Summary: Three Spellementary School kids visit their older relatives for spring break (with a scoop of introspection on top).

Characters: Poof, Big Daddy, Finley, H.P., Sanderson, Foop, Mama Anti-Cosma, assorted relatives

Rating: K+

Recommended Prerequisites: "Looking Back", "Sentry," "Scarred"

Posted: November 3rd, 2023


125. I Just Live Here (Immediate sequel to "Scarred")

Wednesday May 6th, 2005

Year of Sky, Spring of the Silent Owls


Poof Fairywinkle-Cosma

Chingaling-chime!

"Now approaching Starglint Town. Please prepare to disembark in the next five minutes. If you've enjoyed your local public transportation system, consider supporting returning candidate Mortikor Fern as Pink Robe in the next Fairy Council election. Thank you for flying with Rainbow Transit Services and have a magical day."

I've heard that message (with different drop-off points subbed in) so many times in the past four hours, I kind of wanna barf. And even if I did, I could probably recite it several times myself on the way to the nearest clinic. I'll be glad when this bus ride is over. I feel like it's been four weeks since I left the Spellementary dorms.

There's a good reason as to why it's taken so long. Starglint Town lies at the edge of the Fairy World Outskirts, basically kissing the border with Anti-Fairy World… separated from it only by Emper: a scraggly little town on the floating island that's just come into view up ahead. Emper isn't much to look like. There's a park with cool statues from the old days, plus a cute grocery store where they hand out free sugar cookies to kids. My dad takes me to get one every time we visit Mama Cosma, but there isn't much else that's interesting. Starglint Town is where all the action is, from libraries to community centers to toy stores and pizza shops.

Granddad Dusty's property is smack between the two. Everyone in Emper calls him Big Daddy and they treat him with so much respect, I always wonder if my family are under some kind of secret government protection just because our counterparts rule Anti-Fairy World. I mean, it doesn't sound too far-fetched when you think about it for a while. I know a lot of people dislike the Anti-Fairywinkles, but I hope most of them realize that if we knocked them out of power, it wouldn't be the end of that kind of leadership in Anti-Fairy World. Someone else would just rise up to take over, and they could be even worse than Anti-Cosmo is now.

I don't even think Anti-Cosmo is that bad, but if I say that, people will freak out at me and shower me in questions about whether or not I remember getting kidnapped as a newborn. I don't, but… that doesn't mean I want to hear about it over and over again. I wish more people would respect my boundaries and ask me first before they talk about it… Not just dump the whole kidnapping thing on my head any time I want to have a polite and reasonable conversation about Fairy World history, geography, or politics.

Maybe instead of screaming about how H.P. and Anti-Cosmo are evil fiends who went off the deep end and can never be forgiven because they kidnapped a baby and tried to springboard off my magic to rule the universe, we could, I dunno… ask ourselves why the current state of the universe isn't working for them? There's gotta be some reason they feel like they're doing the right thing for their people by pushing back against the Fairies. They're still people, right?

Or if you want to look at this from another angle, why do Anti-Fairy World and Pixie World even have corrupt leaders in the first place? Do people support them? If they don't, then why don't their people support Fairy World? Are we the crueler of two evils in their eyes? We should change that. We should figure out how to fix it.

And if Pixies and Anti-Fairies do support their leaders, maybe we should ask ourselves why. Are they being brainwashed by hateful propaganda? My school's always teaching us that Anti-Fairies are behind all that's bad in the universe, so we're using propaganda too.

Do Pixies and Anti-Fairies support their leaders because they care about their people, use their taxes wisely, and keep everyone fed, sheltered, and clothed? That sounds okay to me. Next topic: Why aren't Anti-Cosmo and Foop's dad in jail for all those other times they tried to take over Fairy World? If the answer to that is "their worlds will fall apart if they don't stay in power, plunging the universe into chaos," then maybe they're actually great leaders and aren't so bad after all.

Just a thought. Politics are probably more complicated than I think they are, but that's just me.

I've never worried about repeat kidnapping when I'm at home with my parents, apart from maybe one time that Timmy's Dad snuck into his room and stole our fishbowl for Mr. Crocker. At school, I feel safe in the hands of the faculty and their magical wards. Yeah, Mr. Crocker might be my teacher now and he really is as wacky and distractible as Timmy always said he was, but he's not allowed within twenty feet of our dorms. My classmates don't always respect our cohort's RA, but I'm pretty sure Gary would mess Crocker the freak up if he ever tried peering through our windows. Gary and Crocker are both witches, but Gary's 1.56% genie with minor reality-bending powers to prove it, while Crocker's about thirteen generations down from his magical ancestor with nothing to show for it but the ability to float. I know who I'd bet money on in that fight. Foop and I tried sneaking out one time when it was late and we wanted fruit snacks from the vending machine, and that's how I found out that Gary can just snap his fingers and summon clones of himself. I don't leave my room after curfew anymore.

So no, I don't regularly worry about getting kidnapped, but I worry about it least of all when I'm at my granddad's place. I'm Big Daddy's only grandson and probably always will be, and he spoils me even more than Mama Cosma does. My mama has ten uncles who are all Big Daddy's brothers. Most of them had kids before the ban against babies of the common fairy subspecies, but none of those kids were old enough to have babies until now.

Since Jorgen lifted the ban, there have been a lot more common fairy kids around. Now I have second cousins on both sides of my family… Luca, Emmy, and Valentina just to name a few. They don't start school until next cycle, but since they grew up in Fairy World instead of on Earth, they kept aging while I stayed stuck in my exoskeleton way longer than normal. They probably know more math and trivia facts than I do too… which I guess has its pros and cons. Sometimes I wonder if I'll always feel like I'm farther behind in my development than my peers are and if I'm doomed to never catch up…

… but then I remember Foop exists. He's four months younger than I am, born June 13th. I'm February 18th. And no matter what else happens, I kind of think I'll always be more mature than him. I don't mean to make a contest out of it, but I can live with that.

I don't mind being Big Daddy's only grandkid. He spoils me. My granddad knows everyone in Starglint Town. He's friends with lots of business owners, so when I visit, he always asks me where I want to eat and never gets upset if I pick the busiest restaurant in town. If he asks if I want to go out tonight, I'll probably pick that really good pasta place that I always smell when I walk past, but haven't eaten at before.

My second cousins may as well be first cousins since they're younger than me anyway and we'll all be learning the same things in school, give or take a few years. Over winter break, when Aunt Blonda came to stay with my family for a few days, I did ask her if she ever planned to get married or have kids too. She just smiled awkwardly back at me and said she wasn't. I said "Okay" and went back to building a city with my blocks, but my mom pulled me aside later and asked me not to bring it up to her again. So… I don't really know what that's about.

I know she's looking after some troubled model kid or something who poses for fancy candle advertisements - he's a teen, but he lives with her because my aunt had an extra room he could use while he's in Fairywood - so I guess he's sort of like her kid? His name's Westley. I might even see him over spring break. Sometimes he comes by the Fairywinkle estate when Aunt Blonda comes up to see her dad.

I hope he comes. Luca, Emmy, and Valentina are my only second cousins who are fluent in Snobbish, but Westley speaks it too. He might not actually be related to us, but it would make my life a little easier if I know there's an older kid around who's looking out for me. He poofed up water balloons with me once and sprayed me with a hose.

Half my second cousins speak only Lialia at home and my granddad is always insisting that I learn Gaideliac. I'm a little more worried about the language barrier than I knew how to express to my mama. I don't speak any Lialia. Most of my great-uncles can get by in it, but I don't even know how to ask for a glass of water. Or what if there's an emergency and I don't understand what they're trying to explain? Like if they want me to stay quiet and hide somewhere… That's the scary part for me.

