《Pitch》


 Chapter 1 Prologue

    Magic was ordinary, and hypothetically, anyone could use it. Spell books were sold like cookbooks, after all. However, powerful spells always came with a bigger price tag.


    My family didn¡¯t have a grimoire full of extravagant spells. We hardly had enough to bind inside a hard cover. A few pages of simple things were the best we could do. It was nothing significant.


    So how did I do it? How did I curse myself to live the rest of my life forever as Danger Rabbit? It started as a small thing. Had I let it go, had I been able to move on, maybe things would have been different. But I was a kid back then, and sometimes the only way kids learned was after screwing up.


    I had lost my pet rabbit, Mr. Nickels, my first pet.


    Ironically, because my pet had cost so much to buy, my dad couldn¡¯t afford a spell to find him. At eleven years old, nothing and no one was going to tell me no. So when Dad couldn¡¯t help, I helped myself.


    I searched for magic words, and I used spells that I already knew to fill in the gaps.


    It took a bit of time, but I wrote something worth giving a shot. In the middle of the night, I finally had the chance to perform my first self-crafted spell. I should have known something would go wrong since I had to wait hours for my dad to go to bed before I could do anything.


    All I wanted to do was find Mr. Nickels, my first pet. But I didn¡¯t know the reason my rabbit had cost so much was because he was magic. That night, I learned why ordinary people never wrote their own spells.


    New magic was dangerous and unpredictable. Spells were like complex formulas. Sure, spell books dumbed things down enough for kids to use, but coming up with something original wasn¡¯t safe for an 11-year-old boy to do on a school night.


    Strangely enough, the spell could have worked had I known about Mr. Nickels¡¯ unique abilities. But, like always, I was clueless. When I said the words of my spell out loud, my magic mixed with his in a disaster. The next thing I knew, I woke up with my dad standing over me.


    Something was weird.


    I wasn¡¯t hurt, but there was definitely something off. Dad assisted me up from the floor, and that¡¯s when everything became clear. I was covered in white fur. My ears were long, and I had rabbit feet. Although my thumbs remained intact, I mysteriously found myself with only four fingers on each hand. I had turned myself into a sort of half rabbit creature. My dad should have been livid, but he was distraught.


    I forgot about Mr. Nickels after that. Finding my lost pet was a small challenge compared to my new appearance. Sadly, there was no undoing the spell because I had transformed myself. Even if we had the money, undoing my transformation would have been nearly impossible for a professional magician. I was stuck as a half-breed for the rest of my life or until I could come up with a solution.


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    Dad wouldn¡¯t let me out of the house for nearly a month while we tried to undo my mistake. Honestly, I didn¡¯t want to be seen either, so I would have avoided going outside, anyway.


    Life never slowed down. Eventually, we started getting phone calls from my school. Teachers wondered where I was or if something had happened to me. Dad could only tell them I had a cold so many times before they grew more suspicious. When we got a letter warning that if I missed any more days of school, Dad would be fined, I had no other choice but to return.


    There was nothing we could do with the short time that we had left, so I reluctantly caught a school bus the next day.


    As expected, I was the center of attention from the moment I stepped foot on the bus. Magical creatures, or Fae, weren¡¯t anything uncommon, but my middle school had very few. Moreover, I wasn¡¯t simply a satyr or an elf, or anything along those lines. I might have been the first half-rabbit the town, and maybe even the world, had ever seen, aside from the Easter bunny. Kids could be assholes, but during that fifteen-minute bus ride, everyone was too taken aback to be dicks.


    I placed too much importance on what other kids thought when I shouldn¡¯t have. Upon our arrival at school, the principal was waiting. Ms. Harper wanted to discuss how my grades had fallen during my long absence. However, the moment she saw my fur, my tail, and my long ears, I¡¯m sure my classes must have become a minor talking point. She escorted me straight from the bus to her office, and everyone inside the building had a front-row seat to the spectacle. On the bright side, no one recognized me unless I spoke or outright told them who I was, but that didn¡¯t stop them from talking. With my oversized ears, I heard every word spoken as I walked by with my head down.


    All I cared about then were the rumors I thought would spread fast. The main issue went completely over my head. Ms. Harper and I spoke at length about my transformation, and throughout the conversation, I was honest at every turn. I was too young, or maybe too na?ve, to realize my dad could have gotten into serious trouble. Magic was easy enough for kids to use, but children weren¡¯t allowed to use advanced spells on their own.


    There was too much potential danger to chance the possibility of kids being careless. Anyone can use a knife or a lighter, but you wouldn¡¯t let children go around starting fires in the woods or cutting things down on their own. Advanced magic was the same way. With that in mind, my transformation was less than ok. Despite my explanation, Ms. Harper continued to believe my dad was negligent. In her eyes, my father had allowed a preteen to conduct a self-crafted spell.


    The moment Ms. Harper called my dad to come to my school was when I started to understand. We were both in trouble. I backtracked in our conversation, attempting to cover our asses, but it was too late. Ms. Harper wouldn¡¯t listen to another word until my father arrived.


    While my dad spoke with her and a couple of police officers, I was told to wait in the hallway. I could hear, with unease, every word spoken through the wooden door. I should have been in my English class. I would have killed to have been sitting at my desk reading some dead poet¡¯s early work, but I couldn¡¯t leave.


    Maybe my fur was to blame, but I started sweating from an overwhelming heat. I couldn¡¯t divert my attention from my dad¡¯s attempts to salvage the situation.

 Chapter 2 Rabbit Intern

    Six years into life with my curse, it was a miracle I hadn¡¯t died. Along with turning myself into a 5-foot-tall, half-rabbit half-breed, I had given myself incredible bad luck. I could make a house cave in on itself just by standing somewhere too long. It was one of many odd changes that came from unsuccessfully using magic to find my lost rabbit.


    Though, if I ever had any good luck at all, I must have spent it finding my closest and only friends in the world, B. James, and Wesson. Our junior class was two weeks out from summer break. All the end-of-the-year testing was out of the way, so everyone was waiting for the school year to come to a close. That Friday afternoon, I walked BJ home. Despite my being close to Wes and BJ both, they never liked one another. Each day, I had to consciously decide who to hang out with. BJ won that afternoon because Wes had a meeting with the school principal.


    Taking the bus home would have been faster, but walking gave BJ more time to work out new spells with me.


    ¡°So there¡¯s this summer internship I read about,¡± BJ said as we walked under branches while leaves crumbled under our footsteps.


    ¡°What kind of internship?¡± I asked.


    We stopped walking so she could take her spell book out of her bag. The pages of her handmade spiral held weight and took time to flip through.


    ¡°For magicians. I thought you might like to apply for it with me,¡± she added.


    ¡°You want me to be a magician?¡±


    ¡°You created a working transformation spell when you were 11.¡±


    I laughed at her, calling it a ¡°working spell.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, and I¡¯ve been trying to undo it ever since,¡± I said, unamused.


    We took a lot of back roads that afternoon that eventually spat us out into the Dead Woods, our town¡¯s biggest forest. According to what we learned in history class, settlers gave it the name ¡°Dread Woods¡± after Marwick Dread, the person who built the first house in that area. Only recently did the new name become popular, all thanks to the rise of common spells. To avoid causing damage, magicians in the early days of human magic practiced their spells in the woods. A lot of people died there, and eventually ¡°Dread¡± became ¡°Dead¡±. However, it continued to be a beautiful place, as long as we had a clear sense of direction.


    ¡°I could help you,¡± BJ said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be a magician,¡± I told her.


    ¡°But I do.¡±


    I took a few steps back. Considering some of the stuff in her book didn¡¯t need words to activate, I didn¡¯t want to stand too close. As she flipped through the pages, there was a danger similar to hiding a grenade at a kid¡¯s birthday party. Pages glowed and faded as her hands turned them over. I wasn¡¯t sure how she carried something like that around without constantly hurting herself.


    ¡°Then you should do it... alone,¡± I said and crossed my arms.


    As I leaned against a tree, she came near, and I knew to expect puppy dog eyes. That¡¯s what people do when they want something.


    ¡°I need you.¡±


    I asked, ¡°Why me?¡± but she turned away.


    ¡°I need your spell,¡± I thought she said, but I couldn¡¯t make out her words for sure, and with my big ears, that meant she was quiet.


    ¡°What?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I need your spell.¡±


    I stood up straight.


    ¡°The spell that gave me fur all over my body? The spell that made my feet too big to wear shoes and ears long enough to hear my dad if he jacks off at night? You want to be a rabbit too?¡±


    ¡°I have to submit a working spell to be considered.¡±


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    ¡°Then use one of yours,¡± I said.


    ¡°None of mine work.¡±


    ¡°What about the one you used to change your hair color?¡±


    ¡°It blinds anyone who sees me cast it.¡±


    ¡°Then use my spell without me. You don¡¯t need me for this. I wrote the words in some book, and I can give it to you later.¡±


    I wanted to get off the subject. Those who had known me for a considerable amount of time knew the length of my struggle to find a cure for my curse. After years of turning over stones to no avail, of course, I gave up hope.


    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be right to take credit for your work,¡± BJ told me.


    ¡°But, it¡¯s alright to strong-arm your friend into working our entire summer break?¡± I didn¡¯t mean to sound nearly as argumentative or sarcastic as I must have at that moment, but it came out that way.


    ¡°There¡¯s a chance we won¡¯t even get it,¡± she said, pleading with me at that point.


    ¡°If I say yes, will you leave me out of whatever spell you¡¯re about to do?¡±


    ¡°But I had something special planned for today.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s my price.¡±


    B James and her family moved from Japan to our town a few years after my curse. Her parents were professional magicians, so I did my best to get in their circle. BJ¡¯s fascination with my half-breed form made my work easier. My ability to create spells at a young age impressed her. Transforming myself was an accident, but she never seemed to care. BJ wanted to make new magic like her parents, and I suppose she thought I could help.


    I appreciated her willingness to overlook how the rest of our school avoided me. However, that might have been easy, considering no one flocked to her lunch table any more than my own. We hadn¡¯t even graduated high school, but BJ had more spells than a person could count. While most of them had adverse effects or didn¡¯t perform as intended, they still had an effect. That was impressive if nothing else.


    ¡°Deal, but you have to stick around to watch,¡± BJ answered.


    ¡°In case something goes wrong?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say that.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t have to,¡± I replied.


    We exchanged a mutual grin before she adjusted her glasses and finally flipped around in her book to find the newly crafted spells. We spent most of the afternoon in the woods. BJ wrote a spell for growing plants faster, but it made anything made of wood burst into flames, including all the papers in my backpack. She tried to put out the fires with another spell meant to create rain clouds, but it summoned a swarm of butterflies that flew into the flames. Needless to say, they all died. They died quickly, but at least the fires went out.


    By that time, we had spent hours in the woods.


    ¡°We should get moving,¡± I said as I picked our bags off the ground, burnt as they might have been.


    ¡°We will never speak of what happened here to anyone, right?¡±


    ¡°Like always,¡± I said with a chuckle before handing BJ her ruined bag.


    We started on our way out of the woods.


    ¡°Do your parents know you¡¯re applying for this internship?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Not yet.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think they should know?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell them once I,¡± she started until I cut her off asking, ¡°Did you hear that?¡±


    ¡°Hear what?¡± she asked.


    There was a sound coming from the bushes ahead of us. It was too big to be a cat, dog, or rabbit.


    ¡°Stand back,¡± I said as I put my arm in front of BJ.


    ¡°Is someone there?¡± I called out into the distance, but no reply was returned.


    Only the rustling of the bushes broke the silence as something or someone came near. It was close. There was a momentary pause of nothing but the bugs around us falling silent. Then, whatever it was, lunged out at me.


    It was my other friend. He made me fall backward and rip the arm of my button-down shirt as I shouted at him, ¡°Wes!¡±


    Despite his speed, he failed to catch my arm as I fell.


    ¡°Sorry, dude,¡± Wes said with a laugh before he helped me to my feet.


    ¡°What are you doing out here?¡± BJ asked, more annoyed than me, though I was the one with the ripped shirt.


    ¡°I need Pitch,¡± the satyr said.


    I met Wesson in my freshman year of high school. Neither of us liked to use spells. To be fair, most fae, because of their natural magic, didn¡¯t need spells as much as humans did. Even I had natural abilities after my transformation, like better hearing and invisibility.


    Wes, being a satyr, demonstrated impressive speed and strength, among other abilities. Given enough motivation, he could probably come out on top in a fight against a troll.


    ¡°Well, he¡¯s walking me home from school,¡± BJ said.


    ¡°Schools been out for 3 hours now, and you know how to get home,¡± Wesson remarked.


    ¡°You want me to walk by myself?¡± BJ asked.


    ¡°No one walks me home, but we¡¯re the same age,¡± Wes said sarcastically.


    I cut in, ¡°Wes, what did you need my help with?¡±


    ¡°I need your ears,¡± he said.


    ¡°Let me get BJ home, and then I¡¯ll swing by your place.¡±


    Neither of them was even looking at me anymore; they were staring one another down.


    ¡°Alright, just make sure ¡®Bug Burner¡¯ isn¡¯t with you.¡±


    ¡°You saw that!?¡± BJ exclaimed.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be there, alone,¡± I said as I held BJ back from Wes.


    We took to our separate ways after they exchanged a few aggressive glances I had to step between.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why you hang out with him,¡± BJ argued.


    ¡°Wes is cool,¡± I said.


    ¡°Wes is just short of being a toddler. He doesn¡¯t use magic.¡±


    ¡°Wes uses magic. He doesn¡¯t use spells. Plenty of people don¡¯t use spells. You know I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s different; you can¡¯t afford them.¡±


    ¡°That hurt,¡± I said.


    I didn''t find her remark painful, but I was offended by her blunt delivery.


    ¡°You know what I mean,¡± she said.


    By the time I got BJ home, it wasn¡¯t dark yet, but I still had a walk ahead of me. With it being the weekend, I knew Dad wouldn¡¯t mind my staying out a little long. Regardless, I had to spend some time trekking from one side of town to the other, since I couldn''t walk any faster. BJ and her family stayed in West Point while Wes lived down the street from me on Optic Road on the far east side of town.

 Chapter 3 Camping

    Fae were a small minority in our town, but common around the world, even outnumbering humans in some places. Their homes could be far from ordinary. On a single street, there were typical houses made from brick and stone next to odd properties constructed on clouds or even underwater.


    Fairies were tiny creatures that didn¡¯t need a lot of space, so they could turn a single tree into a nest for 20 or more. Seeing unusual homes was something I and most people got used to. Still, it was always like wandering into another world when I got to visit Wesson¡¯s house.


    When I made it to Wesson¡¯s place, he was waiting for me on the front porch. He let me inside and took me to his bedroom upstairs. His parents didn¡¯t own cars, so I wasn¡¯t sure whether we had the place to ourselves. Once inside his room, he shut the door behind us.


    ¡°You said you needed my ears for something,¡± I asked while Wes jumped into his bed and lay in it.


    He stretched out while I took a seat across from him in a wooden chair at his hand-crafted desk.


    ¡°Yeah, man,¡± he sat up before he continued. ¡°So I have this snake in my wall,¡± he said.


    I¡¯m sure there were several animals throughout his house, but how he spoke told me the snake was an irregularity. His family¡¯s home had windows and doors, but those were the only normalities clearly present.


    Of course, a family of satyrs lived differently from a family of humans. Their house appeared to be carved from a single dark wood tree with bark strong enough to stand changing weather. Their plants grew like a garden on steroids. The sides of their walls were covered in vines, moss, and various overgrowth. There were always wild animals like squirrels or raccoons in their bushes.


    Most satyrs were animal-loving, light-hearted naturalists, so it made sense that they preferred to live in a place similar to the wilds of a forest. Their house took every opportunity to mirror the outdoors. The floors were a type of lush grass that imitated carpet. They had electricity and running water, but it was sparingly present throughout the house.


    I loved visiting Wes at his place. Hanging out in his bedroom was like going camping without giving up Wi-Fi.


    ¡°Why is there a snake in your wall?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It got out of its tank,¡± he said, as if he¡¯d answered the actual question.


    ¡°Since when do you have a pet snake?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not mine. It¡¯s the schools.¡±


    ¡°But why do you have the school¡¯s snake?¡±


    ¡°They were gonna cut him open in biology class.¡±


    ¡°Ok...¡± I said, waiting for him to continue.


    ¡°Ms. Harper told me to bring him back, and if I don¡¯t, they¡¯ll expel me from school.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s only a week left in school, though.¡±


    ¡°My dad won¡¯t care if it¡¯s one week or 10,¡± he remarked.


