderness that warring Anti-Fairies all across the cloudlands had stopped their bitter arguing to watch in silence. The crowd was so touched by the sight of such patient love that every noble Anti-Fairy in the cloudlands lay down their hot wands that day and agreed to support the Anti-Coppertalons and their bloodline as their overseers.

That had been the origin of the camarilla court, who advised the High Count and Countess on daily matters. We honored that practice even today. Technically, being the drake at the table with the tightest kin ties to the High Countess, I was supposed to dip the gali-gali appetizers in my mother's soup and feed them to her one by one until they were gone. I wasn't supposed to eat until she finished with them. There were a lot of appetizers.

But Mum despised that etiquette practice. She said it made a lunch date take "two hours longer than any sane person thinks has gotta be necessary" and that she hated how awkward it felt to be eating while everyone else had to sit and be hungry. The custom only said she couldn't touch the gali-gali with her own hands, magic, or any utensils, so naturally she'd discovered the loophole of eating them with her feet. My mum was clever that way. I'm sure people stared at her in her youth when she first started doing it, but nowadays, it was kind of her thing. She's not only creative, she's brilliant. I want to be just like her someday.

As salads, soup, and plates of meat continued to be brought out over the course of the next half hour, we ate without speaking. I gripped my spoon in my right hand, threading my claws over and over through my hair with the left. Every so often, an acidic tear would splatter onto the tablecloth and threaten to sizzle if I didn't notice it quickly enough and wipe it away.

The fetika yika they made here was so good. I hated indulging myself at the best of times, because my bulimia was a respecter of no food, even tastes I loved. Rhoswen's chisel, I hated being chubby, and I knew I would surely find myself purging this binge the moment Mum left my side. But today, I forced myself to focus on the flavors and textures of every cold, creamy noodle as it dissolved in my mouth. Just this once, I let myself believe that I deserved this.

"Ain't it your roommate's birthday next week?" Mum asked, brushing her remaining ishredsi and dolline wik to one side of her plate with the curve of her spoon.

Was it? And how did she remember that? I pursed my lips. "Ah, which roommate would that be?"

She scooped up the bits and brought them to her mouth. "The cute one you like."

I choked on my spoon. "Mum!"

Keeping her eyes averted, she pushed another bite of dolline wik onto her spoon with her fork. "What's his name again?"

"U-um…" Oh dear. Which cute one was she talking about? Clever trick. I pulled the collar of my sweatshirt up to my mouth. Then my hands shifted to the hood. I tugged it over my ears. My wings folded after it like an umbrella. After a few seconds, when I had regained myself, I opened my eyes again. "How… how long have you known I don't just like Anti-Fairies? Did Caudwell tell you? He promised he wouldn't tell. He shouldn't. He can't. He's my therapist and that would break our client confidentiality."

Twisting her leg like an expert, Mum scratched her cheek with her big toe. "When we was all racing li'l skyboats 'cross the Teal Region for the Flight's Honor Festival in the Summer a' the Spitting Embers. You or Foop, one of ya, invited him to join ya, and ya even let him steer your favorite skiff all the way ta the finish line. That's when I figured it out, but I reckon that weren't the first moment you started liking him."

Sweat gathered on the back of my neck. She'd known that long? Had I even known I liked Seelie Courters at that time? I hadn't even been close to getting my adult body back then! "Uh… nope. I've liked him for awhile now." I squeezed my eyelids shut. "A-are you mad? About me liking Seelie Courters too?"

"Nah. He's cute." She leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table. "So? What's his name?"

"Ffffffff…" I tugged on the collar of my sweatshirt and used my ears to push the hood off again. She knew this! He'd been my roommate since Spellementary! She was just toying with me on purpose, like a manticore with its prey, so I would 'fess up. So much for allowing me the chance to save face. "Ah, well." I rolled my eyes. "I, um… He's Sammy Sweetsparkle. Um. Does Father know?"

"Nah. I don't gotta tell him nothing I don't wanna. I want you telling him only when you're ready. But I gotta wonder, how come you like both Seelie and Unseelie Courters, and you still ain't dating anyone nice and serious yet?"

I shrugged and stirred my fetika yika around some more. Mum tried again.

"Does Sparklepants boy even know ya got the goodies for him?"

"I can't tell him," I muttered. "Not yet. I should at least wait until he gets his adult wings. Then he can decide for sure if he likes drakes. And he'd have to decide if he's willing to let things happen between him and an Unseelie drake. I'll be super, super special if he gives me a candle's chance in The Darkness."

