**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from the Iron Fey series or Midsummer Night's Dream. Alex, Alex's family, Silvia, and Silvia's family are characters that we have created. **

Chapter 1

By the time I was five years old, I already didn't believe in the supernatural. There was no Tooth Fairy breaking into my bedroom when I had lost a tooth. There was no Easter Bunny hiding baskets of candy-filled eggs. There was no Santa Claus placing presents under the tree and stuffing goodies into stockings.

Those tall tales about giants, trolls, dwarves, unicorns, centaurs, elves, pixies, faeries- Lies.

I remember in kindergarten, when all of the other little kids would la pretend and make up stories about being magical creatures and flying. I would stand by the wall and watch. A literal wallflower. I couldn't lie to myself and play those ridiculous, illogical, childish games.

I've never been good at making friends.

One day, the cutest boy in our kindergarten class -a package deal with dimples and Scooby Doo fruit snacks every day in his lunch box –came up to me and offered to have me join in their game. Then, he equated me to Rudolph, which set me aflame.

Holding my head high with my curly pigtails bouncing and my glasses firm, I sternly replied to him, "You guys are stupid. Stop fooling yourselves." I have always been mature, but this was possibly going overboard.

Pouting, he mumbled, "You're on fun!" He ran back to his friends, only after scornfully sticking his tongue out at me.

Thirteen years have passed, but not much has changed.

When I look in the mirror, I still see the same curly hair, but no pigtails. The same bright purple eyes, but no bulky glasses blocking them. The same despondent frown of a girl who was never good at talking to people. Everyone used to compliment me, saying that my bouncy hair was so fun and my lavender eyes were so exotic. After a few years of never receiving a response, or even a "thank you," they stopped complimenting me. Stopped talking to me completely.

Yeah, I kinda regret being such a prude when I was younger. Maybe I shouldn't have told Ben Ferguson that, if his imaginary friend was really a troll, he would have eaten Ben by now. Maybe if I hadn't told my entire first grade class that Santa Claus didn't exist, I could have avoided being sent home for making my entire first grade class cry.

I regret doing those things, but as an eighteen-year-old in my last semester of high school, there wasn't much I could do. I was content with only one classmate speaking to me. I wasn't going to football games on Friday night. I wasn't chosen for any of the Senior Superlatives. I wasn't going to wild and crazy "My-parents-are-out-of-town-so-let's-get-drunk-and-look-surprised-when-we-get-caught" party. I was pretty vanilla, but I liked it that way.

I slumped out of bed and stomped down the stairs without brushing my hair or putting on a bra. My internal clock always woke me up around 5:30 so that I would have time to prepare mom's breakfast, take a shower, get ready, and then make my breakfast.

I could hear my mom's snoring echoing from the living room along with the humming static of a television on with the cable turned off. Sighing, I rubbed my eyes and trudged over to the living room, turning on each light as I made my way down the stairs and into the hallway. I flicked on the living room walls and crossed my arms at the awful, yet familiar, scene.

My mother was sprawled out on the couch, a blanket barely covering her body. I noticed the she was still wearing her outfit from yesterday, but it was wrinkled, so I made a mental note that that shirt needed some extra care when it came to laundry time. Her hand rested on her chest and fell in the rhythm of her snores. The smell of alcohol wafted around the air, so I didn't even have to look to tell that there was an empty bottle of whiskey in her free hand.

I stomped across the room and harshly shut off the buzzing television before I opened the curtains. My mom grunted and her right hand instinctively rose to shield her eyes. She was like a euglena; even with no eyes, she could still sense the light. She complained that the light gave her migraines. I continued to pull on the curtains until she finally stirred and glared at me with squinted eyes.

"Silvia, it's way too early for that." Still squinting, she jabbed an odious finger at the window. I ignored her and walked out of the living room without saying a word. As soon as I was gone, I could hear my mom fall, pick herself up, and scramble from the couch to close the curtains. Her heavy footsteps followed mine to the kitchen.

"I'm making eggs this morning." I stated plainly as I grabbed the frying pan and switched on the gas stove. "I still haven't gotten ready, so you'll have to eat alone."

She nodded and slumped into a chair at the granite kitchen island, seeming more tired than the dead. Rubbing her temples, she murmured, "I had an awful dream last night…about your father."

My muscles tensed when I heard the word "father." A million things came to my mind, most of them involving negative emotions and words that I really don't think I should say. I focused on the eggs, not supplying my mom with the reaction that she was oh-so-impatiently waiting for.

