I haven't posted on in, like, ages, so I don't actually remember what the attitude is on here towards LGBT headcanons, so, uh...

Disclaimer. Lesbians! 14-year-old cute-innocent-puppy-love lesbians. Because Parker's gender was never actually mentioned in the epilogue and so I can make it whatever I want. I'm also going with the Veronica-is-Native headcanon in this fic.

This is an entry for ember53608's 10th Anniversary Fic contest.

So what do you recommend to encourage affection?
Dancing. Even if one's partner is barely tolerable.

The last few days of school should have been fun for Alison. They were fun for everyone else. People brought chips and cupcakes to class even though they were technically too old to have class parties any more. Some kids put on music—the teachers' pets got to decide what music—and they turned it up so high you could barely hear what anyone was saying. The teachers themselves sat behind their desks, eyes closed and chairs turned away from from the students, telling themselves that finally they didn't have to worry about keeping a bunch of fourteen-year-olds shut up. They also ignored the fact that someone had decided they could turn off half the classroom lights.

The music was that sugary bland type of pop music Allie had recently decided she hated. The cupcakes were pink. The room was chaos.

She leaned against a desk in the very back of the classroom and tried to look nonchalant as Parker made her way toward her.

What is it, honey?
It's horrible!
Did Parker break up with you again?

Parker was, undoubtedly, a cool kid. Her clothes were all in dark colors and her hair was shorter than any other girl's in their grade. She even dyed it sometimes. Alison's mom would never let Allie dye her hair.

"Oh." Parker looked a little surprised and uncomfortable to find her there. "I just came here for some, um... some more food."

Alison looked over at the cupcakes and nodded. She watched silently as Parker put some stuff on her paper plate. She didn't want to let Parker walk off without talking to her, but she didn't know what to say.

"What are you going to do over the summer?" she tried.

"I dunno." Parker picked at her food. "Just hang out, I guess."

"Sounds fun," said Alison weakly.

"Yeah." Parker put her hand on her hip and looked up. "Look, you do remember that you're not my girlfriend any more, right?"

"For the moment." Alison's comment was rewarded with a slight smile.

"Well maybe I'll see you over the summer, okay?"

"I don't think that'll happen," she whispered.

Your father will be home soon from the castle and—
The castle?
He'll be able to tell you what you are.

Alison's family was taking a road trip as soon as school was over. Even though, from what her mother had told her, they didn't actually need to use mundane things like roads or cars. They could zoom there on a magic carpet. Or fly on their own wings.

Alison's back itched and she swallowed nervously and wanted to cry.

They were going to go to New York City. They were going to go to her father's old home (one of his old homes, because in four thousand years he'd lived in a bunch of places), and they were going to visit his mother and his brother (who Alison had never even known existed), and they were going to find out what the girls were. Which was, apparently, not human. Alison Grimm was not human.

She looked at Parker. "I don't think I'll have a very good summer."

You're a fairy princess.
I don't want to be a fairy princess!

Parker was wearing tough black boots, glittering with silver studs, even though it was nearly summer and everyone else was already in flip-flops. Parker was wearing black eyeliner, and it was perfectly applied. Alison sometimes thought that she was in love with Parker, but she knew that she was in love with gazing at that sharp little point of eyeliner.

"Sorry," said Parker uncomfortably. "That sounds like it sucks."

It was hard being fourteen. It was hard to get dressed and go to school and talk to people. It was hard for Alison being Native, and it was hard for Parker being fat. Everyone had their own way of coping with it. Alison's way was being sarcastic and bitter about everything. Parker's way was dressing like the tough older girls she knew and stomping around everywhere. Parker was no fairy princess.

Alison pushed herself away from the desk. Her back was really itching bad now, and she could think of absolutely nothing worse than her wings coming out right now, right here where everyone could see.

She's probably just got a zit, Mom. You know how dramatic she can be.

She focused on the song that was playing now. It was one of those quick and upbeat ones about having fun. Very much not punk-rock Parker's choice of music, and so it wasn't Alison's either.

"Wanna dance now or something?"

Parker blinked. "What?"

Alison took a deep breath. "I know you broke up with me two weeks ago and I know we're not actually gonna talk over the summer and I know you hate me or whatever. But I just feel really bad right now and so can we just do some dumb stupid thing and dance to this stupid song?"

Parker glanced around. Her friends at the other end of the classroom were probably still waiting for her to come back, but it was impossible to even see them from here. Nobody was paying them any attention.

"Sorry," said Alison, "it's fine, you want to leave—"

"Nah," said Parker. She smiled, set down her plate, and made an awkward motion that looked like it might have been a dance move.

Mom! The spaz won't open up!

They were friends again by the end of the day. Parker signed her yearbook and put her phone number in it, as if Alison didn't already have it memorized. As she wrote it down, she grinned and said that maybe when school started again, they could get back together.

Alison wasn't worried about it for once; it had happened at least twice before. And this time she had other things to worry about.

It used to be that she liked her family. Now she hated them. She hated her mother for lying to her and her father for not being human and her little sister for being happy about it. She hated her own wings on her own back. She hated the family car that was going to take them somewhere she didn't want to go. She hated the family house with its library and its books full of stupid, hateful fairy tales.

But she wouldn't—she didn't think she would—ever hate Parker.