When I was a baby, the language barrier never really bothered me. No one understood what I was saying half the time either, until they got to know me better. I was still learning words back then and I didn't even understand language as a concept. Now, though… I'm getting worried. I've only seen Granddad Dusty once since I finished pooferty and I hope I don't get left out of my cousins' games just because I can't talk to them. I hope we can figure it out. Even if I end up being like a "big brother" figure to them, I'd like to have more fairy friends around my age.

The Rainbow Transit bus flies closer to the lip of the cloudy island where Starglint Town and Emper thrive. The gray ulk trees wave their branches gently in some nonexistent wind. I don't know how they do that. I'm kinda glad Foop's not riding the bus with me out here, because he'd definitely know the answer and he'd definitely want to explain it to me. I tolerate him as best I can and I even think we're becoming friends now that he's no longer trying to kill me all the time, but he never really stopped being a know-it-all jerk… even if he doesn't know it all.

I wonder what he's doing for spring break. He hadn't shared too much information with me. I think he's spending at least a few days with Anti-Mama Cosma. I have no idea if he likes her, but he definitely didn't seem thrilled.

As we glide into the station, I press my nose against the window, soaking in as many details of the place as I possibly can. It's always scary poofing out to a place you're unfamiliar with. Especially when your granddad is near toxic levels of territorial and you have no idea whether or not he'd set up magical wards around the whole island. One false move and I might conk into an invisible shield, stick there for a sec, and then plunge a dozen miles to Earth below. I think Alaska is down there under our current position, though barring that, the other likely target is the freezing Pacific Ocean. No thanks. I like staying alive and not landing myself in incredible pain. I may have spent a lot of my baby years as a goldfish, but fairies can't fly when their wings are wet. What if I hit an invisible wall and go unconscious before I can change shape? I'm not taking any chances.

My mama grew up at the edge of Starglint Town. My dad was raised in Emper. She used to pass by his house several times a week to attend lessons about art, music, classic literature, and other "studies of culture" that Big Daddy wanted her to take. I have no idea when those lessons started. Was she my age? Probably not. I've barely lived a year and a half in the Spellementary School dorms… but it's fun to wonder about. It's weird to try thinking about my future, only to realize there's a pretty big chance I haven't met my future wife yet.

These first two weeks of spring break should be interesting. I haven't stayed overnight at my granddad's place for years, let alone slept over there multiple days in a row. My mama's family is hardcore traditional… except for all the parts of Fairy World history they don't really care for, like how our ancestors used to live in houses where counterparts slept under the same roof and married couples - though they might share the same estate property - stayed in separate homes. I mean, by that definition, Foop and I would have grown up calling each other brothers (with our Refracted counterpart Poppy as our sister) and that couldn't be further from the way I feel.

So I guess when I say it out loud, Mama's family isn't as traditional as I thought. But still… Visiting the Fairywinkle side of my family is nothing like visiting Mama Cosma, Uncle Schnozmo, or Great-Uncle Hawk. When I'm with the Cosma side of my family, Mama Cosma lets me put my feet up on the furniture if I want to. I definitely can't do that at my granddad's because my nonna would have a fit. Mama Cosma doesn't care if I eat in the living room, even on her couch while we look at old scrapbooks of my dad and Uncle Schnozmo when they were kids (Plus old yearbooks of her and Papa Cosma… but my papa died when my dad was only two, so I never got to meet him).

There's definitely… a weird vibe at Mama Cosma's prim and frilly little house, though. She loves my dad and he'll usually spend the whole visit with me when we go, but my own mama won't set foot anywhere near my grandmother's house anymore. When I was a baby I didn't really get it, but then I learned to read and figured out why. Mama Cosma frosts all her cookies so they say my mother's name with large Xs or strike symbols through them… or if not that, then symbols of raging fire. I feel really bad not eating her cookies because she always works so hard on them and they taste so good, but I feel like I'm betraying my mama when I do. My dad gets quiet and evasive about it, but… he just tells me not to worry. He says I can do what I want, and that if I don't want to eat them, he isn't going to force me. So there's that.

I've seen my dad get confrontational before, but he's usually pretty tame around my grandma. I brought up the cookies to my mama once and she tersely said we'd "talk about it when I was older." So I asked Timmy while we were filling out coloring books and he told me everything. Mama Cosma can't stand my mama… Timmy says it's because my mom "took away her little boy" by marrying her, which is what led him to move out of her house and into a new place with my mom. It's weird. There's a nagging feeling in my gut that makes me suspect that's not the whole story. I'm not even sure I want the whole story, so… I guess I'll take my mama's word for it. She'll tell me "when I'm older."

Actually, neither side of my family likes the other very much. Mama Cosma and Big Daddy can't stand who their children married. It puts me in a weird position, but I do my best to be polite. Timmy's a good example for me. He always seems to know just how to act around both sides of my family without offending either one of them. I'm really gonna miss him someday when he's grown up.

Big Daddy might not like my dad very much, but he never takes it out on me. The only reason I even know he's weird about it is because Timmy mentioned it to me on that same coloring book night. Still, Big Daddy never says anything bad about my dad in front of my face. I love and respect my parents. I guess Granddad wants to let me have that. When I stay with him, he loves and spoils me so much, you'd never have any sense he'd rather have my "Uncle" Juandissimo for a son-in-law…

When I float off the bus, I find my granddad floating above a bench, waiting for me personally. My great-uncle Piero is with him, and Piero's grandson: my second cousin Luca. Everyone else at the station gives Granddad a wide berth, shooting anxious glances at him, but I don't mind. My granddad has a scar down one of his cheeks, but he's never been scary to me. He's like a giant purple marshmallow. I fly right up to hug him around the middle.

"Big Daddy!"

"Hey, kiddo!" He embraces me back, almost crushing my wings against my spine. That's kind of a thing with him… he doesn't really know his own strength. He kisses me on each cheek. "Boarding school still treating you well? Not getting picked on by that pixie roommate of yours, I hope."

"No, Finley's cool. And you'd like my RA. Nonna says he's got a 'good head on his shoulders' and 'always works hard' and doesn't mess around."

"Glad to hear it, glad to hear it from the winged horsie's mouth… Look how big you've grown! So you finally shed your exoskeleton, eh? Becoming the man of the house? Couldn't resist the call of the gyne?

Call of the gyne.

Fairy anatomy isn't really easy to explain… My parents haven't even given me The Talk about the nests and the honeycomb, but they don't really hide it from me either. Let me think.

You know, like… bees and stuff? How there's a queen bee who's bigger than all the others and lays all the eggs? The girl bee who's born to be the queen has big round spots on her body, and she's called a gyne until she takes over. See, we have those in Fairy World too. Only, it's a boy thing for us because it's the male of our species who carries eggs in his pouch. I'm already showing my freckles and it's a guarantee that I'll end up taller than both my parents someday.

There are only a handful of us every generation who grow into gynes. My roommate Finley and I both pulled the straw for that. So did Granddad Dusty. And the Head Pixie, I think. H.P. and Finley are related, so maybe it's genetic. Nonna Serena has always loved history. She teaches classes at Spellementary, and when I had lunch with her once, she told me that everyone used to think developing into a gyne was just a gene, but then the Head Pixie kind of screwed that theory up when he started creating pixies who were genetically identical to himself. There are a few pixie gynes in the mix, but if it was really a gene, they all should have been gynes because pixies are identical. Everybody's a little confused about that. Foop's always yakking on about how he intends to be the one to solve the mystery someday, even if it comes down to dissecting one of the pixies personally. Good luck with that, dude. But if anyone can solve this secret of the universe… It's probably him. He loves biology so much, I don't know why he doesn't just get an internship and drop out of school.