"Make sure you drink lots of water, okay?" I ordered, lifting her eggs from the frying pan to a white ceramic plate. She nodded like an obedient child as I handed her the eggs. She picked at her eggs, seeming too tired and hung over to truly function. I took a deep breath, frustrated with her drunkenness, but thankful that she was at least docile this morning,

I took a quick shower, remembering that I had promised to meet someone at school early this morning. I started getting dressed around 6:15, deciding on a long-sleeved red sweater after looking out my window and seeing dark clouds. A traditional winter day in Virginia. I was often better at predicting the weather than the weathermen. And weatherwomen. I pulled on some skin-tight light blue jeans, knowing that no one would even notice if my muffin top hung out. No one ever noticed me anyway. I threw on some makeup, even though I only had a pitiful collection of lip gloss and eyeliner, and I checked to make sure I had my license and crappy cell phone.

I had no use for an iPhone or whatever. I had three contacts in my phone. I didn't have a Facebook or a Twitter or n Instagram. I only got on the internet to watch videos and check grades. As far as social media went, I didn't exist.

I found my iPod and the chord that would sync it to my car radio. My car was named Lisa, a '99 Nissan Altima with a blue exterior, seats with stains that were there before I bought her, a broken air conditioner, and a radio that couldn't play the radio. She was an old woman that sagged and occasionally sputtered smoke, but was a total trooper.

I grabbed a black and white striped hoodie on my way out the door at 7:00. I had this weird quirk where I had to keep my head covered at, like, all times. I was afraid that, if I didn't, my frizzy, curly hair would pop out and blind someone or something. I gave my mom a short goodbye and made my way to Starbucks for my daily fix.

The Starbucks down by the mall was packed by the time I had arrived. No one from school. No one even remotely teenager-looking. People were bustling to order their coffee, a slice of pumpkin bread, one of those weird looking green Nakeds, then rush to work in Norfolk. Norfolk was one of the closest real cities, with a coliseum and lots of big buildings. I loved cities, but for kind of a twisted reason. In the city, everyone was a wallflower. No one paid attention to anyone else on the street.

In my school it was unusual not to stick out.

I smiled to my favorite barista, who had just come in from the back room with a warmed bagel for a customer. When he saw me, he waved. I knew that he didn't remember my name, but among all of this business, he still greeted my individually. I ordered a Caramel Frappuccino and thanked the barista quietly when he was done making it.

I drove back home for two reasons. The fake reason was that I had left my school bags at the front door. The real reason was that I had purposefully forgotten them, like I did every day, so that I would be intent to return home to check if my mother was awake or not. She had to work at 7:30, but when I walked through the front door, she was still lying in the same position on the couch. She was cradling her head on a pillow and breathing unevenly, clearly bordering on sleep.

I stomped over to the couch, which was wet and clump from her restless sleep and drool. I raised my voice and snarled, "I woke you up and hour and a half ago. You should be ready and leaving for work!"

She grumbled, but no words came out.

"If you're too drunk to go to-"

"I'm not drunk!"

"Then, do you feel like going to work?" I raised my eyebrow and glared at her with crossed arms. I always had to be the adult. Always. "If you don't feel like going, then at least call in sick. Just bear in mind: if you did that, you'll only have two more sick days to use for the rest of the year. And it's only February."

She frowned, but begrudgingly stood up. She wasn't dressed and she was going to be late for work, but it was better than not going at all. Her boss knew of her problem with alcohol, which I am not permitted to deem an 'addiction,' so he had gotten used to it. She was such a good paralegal when she was sober that he could accept her.

Once she was out the door and her car was out of the driveway, I left too. I would be a little late, but it would be fine. I would risk that for one more day of my mother having a job. I took what was left of my Starbucks into my broken cup holder and sped to school. Past suburb after suburb after WalMart. I lived in a boring city, but it was fitting. I didn't need excitement. I just needed really good books and a television with access to the History Channel. I liked science fiction and the classics, like Madame Bovary, Catcher in the Rye, and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

Since I had zero to one friend, there was no one at school to make fun of me for being such a nerd. I was the salutatorian, behind an Asian girl named Jenifer Kim, only because she received an A in an Honors class back in Freshman year that I received an A- in.

I arrived at school around 8:00 and my car sputtered to a stop in the parking lot behind the school. Although the sun was shining, it was bitterly cold. I generally liked cold weather, but Virginia had a strange way of reaching below-freezing weather, yet never snowing. I stalked into school, holding my striped hoodie tightly against my body. I entered and made a bee line to the library, hoping that he would still be there.

I greeted the librarians. They talked to me sometimes because I always came in to check out books, but they could never remember my name.

Oh, it's Silvia Scott, by the way.

"Silvie!" I heard a familiar voice call enthusiastically from across the library. The librarians stared daggers at that idiot standing up near the non-fiction section.

Alex covered his mouth with his hand, embarrassed from his outburst. He blushed and sat back down, partially hiding his face behind his shoulder. I wasn't surprised from this awkward mistake. This was the same kid who sneezed during his yearbook picture last year and wasn't allowed to retake it. That was an amazing picture.