    Wesson¡¯s parents weren¡¯t strict by most standards. They let him go to school without wearing pants after all, but the standards magical creatures held their kids to in our town could often be high. Or so I was told.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never hunted anything before,¡± I said as we stood up.


    ¡°You can hear really well, though, can¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Sure, but you can talk to animals.¡±


    ¡°I have to know where it is before I can talk him out. Come on, man, I¡¯ll owe you.¡±


    ¡°Alright, Alright.¡±


    I didn¡¯t want to promise I¡¯d find his snake when I still hadn¡¯t seen my pet rabbit after six years. Unsure of where to start, we both stood around, waiting for me to do something. It felt awkward, but eventually, I did the only thing I could logically think of. I put my ear to a wall and tried to listen.


    I usually tried to tune things out. The constant barrage of loud noises could be bothersome, so it was often best to avoid focusing on the surrounding clamor. That may have been my first time legitimately using my ears like sonar. It was a little surprising how well it worked.


    I could hear the sound of pipes first. The AC was the next thing to catch my attention before I started to notice things moving around. Every home had some amount of bugs in its walls, and some houses even had rats or birds that could go completely unnoticed. I had to tune everything out before I could focus and make out the sound of slithering. I followed the sound throughout the house, keeping my ear to the wall. Wes stayed behind me, watching me work. He tried to be supportive, but couldn¡¯t follow how I was making progress well enough to know when to cheer or stay silent. After a while, we ended up in the hallway outside of Wesson¡¯s bedroom. I took my ear from the wall and held my hand to the spot where the snake was resting.


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    ¡°It¡¯s here,¡± I said


    ¡°It¡¯s there?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Ok, watch out,¡± he said before moving my body out of the way.


    ¡°What are you gonna do?¡± I asked, but I got my answer just as quickly.


    Without any hesitation, Wes punched a hole in the wall. It wasn¡¯t my place to tell him what not to do in his home, but I was pretty sure no one¡¯s parents would be happy to come home to holes in the wall.


    ¡°Wes,¡± I said, still shocked at how reckless my friend was. I laughed, but I was concerned.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry; the house is made of living wood, remember? It¡¯ll fix itself,¡± he said as he reached his hand through the hole and dug around.


    ¡°If you say so,¡± I replied while I watched.


    He must have found the animal because he started speaking in some language that mimicked snake hissing. Before long, he pulled the scaled creature out and held it around his arm.


    ¡°Thanks, man,¡± he said as he turned in my direction.


    ¡°Any time.¡±


    He tried to hug me, and I might have let him, if not for the snake jumping from his arm. I should have seen it coming; of course, a snake would see a man-sized rabbit and think, ¡°That¡¯s my next meal.¡± It wasn¡¯t venomous, but it was big. As it sank its fangs into the palm of my hand, I thought for sure it was going to come off.


    ¡°Shit,¡± I exclaimed as I threw the green reptile away.


    Wes scolded the snake as if it were a child while I held my hand, trying to stop the bleeding. That¡¯s when I heard Wesson¡¯s mom yell up at us, ¡°boys.¡± So they were home. Wes put the snake away in his room before walking me to the bathroom and helping me clean and wrap my hand. He thought it was funny.


    ¡°I hope they cut that thing open twice,¡± I said.


    ¡°He didn¡¯t mean anything by it.¡±


    ¡°It was going to eat me.¡±


    ¡°Harold was not going to eat you.¡±


    ¡°Why did you name the snake!?¡±


    ¡°No... he already had a name.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but crack up. I was still pissed about my hand, but the way Wes was with animals was nothing short of endearing, if not adorable.


    ¡°Sorry about the jacket,¡± I said, noticing I had ruined it with my bloodstains.


    It¡¯s a good thing it wasn¡¯t his usual jacket. He always wore the same hoodie I got him a couple of years back for his birthday. Come to think of it; I doubt he wore clothes before I got him that jacket.


    ¡°It¡¯s cool, man. You mind if I take it off?¡±


    ¡°You know I can see your dick every time you stand up or stretch, don¡¯t you?¡± I replied in a joking tone, but I was serious to some degree.


    His fur often covered enough to forget he didn¡¯t wear anything below the belt. However, things would slip through or be easier to notice depending on how he stood or walked.


    ¡°Sorry, nature endowed me so well my natural coat can¡¯t hide it all.¡±


    He shed the extra layer, and for a moment, I couldn¡¯t help but realize we were sitting in a bathroom together. He was naked aside from his fur, and we were all but holding hands while he helped me with the bandages. I didn¡¯t mean to spaz out, but I yanked my hand away to finish wrapping up on my own. I don¡¯t think he was bothered by it, but he must have noticed the unusual tension sitting in the air.


    Satyrs had a reputation for being sexual creatures. I couldn¡¯t look them up online without finding porn or stories of lustful exploits. Wesson never tried anything with me, and we were friends, but knowing what he was, I figured it was best to avoid provoking any of his ¡°natural¡± instincts. I felt a little racist for thinking Wes would be so stereotypically sexually charged that he¡¯d suddenly do something like that. Still, it was better to be safe than awkwardly sorry, in my opinion.


    ¡°What were you and Bug Burner talking about earlier?¡±


    ¡°BJ wants me to apply for a magician¡¯s internship with her,¡± I said while we left the bathroom together.


    ¡°I thought you hated magic,¡± he said.


    ¡°I hate being a rabbit.¡±


    ¡°But rabbits are cool.¡±


    ¡°No one wants to fuck a rabbit,¡± I joked.


    We went back to his room. I stood by the window, looking through it up at what might have been stars or satellites. My dad had to have made it home from work by then.


    Wes came and stood by my side before asking, ¡°Is that why you¡¯re doing the internship?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m doing it yet. BJ said even if we apply, there¡¯s no guarantee we¡¯ll get in.¡±


    That tension was ever-present, less dense, but floating around. I didn¡¯t think a jacket mattered much when Wes never wore pants, but it made a difference. With his chest and abs out, he was more naked than usual, and I¡¯m not sure how I felt about it.


    ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, I hope you don¡¯t. There¡¯s this festival coming up in a few weeks. It¡¯s supposed to be one of the longest ever held, and if my parents let me go, I thought maybe you could come too.¡±


    ¡°What kind of festival?¡±


    ¡°STR,¡± he said as he left my side to find the laptop on his desk. He pulled up a website with information and brought it to me. The first thing I noticed was the lack of humans in all the advertising pictures.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that a Fae thing?¡±


    ¡°Which we both are,¡± he said, taking a seat in his wooden chair while I leaned my back against his bedroom window.


    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± I said.


    ¡°No one would know unless we told them, and if you¡¯re trying to get some action, maybe you¡¯ll have better luck if you¡¯re open to more than human options,¡± Wes added.


    ¡°You mean date an elf or a troll?¡±


    ¡°Or a satyr.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I said, and with a grin, I added, ¡°but let¡¯s worry about getting the snake back to school first.¡±


    I almost couldn¡¯t believe Wes was my friend. Considering how popular he was compared to me or BJ, sometimes it didn¡¯t make sense how close we were.


    Our paths had initially crossed when I tried to join the high school Fae Club. There weren¡¯t many Fae that went to our school, and the club was a way to let them all meet one another. Unfortunately, when I tried to join, someone pointed out that I was born human.


    I was only a half-breed because I cursed myself.


    I couldn¡¯t join the club, I wouldn¡¯t. Technically, they weren¡¯t allowed to exclude me or anyone else, but I thought it best to let things go. Wes, being the best guy in the world, found me the very next day. After telling me the other kids were dicks, he deemed me worth hanging out with. From that moment on, I couldn¡¯t remember a day Wesson and I didn¡¯t see one another.

 Chapter 4 Late Night

    Even though my dad¡¯s house was down the street from Wesson, it was around ten at night when I made it home. Dad¡¯s car was outside, and I had missed curfew. I couldn¡¯t just walk inside. That would have been too brazen.


    I had an extraordinary ability that might have made sneaking in more accessible, but it came at a high risk.


    Able to turn invisible, I might have walked inside without worry had my ability also allowed me to make my clothes transparent. But I couldn¡¯t. I didn¡¯t feel like stripping naked just to break into a house I lived in. Not to mention, without a perfect handle on my particular skill, there was always a chance of my becoming visible again too quickly. It was easier to try sneaking in through the back door and hoping Dad was already asleep.


    Unfortunately, the back door was locked. The back door was never locked without a reason. He was waiting for me.


    Walking back around to the front door, I noticed the lights in the living room were on. I put on my best golden child smile and readied myself for what I predicted was on the other side of that blue door.


    As expected, Dad was sitting on the living room sofa. Still, in his greasy work clothes from the car garage, he sat in his usual scent of motor oil. With his back facing me, I truly thought I had a chance to sneak into my room without being noticed. That was until he spoke, of course. I had big ears, but my dad could hear a dime drop in the ocean.


    ¡°Where were you?¡± He asked without standing or even turning his head.


    The sound of his voice made me freeze. Then his question compelled my legs to move forward, as if I was being summoned deeper into the room by my misdeeds. I stood at his side, and he glanced up at me before returning his gaze to the TV screen.


    ¡°Hi, it¡¯s nice to see you too. How was your day? My day was good,¡± I spoke quickly, attempting to smooth things out before they started.


    ¡°Were you with a girl?¡±


    ¡°No, I was with Wes.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s ok too; just remember to use protection.¡±


    ¡°Dad, he¡¯s my friend, not that.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to be ashamed of,¡± he said jokingly.


    I couldn''t decipher if he was mad or not. It was 10:05, which was only 35 minutes past my curfew. Since I had stayed out much later than that in the past, there was a chance he wouldn¡¯t be as upset as I assumed.


    ¡°You¡¯re not mad?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to do what you do, son. Your mother and I were the same around your age. Just be safe and don¡¯t bring home children before you¡¯re 25.¡±


    ¡°So I don¡¯t have a curfew anymore?¡± I asked with a slight grin.


    ¡°The next time you miss curfew without calling home, don¡¯t expect your phone bill to be paid.¡±


    My grin quickly dissolved. ¡°I¡¯m going to bed,¡± I said.


    ¡°Wait.¡±


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    Just as I was about to go, he grabbed my wrist. To my surprise, Dad didn¡¯t say anything about my ripped shirt or the bandages on my hand. My bad luck made injuries less of a surprise in our house, but I never thought I¡¯d see the day he wouldn¡¯t lecture me over them. Had he had enough, or were my constant stitches something we were both numb to?


    ¡°There¡¯s something we need to talk about.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need another sex talk, I haven¡¯t gotten in trouble at school in almost a week, and I ...,¡± I said, trying to assume and avoid anything else my father might have had in mind, but in the end, I was cut off.


    ¡°You need to start looking for a summer job,¡± he said.


    ¡°A job,¡± I exclaimed.


    ¡°I let you go without one for so long because of your condition, but it¡¯s time to face the fact that you may never find a cure or a spell to fix you. You can¡¯t let your bad luck be the only thing in your life.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± I said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want you sitting around the house sulking or wasting away.¡±


    ¡°Dad, I won¡¯t. I already have plans for this summer.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± He asked as though the idea of my having a life was a surprise.


    ¡°Yes, really. BJ and I are applying for an internship, and Wes wants me to go with him to a festival.¡±


    ¡°An internship? And a Festival?¡±


    I didn¡¯t want to be an intern, and going to a festival that seemed less than human-friendly was less than ideal. Desperate to keep my dad from thinking I was lifeless; I had no choice but to toss the ideas out into the air. If not for my friends, I might have spent my summer watching TV and contemplating my existence as ¡°Danger Rabbit.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Dad. I¡¯m not gonna sulk or lie around the house.¡±


    ¡°I worry, son.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, I promise.¡±


    I expected yelling or rage, but Dad was giving me worry and fear. There¡¯s nothing worse or quite like the feeling of knowing your parents are afraid of where your life is going. It¡¯s not the same as disappointing them, it¡¯s something else entirely. To be honest, after my transformation, I was alone for a while, and I would sulk and feel sorry for myself. Then I met BJ and Wes. It would have been a lie to say I didn¡¯t feel less than or alone and helpless at times, but having my friends made it a little easier to crawl out of those slumps when they came over me.


    ¡°One more thing,¡± he said before I walked away.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Your mother called; she wants to see you next weekend.¡±


    ¡°Do I have to?¡±


    ¡°You know it¡¯s your decision, but your mother is finally trying.¡±


    When I went to my bedroom and shut the door, my day had finally come to a close.


    As usual, I checked the carrot traps I set for Mr. Nickels. Like always, the carrots were gone. Even if I never saw him, it was nice to know my rabbit was still around. Having avoided capture for six years, I was sure Mr. Nickels could have escaped the house, but for some reason, he hung around. I had gotten all my new abilities from him. Hearing, invisibility, and even my luck came from my pet rabbit. If he could do everything I could, and likely more, then why hadn¡¯t Mr. Nickels run off?


    It wasn¡¯t summer yet, but I had plans, actual plans. Despite the love I had for my friends and how much I needed them, there was always an uneasy feeling I carried. Maybe I was better off staying home. Maybe I was better off alone. Regardless, after telling Dad about my summer plans, I had no other choice but to do something. That was unless I wanted to get a job.


    As I got into bed, I weighed the avenues set by Wes and BJ.


    ¡°Good night, Mr. Nickels,¡± I said before shutting my eyes to sleep.


    I could never say for sure, but every night when sleep came to take me, I could swear he jumped up into my bed. I¡¯d feel him crawl up and sit on my chest, or rub against my cheek. Being exhausted, I wouldn¡¯t move or reach to touch him. My eyes would stay shut for as long as I could imagine he was there. But I¡¯d always peek eventually.


    If I was lucky, I¡¯d see a glimpse of Mr. Nickels before he¡¯d hop away and everything went dark.


    Nothing good could last forever, I guess.

 Chapter 5 Crunch

    I had one week to help my friends and to save myself from the mundane horrors of a summer job. There was one week to help BJ get the internship or convince Wesson¡¯s parents to let him go to the festival. I had one week to control the future of the next two months of my life.


    In any case, BJ was a straight-A student. My grades weren¡¯t too bad. With my rabbit spell, we were sure to at least be considered for the internship. Our problem was the other candidates. Our competition was a complete mystery to us. We were searching for a surefire way to win. If it weren¡¯t for most battle magic being illegal without a permit, BJ¡¯s harmful spells would have been great for submitting. She had an entire book of magic to make things blow up, catch fire, or act oddly.


    Monday morning, we had a first-period math class together.


    With it being the last week of school, we didn¡¯t have anything left to learn, which made most classes little more than free periods. We sat in the back of the classroom, and BJ worked on writing a new spell in her book.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re so interested now, but we can¡¯t sabotage applications,¡± BJ said.


    ¡°Why not?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Because it¡¯s immoral, and I want to be accepted by my merits and work ethic.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have to do anything. I¡¯d take care of it.¡±


    ¡°Pitch, no. Besides, I have no idea who the other applicants are.¡±


    To tell the truth, I wanted to help both my friends, but I was more biased towards assisting Wes. I had an obvious traumatic history with spells. Sometimes, all I wanted to do was live my life and forget about magic.


    Wesson¡¯s parents weren¡¯t strict, but they were protective. He often got away with more than most. Had the festival been held closer to town, we could have gone with no questions asked. It¡¯s because of the distance we had to travel on our own that we had a challenge.


    I was going to help BJ get the internships regardless, but if Wes and I made our plans work out, I was going with him.


    ¡°There must be a way to find out,¡± I said.


    ¡°Pitch!¡± BJ exclaimed.


    ¡°Alright, alright, I was joking anyway.¡±


    I was not joking, but BJ was right. I wasn¡¯t the type of person to be that sinister.


    ¡°We have to do something to put us over the top,¡± I said.


    ¡°If we had another functional spell, I¡¯m sure we¡¯d be accepted on the spot.¡±


    How she still considered my curse a functional spell was a mystery. Regardless, I suggested, ¡°Maybe we can work with something in your book.¡±


    The rest of our class kept a minimum of two seats between them and us. Between my natural lousy luck and BJ¡¯s radioactive spell book, we were all but shunned when seen together. If nothing else, it gave us plenty of privacy, even when we didn¡¯t want it.


    ¡°I told you. All of my spells are too dangerous to submit,¡± she said.


    ¡°Not if we find one and make it seem useful enough to warrant the danger,¡± I said, thinking myself so clever.