Anyway, becoming a gyne isn't something we choose to do… Some of us are just born this way. Technically, you can't tell which way a fairy swings until he's shed his baby exoskeleton, but my family and I had a heads up the moment we saw Foop on TV the day he was born. Gynes are an insect thing. Foop has freckles because I do, but officially, he's called a "pilot." Those black stripes in his blue fur are proof of it. I'm really curious to know if he's got black stripes all the way down his sides, but no way am I gonna ask him.

"All right!" My granddad holds me out in front of him by the shoulders. My feet were already off the ground when I hugged him, but somehow, I feel more weightless and unstable when he's gripping me like that than when I'm free-floating. "You've kept me in the dark long enough since November. Was it November that you shed? Now that we're on my turf, let me take a look at those tell-tale freckles of yours, passerotto."

I knew he'd want to ask that. He's only seen me once since I shed my exoskeleton, and it was at a crowded party where he couldn't ask me to take off my shirt without it being weird. I wore a tank top under my hooded shirt for exactly this reason today. I love my shirt… I give Foop a lot of flak for being persnickety about his wardrobe, but he did a great job designing a new "signature look" for me. My new shirt is long-sleeved just like my old jammies were. It's purple like my hair, with stripes running across the middle to give it some sort of texture. It's soft. And warm. Even I can admit it looks a lot better than anything I would have thrown together. It's kind of tradition in Fairy World to dress in identical copies of the same outfit for an Aurora Fairyalis cycle or two, and I'm glad Foop knew what I needed better than I knew myself.

Granddad Dusty doesn't care that there are other fairies at the bus stop. I try not to care either. I pull off the hooded shirt and hold out my arms to show off the freckles all over my shoulders and chest. Then, after my granddad has a few seconds to drink them in, I lift my undershirt a little. He and Great-Uncle Piero lean closer.

"Look," I say, pointing at my hip. "My freckles actually go all the way down to my waist. Mama says that's just a Fairywinkle gene. Is that true?"

Big Daddy lets out a long whistle and braces his hands against his hips. His fingers pick at the hem of his striped suit jacket, though I'm glad he doesn't whip his off in front of everybody too. "She's got that right. Only four cloudland families in Fairy World still carry the lateral spots gene today, and three of 'em don't have any kids to pass the torch down to. Trace them back far enough and we're all blood of the same line. I'd like to see your pixie roommate flaunt anything close to it. Damsels love a drake with spots. You'll be the king of campus by the time you're in high school."

Well, I don't know about that… I didn't even mean to run for class president. It just sort of happened. And Finley kind of scares me.

A thin, uncomfortable wire snakes up inside my throat. Big Daddy never really cared about my school accomplishments before. Or my body and health. Is he only taking interest in me now that he's certain Foop's pilot stripes weren't a fluke? And he knows for sure that I turned out to be a gyne just like him?

That's kind of… stressful…

"You and me?" Big Daddy, rosy eyes sparkling, ruffles my hair. I stiffen. He hadn't asked if he could do that first… just put his hand right there in the middle of my hundred curls. Uh… Did he touch that because he thought it looked messy? Should I start wearing a bandana to tie it back or something? Maybe try a ponytail? But he keeps talking before I can ask him not to touch it. "We're the only two alive with freckles like that. There's no doubt about it, figlioli.… You're a Fairywinkle through and through."

I'm a Fairywinkle. Through and through.

I jerk up my head. "Poof poof?" I ask, not thinking. Big Daddy and Great-Uncle Piero look back at me, puzzled, before I realize I didn't use actual words. I wince. The fairies who were waiting at the station around us are all on the bus now. I lower my voice anyway. "Uhh… Big Daddy, I got in a fight last month."

"What?"

"I sort of punched Finley…"

"What?" That flashes my granddad straight to high alert. He grabs my shoulder. "And he's a pixie? What's going on up there? You getting threat messages from Boss H.P. or something?"

(Granddad always calls the Head Pixie "Boss." I don't really get it, but I think they're old gambling buddies or something. I saw my granddad deck him in the face a couple Fairy Cons after I was born. Right in front of H.P.'s will o' the wisp secretary or girlfriend, or… whoever that lady is. That was wild. I think they all got some soda and candy and cooled off, though.)

"No, no! I just… I was being stupid. I just lost control for a second. Finley was just, like… taunting me and saying that I'm adopted." The memory flares tears in my eyes. I sniff, sort of pathetically, and wipe my eyes on the back of my hand. "But I'm not… I'm a Cosma and a Fairywinkle."

"Adopted," Big Daddy repeats. He flicks his eyes from my crown to shoes. They coast along the freckles down my sides. He shakes his head then. Firm. "You wouldn't have the gene for lateral spots if you weren't a Fairywinkle. Your pheromones match the family's too. Cherry almond. Even if yours are underdeveloped, I can sniff that on you from here. Forget about it, Poof… There's no doubt about it. My little cannoli Wanda is your mother, as sure as I'm your granddaddy."

"Okay…" It's a relief to hear it from his own mouth, but that doesn't change the way it spiked my anxiety when Finley started spreading rumors about my parents on our dorm's playground.

My granddad pats me on the shoulder and draws his wand. "If anyone ever messes with you, kiddo, you can always come and tell me. I'll give them something to ache about… Now, let's get you back to the house. An old friend of mine just paid for lunch."

BADA-BING POOF!

Now, if you had asked me a dozen years ago to describe the Fairywinkle mansion, I would have guessed it covers maybe seven acres around us. The real answer's not even close. Big Daddy practically has the whole floating island in the palm of his hand, so I'm glad he's always been a nice guy. I know a lot of people who would let that kind of power go straight to their heads. I guess it maybe helps that our counterparts are nobles who forcibly seized control of power, so I guess that leaves my family totally humble even though we happen to own a lot of real estate. Gynes tend to own a lot of property, staking out their claims and keeping other gynes away. It's called their dayflight range. My granddad couldn't be any more proud of the space he's got.

My first afternoon is pretty light and simple. Big Daddy takes me around to all the family and I show off my freckles again and again until dinner time. I play a little with my cousins. They have a giant toy room that they share because there are so many of them. It's six, I think? Six second cousins? And they're all common fairies, and all younger than me. I guess my mom's cousins all saw what a struggle she had raising me alone without other babies of my subspecies to learn life skills like proper floating from, so maybe they all coordinated.

Or maybe everyone in the Fairywinkle side of my family just remembers how much fun it was to grow up together close in age. I mean, my granddad had ten brothers (one's just his half-brother Bryndin, but he still counts) and they all had kids around the time my mama was born. My mama may have only had one sister, but she grew up with tons of cousins. Now that the common fairy baby ban is lifted, I guess everyone felt like the manor had been cold, quiet, and childless for far too long. My mama still talks to her cousins all the time. I hope I'll be close to a lot of them as they get even older. Especially Luca and Valentina. They're the oldest of the batch aside from me and they're both really fun to be around. I love Valentina's pretty castle dollhouse, and Luca always brings over his horse toys so we can play knights.

I hope we aren't all waiting, wondering, if the baby ban will come cracking down again. The ban lifted right after I was born, so I've never really had to deal with it. But I don't know if I like the idea of not being allowed any kids when I grow up.

I try to be as patient as I can with my even younger second cousins. But I've definitely learned from my last visit not to pull out my rattle in front of them, because they'll all want it. So we just play with blocks, chalk, checkerboards, and read little kids' books until dinner time. Nonna Serena cooks up a hot and bubbling veal parmesan and (in private) laughingly apologized if it wasn't as good as Mama Cosma's. Curious, I asked if she knew my grandmother. Did they see each other often? This was huge news to me considering how all my living grandparents seemed disappointed in my mom and dad for marrying. Maybe there's hope for a happy extended family in my future after all.

"Sometimes, yes," Nonna answers distantly. "She practically lives right down the road. Joins us in the household sometimes. She's likely to visit while you're here."