Alexander Pierce was my only friend. Literally my only friend. He transferred into my Honors World History class from Michigan two years ago. He was so shy on the first day that he only sat down and read some odd philosophical book until the bell rang. After he stuttered his name during roll call and received a wave of laugher from our classmates, he was mentally scarred. I felt bad so, even though I was awful at talking to people, I sent him a note, asking him about his schedule. We had basically the same one.

Somehow, we ended up becoming great friends. Best friends. He liked all the things that I liked. And since my mother was an alcoholic and my father was a person I would rather not speak of, I needed him in my life to make me laugh and calm me down every once in a while. We didn't have sexy sleepovers or naked pillow fights or anything, but he was the first person I would call if my car ran out of gas and I needed a ride, or I needed to know what our homework was, or I forgot the key to my house while my mom was at work and I needed a place to stay.

Although Alex was smart, he couldn't make it to the top ten percent of our class because of his fatal weakness: math. He was a Senior and currently getting a C in his second chance at Algebra 2. For some reason, he couldn't grasp the concepts at all, even the Pythagorean Theorem.

That's why I was meeting him before school. I had passed Algebra 2 with a solid 'A' back in Freshman year and was currently receiving an 'A' in AP Statistics. He couldn't fail yet another math class and let his GPA fall below a 3.2, otherwise his parents would confiscate his car. So, a few weeks ago, he had begged me to tutor him and, even though I feared that it would be awkward, I agreed. No one could say 'no' to Alex's puppy face. I'm weak for puppies, anyway.

I sat down at the table Alex had reserved for us and he truly did look like a dog that had been waiting eternity for his master. Like Argus. His thickly-rimmed glasses were fogging up from embarrassment and his droopy eyes looked everywhere in the room except at me. He was tall, but he ruined his posture by slouching all the time. His round lips were opened slightly and his whole face frowned, making him appear lost and helpless. Of course, he always looked like this. He had the kind of look most girls liked, I guess, because I was always receiving warnings and threats from girls who were jealous that I was the only person Alex ever spoke to.

A) It wasn't my fault that Alex wasn't a sociable creature.

B) It wasn't my fault that I was chosen to be the object of his affection

C) I shouldn't have to take any crap from people who think that "You is ugly" is an honest or even sensible threat.

"So, why are you late?" He asked as his bushy eyebrow rose, peeking out from the rim of his glasses. Alex was asking out of complete sincerity, but I couldn't help but grow aggravated after thinking about the debacle this morning.

I bushed a strand of curly dark hair out of my face and stuffed it inside of my hoodie. I wasn't always aware of it, but I messed with my hair when I was agitated. It went from touching my hair to looking for split ends to ruffling it and wearing hats all the time. If this mane could not be tamed, than I would rather hide it. "My mom. She…she never wakes up in time to get to work. I swear, I'm the only reason that woman still has a job."

"Can't you get her an alarm clock? O-or something?"

"An alarm clock can't beat being hung over."

"Oh, I see." Alex leaned over to look in his bag, cleverly evading my eyes. I knew that he couldn't say "I know how you feel" because, frankly, Alex lived in a big house with a single mom but a cute older brother and a life where he could be a child for as long as he wanted. He knew nothing about being an adult.

"Did you get me anything from Starbucks?" He asked, flipping through pages and pages of notes, trying to find his homework from the previous night.

"…H-huh? How did you know that I went to Starbucks?" I had thrown my cup away in a trash can on the way to the library.

"Your breath smells like Starbucks." He admitted, grinning cutely, which I supposed was a fail at looking impish.

I pretended to shiver and covered my mouth, giving him a hesitant look. "Ugh. Creepy."

He sputtered frantically, until he found the words, "It's not hard to tell when we're both only ten inches from each other's face."

I accepted that, even though I habitually checked my breath for the rest of the session.

Alex and I tried- and I mean really tried -for the next half-hour to get some work done. Unfortunately, every time I would say something, he would start with some old story from Sophomore year and I would be stuck between yelling at him in humiliation and laughing myself out of my chair. He had finished his homework, but it was the worst piece of last minute shit I had ever seen in my life.

As the second bell rang, we parted, waving goodbye to one another by blowing awkward kisses.

I sat down in AP Literature, hidden in the back of the room. My classmates shuffled in and, although some of them tried to greet me with polite smiles and compliments, I ignored them all. I stuffed my face into my copy of Midsummer Night's Dream. I was several acts ahead of most of my classmates for this assigned reading, but I absolutely hated this play. It was all about magic and faeries and spells and love.

Bull shit.

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from the Iron Fey series or Midsummer Night's Dream. Alex, Alex's family, Silvia, and Silvia's family are characters that we have created. **