"Hey." Mum shot me a sharp look over the table. "We dun talk about The Wise Ancients when we's eating."

"Sorry." I raised my small, square soup bowl to my lips. "Mum, I've identified as 200,000 for almost my entire life. Sammy's not even 150k yet. I didn't even start liking him kissy ways until just a few years ago. But how am I supposed to explain that I thought he was the coolest person even back when we were kids? I just don't know. There's no good way to phrase this without coming off as a creep. I can't like people my real age because the body's too young, but I can't like people the body's age because that's just creepy. I'm just going to wait until he's older. I choose to suffer. And suffer I shall, on principle."

Just the thought of confessing to Sammy made me want to puke up everything I'd eaten for a week, no bulimia required. I clutched the bowl tighter and hunched into my wings. Ah, well… At least I'd had a little bit of practice talking through the complicated puddle that was my existence and my identity when I came out to Finley and Anti-Marigold. Anti-Marigold is fun, but she's not exactly, ah, into me, and hearing the age I thought myself to be probably didn't score me any points in her book. I don't feel comfortable kissing her. At least not right now. She's too young for me.

Finley's different. He and I smooch every now and again because he doesn't have his adult wings yet, so Rhoswen syndrome doesn't affect him and we're taking advantage of that while we still can. We just do small kisses. It's difficult to explain why that doesn't bother me as much as the thought of kissing Sammy. I feel like I'm way older than Fin. Way, way too old to be kissing someone who doesn't have their adult wings. I think it's all because… I don't think I'm actually attracted to Finley. Not physically. I just like to cuddle up to him while he plays his video games, and I've never, ever kissed him first. Not on the lips. I only do it when I know he's okay with it. I always make sure he knows it's me and not Foop out front when he kisses me, because I don't think he kisses Foop like he kisses me, but it's still polite to let him know.

And I've told him I'm older than him, and he says it's okay. So even though I should probably get thrown back in jail for some of the thoughts about cute drakes and damsels my weird 200,000-year-old identity has had while trying to use Foop's way-younger brain to figure out what the world is like and who I'm attracted to, that's okay, right?

I hope so. I don't like to think about it much, because Finley only kisses me when he's pulled an all-nighter on one of his games and it's about 4:00 in the morning. Our beanbag kisses never last longer than two minutes, if they've ever gone that long at all. Maybe he's just impulsive when he's tired. We've never talked about it the next day or anything. Probably should, since we've been having this little affair of ours across half a decade. I don't think Foop knows. I guess I just kiss Finley because he's there, and I just like being able to touch and hug and hold another person in three dimensions. And to be honest, making a stoic pixie crack a smile when you cuddle and kiss him is kind of… adorable? It's an accomplishment to brag about if nothing else. Not everyone can say they did that.

Is that wrong? Probably. I mean, even if you take away the fact that Finley is Seelie and I'm not, I shouldn't be having thoughts like this about someone so much younger than I am. Maybe they're not my thoughts. They're the body's thoughts. The brain belongs to the body, not to my soul and consciousness. I'm something else. These thoughts don't belong to me. I don't want us to go back to jail. Especially not because of me. Foop wouldn't be able to handle that. He doesn't even like jail when it's his fault he got thrown in there. If I got us in jail and he had to pay the consequences for my actions and feel powerless all day, that might just break him, I think. Control is so important to him. Sometimes it's the only thing he has left. Sometimes he doesn't have it at all.

But I don't think what I've done is really so bad. Foop's done things that are way worse than anything bad that I've ever done, so I think I'm allowed to kiss a nice boy if I want to. As long as there's consent, because that's very important, you know. I'm a good person. I always get consent first. That's why I haven't kissed Sammy, even though I really, really want to. More than I can admit to my mum. Kissing Finley some nights is just my way of killing time and perfecting my skills. When Sammy's old enough that I feel comfortable asking him, I want to know if he'll be my steady partner. I can wait. For him. He'll say yes to me. I mean, how could he not? I'm precious! He'll say yes. I know he will. I can wait.

I know our little thing is going to have to stop when Finley gets his adult wings. I'm actually okay with it. Maybe it's terrible to say, but I might even be relieved. Even though I don't have a significant other officially (I refuse to count Anti-Marigold as mine, because she's with Foop), I know I probably shouldn't be kissing Fin when the only Seelie Courter I really want to snuggle up with is Sammy.

Sammy.