"That would be so cool, poof poof! Maybe we can all play games together this week! I didn't even know the two sides of my family got along. Do you guys go way back? Like, did you know each other in school or something?"

Nonna pauses then, twirling one finger around her purple hair. "Ah, maybe you should talk to your parents about that, batuffolo"

"… Poof?" I don't know what else to say.

Supper is good other than that awkward hallway conversation, though. Big Daddy lets me sit with him while he plays gambling games with his brothers. I stay up for the first two or three rounds of them, but find myself yawning before too long. I may have shed my exoskeleton, but I'm still kind of a baby… I mean, because of the frozen timestream and all, my body can't even figure out if we're 5 years old or 50. Nonna takes me down to a spare room (I think it's a spare, although the posters on the wall make it look like it was lived in pretty recently) and tucks me in beneath nice clean sheets. I ask about the shooting range, since I've been dying to show off my wand blast skills for ages, and she promises she'll talk to my granddad and see if he'll take me out to the range personally. Apparently, he's a really good shot. I can't wait for that.

I hope he's proud of me. Not a lot of Fairies get into studying combat magic. It's widely considered an "Anti-Fairy thing," right up there with old-fashioned healing charms, but I'm excited to show him what I've learned.

I never leave home without a good nightlight in my bag and at least two "Earth electricity to wishowatts" converter cables. I don't even care that they take up space and I could probably poof these things up just fine when I get to my destination… It's just a lot less risky to pack it by hand, because I can't sleep at all without my light and you never know when the Big Wand in Fairy World will dip and dry up our magic at the worst possible time.

But with my nightlight in, I sleep peacefully for a long time. At least… until I'm jolted awake by the sound of someone yelling down the hall. I snap upright in bed, clutching my blankets to my chest.

"Poof poof?"

No one's just burst into my bedroom. The hallway lights are glowing underneath the door and I can hear back and forth voices - loud ones - but my bed is in the farthest corner from the door. I wouldn't want to eavesdrop on anything private, but it takes me a few seconds to decide it's a conversation (or at least an argument) and not an actual emergency I need to be prepared for. No Crocker creeping up on me. No Anti-Cosmo or Head Pixie to steal me away. No stupid Foop losing his marbles and trying to annihilate us both.

Is everything okay? When I glance at the starlight monitor on my bed, it tells me we're still at low-light. That's, like… after midnight down on Earth. I don't know what that translates to here above Alaska. It's late either way. I glance around my borrowed bedroom in the dark, my core pounding. I can feel a slight pulse of distant irritation in the energy field. Not close to me, but definitely present in my mind. That means I probably woke Foop up by snapping up so fast. A Fairy's core isn't like a human heart. It doesn't beat on an average day - usually it just kind of sits there like a rubber ducky in bath water, slightly bobbing - but it has to start pumping if it needs to increase the flow of magic between you and your counterparts. No doubt I startled Foop by getting scared, which I totally feel bad about… but it's not really my fault.

I wait, holding a tent of sheets to my nose, for about 90 seconds before the door creaks open. My wings tense up.

"Nonna? Granddad Dusty?"

I ask that because I can't imagine anyone else seeking out my room. It's really, really late. All my little second cousins should be tucked away in bed by now. I mean, they're younger than me. If I'm feeling pooped, they must be exhausted.

But the thin, quiet figure who slips into the room isn't either of my grandparents. He's a fairy drake, maybe only 50,000 years older than I am. Definitely way too young to be one of my mom's cousins. Before he shuts the door behind him, I catch a glimpse of his hair underneath the hallway lights. It's wild. Blond. Dyed (like my nonna's), so I can smell the color of it even from my bed. My wings relax with a flutter on my pillow again.

"Oh. Cousin Westley." I'm allowed to call Lyren (my second cousin on the Cosma side of my family) by his name without a title, but with the Fairywinkle family, I have to include certain words. They're big on endearment terms, I guess. "Did you and Aunt Blonda just get here? I didn't see you at dinner."

Westley's already started pulling off his pointed shoes. He glances at me like he's only just realized I'm there. "Oh. Uh. Sorry, Poof." He says that part in Lialia, then remembers my language barrier and switches to Snobbish. "I didn't mean to wake you. This is usually my room and no one but Big Daddy was up, so I didn't know it was occupied. I'll just grab my pajamas and sleep somewhere else."

"Um. Is everything okay out there? I heard people shouting."

"It's fine," Westley mumbled. "Nothing serious. Aunt Blonda just brought her partner along when we came. Big Daddy hit the ceiling when he saw him."

I tilt my head. "Partner? Not boyfriend?" The meaning of the term floats vaguely out of my grasp. I can sort of use my context clues to guess, but I still feel like I'm missing a puzzle piece in the situation. "Is she getting married? I thought she didn't want to."

I see Westley pause. Calculating with his eyes. Then, holding one shoe on the end of his finger (still wearing the second one), he floats over to my bed.

"Her Anti-Fairy partner," he corrects himself. He leans in to kiss me on both cheeks. I blink up at him, wide-eyed, and he pats my shoulder instead of ruffling my hair. Even though I have really, really ruffle-able purple hair, so I'm kind of glad he refrained (I don't like anyone but my parents and Timmy touching my hair, except I sometimes let Gary do it, and I really hate combing out the tangles). "Go back to sleep, cuginetto. We can talk more in the morning."

"Okay," I whisper back, and nestle down for sleep. Westley leaves with his pajamas and the shouting in the hall starts up again, this time louder than before. I can hear my Aunt Blonda practically shaking with rage. Big Daddy doesn't sound like he's keeping his cool either. I don't know what to do. I cover my ears for most of it, but the Sandman is cruel. It's a long time before the voices fade and I can slip back into my dreams.


Finley Hammerfall

I always laugh when people ask what I want my dream job to be. That's cringe, guys. I may be a pixie, but it doesn't mean I dream of labor. Poof, Foop, and Goldie sort of have that covered… One wants to be a godparent like his mommy and daddy, one's first in line to rule Anti-Fairy World, and one has a long career lined up as ambassador of the will o' the wisps on the Fairy Council. When I first started rooming with the guys, I sort of thought they might look down at me. Then I realized they're total blitzing nerds. So yeah… I don't worry about that anymore. Frankly, I sort of pity them.

Then again… They never have to think about how if they ever run the bases with a pretty girl, they'll probably just straight-up die. I don't know why H.P. even wants me to go to school, because I might not even live long enough to do much with my life. Pixies reproduce asexually. It kicks in when we're adults, totally automatic, and the moment some unborn kid starts sucking up the magic I don't actually have to spare, that's it. Complete poof, and not in a good way. It's the end of poor Finley's sucky life. Ugh.

Man… Being disabled is freaking sparks. Or at least pixie anatomy is sparks. You know, I can't think of a single thing that's great about being born a tomte. What am I supposed to do with my life if I can't float, can't do magic, and I'm expected to deal with wearing suits? All the other pixies can ping all those buttons and snaps on if they want to. They can even handle the dry cleaning. I have to do that crap by hand. Please… No way.

I don't even wear my suit at school. And unless he plans to send someone to watch me all hours of the day and hold me down every time I go to take it off, H.P. can't make me. I'll wear the white shirts because that's what he sends me up here with and I'm not gonna waste my money or time shopping for new clothes. That's literally an all-day affair without magic, and it'd real cut into my funds, too. Poof, Foop, and Goldie don't have to worry about money for food, but in Pixie World, you have to work hard for your allowance. And I don't work hard. If I don't budget, I'll run myself dry, so no. Look, I'll even wear the tie, but that's just because I don't want the other kids to think I'm a slob or a failure among my species. It's better if they just think I'm classy and cool. My only "classy" rival in our cohort is Foop, so I look pretty good next to him in comparison. It's easy to flaunt my status as the smart gaming geek who knows about pencils, lab equipment, and tech when Foop is busy catching spiders on the playground for a snack or throwing lightbulbs at the swing set.