    ¡°That¡¯s... that¡¯s not a bad idea, but it¡¯s easier said than done.¡±


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    The bell rang.


    It was time to head to our next class. Unfortunately, my next period was the gym, so I had to table my conversation with BJ. I did, on the other hand, share gym class with Wes.


    Coach Par, the usual gym teacher, was missing. Due to someone throwing a weight bench in the previous class period, we had Ms. Harper as a substitute. Any other sub might have let us play dodgeball. Ms. Harper went through the trouble of setting up a 5 part obstacle course outside on the football team¡¯s practice field. She even had a whistle she seemed to enjoy using a little too much.


    I always hated gym class because other kids cheated. However, I never had anything against Fae with natural abilities.


    Wes was a satyr, which made him naturally faster and more durable than most people. The kids who used magic to make their bodies light as air during running or gave themselves iron strength during deadlifts pissed me off. Almost everyone had some sort of spell they used to make class easier, everyone but Danger Rabbit. Wes, being the best friend I ever could have asked for, ran the obstacle course beside me. It was embarrassing how easy everything was for him, especially when he purposely slowed himself down so I¡¯d keep up, but the sentiment wasn¡¯t lost.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to wait,¡± I said through half-breaths.


    ¡°It¡¯s a few more laps, dude,¡± Wes said as he ran the course without losing breath, which made me appear to be the weaker of us two.


    I was the weaker of us two.


    ¡°Have I ever told you how much I hate having fur?¡± I said, pushing through strides.


    Having fur, even in breathable workout clothes, was torture in the summer heat. Not to mention, I didn¡¯t wear shoes because of my rabbit''s feet, so I had to deal with the wet, bumpy, and frequently uncomfortable terrain.


    ¡°You should ditch your pants. Let everything breathe,¡± Wes said as we finally finished the fourth lap of ten that we needed to complete to be done.


    I was struggling to keep my feet moving, and there were kids literally flying by. Ms. Harper stood on the sidelines, blowing her whistle, but at no point did she regulate anything. Eventually, it became clear she was more focused on making music with her blow tool than keeping track of us, so Wes and I snuck away.


    ¡°How aren¡¯t you out of breath or something?¡± I said.


    My voice was quick and slurred while I fit words through stammering breaths. Wes and I went under the bleachers to escape the last half of class. Under the shade of metal seats, I leaned against a support beam to catch my breath.


    I had no idea, but my being able to keep up with Wes without the use of magic was a noteworthy feat. Sure, he might have slowed himself down for my sake, but I held my own next to him while everyone else needed spells to get through the first three laps.


    ¡°So, I asked my dad if I could go to the festival yesterday,¡± he told me.


    ¡°What did he say?¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t care.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s great,¡± I said as I stood up and dried sweat from my forehead.


    Being honest with myself, an internship would have been like a job. Going to the festival with Wes seemed like the better option. I wanted to be a good friend, but going to STR was a better summer plan than blowing myself up trying to write spells for eight weeks.


    ¡°Yeah, but my mom doesn¡¯t want me to go,¡± he said.


    ¡°Shit!¡±


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t think I¡¯ll be safe spending weeks across the country with you.¡±


    So the problem his parents had wasn¡¯t with the festival. It was me. I wasn¡¯t surprised.


    ¡°I should be worried about spending that long with you,¡± I laughed.


    Joking was the best way to move past it. What else could I do?


    ¡°Pitch, you gotta admit you have the worst luck,¡± he said, clearly withholding the intent of hurting my feelings.


    But I took some offense, despite my knowledge of it being true.


    ¡°Whatever,¡± I said.


    ¡°It¡¯s all good, though. She said I could go with you if we find someone else to go with us.¡±


    ¡°Someone else like who?¡±


    ¡°Someone safe, someone responsible, someone who doesn¡¯t have a history of being hit by cars or attacked by swarms of bugs.¡±


    ¡°Someone like BJ?¡± I suggested.


    ¡°Fuck, no! Anyone but her dude,¡± he answered so quickly I thought he might knock me over with his words.


    ¡°BJ is good people,¡± I argued lightly.


    ¡°BJ is a stuck-up rich kid. I don¡¯t get why you like her, anyway. Her parents are magicians ... and you hate magic.¡±


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t care that I¡¯m so unlucky,¡± I joked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care that you¡¯re unlucky. She tolerates it because she¡¯s using you,¡± he said, as if worried.


    ¡°How is she using me?¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t she make you help her with her wild magic?¡±


    ¡°I do that because I want to help, because she¡¯s my friend, just like you are.¡±


    ¡°Sure, dude, but we need to find someone straight-laced to take with us on our trip,¡± he said as we peeked through the bleachers, checking to see if the class was over yet.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure we can find,¡± I said before I was cut off by what I saw flying in our direction.


    Before I could utter another word, someone using flying magic shot through the bleachers, punching a kid-sized hole in the metal seats. And, of course, they crashed right into me. Somehow the stands didn¡¯t fall, and Wes was completely untouched, but I was knocked out.

 Chapter 6 Roll Over

    I woke up in a familiar place. A place I had come to know too well¡ªa place where blood, sweat, and tears flowed to no end.


    I woke up in the nurse¡¯s office.


    As usual, nurse Flaring, a white elf, was waiting for me to wake up. She was sitting with a magazine. I don¡¯t think she noticed I was awake until I sat up in my usual paper-covered medical bed.


    ¡°How long was I out this time?¡± I asked, at which point she put down her magazine.


    ¡°You missed most of the day,¡± she said.


    ¡°What time is it?¡±


    ¡°3:30,¡± she replied with monotone.


    I missed an entire day of school. My dad might have been pissed or concerned had the school bothered to call him. They stopped notifying him of every time I got hurt once people realized how frequently incidents occurred around Danger Rabbit. The only time they called my dad anymore was when someone else got hurt. Seeing how he wasn¡¯t around the room that afternoon, whoever crashed into me must have been fine.


    Getting hurt so often, I think my body healed faster than most. That being said, as I walked out of the nurse¡¯s office, I was more than sore enough to regret being hit by an unidentified flying asshole.


    Walking through the school after hours felt like wandering through an abandoned crime scene. It was too quiet. I knew people were there not too long ago, and something was bound to happen there if the right or wrong people were still lurking around. I made my way outside, and to my surprise, someone was waiting for me on the front steps.


    BJ and Wesson were both outside. I assumed they stuck around for my sake, but it seemed they couldn¡¯t help but argue while they waited.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t need spells to beat you,¡± Wes said to BJ.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have any,¡± BJ replied.


    ¡°Because I don¡¯t want it. I don¡¯t need it.¡±


    ¡°Only a fool would go through life, making things harder without magic.¡±


    ¡°Or someone strong enough to get by without cheating,¡± Wes said confidently.


    ¡°You would lose,¡± BJ argued, just as confidently.


    ¡°What are you guys arguing about?¡± I finally cut in.


    I doubt they would have noticed me had I stayed silent.


    ¡°Pitch!¡± BJ exclaimed.


    Wes walked over and wrapped his arm around my shoulder before he spoke.


    ¡°Buddy, will you please tell Bug Burner I would win in a fight?¡±


    ¡°A fight?¡± I asked.


    ¡°If he and I were on Wizard Wars,¡± BJ explained.


    Wizard Wars was a popular TV show where contestants battled head-to-head in random and sometimes odd challenges. It was one of the few places people were allowed to use magic while competing. Magic was banned from most professional sports for the safety of players, but in Wizard Wars, contestants were encouraged to use whatever spells they knew in order to win.


    ¡°I think you¡¯d both lose,¡± I said as we walked down the steps.


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    ¡°What!?¡± Wes exclaimed.


    ¡°Because I¡¯d win,¡± I answered.


    Normally I¡¯d have to decide who I wanted to go home with, but that day was different. BJ and I needed to work on another spell to submit for the internships, and Wes lived down the street from me. For what might have been the first time ever, we were all together.


    ¡°You know he¡¯s going with me to the internship,¡± BJ said.


    ¡°He¡¯s going with me to the festival,¡± Wes replied.


    It was like walking with toddlers. They couldn¡¯t coexist in the same space for 10 minutes without going back and forth.


    ¡°I¡¯m leaving you both if you keep arguing,¡± I said.


    ¡°You can¡¯t do both, Pitch,¡± BJ said as she stopped walking.


    Wes and I turned around to face her.


    ¡°As long as I don¡¯t have to get a job this summer, I¡¯d hang out with a zombie,¡± I joked.


    ¡°Come on, man, you know it be more fun at STR than at some job,¡± Wes added.


    ¡°No one wants to get with me now, so why would anyone want to at a festival full of more interesting people?¡± I asked, almost sarcastically.


    ¡°Dude, rabbits are cool,¡± he said.


    ¡°Until someone figures out I was born human, then I¡¯ll be the idiot kid who cursed himself,¡± I replied.


    ¡°All the more reason to come with me, we could potentially learn ways of turning you back,¡± BJ interjected.


    ¡°Or get ourselves killed,¡± I quickly responded.


    I didn¡¯t mean to be so harsh. I was lucky to have friends who liked me enough to want me involved in their summer plans, but I would have been happy just to spend more time with my bed. STR might have been a fun idea with plenty of opportunities, but it had the potential to be another chance to embrace myself and be rejected. And the internship, as amazing an opportunity as it might have been, was still dangerous as hell. Someone had to be a realist out of us three, but I suppose I might have been swimming in pessimistic waters.


    ¡°I¡¯m not saying I don¡¯t want to go with you guys, but no matter what I do, with my luck, something bad is bound to happen,¡± I said.


    The universe was gunning for me that day. Like magic, my words of pessimistic precaution seemed to summon danger. Before I could even turn around, I found myself knocked into the middle of the street.


    Daybreak was a town home to many diverse people, human or otherwise. Two of those groups of people were Trolls and Orcs. Trolls were tall, lanky, and very tough. Orcs were fat, round, and very strong.


    They both came in a variety of different colors, with trolls often being blue and Orcs typically being green.


    From time to time, ordinary people confused the two races with one another, but Orcs and Trolls were like day and night. More importantly, they hated one another for some reason and would often cause mayhem when they clashed. Like most Fae, they didn¡¯t need spells to be threatening.


    For some reason, I got caught in the middle of a fight between an orc and a troll that day, and I never figured out why. I did my best to get out of the struggle, but they kept knocking me back into the mix. It all went down in the middle of the street, so I¡¯m sure many passersby caught the show. I thought I might actually die until my friends jumped in.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Pitch! I got you,¡± Wes said as he rushed into the street to try to break up the fight.


    BJ followed after him but kept a distance as she opened her spell book. She did a spell I remembered, but I couldn¡¯t see why it was her first choice. If not for my high tolerance for pain, and my body learning to heal so quickly, I¡¯m sure I might have passed out after the first misdirected punch that hit me in the face. BJ used her bug spell to create a snare of ladybugs that blinded the two battling creatures long enough for Wes to pull me out of the fray.


    ¡°Ladybugs?¡± Wes asked as we ran.


    ¡°They were butterflies last time,¡± BJ replied.


    ¡°Those wouldn¡¯t have helped either.¡±


    We kept running until we were breathless. By then, we were far from the fight, but the sound of property damage was still heard.


    ¡°My spell saved Pitch,¡± BJ said excitedly.


    ¡°Your spell killed more bugs, harmless, defenseless bugs,¡± Wes protested in an attempt to level BJ¡¯s mood.


    ¡°But it saved Pitch,¡± she said.


    ¡°I saved Pitch,¡± he said.


    ¡°You guys,¡± I cut in.


    It was the second time that day I¡¯d been struck. I should have had a concussion.


    ¡°Can we just go home?¡± I said in a drained voice.


    If nothing else, we figured out which of BJ¡¯s spells to submit. Her bug spell made the perfect blinding agent. Despite its unpredictability when it came to which breed of bug might come to the rescue, it proved reliable enough to halt a fight between an orc and a troll. If only she¡¯d used it before I got tossed around like a rag-doll.

 Chapter 7 Milk Fish

    I spent the rest of the week searching for anyone to go to STR with Wes and me. While everyone was happy to go anywhere with my friend, finding someone willing to travel with me proved to be a challenge. We had few options to begin with, and even fewer we were willing to consider.


    ¡°I want fish,¡± said Lance as Wes and I followed him out of the cafeteria.


    ¡°Fish?¡± I questioned.


    ¡°Not just any fish. I want three Gilded Star Lions,¡± Lance added.


    ¡°You want us to buy you fish?¡± Wes asked.


    ¡°If you want me to go anywhere with Danger Rabbit, that¡¯s my price,¡± Lance said before trying to leave us to get lost in a sea of people during the passing period.


    Wes and I spent two days going around asking people to accompany us on our trip. By Thursday, we were left with no other choice but to turn to more unique options. One such person was Lance Hagen, an elf who¡¯d gone to school with me since before my transformation. He and I were never very close, mainly because he could be annoying, but I never thought we had a problem with one another. That was until that day.


    We followed the pointy-eared wood elf through the crowd.


    ¡°But why?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Because when you fell through the ceiling three months ago, you killed my fish,¡± he replied.


    Hearing him became difficult as he attempted to distance himself.


    ¡°That was you,¡± I said in a lighter, almost joking tone that Lance didn¡¯t seem to appreciate.


    ¡°Yes, that was me,¡± he said as he stopped at his locker, finally giving Wes and me time to talk without him trying to lose sight of us.


    ¡°You know, it took 2 hours to get all that broken fish bowl glass out of me,¡± I joked.


    ¡°Get me my fish, or find someone else,¡± the elf said before slamming his locker shut and storming away, literally.


    The guy must have been pissed because he summoned a storm cloud to knock me away while he walked off. So Lance was a no-go.


    After school that day, Wes and I walked home together. We turned over every stone we could think of, but no one was willing to go to STR, not with me.


    ¡°Those fish cost more than a sports car,¡± I said.


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll find someone else,¡± Wes reassured.


    ¡°No one wants to go anywhere with me.¡±


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    ¡°I do,¡± Wes said.


    ¡°You don¡¯t count. You¡¯re tough enough my bad luck can¡¯t hurt you, and you¡¯re nice to everyone.¡±


    ¡°We just need to keep looking,¡± he repeated.


    ¡°Is there anyone left?¡± I questioned with doubt.


    Wes put his arm around my shoulder as we walked down the street. I didn¡¯t mean to kill the mood, but lucky for me, Wes was good at picking it back up.


    ¡°What if we sneak you into the festival?¡±


    He spoke so casually I had to believe he thought it was a good idea.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have to tell my parents you¡¯re going if you don¡¯t go with me. It would be so easy. We go by ourselves and meet up when we get there,¡± he continued.


    ¡°It''s  definitely "a plan, " but I don¡¯t have the money for a plane ticket without my dad¡¯s help. He wouldn¡¯t let me go anywhere that far away by myself anyway,¡± I said before he could further spin out into his bad idea.


    Before going home, Wes and I took a bit of a detour and went into town. Daybreak was modern enough to have cellphones and TVs, but so dated that most buildings looked faded and in need of a paint job.


    There were three places to hang out when I didn¡¯t want to go home. The Dead Woods was a great place for parties, but often a trouble magnet. Uptown Mall was the closest thing to the modern world within city limits, but lacking a job meant window shopping was the best I could do when I paid a visit. There was Mabel¡¯s Marble Slab, an ice-cream shop that doubled as an 80s themed arcade. The retro lights, old school games, and classic milkshakes made it a good place to zone out. Not to mention my unnaturally bad luck never seemed to hurt me there. My curse made it impossible to win a simple game of Tetris, but at least the ceiling never crashed over my head.


    Wes and I had a usual table in the back, close to the kitchen doors. I would have steered clear of sitting there since the swinging doors could have hit me, but Wes thought sitting closer to the food would mean quicker service. His strength and speed were natural abilities, but they required a lot of energy.


    That¡¯s how most fae abilities worked. Their natural gifts came with drawbacks and equalizers. I suppose all magic was like that, in a way. Though the cost of most spells was typically money.


    My friend had a big appetite. While he wasn''t much bulkier than me, he definitely had a toned physique. Unless he made it a priority, he wouldn''t have put on a lot of muscle. Why would he bother? His physical gifts came from burning energy, not from building his body. Maybe he could have done both. Either way, from what I could tell, he had to eat enough for two people if he wanted strength enough to lift a car. Without calories to burn, Wes was as strong, or maybe as weak, as a human.


    ¡°What does STR even mean?¡± I asked while I watched him devour plates of meat and glasses of ice cream.


