=========================================== I don’t speak to Sam at all over the next few days, avoiding him altogether when I’m able to. I’m not an idiot, after all. I know what that expression combined with those words really means. >I just need some time to think.< Uh-huh. Does he trust me at all? Okay, yes, I get it. I have not been doing very trustworthy things as of the last few years, little though I knew it. Sam’s perfectly right to suspect I am lying all over again, or worse, continued the thread of life I was on, despite learning and knowing the truth now. But *maybe* a person could >take three seconds< and *hear the other side of the story.* I mean, seriously. Look at it my way. For years, I wanted to be a therian, just for the fact that a fellow seven-year-old was. They say that what you learn young, you believe to an extent for much of your life, even if it turns out to be wholly untrue. For instance: Plants are worth less than animals because we cannot visibly see them do much of anything. (They don’t have or need eyes, so they don’t care for visual appeal beyond their flowers, which are used solely to attract pollinators, and they do communicate with one another via complex root and fungal systems. They certainly are not objects.) Does it really help if the aforementioned seven-year-old who is a therian isn’t fully informed on the topic or how to explain it? Not at all. Especially considering the fact that young kids don’t exactly have the most varied vocabularies on this Earth. Therefore, I ended up starved for information and sick with the longing to be what Eliza was, so is it truly so difficult to see how easy it was for me to decide that if I tried hard enough, did something significant enough, I could >become< one? Is it such a surprise that I used my elementary years like any other misinformed child of any sort - to weave the tale to my preference? Alright, you must think, what about middle school? Surely other alters corrected you at some point? Unfortunately not. The few I knew before coming here were the quiet sort; no public quads at school and not much involvement in the community beyond their actual identity, which is totally fine, but meant that Frost was the only other therian/alterhuman I knew, in my opinion, and he was just as overjoyed to know I existed as I did him. I think it’s that particular factor that allowed us both to ignore the reality for several more years. Besides, do you KNOW how immature middle schoolers actually are? Once you’re in, you feel leveled up, but in truth, you’re just flying around a maze with a trillion different dead ends and one invisible exit that looks just like another bit of wall. (Yes, Frost is legit, he has some pretty odd but genuine involuntary vocals, as a superb bird of paradise therian!) Okay, fast forward a year or two, and I have the good fortune to move here (Dad got a promotion), meet some new alterhumans, get involved, and, in my opinion, have the time of my life. Ashley and the others, other than the guys of the Soccer Quads Pack, never got extremely close, and guys have a no-questions-asked thing, so *they* never realized, either, but then look what the tide washes ashore! I'd never seen that shade of sand on any person before. Never seen that particular mix of grey and green as an eye color. Sam is shorter than me, although not by an intimidating amount, and I have almost never seen him wear anything long. The one time he wears so much as a hoodie is in the deep winter snows, and even then he keeps his shorts on. I first saw him running like the world depended on it, all fours, on the football field at lunch on his first day. His FIRST DAY! The nerve! I had to meet him instantly. He turned out to act more timid than I expected, hiding in a shell of alterhumanity and quiet literally ignoring any hate comment. It was like his eardrums shut off on purpose. It never escalated, though, because there are way more alterhumans at this school than most, and we watched each others' backs, even if we didn't fully accept certain new guys (aka me and Sam). But Sam was (and still is) far braver than he looked and spoke. Especially since he brought up the courage to betray me, reveal the truth, and tell me some other stuff I never thought he would do, and yet he did. ===========================================
=========================================== (continued) --- I shouldn’t have been surprised he was perceptive enough to see the truth of me, shouldn’t have been caught off guard by his betrayal. I don’t even blame him for that, but I blame him for this, that he has so little faith in me to do the right thing once or twice in my life. My frustration shows that night in the ruthless efficiency with which I make masks, first packaging some that are ready to go to be mailed tomorrow, and then putting the rest of my energy into a northern goshawk mask that a guy over in British Columbia requested for his little sister’s birthday next week. It’s done, save the eyes, which I am doing right now. I narrow them to near slits with cardboard and a little felt to cover that, just wide enough for visibility, and paint the mesh as realistically as I am able before hot-gluing them on. Perfect. I add a few more touches - a dash or two of darker gray here for texture, an adjustment to a faux feather there, and then she’s ready to go. I’ll let her dry overnight, then package her before school tomorrow morning so I can take her and the others down in the afternoon. Speaking of birthdays, I’ve been thinking about Sam’s. Oddly enough, I still care about him, and I want him to feel accepted into the alterhuman community as much as I never was. So I begin to plan, and I plan some more. I fix up the old tail of Eliza’s, tie on and brush out fresh yarn before replacing the belt-hook. I take out a notebook, sketch something quickly, then shove it back into the drawer whence it came. A paintbrush topples slightly in its pot, splashing gray paint-dots who-knows-where. Luckily, none hit the tail. --- The next day after the last bell rings, I go to my locker to get some things as usual, and as I go to close it, a piece of paper, folded into quarters, falls out of the bottom of my normally neat locker. A corner is curled back slightly, showing clear, even lines of cursive. That is not my handwriting. So what is this? Who’d send me a letter? I head to the park, intending to read it there in peace and chill before returning home, but just as I sit down on a bench, I notice a commotion a ways off. Looking closer, I can see a sandy-haired figure quad jumping - and doing it wonderfully - in front of a crowd. Sam's sandy hair. That's him? I don't move. I watch every leap, midair buck, landing, all of it. Even when the crowd goes away at last, one girl going up to him for a short moment, he never sees me. He just bounds away, clearly elated. I sort of half smile, then begin to turn my attention to the letter. A shadow falls over me just as I begin to unfold it, and I look up. The girl, maybe seven or eight, stands there, fidgeting nervously. "Yeah?" I say. "Do you know the therian guy I was just talking to?" she asks. "I saw you watching, and you looked kinda weird in the face." I hesitate, then scold myself for hesitating. *No lies,* I think. "Yeah," I repeat. "I do." ------{END}------ =========================================== I know, long, long, LONG chapter! Hey, I had the whole summer to write it - what do you expect? Besides, y'all deserve an effort chapter after the hiatus! I bet Comma's excited to have something to do at last for deboredification >:) claw've been very restless and bored lately, if I'm not mistaken! But claw should be satisfied now, claw've plenty of lore to build off of! Oh yeah if you want a ping let me know - I'm starting the official list! The list: @MischiefMistcat (when my chapters come out) @_-Silvermoon_- (when Comma's chapters come out) @ @ @ ===========================================