But no way in Darkness am I broiling to death in a funky suit coat. No thanks. Mama Hammerfall didn't raise no sucker.

I really miss my mama. I was three when we were torn apart, so I don't remember much about her, but I remember enough. She was the gruff and grunting sort, which I'm sure is why H.P. liked her enough to approve her as my milkmother. Buff as all dust and smoke and mist. Single mom, actually. I had a sister too (Sort of par for the course when the Head Pixie needs milk for his newborns) and we were both raised tough as wandpoints. I had a short nursing period before I was weaned. Then it was eggs everyday for breakfast, kitnut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch, and usually something filling like steak and potatoes for dinner. And if we didn't wash up and come running to the table the first time we were called, we'd get whapped between the wings with a dirty dishrag.

I never had a problem with it. I was always hungry, so I always came when called unless I was napping on my floor mat. Sometimes I wonder what my milkmother and milksister are doing now. But I usually wonder that around meal times, which sort of answers my question there and then. My milkmom was predictable. Routine. There's probably not anyone better who could have prepared me for my future in the repetitive, predictable Pixies Inc.

I probably won't be eating half that well in Pixie World. Honestly, that's the main thought in my head as I stare at my DS, the bus jolting and rattling around me. When I'm at home, I have to feed myself. I think I have some crackers back at my place. I'll have to figure out the rest… Maybe get some bread and cheese and subsist on sandwiches. There's a place I know that sells deli meat, but it costs a lot more than the soy I usually end up eating. That sucks.

The bus finally ends its droll meanderings in a hiss of steam. I grab my satchel. I'm one of very few passengers left who needs to be dropped off. The leprechaun quadruplets are here, but sitting as far away from me as possible. Pixies don't talk to leprechauns… or lawn gnomes, for that matter. Actually, I'm not sure leprechauns even like anyone, because I know their luck powers clash with those of Anti-Fairies and I'm pretty sure they don't care much for Fairies either. The only other kid on the bus is Sammy. He's heading down to Earth. Ohio, which is pretty close to Pixie World. I think Poof is staying with his grandpa in the Fairy World outskirts, so he's not coming with. Sammy chirps a good-bye at me, twirling his sparkle stick around in his fingers. but look as tired as I am. I grunt back in response.

I disembark at the bus station. It drops off right next to our tram station line, next to our Pixie World billboard. I've always found the place kind of ugly… You can't even see the waterfall from here. Just the harsh drop to Mushroom Rock, Kansas far below us and the city skyline in the distance. The stars twinkle overhead. They glow faintly, but not enough to be impressive. That's pretty much it. Inkblot City is known for the Water Temple, a saucerbee stadium, and Pixie Woods along our border and that's pretty much it. Even Gray Falls is a ten-minute skim from here. That's usually about twenty minutes if you have to walk like I do.

Sanderson stands on the walking path when I exit the bus, his injured hand resting in his pocket (Poof's godsister cut it back in November, back when I was flooded with Gray Tuesday magic and Poof got his friends to use me as a teleport link). The other hand lies limp at his side. I feel like that too. Half of me stable, on solid ground. Unblemished. The other, quiet part of me raging against the machine, just biding my time until my wounds heal. No one else is waiting for me.

"Where's Dad?" I ask, just to irritate him. Me, Palomar, Jardine, and Commelina are basically the only pixies who can get away with calling H.P. "Dad." He's biased towards two on that list, counting them like his children as if he even bothered to raise them. Jardine just can't be tamed. As for me, it's because I don't give a blazing B about what the head honcho thinks of me, and he knows it.

Sanderson's eye doesn't even twitch at my insolence. His answer is smooth: "The boss is in the warehouse. He wants to see you at his nearest convenience."

Of course he does. I tighten my grip on my satchel strap and walk past him with nothing more than an extra grunt. Sure. Watch… I'll walk up to the big man and the only thing he'll want to know is how Poof is doing. Poofy this, Poofy that. Yeesh. I want to bite him.

I cross Pixie World to find the warehouse in question anyway. On foot. When you stand by the Pixie World sign and look at the city straight on, the warehouses are to the left. Our world sits on a peninsula. Docks and skyships line the edge of the cloudcliff over there. You know, it's weird to come back to a place like this after spending so much time at Spellementary School. The sun shines down on us there, not up, so the heat and shade are a whole lot different than they are in Pixie World.

It's not hard to figure out which warehouse the Head Pixie is hanging out in. His scent gets freaking everywhere. He's so advanced in years and magic mastery, he projects an aura that can turn your head even from rooms away. When I get to the door, H.P. is in there with Longwood and Smith. The boss is pointing one arm down a row of product that needs to be shipped. Smith is nodding, a floating pad and pen taking notes beside his ear. Longwood fiddles with his jacket nearby. Ugh… This will be fun. Sure, let's put literally four gynes inside some walls and keep them within five wingspans of each other. That'll go great. Smoof, I'm so glad I haven't hit adulthood yet. I don't want to be here.

I already miss Foop. He's a total dip, an absolute mess of a person, but he's also my immediate roommate about 90% of the year. When we first set up together, he used to grumble and groan if I stayed up playing games with a light on while he tried to sleep. He claims he can't sleep unless it's pitch black, rubbing his eyes and whining about Poof's fear of the dark, but just play a bit of music and the guy is out like a snuffed candle. And just to be clear, the light I keep on isn't anything more than a nightlight or a candle. Foop tolerates me now, though… We have an agreement that I can stay up late if I want to as long as we coordinate our bedroom lights to mirror the Blue Castle's time zone while he adjusts between home and school.

I guess I'm going to miss hanging out with Sammy… but I definitely don't miss Poof. I have a limit on what sickeningly sweet interactions I can tolerate and he doesn't crack the list. I don't care if he's class president. He's pretty much of a pushover. I could squish him with my satchel if I felt like it.

"Tuck in your shirt, Fin," H.P. demands of me, not even turning around. Geez, Dad. Calm down. It's not the end of the world. I'm home to rest, not to work. Who cares what I dress like? I just live here.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes (barely), but do what he says anyway. After all, he's the boss. He controls my allowance money. Smith and Longwood don't even acknowledge me. "I'm home," I tell him. "And I'm taking time off to recover from schoolwork and socializing with creatures who have emotions. Don't need me for a few days."

"Before you settle in, I need you and Longwood to pick up a few things from the store. I have some glass mugs coming in. Collectibles. Fragile. We're going to make a fortune at Fairy Con. You can thank Ralston for it, but I need you two to handle them carefully on the way back."

"Abso-blitzing-lutely not."

"Language, Gavin."

I plant my feet firmly, rustling my wings. "I don't care if gynes are 'born to be foragers' or some crap. I'm not running errands for you. I don't even have magic and I've just been on the bus for what I swear felt like hours. Office work isn't part of my life right now… I'm in school. You can get one out of me or both, but if you want me to be an office kid, you gotta be cool with me dropping all my classes for this." Seriously, he's lucky I can be bothered to show up for classes at all. I just go so he won't cut me off. The work comes easily to me and I don't even have to study. I always get 5 stars. I can just play video games in my own room with Foop and not have to worry about any supervisors snapping at me for what they perceive as laziness on the job. Screw it. I just know how to be efficient, and the only reason I'm not more efficient in Pixie World is because I'm paid by the hour. Why bother picking up the pace?

H.P. rolls his eyes at me, not even bothering to hide it, and rests his hands on his hips. "I'll have you know that I am very cool. Like, really. And how is Fairywinkle handling himself at school these days?"

There it is.