    ¡°Super Together Rainbow, or something. It just sounds cool,¡± he said.


    ¡°So, it doesn¡¯t mean anything,¡± I said sarcastically.


    ¡°People love acronyms,¡± he replied.


    ¡°But people don¡¯t love me.¡±


    ¡°Dude, keep your gloom and doom away from my shake.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s alright, I think BJ and I are getting those internships, so at least I¡¯ll have something to do this summer.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t give up hope. We''ve got time. And anyone can be a ride along,¡± Wes said with a mouth full of French fries.


    His cheerful demeanor was enough to make me tired, trying to keep up.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we invite BJ?¡±


    ¡°No way, man,¡± he swallowed his mouthful before trying to continue, but I already cut him off.


    ¡°Listen, I mean, what if we told your mom we invited BJ?¡±


    ¡°But she wouldn¡¯t actually come?¡± He asked as I passed a handful of napkins across the table for him to clean his face.


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    ¡°That ... that could work, but what if my mom asks BJ¡¯s parents about something or whatever?¡± Wes asked before getting to his feet.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to get BJ in on it,¡± I said.


    ¡°And you think she¡¯ll help us?¡±


    ¡°I think she¡¯ll help me.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Wes said as he stood next to the table with his hands in his pockets.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t bring any money, did you?¡± I asked with a low brow, realizing I was stuck with the bill.

 Chapter 8 Believe in Trees

    The school year ended on Friday, signaling the official start of summer break on Saturday. My vacation''s future was still unclear. BJ and I were waiting to hear back from the internship, and I needed to convince her to help Wes and me if I wanted to go to STR.


    I was such a terrible asshole.


    How could I ask BJ to do something for me so I could choose to spend the summer with Wes over her? It didn¡¯t even sound right in my head. But the festival was obviously going to be less work than an internship. Neither option was without back drafts, but at least STR had a chance of my getting laid before my senior year.


    Still, nothing made me feel better.


    I killed a chunk of my Saturday morning sleeping in. By the time I left my bedroom, Dad had already gone off to work. The cable was out. My cooking skills were lacking. I had broken my game console a few weeks prior when a video game spirit haunted me. In short, there was nothing to do at my place, not by myself, so I left.


    Knowing BJ, she was probably kick-starting her summer break somewhere out in the woods, trying out new spells. I never understood why she tried so hard to be a magician. She didn¡¯t need the money. Her family owned enough spells that she could have done anything, but she wouldn¡¯t even use them.


    If my family had the same money or spells as BJ, I don''t know what I would have done, but I would have been better off. It¡¯s not like anyone was forcing her to be like her parents. In fact, I knew for a fact her parents didn¡¯t want her to be a magician at all. They knew how dangerous it was. Everyone knew how dangerous it could be. Then again, I doubt I¡¯d have recognized BJ without her dedication. Maybe had she relaxed more, she and Wes could have gotten along better.


    As expected, I found BJ out in the woods.


    All I had to do was follow the sound of exploding wood and bugs being sent to their graves. Approaching her from the cover of bushes and trees, I should have made my presence more apparent. She was in the middle of a spell when I stepped into view. Startled by my sudden appearance, she accidentally hit me with a cloud of lightning. I went flying across the forest floor, yelling for mercy. My slide went on and on until a tree abruptly ended it with a harsh crash that nearly uprooted it.


    All of a sudden, I felt better about my intentions.


    After BJ rushed over to help me back to my feet, and I brushed the mud and grass off my clothes, I presented her with my request.


    ¡°No,¡± she said.


    ¡°But you don¡¯t have to actually go,¡± I added.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to lie to my parents. Not for Wes.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be lying for Wes...you¡¯d be lying for me,¡± I said, knowing it hadn¡¯t made anything better.


    ¡°Pitch, I can¡¯t believe you would let Wes talk you into something like this.¡±


    ¡°It was my idea,¡± I said hesitantly.


    ¡°That¡¯s worse.¡±


    I thought she¡¯d have been warmer after hitting me with a lightning storm, but no, she was cold.


    ¡°I¡¯m not asking you to commit murder. It¡¯s a little white lie,¡± I debated.


    ¡°Even if I were ok with this scheme, it wouldn¡¯t do any good,¡± she said.


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    ¡°And why not?¡±


    She paused and gave me a look. It was joy bubbling up to the surface, though she had tried to hold it back. I didn¡¯t understand until she spoke.


    ¡°Because we¡¯ve been accepted. We got the internships,¡± she said.


    It was good news. It was fantastic news. I didn¡¯t have to work as a fry cook or something lame all summer.


    ¡°It starts next Tuesday at the town¡¯s theater,¡± she said.


    ¡°So, you won¡¯t lie because you don¡¯t want me to go with Wes?¡± I asked with a twinge of attitude.


    ¡°This internship will make us bigger, brighter people. A festival won¡¯t help undo your curse.¡±


    ¡°What if I just want to have fun this summer? What if I don¡¯t care about turning back anymore?¡±


    ¡°Is that true?¡± she asked, knowing the answer.


    It took me a moment to respond. Ironically, I couldn¡¯t lie.


    ¡°... No, but shouldn¡¯t I have the choice?¡± I spoke.


    ¡°You should have a choice, but I won¡¯t help you make a decision I feel is wrong.¡±


    ¡°Of course you won¡¯t. Have you even told your parents about the internship yet? How do you know they¡¯ll let you go?¡±


    ¡°Because they will,¡± she exclaimed in a heated tone.


    There was a brief silence. Even the woods fell dead to highlight the tension further. I didn¡¯t want to hurt BJ¡¯s feelings. Of course, I wanted to go with the laziest choice, but BJ was right. The internship had the potential to help me in ways that could forever change my future.


    ¡°Congratulations,¡± I said.


    I wanted to chill the atmosphere, and I thought acknowledging the good news we glossed over could help.


    ¡°I know you think STR will be more fun, but I promise the internship can be too,¡± she said.


    ¡°It¡¯s still nice to have the choice,¡± I replied, almost exhausted by our back and forth.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I can¡¯t make the decision any easier.¡±


    ¡°Why do you need me to go with you? You got in?¡± I asked.


    ¡°With your spell?¡± she joked.


    ¡°And one of your own.¡±


    ¡°Do you know why I want to be a magician?¡± She asked suddenly.


    ¡°Because your parents are magicians.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s more to it.¡±


    A breeze caressed the forest floor, blowing leaves into the air. We took to a nearby tree stump before BJ continued. She put away her book, and I tried to dust myself off further. I wasn¡¯t prepared for what she said next.


    ¡°My family has money, and power, and magic, but I don¡¯t,¡± she said.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°When my sisters turned 21, our parents evicted them from the house. Father said it was time they went out and found their own magic. They didn¡¯t have access to the family grimoire. They were cut out of the accounts, and they weren¡¯t allowed to see me unless I went to visit them away from the house. They couldn¡¯t come back until they were financially stable on their own.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s terrible,¡± I said.


    I didn¡¯t have the emotional intelligence to articulate my understanding when it came to hardships and tragedies. I didn¡¯t want to come off as unfeeling or unphased. It was hard to know how to react when faced with something of that caliber without warning.


    ¡°And the same will happen to me when I turn 21. Pitch, I¡¯m not good at anything. I can hardly take care of myself, but my family has always been good at magic, so that¡¯s what has to save me,¡± BJ said.


    She didn¡¯t look at me. She wouldn¡¯t make eye contact, but it may have been for the best. The way her voice approached cracks and breaks told me she was uneasy.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure there¡¯s something else you can do,¡± I said.


    I wanted to comfort her, but BJ was strong. She didn¡¯t cry.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing, but if I become a great magician like my mother and father, it won¡¯t matter,¡± she said with hope in her tone that broke the negative gravity.


    Still, she paused, and I didn¡¯t think it right to interrupt her.


    ¡°I know you don¡¯t like magic, but there aren¡¯t many people who¡¯ve made their own spells. Having you around, regardless of how unlucky you are, makes me feel a little hope.¡±


    That might have been one of the nicest things BJ ever said to me.


    ¡°Honestly, if you can make magic, then I should be able to do wonders,¡± she added jokingly.


    And just like that, she knocked the wind out of a perfectly good compliment and almost made it an insult.


    ¡°I understand now, but you know I still have to help Wes, don¡¯t you? He wants me with him as much as you do,¡± I explained.


    ¡°That¡¯s fine, but I won¡¯t help you choose against me,¡± she said.


    Once again, I found myself alone while walking home from the woods.


    I loved my friends. Some days, they literally gave me a reason to get out of bed. But sometimes it was nice to be by myself.


    When I was with Wes, he made me feel comfortable in my skin. But being comfortable ultimately meant giving up on a cure. BJ always pushed me to be better than I was. She saw something in me, but what I was could never be enough.


    Wes was happy with me the way that I was while BJ saw what I could be. Those were the actual choices. Spend my summer coming to terms with my reality or spend it making a new one.


    Sometimes, I hated how much walking I had to do around town, but those were the moments when life was most clear. My walk home gave me a chance to breathe.

 Chapter 9 Sob Sob

    Had the decision been made for me? Without BJ''s help, Wes and I were still short of a third person for our STR trip. Our chances of finding someone were not looking optimistic.


    After my talk with BJ, I made it home with half a day of sunlight left to live. Sadly, there was a car parked in the driveway. A fancy Italian sports car with purple leather seats was far from anything dad drove or could afford to drive. Although he would have loved to have worked on such a beautiful piece of metal. It could have been one of BJ¡¯s family cars, but that was unlikely. I had just seen her out in the woods earlier, so why would she send a car for me?


    I knew whose car it was. Dad had warned me, but I forgot until just then. As I stood in the driveway looking over what must have been a stolen vehicle, I got a call from Wes. Answering the phone gave me a reason to avoid walking inside for a little longer.


    ¡°I found someone to go with us,¡± Wes said.


    ¡°Who?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You remember my cousin Russell?¡±


    ¡°No!¡±


    ¡°No? You don¡¯t remember him?¡±


    ¡°No! He¡¯s not coming with us,¡± I said.


    Russell was Wesson¡¯s older cousin, who had a more traditional satyr upbringing. When people talked about satyr stereotypes, Russell was the perfect example to justify them. He was perpetually on a wild streak, incessantly pursuing sexual encounters, and lacked a filter of any kind. I had only met him in person a few times before, but he made more than a lasting impression when he tried to bend my principal over the hood of a school bus. Don¡¯t get me wrong, I laughed like everyone else when it happened. Even so, I couldn''t fathom spending weeks with someone like Russell without all of us ending up in a jail cell.


    ¡°He¡¯s supposed to be coming to town around the time we¡¯d be heading to STR,¡± Wes continued.


    ¡°Wes, NO!¡± I answered definitively.


    ¡°He¡¯s 44, and he could drive us to the festival, so we don¡¯t have to take a bus or a plane,¡± Wes debated.


    ¡°Your cousin fucks everything with a heartbeat. And wasn¡¯t he in jail a few months ago for public indecency?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t wear pants, dude,¡± he tried to joke.


    ¡°It was for doing someone on a playground,¡± I added.


    ¡°Allegedly,¡± he said.


    Wes was the one who told me about his cousin, so it was almost laughable for him to try to undo all the negative groundwork he laid.


    ¡°How is your mom ok with you going out of town with him but not me?¡± I asked, dumbfounded in disbelief.


    I may have been bad luck, but Russell had no excuse. He made bad things happen all on his own.


    ¡°Because we¡¯re family, and my cousin is cool,¡± Wesson said.


    I sighed in exhaustion.


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    ¡°But hey, if you manage to get Bug Burner to help us out, we won¡¯t need him,¡± Wes said.


    ¡°About that... BJ won¡¯t help us.¡±


    ¡°I knew it,¡± he said in a way adjacent to saying I told you so.


    I took a moment to look around the neighborhood and take a breath before I continued.


    ¡°I guess your cousin is better than no one.¡±


    ¡°Trust me, Pitch, it¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Why¡¯d I have to be accepted into the internship? Why did Russell have to be an option for STR? I was lucky to accomplish my goal of supporting my friends, but unlucky to face choosing between them. It might have been the best worst-case scenario.


    When I hung up the phone, I knew I had procrastinated long enough outside. I had to go in, and I couldn¡¯t use my summer dilemma to avoid it any longer.


    Growing up, my dad did his best to shield me from the reality of my mother¡¯s life. Before I was born, she and my father were kids barely out of high school when my mother got pregnant. They were at the beginning of their journey when I came along. From the age of 1 to 4, I remember we lived happily. We got by, no matter how tough life was.


    As a child, I was oblivious to the everyday struggles my parents experienced. My youth and naivety prevented me from seeing beyond our cheerful expressions. When I turned five years old, I noticed our lives differed from everyone else. We didn¡¯t have money, and we didn¡¯t have magic.


    Around that time, kids I went to school with started using magic. They had spells for simple things like tying shoes or keeping their lunchboxes cold. I came home one afternoon and asked mom if we could get one of those spells. Money was tight, but she said yes. A few days later, I had my first spell book.


    Fast forward a few years later. I was seven years old when a similar scenario played out. I went to school and found that kids my age were using spells, but it was better magic, magic that made my jaw drop. They were flying, talking to animals, doing all sorts of cool shit, and I wanted to do the same.


    When I got home that day, I asked mom if she could get me better spells, and like always, she said yes. I was still young and dumb. We didn¡¯t have the money for magic like that, but Mom never let me see the struggle. My parents didn¡¯t get me into the best school possible just to let me be the poor kid who couldn¡¯t keep up.


    My mother got me a new spell book.


    It had stuff from all four fields of magic. Battle magic, practical magic, leisure magic, even showman¡¯s magic. I went to school happy as a kid could be for the next few weeks. And then I came home one afternoon to find our front door was off the hinges. Police were taking Mom away in handcuffs.


    It wasn¡¯t until I turned 9 years old that I understood she had stolen the spell book. Actually, she stole the pages. Most spell books came with instructions for three spells at most, and they were often derivatives, so closely related, two of the three would be redundant. The book mom got me had at least a dozen different unrelated spells. Dad and I never found out how she stole so many, but in the end, she was caught.


    My mother was eventually released, but she returned home a changed person. She was different, not only with my dad, but in general. Magic, although immensely captivating and enjoyable, wasn¡¯t known to create addictive behaviors. It could make people lazy, for sure, but owning spells wasn¡¯t something a person could get addicted to. However, my mother continued to steal spells, so she must have been addicted to something. It might have been a blind rush or the feeling of taking what she wanted, but she couldn¡¯t stop.


    She wouldn¡¯t stop.


    What made it worse was her justifying the act. She brought each stolen page home and gave them to me like presents. It happened too often to count. After being caught the first time, my mother had enough experience to get away with the act effortlessly again and again.


    Dad kept all those stolen pages away from me. He didn¡¯t know how to stop Mom any more than her parole officer, but he didn¡¯t want me to get involved. Was it any surprise when he started keeping her away from me, too? I came home from school one day, and all my things were packed up in bags. We left before Mom came home from ¡°work¡±.


    They got divorced shortly after.


    Dad couldn¡¯t bring himself to turn Mom in, but he couldn¡¯t be around her anymore. Even I understood the problem at that point. My father got full custody of me, we moved to a new town, and I started school as a new kid. That was all before I turned 10.


    Over time, I gradually distanced myself further from Mom, only seeing her every couple of weeks.


    Her car, her stolen car, was the one sitting in the driveway that afternoon. As I walked inside, I knew to expect an unwelcome reunion.

 Chapter 10 Clover

    Dad was the one who had initially cut ties and moved us away from my mother. Knowing the truth, I never expected him to have been the first to give her a second chance, but he did.


    His optimism surpassed my own by miles. It was odd how I shared a pessimistic worldview with my mother but couldn¡¯t bring myself to forgive her like my father. I loved her as much as Dad, but I couldn¡¯t overlook her catastrophic nature. There was no trust.


    Walking inside that afternoon was like a tens game of hide and seek. Dad¡¯s house wasn¡¯t the biggest on the block, but there were enough rooms to make searching for my mother feel eerie.


    My heartbeat played in silence behind my stressful search until I heard her in the kitchen.


    I approached slowly, as if she were a masked gunman. Mom was going through the refrigerator, throwing out old food, when I spotted her from across the room.


    ¡°Your father hasn¡¯t learned to cook anything new?¡± she said.


    Of course, she knew I was there. No one could sneak up on my mother. I suppose that was a skill she, my father, and I all shared in a way. I was a rabbit, but we all had perfect ears.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± I asked and crept into the room, keeping my distance.


