We had a nutter approach our table when we were at a retchtaurant for my twelfth birthday. That sort of thing's happened a couple times before to my dad. He'll be out and about and then some moron with no sense of privacy goes up to him and starts asking him about coven politics or demands an interview from him or something. Considering his name's been on every crystal ball in the Isles at some point, I guess it's unavoidable. This time was different, though, cuz she wanted to talk to me.

So the lady came up to our table and she called me by name and said, "Oh goodness, aren't you the bright little sapling who skipped two whole grades?" Now, I'd never seen this witch before in my life. I have no idea how she knew my name. So I just nodded. Then she started asking the both of us questions about, like, how I did it, how I got to be this smart, could I show her one of my illusions, all of that. It was really weird. I felt like she had thrust me up on a stage, handed me a mic, opened the curtains to reveal an audience of thousands, and told me to start singing.

I'm a bit of a celebrity at Hexside. Dad's definitely more of one than me, though. At least he knows how to deal with it.

I'm good at noticing things. It's what I do. It's part of what makes me so good at illusion magic. I see all the itty-bitty nit-picky details: the way his hair's parted, the length of her tail, the color of their teeth, the kerning on that signpost. I miss the important stuff on the inside, the context and feelings and whatnot, but that's a story for another time.

I've noticed that other people give me odd looks a lot, but that's something I've gotten used to.

It's a good thing I like acting, cuz people like putting me up on a stage. All the older kids gawked at me when I was put in Proprioception 101 with them. All the kids my age stared when I made a Klein bottle for my final project in Basic Shape Construction. I remember one little kid coming up to me and saying, "I wanna be like you when I grow up!" (That was really sweet.) I remember two teens gluing a paper crown on my head and calling me Emperor Augustus I. (That was not.)

Somebody once told my dad that I was her son's "nemesis". I'd never even met the guy before.

A classmate of mine whom I barely knew came up to me once in Bonesborough. He complimented me on being so freakishly smart and then said, "Y'know, it's really cool that you don't care about fashion." I think that was supposed to be a compliment?

My teacher for Advanced Audio was doing a lesson on sound positioning this one time. As part of it, she had us all line up in order of height. Everyone was taller than her, except me. Cue the jokes.

She was really nice, the teacher was. Most of them were. She liked to point out my youth a lot, though. Opening the curtains, letting the crowd in.

The kids, though... some of them were nice. A few were mean. Most didn't care. Most of them just sat in the audience.

Humans have these things called zoos, which is where they put animals they think are weird so they can stare at them. If we had things like that in the Boiling Isles, I think they'd put me in one.

Or maybe they'll just keep me in a booth at the carnival. I'd be cool with that, I like caramel crabapples and rotten candy. Sure, maybe it'll make my teeth fall out, but hey, I'm an illusionist. (Just so long as Grimhammer keeps his distance, heh.)

It's nice how nobody stares at you if you've got an oddly-shaped ribcage or teeth instead of fingernails. But what about me?

I know I'm different. Don't know how long I've been aware of it, but it's true. Don't know why that'd make me any more stare-able than anyone else. Not like you can see how peculiar my mind is. Not like that makes me any more worthy of the spotlight.

I'm on a stage all the time, so I'm always wearing a mask. In my disguise, I'm likeable. I'm chill and fun and snarky and goofy, cuz that's what people like. I joke about dying a horrible death, I wave flags, I bite things at random, I dig tunnels. It's what I do. It's what the people want.

I'm not sure what I'm like when the mask is off.

Really, what other choice do I have but to be a performer? It's what I've been doing my whole life. But am I any good at it?

You need more than practice or illusion magic to make it as a performer. You need talent. (Also a healthy dose of luck, but my people are working on that. That was a joke. You can laugh now.) You need pauses for dramatic... (wait for it...) effect, you need funny quips, you need big expressions. I don't have that. King has that, not me. What I have is a lot of years watching my dad do his reporting and mimicking him exactly. That's what I'm always doing: making facsimiles of things. Of friends. Of myself. Of skill.

Should I really be in the top tier at Hexside? Am I just faking it like I fake everything else? Am I just a tower of lies in the shape of a witch? If you take out the keystone, will I fall apart?

Who am I, really?

You know, that time I scared Bria, I based the atmosphere off of this old terror movie, Count Phlegethon the Third. (I watched it when I was eight. It gave me nightmares for a week.) I mixed in a trace of Plan 10 from Outer Space for the big face reveal moment, and the magic not working was something I read about the first Illusion coven head doing. It wasn't original, just a mash-up, like the stuff that Deadr4t musician guy makes. I'm singing somebody else's song and getting all the credit.

I might just be the most elaborate illusion I've ever created. For my next trick, I'll show you what's behind the curtain of my mind! I take off my mask, then poof! I vanish. The crowd goes wild. Nobody's there to take a bow.

Ah, what's the point? I already told myself I'm my best self. Guess I'll have to live with me.

Based heavily off of my own experiences in school.