"Poof's fine, I guess. I don't know. Why are you asking me?"

"Just wondering if he talks back to his guardians the way you talk to me. My father would have slapped my mouth if I had a tongue like yours."

We're genetically identical, I think back. Your tongue is EXACTLY like mine. "He punched me last month," I say, adjusting my grip on my satchel strap. It's not going to get Poof in trouble or anything. H.P.'s older than Dusty Fairywinkle, probably weaker in a fight, and would never challenge him just because "Big Daddy's little pride and joy gave me an owwie." I know that. I just feel like being a brat about it. "You never showed up, by the way. Gary had to ask me if we should switch my emergency contact to Sanderson instead. He thinks if there's a fire or an alien invasion or something, you won't come."

"Finley, I'm very busy. I have to be three CEOs, a mayor, a governor, an ambassador, a guardian figure, and a Fairy World Games coordinator all in one. And I have to make plans to take over Fairy World. There's nothing you can do at Spellementary that magic and a nap can't fix. Gary has a good head on his shoulders and 1.56% genie blood in his veins. Also, if there's a severe problem, he knows he should text me instead of call. If he calls me, I'm not answering. He might try to rope me into a pyramid scheme."

"What if something happens and I do need you?"

H.P. looks over at me, adjusting his glasses with two fingers on the bridge. "Such as?"

"I don't know… Can I get my own phone?"

"With what money? You're under 50 years old."

I roll my eyes, scraping the bottom of my shoe across the ground. "Fine. I'll go on a road trip with Longwood to get those glass mugs you want. But I hope we'll talk about credit cards and cell phones when I get back. There's gotta be something I can do. Even if it means taking out a loan."

H.P. considers this, his head slightly to one side. "Bring me back a bag of candy. I don't care what kind. Then we'll talk. A phone could be useful. You might be getting yours younger than your coworkers, but it will be a lot cheaper than theirs seeing how we don't have to pay off your magic costs."

Huh. I hope that means I'm still getting a starpiece that can do magic, even if it's just for emergencies. I can still type the stuff I want to ping up into my phone. It just can't get a read on me if I try to hit "send," so it might malfunction and explode in my hand. I don't like messing with the other pixies' phones. I'm always left wondering if they're properly safeguarded. I'm not sure if it really works like this, but I swear- one day, I'll accidentally cast a spell that drains the magic that helps me breathe straight out of my body. If the safety's not on and no one's around to help, it could just kill me dead right there. That risk is one of the fantastic parts about being me.

"Yeah, okay," I say, sliding down to my buns against the wall. Longwood's clearly doing something. We won't be able to go anywhere until he's done, and he might be done in five minutes, so it's smarter if I just wait here instead of wandering away. I've got handheld games. I don't need the ones in my room. There's no telling if Verona or Rosencrantz is playing with my stuff anyway. They do that sometimes when I'm at school, even though they're not supposed to. I really want to move more of my consoles up to my dorms, but I was kind of waiting until I figure out the odds of Foop going gumdrop crazy and wrecking them, or Sammy thinking he's being cute by tucking little pieces of candy inside the cracks of a system that builds up heat, or even Poof getting in a fight with me since we're both budding gynes. Man. I wish I could teleport stuff. Or myself. To H.P., I mutter, "I'll check my credit score while I'm out."

"You do that."

I hate when my desire for malicious compliance falls prey to the need to suck up for good stuff. I pull out my DS again. H.P.'s eyes linger over me like he's debating whether he can get away with telling me that if I have time to game, I have time to take notes on important warehouse crap. But he doesn't say anything. Just goes back to chatting with Longwood and Smith.

In game, I run my character across an open field, doing long jumps and front flips the whole way. In game, my character can fly.


Foop Anti-Cosma-Anti-Fairywinkle

You have to be at least 100 years old to migrate to either Cedarcross or Maplefeather Point: the two longstanding migration destinations for my species early every winter and towards the end of spring. Thanks to Timmy Turner screwing up the frozen timestream, I don't even know if I can say with certainty what age I truly am. I sometimes wonder if my memories can even be unwarbled from the blurriness that the freeze overlaid on them.

And beyond that, I ask myself on occasion if perhaps the Hocus Poconos did more of a number on me than I realize. It's all a haze to me. I remember it was in that pit of doom that I met Dark Laser and Crocker for the first time and the bond of our friendship was formed, and that a "pit of doom" turned out to be a lot less fun than I'd always anticipated it would be. Where were all the spikes? The crushed bones of my enemies? The screams of pain and agony? The only noises I really remember were my own whimpers as I fumbled my way through that dark, grayscale world. The plants may have looked real, but they crumbled into smoke if I tried to pick them up. That whole place was an illusion and the water I drank from a stream felt like acid in my throat.

Of course, having an alternate personality doesn't help matters much. I fail about half the tests Miss Powers hands out… Not only because the material she so prides herself on imparting to us can make a snoozefest out of a massacre, but also due in part to the fact that my escapades up and down the planes, in and out of alt universes, across outer space with Crocker and Dark Laser, and up and around various godkid wishes don't exactly make it a cakewalk to nail down my own timeline. And she biases her material against Anti-Fairies, I swear.

Oh, cry, cry… Sob… Weep, weep.

I'm wary about visiting my nana. I've not had the best track record with my school vacations as of late. Last year when I came home for spring break, Anti-Saffron told me my parents had moved without leaving a forwarding address. I was so shocked that I just stared at her, stupidly, before lifting my bottle and poofing off. I went shopping, stuffed a present for Crocker in a box, and went down to see him for his birthday. And then I hung out with Poof's family.

Looking back with what I know now, I suppose my father's ex-wife wasn't exactly keen to tell his newborn son that May is Anti-Fairy mating season. Or that my parents were split between that and preparing Camp Wannahurtastranger for the summer, which my father has spearheaded annually for the last few thousand years he's not in jail (previously, in an attempt to fill the baby-shaped void in his core he'd carried before I was born… but still).

I don't care if that camp was an anniversary gift from my father to my mother and if it injured Anti-Saffron's feelings to say it. "They moved" is one heckuva messed up thing to tell a Spellementary kid. Particularly when I KNOW that Anti-Saffron is well aware I was abused by twisted versions of my parents mere months after I was born. It was in the alt dimension I mistakenly plunged into after my first playdate with Poof went particularly sour, but it felt so real to me…

Boy. Jealous, much? You've got issues.

My spring break last year had been fairly miserable as a result. There is no cell service in Anti-Fairy World. With most of the populace relocated for migration season, my options had been rather limited. Anti-Saffron, I think, was meant to take charge of me when I returned from school, though I haven't the foggiest why my parents thought that was a good idea.

It still sounds insane when I say it aloud. I mean, I'm a dark and cruel person myself, but even I don't think I'd say that sort of thing to a toddler. They didn't want you. They moved.

I couldn't even respond when she first told me so. As crazy as it may have been to imagine my parents plucking their possessions out of the Castle, everything sounds believable when you're under high duress and everyone in this world has magic at their fingertips. Hiccup slipped forward to take the lead. He packed us a small bag of things, bid Anti-Saffron a polite but short good-bye, and we were in Dimmsdale before I even came to myself again.

Admittedly, it ended up a fun Saturday. Crocker introduced me to his nephew, Kevin. I got to have lunch with the Grim Reaper, and then I hung around outside Timmy Turner's house until the school bus showed and dropped off my putrid purple counterpart. Icky Vicky is never a ray of sunshine to be around, but I do think I hit it off pretty well with Chloe Carmichael. I might text her sometime. And when my parents came back to see me after spring migration, I'll admit… I hugged them both. They were so flabbergasted by this pathetic show of childish attention that they demanded to know if I'd been replaced with some other version of their son (As if they don't know perfectly well what happened to my alternate Pivotverse self while I was there, but that's another story entirely). My father hit the roof when he heard about Anti-Saffron, and I don't know what happened next. Only that I don't think she'll be in charge of babysitting me again.