    ¡°You don¡¯t call. You don¡¯t text. You don¡¯t write. I didn¡¯t know what else to do to see you,¡± she said softly, but I knew there was something behind her polite tone whether she held it in or not.


    She turned around, and with careless magic, she shut the refrigerator without touching its door. Spells that didn¡¯t require words were rare, but magic that could be done with the wave of a hand was even more so. My mother knew so many spells. She was basically a witch.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be happy to know I¡¯m still seeing doctor Dan,¡± she said.


    There was a nonchalance to the way she sat at the kitchen table sipping from a can of soda while I was noticeably on edge.


    ¡°Your grandmother thought life¡¯s problems could be solved with a tall glass of something strong. Therapy was never an option for my sisters growing up or me,¡± she added.


    I leaned against a wall, feeling as if it were my only defense against her overpowering presence.


    ¡°Talk to me,¡± she demanded as she set her drink on the table and kicked out a seat for me to take beside her.


    I swallowed my anxiety and sat down.


    ¡°You¡¯re not supposed to be in the house without dad around; he told me that,¡± I said.


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    ¡°Your father will live,¡± she replied playfully.


    I looked away and laughed sarcastically under my breath. She had no respect for boundaries, not even the ones set by courts.


    ¡°Talk to me, Pitch. What¡¯s been going on in my beautiful fluffy boy¡¯s life?¡± She asked.


    Her hand reached across the table to hold my own, but of course, I pulled away.


    Dad wouldn¡¯t be home for hours, and I didn¡¯t have it in me to tell her to leave. I doubt she would have listened, but had she, it would not have been good. In the end, I played along as best I could. While I maintained my love for my mother, I grasped the dangers of her presence.


    ¡°I got into an internship with a friend,¡± I said begrudgingly.


    ¡°That¡¯s wonderful,¡± she said.


    Her aura literally glowed with excitement, but I kept my same disinterested look as usual.


    ¡°You don¡¯t seem happy,¡± she deduced out loud.


    ¡°My friend Wes invited me somewhere too. I can¡¯t do both,¡± I replied.


    She chuckled, and it broke through my weak defenses.


    ¡°Those are better problems than your father and I had at your age,¡± she said.


    ¡°Sorry I was such a problem-child,¡± I remarked.


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant,¡± she defended.


    ¡°Is it safe for you to be here? I know you haven¡¯t stopped.¡±


    ¡°I have, and I¡¯m doing better every day.¡±


    ¡°Where did the car come from? You didn¡¯t have it last I saw you.¡±


    ¡°The car isn¡¯t magic,¡± she said.


    My mother¡¯s addiction was never to magic, but the act of taking what wasn¡¯t hers. Whether she stole a spell book or a car, it proved she was the same.


    ¡°Did you steal it?¡± I asked, with a demand in my voice.


    ¡°I can help you,¡± she said, ignoring the question.


    She tried to change the subject, but in doing so, she gave me a definitive answer.


    ¡°With what?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Your problem. You don¡¯t want to choose between your friends. I can give you something so you don¡¯t have to.¡±


    I laughed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need magic if you stole it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s an old spell I¡¯ve long returned by now, but you know photographic memory runs in the family,¡± she said to persuade me.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need it,¡± I protested and got up from my seat to push it back under the table.


    ¡°You want it, and there¡¯s a way for you to have it. Just ask Mamma,¡±


    ¡°No, thank you,¡± I said coldly.


    ¡°Why not get yours where you can?¡± she said, not giving up.


    It was elementary school all over again. At least I was at an age where I could understand the repercussions of taking my mother¡¯s help.


    ¡°You know dad thinks you¡¯re changing, but I don¡¯t see it.¡±


    I turned to walk away, but her voice clutched my body still.


    ¡°You¡¯re just like your father.¡±


    ¡°Better than my mother,¡± I said.


    It was the wrong thing to say. She used some sort of spell to pull me back into the room and flung me against the fridge.


    ¡°Mistakes or not, I am still your mother.¡±


    I scrambled to get back to my feet.


    ¡°You need to leave,¡± I exclaimed.


    ¡°You think I¡¯m a monster? I made the decision to take what my family needed. You think anyone with power hesitates to take more however they can get it? I did the bare minimum. I took what I wanted without hurting anyone.¡±


    ¡°You hurt Dad,¡± I said.


    She went silent.


    ¡°You hurt me. Every time you get in trouble, they come looking for us first,¡± I said.


    She stood up from her seat, and I stumbled backward, almost tripping over as I feared her next step. As she approached, I found myself boxed in between the kitchen counters. And then she stopped. I was stunned as she pulled a piece of paper from the hidden pocket of her leather jacket and wrote on it. She sat the piece of paper on the counter beside me, and after a moment of tension, she walked away.


    ¡°You¡¯re like your father, Pitch. He even takes my help sometimes. That spell is how he took care of us when you were a baby, how he worked four jobs when we moved out on our own. You can use it to go two places at once,¡± she explained as she left the room.


    ¡°I¡¯m not using this,¡± I exclaimed, but she was already gone.

 Chapter 11 Leading Woman

    My mother knew what she was doing. I didn¡¯t want to consider her help, but she left an answer to my problems lying on the kitchen counter. I couldn¡¯t ignore it.


    I wanted to believe the things my dad did. He always preached how we didn¡¯t need magic or a lot of money to get by, but it was so often that I saw how life could have been with it.


    I used the spell. Time was running out, and as much as I wanted to keep my word that I wouldn¡¯t rely on stolen spells, my mother had given me the key to a locked door. It didn¡¯t feel good, and I wasn¡¯t going to say thank you, but I gave into the weakness of a moment.


    On Tuesday, June 2nd, I woke up at 9 in the morning. By 10, I was on my way to the town¡¯s theater to meet BJ for the internship. There were only four people selected to participate, myself, BJ, an elf that went to our school, but I¡¯d never met before, and a red-haired girl named Vista. We all arrived on time. For some reason, we weren¡¯t let in until 11 o¡¯clock by an old white guy wearing a black and white tuxedo. He looked like a stereotypical magician with his magic wand, top hat, and white gloves. Out of everything about him, his handlebar mustache was probably the most ridiculous. His name was Matt Pitt, and he ran the town¡¯s magic organization.


    The old guy escorted us all into the building, where we found seats before the main stage. He went up on stage and stood behind a podium to give what was obviously a rehearsed speech. Up until then, I was groggy from waking up so early on a day I should have been sleeping in. I might have tried to sleep while Matt gave his speech, but a nudge from BJ quickly gathered my attention.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you decided to better yourself over getting drunk and spending weeks out in a desert,¡± BJ said while we watched the old-timer fiddle with a microphone as if he¡¯d only just discovered the technology.


    ¡°You know I hate long car rides anyway,¡± I joked as I stretched in my seat.


    Before either of us could say anything else, our advisor finally spoke. He spoke for a long time. The old guy killed half an hour before he got to anything worth remembering. By that point, I¡¯m sure everyone else, much like myself, was straining to keep their eyes open. His voice dragged on at a snail¡¯s pace. There was no excitement in his tone even when his words should have carried character. It could have been his reading from a piece of paper that made him so monotone, or perhaps it was his age at fault. Either way, I was seconds away from using my ears to strangle myself.


    ¡°Spells are fickle. They require strict, organized, thought-out craftsmanship. The public knows magic that has been meticulously studied and simplified. What you will learn here is how to craft new and spectacular magic. By the end of these eight weeks, you may very well have your own spells that will forever be unique and coveted by your families. You¡¯ll craft something new,¡± Matt said in his dead tone.


    As he paused, it was hard to miss as four unannounced bodies walked on stage and stood to the side of his podium.


    ¡°But first, you need to know the basics. To qualify for this internship, you were asked to submit an original spell. This was a test to weed out those who were capable of taking risks from those too meek or meager to measure up. Now that you are here, you will each be paired with a mentor who will teach you the proper ways to go about this dangerous art.¡±


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    One by one, Matt introduced the four strangers, and as he did, spotlights came alive to highlight their presence.


    ¡°We have Del Toro, famous for his animal spells. Gwen Hastings, Daybreak¡¯s first magician to ever be featured in publications like Wizards Weekly and Magic¡¯s Monthly. Young Prince, Daybreak¡¯s youngest self-made magician who has created more than half a dozen household spells known across the world. And of course, the lovely Lady Beth, who acts as my right hand here in Daybreak,¡± said Matt.


    They all looked like characters ready to be featured on Primetime TV. Their clothes were fancy; even Toro, with his blue Jean¡¯s and open shirt, wore leather boots that probably cost more than my dad¡¯s car. Each of them had a presence that made them pop, some more than others.


    ¡°There are four categories of magic. Practical magic that fulfills a specific purpose and is open to be used by the masses. Battle magic, which carries negative or harmful effects, most of which can only legally be used by law enforcement, the military, and special cases. Showman¡¯s magic, magic that is done in performance. And finally, Leisure magic can be used by anyone but doesn¡¯t serve a single purpose. Your mentors each specialize in a particular branch of magic. We¡¯ve decided who to pair you with by the categories of magic your submitted spells fell under,¡± Matt added before we were all asked to stand and walk onto the stage.


    BJ stayed with me as we left our seats. My limbs were stiff from sitting for so long.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t this incredible?¡± BJ said with excitement as we made our way up the steps onto the stage.


    The way she described the internship, I believed we¡¯d all be working together. I didn¡¯t expect to work one on one with actual professionals. In a way, it was amazing, and it was also mind-numbingly boring. To be fair, it was the first day, and introductions had to be made. We weren¡¯t to any of the good stuff yet, but I had to hope there would be good stuff at all.


    ¡°It¡¯s something,¡± I said with as much energy as I could muster, but that wasn¡¯t much.


    Once we were on stage, we had to figure out who we¡¯d been paired with. It didn¡¯t take long. Our mentors knew who we were and held signs with our names on them. I was going to be spending the next eight weeks with Lady Beth, while BJ was stuck with Young Prince.


    I might have made fun of all their ridiculous names, but my parents named me Pitch because my mom was convinced I¡¯d grow up to be a singer someday.


    Lady Beth was definitely right hand to Matt. With a blood-red cocktail dress, high heels, and black hair, she looked more like a magician¡¯s assistant than a main act. But who was I to be so critical? Had I been judging, she would have scored high regardless of the getup she wore out in public. At least she wasn¡¯t as old as Matt. That might have been a deal-breaker. I had to try my hardest not to undress her with my eyes, but Beth woke me up in more than a few ways.


    As I stepped up to my new advisor, I debated with myself on how to make introductions. Lucky for me, I didn¡¯t have to make the first move.


    ¡°You must be Pitch,¡± Beth said.


    ¡°And you¡¯re Lady Beth,¡± I replied.


    I offered my hand, but she wouldn¡¯t take it. I suppose she wasn¡¯t the type for handshakes, so I retracted my palm awkwardly and put it away in my pocket.


    ¡°I was thoroughly impressed with your spell,¡± she said.


    ¡°Thank you... I guess,¡± I said, unsure of how to take a compliment to something that had turned me into a walking circus act.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen a curse with such a highly effective nature,¡± she praised.


    ¡°Yeah ...it¡¯s really something alright,¡± I replied with obvious disinterest.


    The individual pairings left the stage, but Lady Beth and I stayed behind. We were alone, with only the spotlights and empty seats acting as an audience.


    ¡°When I tried it, I nearly went mad. You were cruel to submit your entry as a common locator spell without warning of side effects. The way it merges the user with whatever creature it¡¯s meant to locate, I¡¯ve never witnessed anything like it. It took me three days to find a remedy,¡± she said.


    It took a moment to register what she said so nonchalantly.


    ¡°Wait, you used my spell!?¡±


    ¡°Of course. I had to verify that it worked.¡±


    ¡°But, you¡¯re not a...¡± I searched for the proper words.


    ¡°A half-breed? No. As I said, ¡®I found a remedy.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Then you have a cure!?¡± I exclaimed.

 Chapter 12 Not Gay

    My mother¡¯s spell gave me the power to split myself in two. I was able to go with Wes to STR and be with BJ at the internship. As long as nothing happened to either of my halves, I¡¯d have been able to merge back into my whole at the end of summer. Optimistically, I assumed I¡¯d also keep any memories that either of my selves created.


    On Tuesday, June 2nd, I woke up at 9 in the morning still together as a whole, and by 9:30, I did the split. By ten, my other half, let¡¯s call him Pitch 2, went to the internship, while I, let¡¯s call me Pitch 1, left the house around 10:30.


    I was on my way to Wesson¡¯s house. I felt dirty for using my mother¡¯s spell, knowing where it likely came from, but ¡°choice¡± was becoming a growing enemy. I wanted to make the best decision that would let me be with my friends.


    Wes and I weren¡¯t leaving for STR for another couple of days, but only one of my halves could continue to live at home. Having two rabbits coming and going would have led to my dad discovering what I¡¯d done eventually.


    I had to wonder, did my father use the same magic?


    Mom said he used it when I was a baby. What if her spell allowed him to work two jobs in the present? I never understood how he put in so much overtime at a car garage and a fast-food joint, but my mother¡¯s magic would have made it easy. However, the thought didn¡¯t seem likely. My dad wouldn¡¯t conceal something like that from me, right?


    Either way, I had to stay with Wesson¡¯s family until it was time for us to leave for the festival. I expected to have a tough time explaining why I had to live with him, but he was fine with it. He was a friend if ever I had one. He was happy to have me around, so when I showed up at his door that Tuesday morning, he only had one question.


    ¡°Want breakfast?¡±


    He invited me inside, and after following him through the house, I smelled his mother¡¯s cooking in the kitchen. I tried my best not to be seen glancing over at her. She, like her husband and son, never wore clothes or tried to cover up. We could have hung out downstairs, but my eyes couldn''t avoid the sight of her bending over to take something out of the oven. Somehow, Wesson was completely oblivious. Out of respect for my friend and his family, I suggested that we kill time in his bedroom. He thought I was shy and tried to convince me his mother wouldn¡¯t care if I stole a few glances. No matter what Wesson said, it didn¡¯t feel right. Eventually, after he rolled his eyes at my prudishness, we went upstairs.


    ¡°So then I climbed down, and she was just standing there like I did something wrong,¡± Wes said as we entered his bedroom.


    ¡°You peed in her sink,¡± I said


    ¡°Well, I couldn¡¯t get in the bathroom, and people lose their shit when you pee on a tree.¡±


    I laughed, and so did Wes. He was still packing his things, getting ready for the trip. There was no rush, but I tried to help since I was there.


    ¡°When is your cousin supposed to make it here?¡± I asked.


    ¡°By tomorrow, I already asked if he¡¯d go with us,¡± Wes said


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°And he said yes.¡±


    ¡°Great, I can¡¯t wait to spend the next eight weeks out in the desert.¡±


    I didn¡¯t mean to sound sarcastic, but it came out that way.


    ¡°I can¡¯t tell if you mean that or you don¡¯t want to go anymore,¡± Wes said, somewhat confused, it seemed.


    ¡°Sorry, sarcasm has been my default for a while.¡±


    ¡°Well, the festival is only four weeks, so we should make it back before the end of the break.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s only four weeks?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you look at any of the stuff I sent you,¡± Wes said as he took out his phone to show me an online flyer he texted days ago.


    ¡°My phone was wrecked in that troll orc fight last week.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Well, yeah, it¡¯s only four weeks, and they¡¯re supposed to have a different band headlining each couple of days.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never even been to a concert before.¡±


    My dad and I could never afford to buy tickets, but even had we, I doubt I would have gone. Even though I had been a half-breed for years, I didn¡¯t feel comfortable leaving the house unless absolutely necessary. The only exception being the time I spent with Wes and BJ. Even when I hung out with them, it was away from other people.


    ¡°Trust me. You¡¯ll have fun. I heard Fire Bird is supposed to be there by the second week, that¡¯ll be reason enough to go,¡± Wes said, trying to convince me.


    ¡°Whose Fire Bird?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re a band of guys who used to live in Daybreak. They even went to our school for a little while. After they graduated, they went to Europe and blew up. Now everyone knows who they are.¡±


    ¡°Everyone but me,¡± I corrected.


    ¡°Well, yeah, but that¡¯s because they¡¯re more popular in the Fae community. You still see yourself as human, so you probably haven¡¯t looked into them.¡±


    ¡°I am human,¡± I said.


    ¡°Dude, you¡¯re a talking rabbit, with the worst luck in the universe. I¡¯m more human than you are... literally in some ways,¡± he said jokingly.


