This one is for MrsVonTrapp, my water sign pal.


Written in the Stars


"Here, try this one," Caela said, spooning a scoop of fragrant chickpeas onto the paper plate Carl held in their lap.

She had come bearing takeout, which wasn't exactly the birthday dinner either of them had imagined, but had the advantage of keeping Carl swaddled and propped up in bed while Caela presided over the kaleidoscope feast arrayed on the desk. She had brought enough food for an entire ward, and certainly more than enough for Carl, whose appetite was still slightly shy of normal. Their lungs were clearing, though, and there was reason to hope that there might not be permanent damage.

Despite being confined to bed, Carl had used the last few days to good advantage. They had an awful lot of YouTube to catch up on, plus Tumblr and Reddit and an extremely helpful Sam Dylan Finch post called "8 Things Non-Binary People Need to Know." That had been a revelation studded with little bursts of euphoria. It wasn't that things had been wrong before, not exactly, but there was no denying the difference between not-wrong and right. When Carl prayed over it, they felt nothing but the sort of peace they associated with long afternoons watching ants in the Hollow. Still, the idea that they might . . . possibly . . . be trans . . . was too new and fragile to speak aloud, even to Caela.

"What is this one called?" Carl asked, sniffing cautiously at a forkful.

Caela checked her notes. "Chana masala. It says 'aromatic chickpeas with onion and ginger and' . . . uhhh a bunch of other stuff."

Carl took a bite, intrigued to find the dish simultaneously floral and searing.

"No good?" Caela frowned, her finger poised over her Notes app.

"It's great," Carl gasped, reaching for their water bottle. "Just hot!"

Caela made her own assessment, savoring a single chickpea with a thoughtful expression. "It's good," she said at last. "Almost like eating perfume."

Yes, that was precisely it. Somewhere between flowers and peppers, with shades so subtle that they were difficult to describe. Carl had never imagined any food could taste like this, nor that there was a world of vegetarian options beyond the usual pasta bakes of Glen St. Mary. Caela had brought saag paneer and aloo gobi and other dishes Carl had already forgotten the names of. Hence the Notes.

"Thank you for suggesting this," Carl said, mixing a very little bit of chana masala into a large mound of rice. "Though I'm afraid I'll never be satisfied with dining hall food after this."

"That was inevitable," Caela said comfortably, munching a pakora. "You're a classic Libra."

Carl stifled a giggle. "I've never really been into astrology. Do Libras hate dining halls?"

"As a matter of fact, they do," Caela sniffed. "Libras are aesthetes; they appreciate good food and nice clothes and all the finer things in life. Definitely not dining halls."

It was hard not to laugh at that, sitting on a dorm room bed in threadbare pajamas, eating takeout off a drooping plastic fork. All that astrology stuff was rubbish, but even if it wasn't, Carl was hardly one with a taste for the high life.

"If that's the defining trait, I'm probably the worst Libra around," they said with a little cough.

"Nope. You're practically the Libra holotype. You didn't even have to tell me your birthday; I knew it as soon as I met you."

"No you didn't."

Caela remained resolute. "Sure I did. You're sociable, gentle, peace-loving. Classic Libra."

The spices had nothing to do with the flush rising to Carl's cheeks. It was awfully nice to think that someone thought about them that way, even if it was all a sham.

"You're just making that up."

"Am not!" Caela protested, tossing Carl the rose gold phone. "Go ahead and look up the Libra personality. Go on. Tell me I'm wrong."

Carl felt very silly googling libra personality, even sillier when they saw the sites that popped up, with their cringeworthy designs and garish colors. Scrolling, they found one that had at least put a bit of effort into designing cute icons for the various signs. Carl tapped the little golden scales and began to scan the page.

"Aloud, please!" Caela insisted.

"Alright. Libra. September 22-October 23. Sign: the scales of justice. Ruling planet: Venus. Oh come on, Caela, you don't really believe all this, do you?"

"Just because it's silly doesn't mean it doesn't work. Keep reading."

Carl obliged, not wanting to offend her.