I suppose last year's spring break turned out all right in the end. After the fiasco with Vicky died down and my aunt and uncle returned from their lunch date at that black hole I sent them off to, I spent my first three days with Auntie Wanda and Uncle Cosmo… mostly wandering the castle that held their fishbowl while Poof hovered around me like he thought I wanted to nuke his stuffed animals. I finally convinced him I wouldn't, and we had a tea party in his room instead. All in all, a rather successful playdate. Although, Poof and I did poof out to Crocker's house once because he totally didn't believe Kevin was a real person unless I proved it. Honestly, I don't even blame him. Denzel and I were best friends for two years at that point, and I didn't even know he had any siblings. Apparently, he's got one half-sister named Denise who's 14 years younger than him, and she ran off with a young Buxaplenty right after she turned 18. So. Yeah. Apparently that's a thing.

I rather like Kevin. He's quite a bit shyer than his uncle and you can already tell he's dead inside from a cloudlength away, which is good fun. He met me before he even met his first Fairy, so he was biased to like me first. Especially if my only competition was stupid Poof. Kevin's mum is a vampire hunter, you know, so he knows everything there is to learn about bats. He rolls his eyes and scoffs every time you tell him about some new magical creature, and one time he even threw his arms in the air and walked out of the room on me. He's quite amusing. Witches are reborn as familiars when they die, apparently, and he's one of them even though the gene is watered down. I think when he passes, I'll adopt him from the Grim Reaper's pet store. Crocker already said I was welcome to take him under my wing. It would be fun to keep the set together, I think. But Gary's on his own. The Pixies can have him.

Oh, yes. Last year's spring break. It was one thing after another, actually. I spent one day with Sammy and his foster family in Muckledunk, one with Dark Laser (well, up until he had to depart abruptly and capture some wild alien space carnivore), one in Pixie World with Finley, hit up Fairy Con with my grandfather, then burned the last two weeks in Dimmsdale with Crocker and Kevin. We had a blast TP'ing Timmy's house, though Laser got a bit… weird about it towards the end. And I did get mauled by a depravulak. But other than that, the second half of spring break was fun!

Needless to say… while I'm hardly passionate about my nana, I'm at least relieved that I can enjoy some stability in life while I'm staying in Anti-Fairy World this year. Well… Sort of. It's not all going to be a time to roll up my sleeves and fry a load of bacon. My grandnana doesn't accept any excuses for my so-called "slacking off" in school. Honestly, that's how Miss Powers reports it… Frankly, if she's that much of a whinger, it's no wonder my teacher's sister ran off to become a cat.

So yeah- Every time I visit my nana, I can't raise a single complaint about my homework. She'll only remind me how privileged I am to wear a Barrier-cross badge in the first place. Yeesh; there's no winning with that crone. My old school uniform wasn't even a hand-me-down, instead tailor-made by this anti-habetrot girl from the Anti-Windskimmer colony. It fit perfectly around my awkward square exoskeleton. Wasn't it so polite of her to take the time to do that for the royal baby? My father was in and out of school in his younger years. I deserved the best… et cetera, et cetera.

I couldn't care any less. Sure, one day I suppose I may look back on the long years of my tortured youth and find an ounce of gratitude for these opportunities I have been granted, but it's far more difficult to look on the bright side of things when every day, I wake up longing for the peace and comfort of a death laser, clean diaper, and full ba-ba instead.

So, since I'm too young to migrate (and frankly would probably spiral into some dark memories of the Pivotverse versions of my parents locking me in a closet if I did), my parents decided that this year, I'll be staying with my father's mother, Nana Anti-Cosma, all three weeks of my spring break.

No Crocker, because his break was booked up with safety and education classes he'd been ordered to take so he could stay qualified to teach at Spellementary School. He'll probably be using most of his breaks on those for the rest of his life. I mean… his Fairy Court-mandated community service.

No Dark Laser, because he had to visit his son in a galaxy far, far away. I can't even hang out with my friend Kelsia! Her mum's getting out of rehab and Kelsia (rather awkwardly) told me she'd just rather have some time alone with her and her sister as they tried to work some things out. I get it… I do. I get really territorial about my parents whenever they get out of jail, or off community service, or finish whatever punishment Jorgen or whomever has them under. But still… It's stupid. Anti-will o' the wisps don't even migrate! Why can't I stay with her?

So when Mother actually met me at the Castle this year and told me where I'd have to plant my little diapered tail for the next three weeks, I grimaced and drooped. "Must I?"

Mother only sighed at me and scratched her head. Then, lowering herself to my chest level, she fixed the buttons on the floral print shirt I'd picked out for my first day home. Same one as last year- it's sort of a spring break tradition for me now. "Aw, you'll have fun, gator baby… She's your daddy's mum. You like your daddy, don't ya?"

"I certainly don't! He and I don't have a single thing in common… at least, beyond our shared annoyance at how loudly the wind whistles between your ears."

"I got the nature spirit a' Sky bonded up in my soul, hon. The wind can't be helped. Now, be proper for your nana. Don't be mad if she calls ya Nebula, 'cuz that's your name. And don't forget to eat all your cockroaches before you dare ask what's for dessert."

I did enjoy cockroaches. I liked splitting their little heads off their bodies and crunching them to paste between my fingers. Cockroaches may be immune to Fairy magic, but we Anti-Fairies have ways of getting around that. I sighed anyway, crossing my arms. My mother kissed my forehead and rubbed between my wings.

"Aw, hon… It's just for three weeks. Then you've got one more month of school left… and after that, you can come hang with me and your daddy at camp all summer long."

"All summer long" was relative. I rolled my eyes, but knew better than to protest. My mum may have a distractible personality and the IQ of an underwater airplane engine, but when my nana makes plans, only the Darkness can tear them from her fingers. She sticks to them like a fairy to rump roast. My father and I can both attest to that.

And I DO like Camp Wannahurtastranger. I missed it on my first attempt to go due to a stupid, sudden summer school requirement Miss Powers threw at me after egg baby week, but last year? Oh, last year was a SCREAM! Since my parents run the camp, I had to deal with them being embarrassing worrywart parents, but they also spoiled me rotten and let me stay out late with them and explore. Like, while they tidied up, I got to use the bow and arrow range all by myself. And I'd really like to go again. So I'll behave.

My mum and I held that conversation only an hour ago. It's telling, I think, that Mother and not my father cared enough to warn me to "mind my manners." Grandnana can be quite strict when it comes to social etiquette… You know how it is: dress nice, sit up straight, the youngest person at the table has to refill drinks and serve the food, and so on.

Furthermore, my nana hardly has a kind word to say about her own flesh and blood son, but she'll swoon for an hour over all the reasons why my endlessly patient mum is such a good fit for his unstable personality. Privately, I don't think she ever wanted children… or at the very least, she certainly didn't want to have them so young (She prefers damsels anyway, so that might play into it). My main goal of this adventure is to track down an album of embarrassing photographs of my father when he was my age. I'll bet there's at least one of him naked in the tub that I can use for blackmail someday, or maybe one of him whacking beehives with a cricket bat- which I've heard a hundred times is something he was known for when he was my age. He keeps warning me not to get ideas. I heard he kept throwing himself out windows as a pup, straining to fly, so his creche father had to chain his wings together until he turned 50. Geez. I don't know if that would fly these days (Pun not intended).

It's an uncomfortable feeling, though, when I think of how the baby ban on the common fairy subspecies was decreed within two years of my father's birth. Had Fairy-Florensa waited any longer, my father wouldn't have been born at all, and where would that have left me? Ihh.