    ¡°Whatever, about the band, though, you know a lot about them. You must be a pretty big fan?¡±


    ¡°Dude, if I get anywhere near them, I¡¯ll,¡± he said before pausing.


    I think he was playing out the scenario in his mind.


    ¡°You¡¯ll what?¡± I asked, teasing him further.


    ¡°If we¡¯re lucky, we¡¯ll both get lucky while we¡¯re there.¡±


    ¡°Come on, Wes. It won¡¯t be anything special for you.¡±


    I had a hard time believing my friend needed to leave town just to get some tail.


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± he asked, as if he didn¡¯t know.


    ¡°A few weeks at a festival won¡¯t be anything different from a Monday for you,¡± I said.


    ¡°Well, thanks, buddy, that¡¯s some high praise, but I¡¯ll have you know I¡¯m still waiting for the right dude.¡±


    It might have been nothing, but what he said caught me off guard.


    ¡°What?¡± He asked.


    I suppose it must have visibly caught me off guard too.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± I said.


    ¡°You gave me a look there. What was it?¡± he didn¡¯t seem offended, but he continued to push.


    ¡°The way you said that,¡± I paused before I continued, ¡°it¡¯s just you made it sound like you were saying... you¡¯re gay?¡±


    ¡°Bi actually.¡±


    ¡°Oh...¡±


    Oh, shit was more like it.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± He said.


    There was that awkward air in the room again, but he wasn¡¯t even naked that time around.


    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± He asked.


    ¡°No, nothing¡¯s wrong,¡± I said, attempting to reassure him.


    ¡°It feels like something¡¯s wrong.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize you were...¡±


    I couldn¡¯t say the words for some reason.


    ¡°Most of my kind are,¡± he added.


    ¡°I thought that was a stereotype, like how you¡¯re all supposed to be pacifists.¡±


    ¡°To be fair, we only know the difference between gay or straight because of humans. It¡¯s not important to us, or most of the fae community, come to think of it.¡±


    I was beginning to feel like an asshole, so I cut him off before he could continue.


    ¡°It¡¯s not important to me either. I get it. I just... I guess I never thought... because you don¡¯t seem like... I mean, you never said,¡± I stumbled.


    ¡°If it¡¯s a problem?¡±


    ¡°No! It¡¯s not a problem. It¡¯s just... new,¡± I stammered like an idiot.


    ¡°But it¡¯s not a problem?¡±


    ¡°Wes, it¡¯s not a problem. I promise.¡±


    Wes had come out to me, but somehow, I made things awkward. Thank God his mom called us downstairs to eat when she did; otherwise, I might have made a bigger ass of myself.

 Chapter 13 My First

    She completely ran past the only thing anyone said that day that mattered. Could she not see the value?


    ¡°To create a spell, you need to understand a variety of languages. The fundamental problem new magicians face when starting is a limited vocabulary. Spells take orders with strict semantics. The slightest variation in wording can be the difference between snowfall or hail storms,¡± Beth said.


    She went on and on, but my anticipation kept me awake.


    She continued to say, ¡°Each language has its own sentence structure and patterns. If you learn to mix them, you¡¯ll be able to command magic with the firm guiding hand that it needs.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t English enough?¡± I asked.


    ¡°English is a new language. Magic is linked to the past. Spells are tied to old languages, many of which are long forgotten. Mastering a plethora of dialects will better your odds of finding roots to the ancient.¡±


    ¡°So, the key to being a magician is being bilingual?¡±


    ¡°Language, creativity, trial and error. Determination is critical as well. This art is comparable to science in that way. We may fail to find an answer a hundred times, but we only need one success to change everything,¡± she said.


    ¡°Ok, all of this is informative and all, but about that cure?¡±


    I made an effort to be both polite and patient for as long as possible. Playing the situation calmly rather than demanding was my best bet. It occurred to me that acting aggressively or losing my temper could have gotten me thrown out. But I couldn¡¯t wait any longer.


    ¡°What of it?¡± She asked.


    Was Beth blind to my being a human-rabbit half-breed?


    ¡°I need it, obviously. I mean, look at me,¡± I stuttered, seemingly without aim.


    ¡°Then cure yourself.¡±


    ¡°If I could do that, don¡¯t you think I would?¡±


    ¡°My services aren¡¯t free,¡± she stated.


    She wanted money. Of course, she wanted money. I wouldn''t have had the means to pay for Beth, who was touted as a big deal.


    ¡°Are you serious? I wrote the spell. All I¡¯m asking for,¡± I explained before she cut me off.


    ¡°What you are asking for is a service, a service that you can not perform.¡±


    ¡°So, you won¡¯t help me?¡± I asked rhetorically.


    I already knew her answer.


    ¡°Not without a price,¡± she said.


    Everything went silent. My stance was defensive, almost aggressive. I didn''t want to start a fight, but she didn''t seem to care at all. From her perspective, I must have resembled a four-year-old about to have a meltdown. I took a breath to collect myself and fix my demeanor, but my fur was still standing on end.


    ¡°Fuck this,¡± I resolved before abruptly walking off the stage.


    She didn¡¯t say anything for a long while. I didn¡¯t expect her to. Even as I walked down the long rows of empty seats, there was nothing uttered. She let me get to the exit doors before speaking a single syllable.


    ¡°Your spell is some of the most dangerous magic I¡¯ve seen in decades,¡± she shouted out to me.


    I stopped just short of opening the door. My hand was about to push it open as she continued.


    ¡°Military contractors are willing to pay more than handsomely for spells of that caliber. If you stay, I can teach you to become great,¡± she said.


    I could tell I was going to have a headache by the end of the day. With an exhausted sigh, I turned back around and nearly jumped out of my skin at the realization that she was standing right behind me. She probably used some kind of teleportation spell, but it still caught me off guard. I tried to play it off.


    ¡°But you won¡¯t give me the cure,¡± I asked.


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    ¡°I¡¯ll give you your cure if, and only if, you agree to stay and continue the internship as my assistant,¡± she said.


    ¡°That¡¯s your price?¡± I questioned in disbelief.


    I didn¡¯t know Lady Beth. How could I have been sure her word was worth anything?


    ¡°That is my price. I¡¯m not so cruel to not see your plight, but it would be a waste of potential to have you leave so soon,¡± she said.


    ¡°You sound like someone I know.¡±


    ¡°Someone of wisdom, I hope,¡± she said in what I believe may have been a joking manner for the first time.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I said.


    There was a twinge of embarrassment I had to overcome after deciding to stay. She never said anything to belittle me verbally, but her more professional attitude next to my more anxiety-ridden agitation was unmistakable.


    Lady Beth owned the theater. She even had an office backstage where we spent most of the remainder of that time together. It was a big office, big enough to fit four desks if she wanted. There were several shelves holding books she probably wrote, as well as awards and trophies.


    ¡°So, am I supposed to find a Spanish class or something? I thought we¡¯d do something more exciting,¡± I questioned.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be more than busy during your time here. You can work to learn your other languages later. While you¡¯re with me, you will shadow my daily duties as a magician, and provide aid when necessary or requested,¡± she said as she took a seat behind her glass desk.


    ¡°What exactly will I be doing as your ¡®assistant¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Today, I need my dry cleaning picked up,¡± she said.


    I raised an eyebrow in confusion. That didn¡¯t have anything to do with magic at all.


    ¡°That¡¯s all?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I also have an order of chapter 12 spell books. I need them delivered across town.¡±


    Did she want an assistant or an errand boy?


    ¡°Ok...,¡± I said sarcastically.


    ¡°Then I need you back here so we can begin rehearsing for my performance.¡±


    ¡°Performance? I thought you did battle magic?¡± I said.


    ¡°All magicians, no matter their specialty, have to showcase their magic. Shows before the public are perfect ways of displaying new spells.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± I reluctantly responded.


    ¡°Starting tomorrow, I expect you to dress with class and panache if you intend to share a stage with me,¡± she added.


    ¡°Wait. What?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re my new assistant, on and off the stage.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t sign up to be a stagehand,¡± I exclaimed.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure we can ¡®cure¡¯ you of any stage fright you carry,¡± she said.


    ¡°I¡¯m not afraid.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful. Then I expect to see you back by noon.¡±


    She caught me at a verbal dead end. Rather than trying to pull myself back, I resolved to leave with what little dignity and pride I had left. There wasn¡¯t much.


    I was less than pleased, less than enthusiastic, or happy by most standards.


    As I left the theater, I noticed BJ was already outside. She was scribbling something in her usual spell book when I walked up.


    ¡°How is Young Prince treating you?¡± I asked, and it got her attention.


    ¡°He¡¯s... he¡¯s... an ass, but a brilliant ass if nothing else,¡± she said, closing her book.


    ¡°That kid can¡¯t be much older than us. How is he a mentor?¡± I questioned.


    ¡°He knows his stuff. Trust me. But how is Lady Beth?¡±


    ¡°She wants me to pick up her dry cleaning. I didn¡¯t know this town had dry cleaning.¡±


    I¡¯m sure BJ saw it in my face. I wasn¡¯t having fun. I felt toyed with.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure any of this is worth it. It feels like a lot of hoops to jump through if I stick around,¡± I said.


    ¡°It¡¯s the first day,¡± BJ persuaded me.


    ¡°A long first day,¡± I added.


    ¡°Keep going. Knowing that you¡¯re here makes it a little less intimidating. If you leave, it¡¯ll just be me.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s the elf and the other girl. I¡¯m sure you could make new friends here, better ones than me at this stuff.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be more fun together with you... and I may need your help with something.¡±


    I face-palmed myself. I should have known.


    ¡°This ought to be good,¡± I said sarcastically.


    ¡°Prince wants me to bring him five wild animals from The Dead Woods.¡±


    ¡°And you think I can help how?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you talk to animals? You are a rabbit.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m half-rabbit. Besides, Wes is the one who talks to animals. I get attacked by them,¡± I retorted.


    ¡°All you have to do is lure them in, and I¡¯ll handle catching them,¡± she debated.


    ¡°What exactly does Prince want with a bunch of wild animals, anyway?¡± I asked as we started walking.


    ¡°Something to do with a new spell, but will you help me?¡± BJ asked, pleading for my assistance.


    ¡°Sure, why not? Might as well load up the rest of my day. Not like I wanted to eat lunch or anything.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Pitch.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it,¡± I said.

 Chapter 14 Under Wheel

    When Wesson¡¯s cousin Russell arrived, we were finally ready to leave town. There was only one problem. Standing outside in the driveway, Wes and I were loading our bags into his cousin¡¯s car. As we started to get in ourselves, I noticed Russell¡¯s station wagon was in worse condition than the high school¡¯s locker room. While the outside was intact enough, the inside was no better than a frat house after party.


    ¡°Dude, it¡¯s only until we get to the festival,¡± Wes argued with me.


    ¡°Wes, the floors are sticky as hell, the mirrors are hanging on by a thread, and it smells like a bull¡¯s jockstrap,¡± I joked but held an air of seriousness


    ¡°It¡¯s two days,¡± he said.


    I hated we couldn¡¯t take a plane, but neither of us had that kind of money. Not to mention, with my luck, I was bound to cause some sort of accident.


    ¡°That¡¯s a long time,¡± I said.


    ¡°When we make it, I¡¯ll owe you one,¡± he added.


    Before I could say anything else, Wes and I cut the conversation short because Russell walked outside from the house.


    ¡°We ready to go?¡± Russell asked as he got in the driver¡¯s seat.


    Russell was a lot bigger and buffer than Wes. Standing side by side, Wes looked like the before picture of a ¡°how to bulk up¡± workout regimen while Russell looked like the after. With more fur and more prominent horns, Russell seemed to lean into his goat side more than his human side. At least he wore a jacket like Wes rather than going all-out nude.


    Wes got in the front passenger seat, leaving me to be the last to get in. Reluctantly, I opened the car door and stepped in.


    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re ready,¡± I said as I shut the door.


    Times like those made me wish I could have worn shoes.


    Day 1


    I left town with my best friend and his cousin, who had just been in trouble with the law a few months prior. I¡¯m sure my dad would not have approved. He would have hated the car we left town in before even getting to the matter of who was driving it. So much for being the good kid he raised me to be, but what was the harm as long as things went according to plan? I was beginning to sound like my mother, but I had to justify my actions to myself somehow. Honestly, it wasn¡¯t hard to justify after a while, especially since dad wasn¡¯t around to talk me out of it. None the less, all I had to hope for was a smooth trip to STR. If we made it without blowing up, driving off a cliff, or running from the cops, that would have been good enough.


    The trip from Montana to New Mexico was a 20-hour drive. Of course, we had to take a few pit stops and rest at night, but we should have made it in two days.


    On the road, I forced myself to ignore the constant sensation of something slick under my feet. The scent of sweat was heavy, and the summer heat made it dense enough to taste with every breath I took. I could tell I was bringing down the mood in the car. It was too quiet. Even with the music going, I could tell my constantly having to shift or adjust in the backseat was making everyone uncomfortable. I tried to get my mind off the discomfort as best I could by breaking the silence.


    ¡°So, Wes told me you¡¯ve been to STR before?¡± I asked Russell after an hour and a half of painful silence.


    The weight on everyone suddenly grew lighter. I said I¡¯d try to give Russell a chance. I said I¡¯d try to relax. I said a lot of things because I wanted to trust my friend¡¯s judgment.


    I¡­ had to try.


    ¡°Yeah, little man, I¡¯ve been three times now,¡± Russell said with a grin I saw in the rearview mirror.


    ¡°What¡¯s it like?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s always different. Last year, they held it on this island in the middle of the Pacific, and the year before that it was up in the mountains. It¡¯s never in the same place twice, so you never know what to expect,¡± Russell explained.


    ¡°Thanks for coming with us, by the way. I know we asked at the last minute,¡± Wes said


    ¡°You¡¯re good cuz, not like I had anything better to do,¡± Russell chuckled.


    ¡°What do you do anyway?¡± I asked.


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Russell asked before I made myself clear.


    ¡°Wes told me you travel a lot. Do you do that for like a job or something?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Oh! Naw, little man, I¡¯m on a spiritual quest,¡± he said.


    ¡°A quest?¡± Wes and I both questioned.


    ¡°To find the world¡¯s best ass,¡± Russell joked.


    ¡°Dude,¡± Wes exclaimed, like he was embarrassed for me.


    ¡°I¡¯m fucking with you. Yeah, it¡¯s a part of my job, or it was until I was fired. Now I travel because I can.¡±


    There was an off sound that came from the vehicle. I¡¯m sure we all heard it because it cut the conversation short.


    ¡°What was that?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Probably a rabbit under a wheel or something ...no offense,¡± Russell said.


    ¡°None taken, but that didn¡¯t sound like something under a wheel,¡± I added.


    ¡°It¡¯s an old car, makes all sorts of sounds. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s nothing,¡± he said dismissively.


    We drove for about 7 to 8 hours straight before finally stopping at a motel for the night. Russell seemed to be right. There were plenty of those noises throughout the ride, but we made it to a rest stop with little issue.


    My legs were stiff as we got out of the car. We all did a bit of an impromptu stretch before Russell left Wes and me to get a room.


    ¡°What I tell you, not too bad, right?¡± Wes questioned, looking for my approval.


    ¡°Dude, I have your cousin¡¯s jiz under my feet,¡± I said, but stopped myself before saying more. With a sigh, I pulled myself back enough to add, ¡°But I guess it could be worse.¡±


    Wes tugged me under his arm, happy to see I¡¯d loosened up. We walked around the lot for a while, getting air in our legs while we waited for Russell to come back.


    ¡°Pitch, man, I¡¯m glad you came with me over some job,¡± Wes said.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, knowing technically I hadn¡¯t decided anything.


    ¡°I mean it. You don¡¯t get how cool you are.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize getting into life-threatening accidents was cool.¡±


    ¡°Dude, you can hear stuff from miles away.¡±


    ¡°I can hear through cheap walls,¡± I corrected.


    ¡°You can go invisible.¡±


    ¡°Only when I¡¯m completely naked,¡± I added.


    ¡°And you¡¯re a rabbit,¡± he said as if it were the best part.


    ¡°Half rabbit, unless most of the rabbits you know are 5 feet tall and walk upright,¡± I joked.


    Wesson was incredibly optimistic, second only to my dad, but I never saw myself as remarkable. Or nothing special in the right way. Having a few extra skills never felt like enough to make up for being the kid who cursed himself. Maybe, had it not been for my bad luck, I could have lived with my new form. It came with a few perks. It would have been shallow to say no one wanted a hybrid, especially when my best friend was one. But when people saw me, they could visibly see the mistake I had made.