"Libra is the sign of balance and partnership. A Libra loves harmony, peace, and beauty. You might find a Libra patronizing a chic art gallery or admiring the wonders of nature, but wherever they are, the Libra seeks tranquility. Libra is a friend to all: charming, lovable, sincere, forgiving, gentle, fair-minded, and hopelessly romantic. Libras avoid conflict, sometimes to a fault. Wanting to please everyone can be a weakness, as can the Libra's classic indecision, self-pity, and insecurity. The Libra is a natural diplomat and hates injustice and violence of any sort. The influence of Venus makes Libra a tender romantic partner, though their aversion to conflict can let problems fester."

Carl finished with a flurry of coughs, half because they were out of breath and half because they didn't know what to say. Maybe it was all nonsense, but they had felt a little shiver anyway. These things were written so that anyone could see themselves in any of them. Still, it ought to be easier to tear their gaze away from the link glowing at the bottom of the paragraph: Click to see Libra's Love Matches.

"See?" Caela grinned. "It's you, isn't it?"

"I guess it could be," Carl admitted.

"See? Even when you think it's all hogwash, you still find a diplomatic way to keep me happy. Classic Libra!"

She had Carl dead to rights and there was nothing they could do except laugh themself breathless.

"If I'm a Libra, what are you?" Carl asked at last.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"I don't know the first thing about any of it!"

Caela preened. "I'm a Leo of course. July 27. Generous. Charismatic. Warm-hearted. Regal."

Carl was already scrolling, hunting for the little lion icon. "Leo. Entitled. Self-centered. Hates being ignored."

Caela shrugged. "I detect no lies. Now, when's John's birthday?"

"How would I know that?"

"Honestly, you're hopeless. You've had, like, weeks for basic recon."

"I'm not stalking my roommate!"

Caela muttered to herself, "Well if he hasn't had a birthday since school started, he's probably not a Virgo . . ."

It was entirely possible that John had had a birthday and never said a word about it. But no, Carl had returned to Gardner Hall to find the door of 126 festooned with streamers and birthday wishes along with the Get Well Soons from the RAs and hall neighbors, and there hadn't been anything like that for John yet. Unless even the RAs didn't know his birthday.

"Do you think there might be a clue around here somewhere?" Caela asked, hopping out of her chair and pulling John's desk drawer open.

"Caela!"

"Well, he's a neat freak, so obviously not another Libra."

"Please don't touch his stuff," Carl groaned.

Caela turned away from John's immaculate desk, tapping her chin. "We know he's quiet. Do you think that's more of a shy, cautious sort of quiet or more like a brooding, self-protective shell sort of thing?"

Carl thought back to the Ducks, the cake, the way a spark of humor changed John's whole face, and the way his features had slid shut when they ventured too near a topic he didn't want to discuss.

"Shell. Definitely shell."

"Hmmm. Tell me, would you say he's secretive?"

"Maybe."

"What about mysterious? Cunning? Violent?"

Carl gulped. "I mean, he likes to play hockey, but I would hardly call him violent. Try . . . competitive. Disciplined."

Caela's face scrunched into a tight pucker of disapproval. "I don't know, honey. It sounds like he might be a Scorpio."

"Is that bad?"

Caela sighed regretfully. "No sign is bad, per se, but there's such a thing as compatibility. You don't need all that manipulative Scorpio drama in your life. All shells and stings and hidden motives. Libra and Scorpio together are very bad news."

Oh, this was silly! None of it was real! Still, Carl attempted to recall any clue anyone had dropped about John's birthday. If it were coming up soon, one of the Blythes would have mentioned it, wouldn't they?

"Who makes a good match for a Libra?" Carl asked, though really, it didn't matter.

Did it?

"Oh, Libras get along with pretty much everyone," Caela said airily. "But what you really need is balance. A Libra makes a good match with another Libra. Very chill. Very peaceful. The other option is to go for your perfect opposite to keep things symmetrical."

"What's Libra's opposite?"

Caela pointed to Carl's app, indicating a wheel that showed the signs in order. She pointed to Libra, then traced a straight line across the circle to the sign of the ram. "Aries. They're like your other half. Mars to your Venus. Passion to your romance. Action to your indecision."

Carl consulted the horoscopes, tapping the symbol and reading in a murmur.