Sammy embodied everything. He was adorable as a stocking cap full of buttons, with the unbreakable spirit of a dragon tamer. Thoughtful and quiet he may appear from a distance, he knew how to let loose at a party. I could still remember slipping silently past Foop to take control of the body one day when we were young, hovering in the corner of the lounge with the balloons as I crushed my plastic cup of apple juice, just gazing at Sammy when he danced with the grace of a snowflake as if he didn't care who saw a part of him that most Fairies generally played closer to the vest. When the proper school uniform came off, the leather jacket went on. And Tarrow help the souls he captivated with his gentle beauty then. Music lived beneath his blood. Handsome wasn't the right word for Sammy, and neither was hot. Sammy wasn't sexy. He was just… beautiful. Wispy blond hair, fluttering lashes, cheery violet eyes. And I loved that.

I didn't care about Finley's warm, random kisses on my cheeks. Not as much as I probably should have, since he was technically giving a part of himself to me too those evenings when he reeled me in, even if he always kept one eye on his video games. Oh, no. You see, I wanted to touch Sammy's soft lips, hold Sammy's shoulders in a hug, lower him down to soft blankets while I quietly kissed his face and he giggled in the way that melted my fangs into the roof of my mouth…

I stared longingly at the last chaishoa scone in its serving dish. My mother held seniority at the table, and by right it was to go to her. But she noticed I was looking and nudged the bowl towards me.

"Here."

Mortified, I pushed it back. "Oh mercy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply I wanted it. Forgive me, please."

Mum stabbed her fork in the scone, then placed it on my eating dish and scooted it off with the spoon. Gratefully, I lifted my eyes. "Thank you. Ah, you know, Mum… Sammy is having his birthday next week. I remember he was trying to figure out what to do about the party. After all, because he's one of the huldufólk, he can't be the one to serve treats. Birthdays are important in huldu culture, and I think I want to do something for him. Perhaps I could offer him the Castle for his celebration, and we could cater?"

"That sounds right doable if you're askin' me. I'll talk it over with your daddy."

"Oh, yay."

"Think he'll ask why?"

"Who? Father? Oh. Well, if he does, I'll just tell him I know a cute boy, and I like it. I don't mind."

On our way out, Mum and I paused to rub the ears of the donkey statue again. The brass had mostly worn away on the head, shining and glimmering like the prettiest lucky coin in town. I rubbed them a little too long, I suppose, because Mum reached her hand towards me. "Hey. Are ya ready to go back ta school now, Puck?"

"Back? No. Mama…" My eyes spilled over with tears, every bit. "Oh. Oh, I'm sad now." I held her hand up to my cheek and hiccuped once. "Mum, I just… I don't know. I don't know why I have to be like this."

Her eyes softened. "Hiccup, maybe you are an alternate personality that grew outta Foop's mind when he broke in jail, but you ain't less real to me. Hey. I love you. You's my darling li'l sugar-sweet son. I love ya like I gave birth to ya, and I kinda did. Y'all know I love ya just as much as I love Foop. Right?"

"What about Talon?" I sniffled.

"Aww, just as much as I love Talon."

I squeezed my eyes tight. "What about Smoky?"

"Just as much as I love Smoky."

"What about…" Pulling out my handkerchief, I tried to think of a single 'nother familiar face in the Castle. Specifically, I tried not to hate myself for being locked away in the mindspace so much that I didn't feel like I knew many other Anti-Fairies who were actually in my cohort.

Mum brought her hand to the back of my head, to the curls in my hair that weren't supposed to be mine. "I love ya just as much as I love your father. And my sis, and all your li'l cousins. You's in my family too, Hiccup. You belongs with us."

I dabbed at my eyes with the small square of dark blue cloth. "Ah, it's just very difficult right now? I'm so happy that I could eat out with you today, but I wish I could eat out with friends I really like and trust. Th-there's so many cute boys at school. I'm trying so hard… so hard… I'm trying to wait until we're older before I get too, ah, carried away with things, Mum? But I've been a 200,000-year-old trapped in a prepubescent body my whole life. Th-this isn't what I look like… This isn't me. I don't look like this. I have blue hair. I have green eyes. I do. This isn't my body. It's Foop's. And we're an adult now. I can use it to swing my hips and get the boys I like now, if I want to."

Her arms went around my back, carefully beneath my wings in that place that only mothers knew how to find. She rubbed one hand up and down, making small spiral patterns with her palm. "I know, baby."