    I wasn¡¯t a hybrid like Wesson. I was a half-breed, a mistake.


    It didn¡¯t matter if rabbits were cool or I had powers, not when people saw the long ears and fur. I knew what people saw.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°You know you¡¯re the only person I know from school who hasn¡¯t tried to fuck me,¡± he added casually.


    ¡°Wow, that¡¯s... that¡¯s... Wes,¡± I stumbled, but with his arm still around my shoulder, I didn¡¯t pull away.


    ¡°And you¡¯re smart as hell. You¡¯re always willing to help me and the assholes from school who treat you like crap. You¡¯re like top tier,¡± he said.


    Things were getting extra cheesy, but part of me didn¡¯t mind the compliments. Coming from a stand-up guy like Wes, the words had weight to them.


    ¡°Am I cutting into something? I¡¯d say get a room, but I just paid for ours,¡± Russell said, surprising us enough for Wes to let me fall away from under his arm.


    It was a little awkward how he suddenly let me go, almost like he¡¯d done something wrong he needed to hide. He quickly helped me back up to my feet, though.


    We spent the rest of the night in our motel room. That awkward tension between Wes and I had made a comeback, but I was growing used to it. Wes was more open and comfortable about things than I was. His family, after all, were essentially nudists. Knowing he was a more ¡°casual¡± person than I made it easier to avoid looking too far into when he broke boundaries. For him, those boundaries I avoided probably never existed. Wes was one of, if not my best friend. If we couldn¡¯t be blunt or unfiltered with one another, even about the awkward stuff, then who could I be loose with?


    In a way, his ability to say whatever was on his mind, without worrying whether I¡¯d think it gay or too much, made me question if I worried too much about filtering myself. Wes came out to me only a day ago, and he did it so smoothly I almost couldn¡¯t believe it happened. I, on the other hand, never shared anything like that with anyone. Not my mom, Dad, BJ, or Wes.


    To be fair, I couldn¡¯t say whether I was into guys.


    Don¡¯t get me wrong, I always knew I liked girls. But had I ever asked myself if I was interested in anything else? My sexuality was never as big an issue as being a rabbit. Even then, I never shared how my transformation made me depressed. The stress and terror of always almost being killed by freak accidents was something I had convinced most people were minor, but it was crippling some days. I was lucky that my dad saw it sometimes, but not always.


    I hid a lot of things from my friends and family and never knew why. It could have been my ego or my shame, but I was nowhere near as open and comfortable as my friend. I¡¯d have been lucky to be more like Wesson.


    After splitting myself in two using my mother''s spell, I hadn''t experienced any depression or anxiety. Maybe the spell had trimmed my bad parts. Maybe being around Wes kept me happy enough to avoid my negative thoughts. Come to think of it; I hadn¡¯t been in a single freak accident ever since my split either.


    Day 2


    Slowly, the next morning came. With no alarms set, the daylight woke us. After showering and eating breakfast from a vending machine, we all got in the station wagon, ready to hit the road again. Unfortunately, I had been right about those noises we heard the previous day. My dad worked two jobs. One was as a manager at a fast-food place, and the other was as a mechanic. He didn¡¯t always bring his work home, but he did enough for me to know a little about cars.


    Russell¡¯s car wouldn¡¯t start.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you guys. Happens all the time,¡± Russell said, trying to reassure us of the situation.


    ¡°So, what are we going to do?¡± Wes asked.


    ¡°Wait it out,¡± Russell said.


    ¡°But what are we waiting for?¡± I questioned.


    ¡°When this sort of thing happens, it¡¯s best to give it some time; usually a few hours is enough for it to work itself out,¡± he said.


    ¡°That¡¯s not how cars work,¡± I argued.


    ¡°That¡¯s how mine works,¡± Russell remarked with confidence.


    It was Russell¡¯s car. In a world full of magic, who was I to say a vehicle couldn¡¯t magically fix itself?


    Day 3


    That car was not going to fix itself magically. We killed an entire day waiting and trying the engine over and over again with no luck.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we call a mechanic or something?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Do you have mechanic money?¡± Russell remarked rhetorically.


    ¡°No,¡± I said.


    ¡°Neither do I, little man,¡± he said.


    My dad could have helped us. I¡¯m sure if I called him, he could have talked me through fixing whatever was wrong, but then he¡¯d have been pissed that I left town without telling him. Then he would have been pissed I split myself in half with a spell I got from mom.


    I almost thought the car trouble was my fault. It had been days since my last freak accident, so I was due for something extra bad. Whenever my luck was to blame, my life was usually at stake. Car trouble was less than life-threatening, so as far as I could tell, I wasn¡¯t responsible.


    ¡°Maybe I can fix it,¡± I suggested.


    Having my dad¡¯s help would have made it easier, but I believed I had enough second-hand skills to try fixing the problem.


    ¡°What do you know about cars?¡± Russell asked.


    ¡°My dad is a mechanic.¡±


    ¡°I thought your dad was a fry cook?¡± Wes asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s a manager at ¡®The Drive Through¡¯ and a mechanic,¡± I corrected.


    ¡°Try whatever you want, little man. I¡¯m gonna be across the street,¡± Russell said before leaving us.


    It¡¯s like he didn¡¯t care.


    ¡°Is it safe for your cousin to be drinking?¡± I asked Wes as I noticed Russell walking straight for a bar.


    ¡°Relax, satyrs like us can hold our liquor,¡± Wes said.


    That wasn¡¯t what I meant, but I didn¡¯t want to push the issue.


    ¡°Do you really think you can fix the car?¡± Wes asked as I popped the hood.


    ¡°Well, there¡¯s no smoke, so that¡¯s good,¡± I said.


    I knew a little, but I didn¡¯t know enough. While I was able to distinguish between different parts, I was clueless as to which one was the problem. Wes kept me company while I played grease monkey, but I¡¯m sure after a while he could tell I wasn¡¯t getting anywhere. Eventually, I had to call it. The car had won, and I lost. I shut the hood.


    ¡°Ok, so Plan B,¡± Wes suggested optimistically.


    ¡°What Plan B?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. There must be something else we can do. Why don¡¯t you call your dad?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± I said.


    ¡°If he¡¯s a mechanic, shouldn¡¯t he know what to do?¡± Wes added.


    ¡°My phone is wrecked, remember, I can¡¯t call anyone,¡± I said, trying to deflect.


    ¡°Do you know his number? You can use my phone,¡± he said.


    He took his phone out of his jacket pocket and tried to hand it to me.


    ¡°I think I¡¯m close to fixing it. I just need a little more time,¡± I said.


    ¡°But if your dad can help?¡±


    I walked around to get into the driver¡¯s seat. Russell left the keys, so I figured why not try starting the engine again?


    ¡°I just need a little more...¡± I said before turning the key, and like magic, the car came back to life when I said, ¡°time.¡±


    Dumbfounded, I must have looked just as perplexed as I felt.


    ¡°Did I do that?¡± I asked myself.


    ¡°Dude, you fixed it,¡± Wes cheered, and I was relieved to see him put his phone away.


    But I hadn¡¯t done anything. Literally, the only thing I did was look around the inside of the car. I didn¡¯t change, move, or fix anything.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go get my cousin,¡± Wes celebrated while pulling me out of the car to head across the street.


    I was still in shock and disbelief. How did I fix the car?


    By that time, it was dark out. Russell must have spent at least a good 3 or 4 hours at that bar, ¡°The Splint.¡± Wes and I both noticed something was off as we approached the front entrance. There were a bunch of people knocked out, lying around the door.


    ¡°What the fuck?¡± I asked, out of confusion and concern.


    We had to kick and nudge people out of the way just to get the door open. Once inside, it was like traversing a minefield. There were more bodies lying around, broken glass, and the sound of off-key live music playing in the background.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± Wes said, as we both caught sight of Russell standing at the bar ordering another drink with his knuckles bloodied and raw.


    His fur was blood-soaked in so many spots there was no question of what went down.


    It was a bad time to make a joke, but I couldn¡¯t help myself.


    ¡°What happened to satyrs like you can hold your liquor?¡± I said.


    Wes knew the severity of the situation as well as I did, but we laughed just the same.


    ¡°We need to go,¡± Wes suggested.


    ¡°Definitely,¡± I agreed before we walked over to Russell.


    ¡°Hey cuz, little man, what brings you to the splint?¡± Russell said between taking sips of his drink.


    ¡°We got the car running,¡± I explained.


    ¡°Shit! How¡¯d you do that?¡± he said, slurring his words.


    The bartender poured his drinks out of fear. From the looks of it, Russell got into one hell of a bar fight and won hands down. The longer we stood there, the clearer something became.


    ¡°We need to go,¡± Wes said.


    People were moaning in agony, which meant two things. The first being that no one was dead, and the second being that people were beginning to wake up.


    ¡°Let¡¯s stay another night,¡± Russell begged.


    ¡°Russ, we need to go,¡± Wes pleaded.


    ¡°Can you drive?¡± I asked Wes as we pulled Russell away from the bar.


    It took all of our strength to get Russell to move. Drunk or not, he was a big guy.


    ¡°No, can you?¡± Wesson answered.


    We got outside with relative ease if I didn¡¯t mention how heavy Russell was and how many times he tried to reach for another drink. By the time we started crossing the street, people were getting up.


    ¡°You guys, we can stay one more night. Just one more,¡± Russell mumbled.


    ¡°We¡¯re leaving,¡± Wes said to his cousin as we stuffed him in the backseat of the station wagon like an adult toddler.


    I could feel the numbers growing behind us like zombies. Wes and I got in the front and it was on me to drive. I started to pull out of the parking lot but quickly found that the car was being surrounded.


    ¡°Shit!¡± I said as I turned on the headlights and saw the crowd of broken bar-goers blocking the way.


    ¡°Just drive!¡± Wes Shouted at me.


    ¡°But what if I hit something?¡±


    ¡°Dude, Drive!¡± Wes argued louder as hands started hitting the car and trying to open the doors.


    I drove off as quickly as I could, and I¡¯m sure I ran over several people¡¯s feet. All the while, Russell was in the back laughing his ass off, drinking from a bottle of beer I didn¡¯t remember him grabbing.


    The adrenaline coursed through me for a while before I finally mellowed out. I must have been speeding for a long time before I realized the danger was well behind us. Wes and I both laughed as we heard the sound of Russell snoring in the backseat.


    I couldn¡¯t be pissed or even exaggerate anger. I¡¯d been through too many life or death situations for that night to get to me. Wes laughed because we got through it, but I laughed because my suspicions and fears had been confirmed. I knew having Russell as our third would only go one way. It didn¡¯t matter in the end, however. Either way, we were stuck with him.


    ¡°So, he didn¡¯t have mechanic money? But drunk bar fight money?¡± I joked.


    ¡°Dude, I think you ran a red light,¡± Wes said, still laughing so much I couldn¡¯t help but grin.


    ¡°It¡¯s my first-time driving. First time driving without my dad.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re better at it than me.¡±


    Day 4


    We drove nonstop. Even after Russell sobered up, neither Wes nor I were willing to let him take the wheel. We didn''t blame him for getting drunk and causing a bar fight, but afterwards, he became the third wheel to our duo.


    We made it to the edge of the STR festival by day¡¯s end, though there wasn¡¯t much to see.


    Fairies safeguarded the venue''s perimeter with a magical dome. If it wasn''t for fairy dust resembling glitter, the dome would have been completely invisible. The outer ring was easy to see thanks to the rainbow shimmering dust. No one was actively being kept out, even with the presence of fairy guards. The only way in, the only way through the dome, was with a festival ticket.


    Had we tried to drive into it without our tickets, the station wagon would have crashed.


    But we drove through the bubble easily.


    As we got to the other side, everything hidden behind the dome became visible to us. In just a moment, the empty desert space transformed into a packed and overwhelming sight.

 Chapter 15 What A Box

    Why couldn¡¯t I cut the bullshit and just steal the spell I needed from Lady Beth? Working for her was anything but delightful. I¡¯m sure my mother might have approved the idea of simply taking what I wanted, but my father¡¯s voice stayed ever-present in the back of my mind, telling me to stay the course and earn what I needed.


    Apart from assisting her with show rehearsals, my first week working for Lady Beth consisted of mundane tasks. Picking up dry cleaning, delivering packages, and taking notes. That¡¯s how my summer was spent. I might as well have gotten an actual job. At least then I might have been paid. I stuck through it despite my boredom and irritation. If not for myself, then I guess I did it so BJ could have someone to turn to who was going through the same process. Sure, I wanted the cure, but jumping through hoops to get it was not my style. It wasn¡¯t until week two that we got into actual magic.


    It was a Tuesday. Rather than meeting in Beth¡¯s usual office backstage, we gathered in a room on the second floor across from the entrance to the theater¡¯s upper-level seating. It was a larger room but felt like a sort of storage area because of all the random props and junk lying around.


    ¡°Before a spell is sold, it goes through a process. The first step is the creation of a new spell. Then, that spell must be tested to ensure its effects are consistent. At the end of the cycle, we do what is called a binding,¡± Beth said as we stood in the dimly lit room, and I tried to understand the change in scenery.


    ¡°A binding?¡± I asked.


    ¡°A binding is when you take a spell and force it to work under a simpler set of words. Doing this means you won¡¯t have to perform an entire ritual or read a page of incantation to perform a spell each time you use it. You¡¯ll simply need the words or phrases you¡¯ve bound it to. The public only knows bound spells. Most people can¡¯t begin to comprehend a full spell, so we sell them what¡¯s essentially a shorthand simple enough a baby could recite it,¡± she added.


    She walked away from me to collect something from a table across the room, and that gave me a moment to take in the sights. There were posters of Matt and Beth on the walls. I deduced that most of the props I saw probably belonged to them from back in their days of working directly together. Beth looked so young in person, about as young as those posters made her appear. It was suspicious when I considered how old she must have been. Beth spent 15 years working as an assistant to Matt. It was admirable seeing her at a point in her life and career that allowed her to have her own assistant. That being said, she could have done better than me, a person who didn¡¯t have an interest in being there in the first place.


    ¡°Today, you¡¯ll create a new spell,¡± she said.


    ¡°So no dry cleaning,¡± I joked.


    ¡°Depends on how quickly you catch on.¡±


    ¡°What do I have to do?¡± I asked as she walked back to me.


    ¡°Before we start, I have a gift for you,¡± she said, handing me a small box.


    It was odd receiving a gift from someone I didn¡¯t feel I had a personal relationship with. The way Beth treated me was, at times, annoying, but I always thought she was a professional just doing her job. A gift felt like more than a gift.


    ¡°Every magician needs protective gear to assure we don¡¯t hurt ourselves. My dress acts as my protective gear. Matt has his top hat. I thought these would look nice on you,¡± she added.


    I opened the small silk box. On the inside was a pair of fingerless black leather gloves. They looked expensive.


    ¡°They won¡¯t stop spells cast by another person, and they won¡¯t stop the spells that you purposely cast on yourself, but they will keep you from blowing up accidentally,¡± she said.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said as I put on the gloves.


    They seemed to be a perfect fit. I¡¯m sure they resized to fit my hands exactly. The leather felt natural, like I¡¯d always known it to be part of my hands.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Today, you¡¯ll be required to perform a new spell capable of fulfilling a single task,¡± Beth said as she took a step away from me.


    I didn¡¯t think anything about the small motion.


    ¡°What kind of task?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s very simple,¡± she said with a grin before continuing to say, ¡°get out of this room.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I asked, confused until she disappeared.


    ¡°You¡¯re screwing with me, right?¡± I spoke to myself, believing she could still hear my voice.


    I walked over to the door and found that it couldn¡¯t be opened regardless of my standing on the side with access to the lock. I banged on the door for a moment, annoyed more than anything.


    I was curious about her decision to meet in a different room than usual. Had I been stuck in her office, the first thing I might have looked for would have been the cure.


    All I had were the things in my backpack to assist my escape. Unfortunately, I lacked a sledgehammer or ax, but I had my notebook. With notes on how to go about crafting spells, I seemed to have two choices. Wait to be let out or use magic.