"Aries. March 21-April 19. The ram. Ruled by Mars. Aries is the sign of self. An Aries is a bold, fearless trailblazer with supreme self-confidence. Aries tends to be a bit of an adrenaline junkie, so you may find one scaling a mountain or taking up skydiving. Wherever they are, an Aries will always take the shortest route from A to B, even if that means crashing head-first through a few walls. Aries is first and foremost an individual: bold, competitive, heroic, and action-oriented. They can also be selfish, arrogant, aggressive, and moody. An Aries hates ambiguity, time-wasters, and losing. The influence of Mars makes Aries an intense partner who values clarity and risk-taking, though their need for independence can make long-term relationships challenging."

Caela was doing a very poor job of suppressing her glee at Carl's skeptical expression.

"Skydiving?"

"Balance, sweetie. Libra and Aries are complementary. As in you complete me."

Caela clasped her hands under her chin and made a swoony face that Carl countered with a well-aimed pillow. She collapsed onto the bed in a fit of giggles, then took advantage of Carl's coughing to steal their phone.

"Hey!" Carl managed between gasps. "What . . ."

"Just doing a little research," Caela said, tapping away purposefully.

"Research?"

"Plenty of people put their signs in their profiles. What's John's Instagram?"

Carl made a grab for the phone, but Caela merely rolled away.

"Does he use Twitter? Twitch?"

"Maybe! I don't know!"

"Remind me not to pick you for my special ops squad." Caela muttered, squinting at the screen. Her iridescent lashes glinted as she brought the phone up to her nose. "Hmmm. No Facebook, at least not under that name. You really don't know any of his handles?"

"No, I don't," Carl lied.

"What about his friend?"

"Ken Ford?"

"Maybe I can go through his likes and triangulate. Have you found out whether he's straight?"

"I've been in the hospital!"

"Or I could just text John," Caela said, flicking open Carl's contacts.

"I don't even have his number," Carl said, lunging again.

"No, but you've got a Di Blythe. Hey wait, that's the blue-haired girl from Pride House? What is she, his sister?"

"Yes."

"Excellent."

"Caela, don't . . ."

They were interrupted by the scraping of a key in the lock. Carl and Caela disentangled themselves in a flurry of limbs and bedding, flying guiltily apart as John stepped through the door.

"I can come back later," John said, averting his eyes and turning back toward the hall.

"No!" Oh yikes, no. "John! Wait! This is my friend Caela. She just brought over some food."

"Plenty left," Caela chirped. "Want some?"

John hesitated, but risked a peek to confirm that everyone still had their clothes on. Satisfied that it was safe to enter, he shut the door and dropped his hockey bag on his bed.

"It's really good," Carl added hopefully. "The food, I mean. Do you like Indian food?"

"Sure."

Caela bounced up and pushed a plate at John before he had actually accepted the offer. Carl winced at this forwardness. A call to the ambulance and a birthday cake didn't make them friends. Yet, when they managed to meet John's eye, Carl was pleasantly surprised to find that he was smiling. Not, like, an actual smile involving his mouth or cheeks or anything. But there was a little spark of humor twinkling in the deep brown eyes, a tiny, silent laugh behind the imperturbable mask. Shell, Caela had called it. Oh please oh please don't be a Scorpio.

" . . . right, Carl?"

"Sorry, what?"

Caela rolled her eyes as if to say work with me here. "I was saying that we're celebrating your birthday. Right?"

"Right."

"I love birthdays," Caela continued as John spooned chana masala onto his plate. "It must be nice to have one during the school year. Mine's in the summer, so I always envied the kids who got to bring in cupcakes for the whole class."

"Mmm hmmm," John said, eating with apparent equanimity and only a very little bit of rice.

"Did you have class birthdays when you were a kid, Carl?" Caela asked sweetly.

Carl thought of the time in grade one when Faith and Una had attempted to make cupcakes so that Carl would have something to bring to school for their birthday, and the subsequent explanations to outraged parents that it hadn't been a prank at all, just a misunderstanding, and who on earth stores ipecac in a vanilla bottle anyway?

"Ummm . . . there was one time," Carl said, "when I was in grade two. I had a lovely beetle in my shirt pocket and when everyone started to sing, it skittered right down my arm and onto the plate of cookies. No one would eat them after that."