I… I was shaking. Why did I have to be shaking? Mum hugged me, and I stood there blinking through the open coffered roof beams of the cooking building's overhanging entrance, clutching my handkerchief in my fist. My toes clenched the stone. "Um, it's s-so hard right now, having a body that's almost as old as I am. I'm so close, but I'm not there yet, and that's s-so hard for me, you see. It's just very hard when I like a cute Fairy with their adult wings, and I have to make myself stop before we exchange saliva. O-or when I like an Anti-Fairy and I want to go further than kisses. The body is basically old enough now, but I have to make myself s-stop…"

"I know."

I rubbed my eyes with my sleeve. "I have a date tonight… Skeeter Cherrywell. Except he won't call it a 'date,' just a 'hang-out.' We're going for ice cream on the other side of campus. It's just a little thing… He's so cute, Mum, even though he's Seelie, and I want to kiss him with saliva so badly, but he's got his adult wings, and also I'm s-scared of the real version of Rhoswen syndrome that's supposed to drive you gumdrop crazy when you kiss across Court lines, so I c-c-can't… I don't want to keep my hands off cute boys anymore. Or cute girls. I'm not in a baby body anymore. This body's old enough that I'm actually starting to feel okay being alive in it, and it's so hard…"

"Puck, listen ta me." Mum's fingers closed over my jittering hands. Even though I was sniffling and gross, it didn't stop her from pulling me towards her and giving me a kiss on the forehead. "Hey. Shh, hey. I know it's hard. It's so hard, and I'm so, so awesomely proud of ya for trying as hard as you've been like this. I get that there's cute boys. Huh. You know, I see cute boys all the time too."

"You do?"

"Mmhm. You know how I like traveling?" She cupped her hand behind my head, cradling one of my lower curls. "There's cute boys everywhere I go. And there's some days when that's tough. I were a wild child once."

I snickered. "You? No. You're the High Countess. Ah, I don't believe you were ever as young as me. You've probably been High Countess for fifty million years."

"Don't believe your own mum? What's this world come to all a' sudden, huh?" Mum stuck her tongue out at me. "Yep! I chased all the boys back when I was your age. I chased every boy in the whooole world."

I snickered again and shook my head at the ground. "Oh Mum, you didn't chase all the boys."

"Maybe not all of 'em," she amended thoughtfully. "Still. You think it's easy bein' this pretty when I go out on my travels?"

"No. S'not."

Mum rubbed my shoulder. "Lemme tell ya, Hiccup, I gots gorgeous drakes and damsels throwin' 'emselves at my two goshdarn lovely feet every day a' my life. And that's tough some days, knowing that I shoul'n't, knowing your pop'd be so sad. There's cuties everywhere, but I stick to my wands and I do it for him."

"Yeah…"

"But Hiccup, you gotta hear me out." Her fingers tightened. "I know Fairy-Poof's got his adult wings. I know you's got an adult body, and you's starting to get adult feelings inside you that make you wanna go cuckoo feathers over cute boys and girls. But this body you're in's still a crack too young for foolin' around with loving on the roost. Y'all ain't even 150,000 yet. It ain't legal."

I wiped one final time at my eyes and put my handkerchief away. "That's not my fault. This body's the only one I have."

"And you're doing amazing at taking care of it just the way Foop would want ya ta, sourpuff."

"I don't like it," I mumbled into her shoulder when I accepted her embrace. "I want a boyfriend, or even a girlfriend, so much. I want to kiss my special someone in my body. The body I have when I'm in the mind. Mama…" My arms squeezed her tighter. "I'm a handsome young man. I look so nice. You would love my real body. It's so chubby, b-but I have beautiful green eyes just like Father, and pretty blue curls. This is Foop's body. It's not me. I'm older than this. I'm old enough to kiss and cuddle with my boyfriend or girlfriend, and it's not weird. It's not weird. And they like me for me. They do, though?"

She cradled my cheek, just like she always did, in that way that only she always did. I closed my eyes. "What's your daddy always say, Puck?"

"Snff. Oh. 'If it's our fate, it will happen in its own time'…"

"I jist need ya ta hold on a li'l bit longer, Hiccup. You's almost old enough. But not yet. Not yet."

"I know," I whispered, and it was so hard to pretend for another day, another week, another lifetime that I didn't have needs. Oh, I really, really wanted to be good. For him.

At least I knew Foop wouldn't take a cute boy or girl up to roost before I did. Or at least, I really hoped he wouldn't… And clinging to my mum's shoulder, I squeezed my talons into the creases of her jacket and choked back my brand new sob. Oh. Oh, I really hoped he wouldn't. I mean, I know it's his body and he can chase after drakes or damsels if he wants to, but he doesn't like that kind of thing as much as I do, and I've waited so long for this, so that would really, really hurt my feelings if he did.