    Every spell needed four things in order to work:


    <ol>


    <li>An old source of power to be called on to fuel the spell.</li>


    <li>An activation word to direct a spell toward a specific effect, which was basically any adjective that made sense.</li>


    <li>The actual command, which was typically the hardest part of a spell, spanning anywhere from a few words to several long pages of strictly thought out semantics.</li>


    <li>And finally, for most spells to come together and have any power at all, they had to be written on enchanted paper. Without holding or touching the written form of a spell in some way, saying it aloud would do nothing. Even though there were exceptions and slightly different rules for handicap spells that I hadn''t learned yet, I knew they had to be written and touched to work too.</li>


    </ol>


    I was hesitant. I helped BJ with her original spells all the time, but the last spell I wrote on my own made me a rabbit. After almost an hour of waiting to be released, I realized I had to free myself or remain trapped, for God only knew how long. I could hear through the walls. Beth was starting a rehearsal for her show without me. On the one hand, I was glad to miss out on playing assistant, but on the other, it meant she wasn¡¯t about to save me. With no books to help me either, I had to work that much harder.


    I had to find something old to use as the power in my spell. A few things came to mind, like the high school or my dad¡¯s car, but I settled on the Dead Woods. It was definitely old enough. Activation words were easy to come up with. Simple words like ignite, run, freeze, or blow usually worked, and the more dynamic the word, the stronger the effect. Though finding the right activation word could be tricky, the hard part was the command.


    In the end, I came up with ¡°Dead Wood, ignite, burn solid wood.¡±


    Despite its affordability, I had only a few sheets of enchanted paper in my bag at the time. If my spell didn¡¯t work, I¡¯d have to try another. A single sheet of enchanted paper could only hold a single spell. With four sheets available, I lacked the luxury of making too many mistakes. Most original spells had page long command sections, so I didn¡¯t feel confident about the command in my first attempt being shorter than five words. I figured the best approach was to keep things simple and avoid overthinking the problem.


    Either way, I had to start somewhere. I had to try something. My hope was for the door to burn down after reciting the words. At its best, my initial attempt succeeded in increasing the room''s temperature. I was still trapped, even though it felt like a fireplace was on full blast.


    I tried a different spell, ¡°Dead Woods, blow, destroy walls of barrier.¡±


    My goal was for a powerful wind to bring down the walls. What I got were strong winds that levitated my body off the floor. Admittedly, it was cool. I had unintentionally invented a flying spell, but got stuck without a way to land. Once the wind died down, I fell from the ceiling and face planted on the dusty wood floor.


    Semantics was something I absolutely hated, and because of that, magic had no love for me. Nevertheless, I had only two attempts remaining. My third try was a dud. Putting words together on enchanted paper couldn¡¯t guarantee something would happen. Regardless of its effectiveness, I wasted another sheet of paper, leaving me with one final opportunity.


    Clearly, my ¡°keep it simple¡± approach wasn¡¯t working. If I wanted a spell to actually free myself, I¡¯d need to craft something more specific and detailed. I spent a few hours writing out the most carefully worded full-page command I could think of. I put the effort in, but I was doubtful as to what all I¡¯d get out.


    I said the words with my eyes closed, too afraid to look at the results until I heard a sound that begged me to watch. The wood floor began to crumble, and as I stood at its center, I felt my weight becoming too much for it to bear. I held my breath, trying to stay light on my feet. Like sand, the wood panels fell away, and I, along with a room full of props, fell just the same. I fell from the second floor down into the first-floor seats of the main theater. It wasn¡¯t the worst fall I¡¯d ever taken, but the sound I made when the seats finally broke my fall was memorable enough. Standing up, I noticed Beth looking my way, utterly speechless.

 Chapter 16 The Set Up

    STR wasn¡¯t for everyone.


    Our plan was simple: spend a couple of weeks listening to live bands, checking out a few attractions, and, if possible, get laid. It didn''t take long for me to realize how unlikely those goals were to be achieved.


    My ears were too sensitive to go near most of the bands. The sheer force and power of live music was enough to seemingly obliterate my eardrums. The mosh pits of people were no better and only added to the suffering. Wesson¡¯s favorite band performed the second week, and I felt terrible for making him miss out. I urged him to go on his own, but when he saw I couldn''t handle the live music, he decided to keep away from it as well.


    STR was made up of music, attractions, and the potential for hookups. Thanks to me, we had to give up on a third of what we came for. Somehow, Wesson wasn¡¯t bothered by it.


    ¡°It¡¯s cool, man, we should have known,¡± Wes said.


    ¡°I still feel bad,¡± I told him.


    ¡°No need. We can still do what you came to do,¡± he joked.


    ¡°And what¡¯s that?¡±


    As we walked the sand-covered venue, Wesson gestured to a group of girls walking by. His gesture was anything but covert, and maybe a touch humiliating, but I got the point.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said hesitantly.


    ¡°You have to try. I mean, we¡¯re here. No one is human, so they shouldn¡¯t care about the extra fur and stuff,¡± he pushed and tried to persuade me.


    ¡°I know, but Wes, I¡¯ve never hit on a girl before, and these girls have wings, and fangs, and that one is juggling fire,¡± I said, pointing to a fire eater performance going on behind Wesson¡¯s back.


    ¡°I get it, but we¡¯re here,¡± he said with a hand on my shoulder.


    ¡°So I have to try?¡± I said, with lack luster confidence.


    ¡°Unless you want to go the other way. There''s plenty of dudes here,¡± he joked.


    ¡°Haha,¡± I said sarcastically.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll be your wingman,¡± he added as we continued to walk.


    ¡°Have you ever been a wingman before?¡± I asked as we both stepped over drugged-out festival goers passed out on the ground.


    ¡°No, but I¡¯ll figure it out,¡± he said.


    We stopped walking, and for a moment, I waited for Wes to give me his plan.


    ¡°So?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m figuring it out, give me a minute,¡± he said before playfully pushing me over, causing me to trip over a bunch of people we then had to run from.


    We hadn¡¯t seen Russell in days.


    At STR, people slept in RVs, tents, or whatever kind of shelter they could find because the venue was packed well beyond capacity. Sure, everything was out in the middle of the desert, but whoever was in charge should have had the foresight to order more tents.


    Somehow, Wes and I were lucky enough to snag a tent. Even away from home, my buddy could win anyone over. People threw things at him because he was a satyr.  A good-looking,  fun-loving, mostly nude satyr. Half the festival goers we met threw themselves at Wes like they were compelled by hypnotic suggestion. It would have been annoying had it not been funny and, more importantly, helpful.


    People wouldn¡¯t stop bending over backward for him. Of course, I wasn¡¯t about to complain since it got us two cots comfortable enough to call beds. After a couple of days, we even had a mini-fridge, though it held lukewarm water.


    The only downside might have been having to share a small bed with Russell every night, but he wasn¡¯t around. Wes and I woke up on our 3rd day in New Mexico to find that Russell had disappeared. He was just gone.


    Wesson tried calling him and sent a hundred texts, to which Russell replied, ¡°I¡¯ll be back later,¡± but we went into our second week without hearing a word from him. He had completely left Wes and me to do what we wanted without hindrance. Though, I doubt Russell could have been age-appropriate long enough to play the adult figure in our trio anyway. Had he been around, it would have been a pain to regulate his actions, not ours.


    Anyway, people were in a bind trying to find places to sleep at night. Wes thought girls would be more interested in hanging out if we offered one of our beds for a night. The obvious catch was that they''d have to share the bed with me. It was a simple enough plan, wasn¡¯t it?


    I wasn¡¯t asking anyone to blow me for a bed. The way the festival had been going, a few interesting conversations would have been enough. If anyone happened to like me enough to actually stay the night, it would have been a welcome bonus, but there were no expectations.


    Wes was kind enough to scout and send girls to our tent. I wasn¡¯t sure what I would have done without him.


    I didn¡¯t have cool pick-up lines. I didn¡¯t know how to tell a girl I was interested without coming off as creepy. With Wes sending them my way, I knew they¡¯d at least want to flirt. If they were coming to the tent, they must have known what they were getting into, and hopefully, that meant I wouldn¡¯t have to worry about mixed signals.


    I was sweating with anticipation, waiting to see who Wes would pair me with first. My fur, the desert climate, and summer heat were no help. I didn¡¯t give him any instructions about what type of girl to look for. I might have had I been decisive enough to know myself. Back in Daybreak, I was lucky to be acknowledged by people. It was a privilege to be taken seriously by girls back home at all.


    No one wanted to fuck a rabbit. No one wanted to hang out with a loser. No one cared to know the guy with ultra bad luck.


    I wouldn¡¯t say I was desperate, but I wasn¡¯t going to be picky or shallow. Besides, how could I have possibly been specific about who I wanted to date in a place where everyone was so different? At STR, there were Trolls, Satyr, Siren, Leprechaun, Imps, Fairies. A whole host of creatures I had never seen before were all around me. I didn''t anticipate Wes would send me someone insane, but as time passed without anyone entering the tent, my worry grew.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    Maybe I should have done the legwork myself. Wingman or not, it felt lazy having Wes make the initial approaches. It was a little emasculating, to be honest. I started to leave the tent to tell Wes I¡¯d find my own love interest, but before I could walk outside, someone stepped in.


    She was a Nymph named Echo. Her appearance was mostly human, but with pointed ears, emerald green hair, and wings made of wood and vines. I couldn''t understand how her dress, made of wildflowers, stayed intact on her body. She was taller than me, a lot taller, probably taller than Wes. Russell might have been in her height category, but next to me, there was no way. I couldn¡¯t take us seriously sitting next to each other. I didn¡¯t want to be a dick. She was beautiful, so I tried to talk for a while. We even hit it off enough to grow physically, but the moment she tried to move me into her lap, she had to go.


    After Echo left, I stepped outside the tent to look for Wes. I wanted to cancel his plan, but being without a phone and not knowing where he was made it challenging to relay the message. He could have been anywhere.


    Before I could walk off, I was greeted by guest number 2. She was closer to my height than the last. Her name was Alana, and she was a mermaid. When mermaids left water, their tails turned into legs so they could get around on land, but seeing one out in the desert was odd. Alana was a cool girl. She thought I was funny. I liked how she tried to cover the smell of weed in her hair with the scent of stereotypical seaweed. Both our families lived in towns that people never heard of. To be fair, her hometown was at the bottom of an ocean, but still. We had some things in common. There was just one problem. Alana was so uncomfortable in the heat that she had to stop the conversation every 2 minutes to splash water on herself. Oh, and she couldn¡¯t speak verbally, so she had to communicate through writing everything in a notebook she carried around. I dealt with the waterworks and the slow conversation because we seemed to have legitimate chemistry, but I had a limit. It got old when her water made it harder to read what she wrote on paper. Her notebook became too soggy to distinguish a single written word, and that¡¯s when I knew our time was up.


    I was beginning to think Wes was screwing with me. Had he been anyone else, I might have been certain. There was a slew of women that came by that day, and all of them were oddballs. It could have been me. Sure, I might have had high expectations. I could have been more shallow than I realized. I could have been, but after being forced to spend 10 minutes in a tent with a girl whose body was made out of bugs, I knew it wasn¡¯t me.


    The wave of love interests finally came to an end as the sunset. I was worn out and freaked out. On the brink of putting myself to sleep, I groaned at the sound of yet another person entering the tent until I opened my eyes to find that it was Wes.


    I had a sarcastic scowl on my face as he walked in and laid in his bed across from mine. It took him a moment to notice, but when he did, he broke the silence.


    ¡°So,¡± he asked, knowing something was wrong, or maybe he couldn¡¯t tell.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about it,¡± I said.


    ¡°Come on, Pitch.¡±


    Did I want to tell him about the lion-headed girl who wouldn¡¯t stop licking my face? Did I want to tell him about the fairy I thought was a mosquito?


    ¡°Wes,¡± I said, searching for the right words to convey how horrible it all was while also admitting it was hilarious how bad of a wingman he was.


    ¡°That bad?¡± he asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Next time I¡¯ll pick up girls on my own, probably safer that way,¡± I joked.


    ¡°We could always try again tomorrow,¡± he said.


    ¡°Right now, all I want to do is sleep.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not even midnight yet,¡± he protested.


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°I was going to grab something to eat,¡± he said as he sprung from his cheap cot with enough energy to nearly send it flying.


    Then again, our beds weren¡¯t made of durable materials, so moving in them at all was enough to worry they''d break. I doubt they were made to be slept in twice.


    ¡°You should,¡± I said as I turned over and shut my eyes again.


    ¡°Come with me,¡± he said, and I could tell he was standing over my body.


    ¡°Wes,¡± I said without opening my eyes.


    ¡°Come on. You can try to get laid at a hotdog cart or something.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you a vegetarian?¡± I joked until I felt him grip my arm.


    My eyes shot open.


    ¡°Dude, you¡¯re a rabbit, and you eat more meat than I do,¡± he said as he pulled me out of bed like my dad used to do on Monday mornings.


    It was annoying how easy it was for him to pick me up, almost like a toddler. I straightened up so he¡¯d let me go.


    ¡°Do we even have the money for food anymore? Your cousin took half our stuff, remember?¡± I argued.


    ¡°There are other ways of getting food,¡± he said.


    ¡°You mean stealing it?¡± I asked jokingly as we left the tent, but he didn¡¯t correct me.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± he said.


    ¡°Wes, I¡¯m not stealing food.¡±


    ¡°Is it honestly stealing? I mean, people toss a bunch of food every day. We¡¯re saving it from a dumpster.¡±


    ¡°Wes, I¡¯m not stealing food,¡± I reiterated sternly.


    ¡°Pitch, I¡¯m kidding. I still have plenty of money. Besides, people hand out free samples and stuff,¡± he said to reassure me.


    ¡°Ok,¡± I said, but he didn¡¯t seem convincing.


    The festival was full of exotic people from exotic places, and of course, they brought their exotic food. Wes and I searched for something new to try but didn¡¯t want anything over the top. There was a stand selling Firebird Nachos, made with real firebird. Firebirds were made of living flames, so eating one would have been the equivalent of swallowing a firework mid explosion. There was a bar selling Snake Charmer¡¯s Pizza, essentially pizza with snakeheads instead of pepperoni. A few places were tamer like the chocolate bistro, but we didn¡¯t have that kind of money.


    Eventually, I found myself sitting at a table while Wes canvassed the scene for something we could both eat and afford. He was doing the most to make sure I had a good time. At times, it felt like he was waiting on me, serving me, or doing more than I deserved. I attributed the behavior to his natural optimism and good outlook.


    Wes returned with plates of what looked to be Mabel¡¯s Marble Slab ice-cream and fries.


    ¡°I guess Mabel¡¯s is popular everywhere,¡± I said as Wes passed me a tray of food and took a seat across from me.


    ¡°It was some kind of knockoff, Marlin¡¯s Mint Stop,¡± Wes corrected.


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    I was sure we had to be out of money, so seeing how much food Wes managed to get surprised me.


    ¡°How much money do you still have?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Enough for our stay,¡± he said, but again, it wasn¡¯t convincing.


    ¡°So did Russell only take half of my stuff,¡± I pressed.


    ¡°No, he still has my phone charger and the rest of my jackets,¡± he said with significant weight, seeing how he only wore jackets and hoodies.


    But it felt like he was dodging my question.


    ¡°How did you pay for all this stuff?¡± I finally asked.


    ¡°Pitch,¡± he said without looking directly at me.


    He wanted me to drop it, but I couldn¡¯t.


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t afford breakfast yesterday, but tonight you had enough for one of everything at a knockoff Mabel¡¯s?¡±


    I didn¡¯t mean to push, but he was acting suspiciously. Even if he stole it, the lie felt more important than the act. Wes never lied, at least not to me.


    ¡°Ok, so maybe I didn¡¯t buy ¡®all¡¯ of it. But I didn¡¯t steal it either. I had a bird steal it for us¡± he said.


    ¡°Wes!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that big a deal. I took it from this troll¡¯s table; the guy didn¡¯t need all of it,¡± he said, perhaps trying to convince himself just as much as me.


    ¡°Wes, you know about my mom, don''t you,¡± I said.


    ¡°I know, dude, but it¡¯s one time. I wanted us to eat together. That¡¯s all,¡± he said, disappointed.


    "I don''t get it. Even if we can''t afford this stuff, couldn¡¯t you have just asked someone to buy it?


    "What?"


    "People give you stuff all the time."


    "They want to fuck me. How''s that any better than stealing?"


    "That''s not what I meant."


    "I don''t want people to look at me like that anyway. Some things should be special shouldn¡¯t they?"


    I didn¡¯t mean to embarrass him or make him feel like I was angry, but Wes never lied. It¡¯s just something he didn¡¯t do. And I was sure he didn''t mean to guilt me. The long glance we shared at one another said as much.


    ¡°As long as it¡¯s ¡®just¡¯ this once,¡± I said.


    ¡°It is,¡± he swore.