Caela's eyes flicked up to the ceiling as if seeking divine patience, but John smirked.

"I used to dig up worms and leave them in cans all over the house. Nasty surprise for whoever picked them up."

Carl had several very important follow-up questions, but Caela had grown impatient.

"When's your birthday, John?" she asked, smiling.

"April 2nd. Why?"

"Just curious," Caela said, mouthing Aries to Carl when John looked down at his plate.

Carl wanted to scowl at her, but it was awfully difficult when they were trying to suppress a grin.


Review of Shyness and Suggestibility, Chapter 14
by NerfHerder

What on earth happened between Darcy and Wickham? Is Lizzy just imagining that they have history? It's very like Jane to defend both of them. I appreciate the way you are writing how her shyness overlaps with her willingness to think the best of everyone and how much Lizzy relies on her. Lizzy's the heroine, but Jane's really the best of them, isn't she? I know someone like that.

Still, I do wish Jane weren't quite so nice to everyone. If there's mischief afoot, she'll walk right into it and never suspect a thing until it's too late. Bingley's clueless, too! He's throwing this whole ball and it just seems like he's setting Jane up up to be thrown to the wolves without even realizing it.

There was one little line in this chapter that stood out to me, which is when Jane and Lizzy are surprised that Mr. Collins is allowed to dance. They make fun of him for it, but I sympathized with him! Let me be clear — I am definitely *not* a fan of Collins. But why shouldn't he dance if he wants to? I know it's inconvenient for Lizzy, but I beg you — please don't go barring the clergy from having any fun. They have it hard enough already.


To: NerfHerder
Re: Your review of Shyness and Suggestibility

Thank you so much for your review! You're quite right about Jane's (and Bingley's) incorrigible belief in the goodness of others. They're very sweet, but so vulnerable.

I am intrigued by your comments re: Mr. Collins and dancing. The very thought of him inflicting himself on dance partners is enough to send me fleeing in horror! But perhaps you should write a version from Collins's perspective. Convince me!

Though I suppose that would mean that you'd have to get around to reading canon at some point! (Please don't — I'm enjoying your clean-slate reactions as much as anything.)


To: CallMeCordelia
Re:Re: Your review of Shyness and Suggestibility

I am happy to stand up for Collins in the comments, but I don't think I'll be writing anything of my own anytime soon. I once had a school assignment to write a missing scene from a novel and it was truly awful. I agonized over it forever and it still came out completely wooden. I don't know how you do it. You're really very good. Sometimes I even forget about the nitpicking and just let myself get swept along in the story!


To: NerfHerder
Re:Re:Re: Your review of Shyness and Suggestibility

Forget about the nitpicking? Never!

What was the scene you had to write?


To: CallMeCordelia
Re:Re:Re:Re: Your review of Shyness and Suggestibility

It was for All Quiet on the Western Front. Just a little scene in the church when Paul is home on leave.


To: NerfHerder
Re:Re:Re:Re:Re: Your review of Shyness and Suggestibility

Can I read it?


To: CallMeCordelia
Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re: Your review of Shyness and Suggestibility

No. I'm not kidding when I say it was bad. Really, really bad. I think it may have been the first time I ever got a B+ instead of an A on an assignment.


To: NerfHerder
Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re: Your review of Shyness and Suggestibility

Oh, come on. It can't have been *that* bad if you still got a B+. Besides, can't be worse than the Ginny Weasley fic I wrote when I was in middle school. (Please don't look that one up!)


To: CallMeCordelia
Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re: Your review of Shyness and Suggestibility

"I'll never tell!" vociferated Ginny with a temerarious toss of her flame-colored locks. "You can flog me or burn me at the stake or Cruciatus me forever, but I will die a million deaths before I betray my love!"

I am *crying* with laughter.


To: NerfHerder
Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re: Your review of Shyness and Suggestibility

See? Yours can't possibly be worse.


To: CallMeCordelia
Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re: Your review of Shyness and Suggestibility

Ok, maybe. I'll think about it.

Did I tell you I checked Pride and Prejudice out of the library? I was going to start it tonight, but I've got like 17 more chapters of Ginny here.