I would have been born somewhere, someway, even if I didn't end up as my parents' child. Probably some estranged second cousin once removed or something. I know firsthand how this cruel universe of ours works, and how it balances its souls. There are thousands of alternate universes out there where Fairies and Anti-Fairies thrive, and there was or will be a Poof and an Anti-Poof born in every single one of them. I saw how my parents treated their son in the Pivotverse. I was that son for far too long. I still have night terrors about that.

I learned my lesson and I keep my feet firmly planted in this universe nowadays. That said, this universe is quite a doozy in itself. My father and the other nobles in the castle are insistent that Anti-Fairies reincarnate, their souls repeating through their descendants' lines so long as the proper years on the elemental zodiac line up. Fascinating really, though for some reason my mother shies away from the subject like a skittish fawn if ever I ask what she thinks might be coming next for her. I'm not sure what that's about. Too difficult of a question for her simple mind, most likely.

For years, all my extended family believed me born in the Year of Leaves. Spring of the Last Berry, to be precise- in June, just before Summer Turn. I was even presented in Thurmondo's temple when I was born. It wasn't until after we unraveled the mysteries of Timmy Turner's time-freezing wish that my father finally nailed me down as a Breath year instead, and I was sentenced to Winni's temple for a year of acolyte chores as some cruel form of apology. It wasn't even my fault! I'M not the one who went around claiming to be a Leaves! I never did that even once!

Talon, Nova, and Topazimi walked around with me in some sympathy, at least. We're all Breath kids with some family ties in common, which made it a bit more bearable. Talon can't stand me and privately, I think he only showed up so he could rub in my face how he had 40,000 years on me as an acolyte. He can keep that record. Nova's so sweet to me that I think I belched up a butterfly while we were there. How revolting.

Those two cleaned floors while Topazimi helped me polish just about every metallic thing in the Breath Temple, and that at least gave me some sense of reassurance. She doesn't seem to mind me half as much as her mom does. But then… she wouldn't, would she? You sort of swear away the outside world when you give up your name - your true name, your whole identity - to become High Acolyte. In fact, it's probably in poor taste for me to even mention she's Anti-Saffron's kid. Was, anyway. Can't imagine what that's like, but I won't have to. I'm heir apparent to the High Count seat. My options for the future are near limitless, and I won't spend them confined to a prison that's just dressed up to look nice for all the tourists.

But I think… on some level, the fact that I'm a Breath year on the zodiac and not a Leaves is partly why I dread spending my three precious weeks of spring break with my nana. I suppose she means well. But Papa Anti-Robin was a Breath year too, so my nana watches me like a hawk whenever I come to visit. Her sister died when my father was a baby. Nana wasted no time in tracking down her reincarnation (and now the former Anti-Joanie lives on as Anti-Poof Anti-Everwish: my father's cousin… or at least that's what I've been told).

I'm still not entirely sure how that works. I agree with all the science that says Anti-Fairies are incredibly resilient and that we regenerate within minutes of death so long as our host counterpart is alive. It's a horror I've experienced myself on more than one occasion (Bernie the parrot's fire breath comes to mind; my bones ached for days after that).

But an entire reincarnation? That's where I have to question authority a little more deeply than is typical. I'm a man of science and I have plenty of skeptical thoughts on the topic. Don't Poof and I share a soul? If Anti-Fairies can be reincarnated, does that mean he is too? After all, he is my Seelie host. I've asked these questions to my father, and he'll wax on about how Fairies and Anti-Fairies are two completely different races, that Fairies are descendants of the extinct Aos Sí and our people are children of the long-gone Chimera, that our species is born of smoke and capable of mirroring the life and physical form of any creature in the known universe we grow attached to in as intimate a way as I came to know Poof before I took on solid form, how he doesn't support the poison that Spellementary is injecting in my brain… et cetera. In the end, he'll always rub his temples and complain I've given him a headache. I don't understand.

"Foop," he told me once when I was floating in his office. He'd decorated the whole thing in the pale blue color of Sunnie: the nature spirit who represented Water, focus, education, battle strategies, and things like that on the zodiac. Though if there's a nature spirit out there who gains energy through teacups, my father is likely in bed with the enemy behind his patron spirit's back. He keeps two dozen favorite teacups lined in a row on his little trophy shelf. They're painted collectibles and I'm not allowed to touch them. I'm not clumsy. I'm chaotic. There's a difference.

Anyway, he leaned back against his hulking desk. That thing was way older than he was, and someday it would be mine. Thank smoke he puts down coasters before leaving his drinks on it. I won't have that thing waterstained before it's even in my hands. He stared at me. I clenched and unclenched my fists before him, demanding answers, and the old man certainly took his sweet time explaining them to me. He held a teacup in his hand which had been painted to look like a crouching black cat, with its lifted tail curled to form the handle.

"Foop, I can't be the one to figure out for you whether or not you had a past life or whether you're a fresh incarnation in this world. The origin of our species is ethereal and complex. We're magical beings, for smoke's sake. I can't give you all the answers. Don't fret about it while you're young."

"I don't consider it minor fretting, Father. I'm confused because I'm at a crossroads where I see the science and have read reports about both sides. Tens of thousands of Anti-Fairies across generations can't all be fudging the truth about their so-called reincarnation experiences. I try to keep an open mind. I read all these stories that my Fairy schooling can't explain away." Then I gestured sideways as I always did when talking of my counterpart- towards Fairy World. "But at the same time, I'm quite undeniably bonded to Poof. I don't feel a 1:1 transfer of all his pain, but I feel enough. It's astounding what damage he can do to both my body and my psyche at our tender age."

"Yes… You see, child- When I was in my teens, I ran my wings ragged exploring all my options, trying and failing and trying again to figure out who, if anyone, I possibly could have been related to. I'll admit a part of me might have been jealous. Some of our kind leave vast monetary fortunes or prized heirlooms in their name for the day they return to the waking world, but… it really isn't important in the grand scheme of things. Try to remember that."

"And I'd very much like to know how I too can gain access to those funds you're referring to, but you're missing my point. I want to check the facts. I request unrestricted access to the higher levels of the Luna's Landing public library. It's put before the public for a reason, isn't it? And don't bother telling me I'm not mature enough to handle what I might find in there. If I can't get them from you, I'll win over Mother or the Anti-Fairy Council. I can be very annoying in my demands."

The High Count lifted the cat teacup to his lips then, holding it in both hands, and stared at me quiet tersely while it steamed. "Take the time to learn things you hear in Anti-Fairy World. Keep your ears primed for Fairy World's knowledge as well. Digest what you're taught in Spellementary… You'll find yourself someday, one way or another."

Bother it all. Anti-Fairy culture is so much more complicated than the curses, hexes, and countercharms I'd much prefer to study in my free time… And if it turns out that I really am the reborn version of my granddad, I swear Nana will never leave me in peace again. Come to think of it, I have a great-uncle on my father's side and he actually is named Anti-Hawk, so you can imagine how closely he too eyeballs me when I infrequently visit him.

I'm not saying I don't believe in reincarnation. I'm not saying that with certainty at all. Regardless of how skeptical my mind may be, I've felt a few curious and rather unexplainable shivers when I've picked up a slingshot, or whenever I stray near this one sheep farm at the border and can't walk away without both a wool jumper and a migraine. I can't help but wonder if there's something there.

And of course, there's that curious time I took a trip with my parents to Sablewood Canyon last fall. My mother and father tried to make a family trip on my father's cloudship and coast over from above, relishing the view, but I couldn't resist sneaking out and flying down into the canyon itself. I'm not sure I'd describe the feeling as familiar per se, but that place is mega cursed. It's named after some ancient fae person named Sablewood, who was actually Her Glory Cadmea's mate. That makes them both my ancestors (on my father's side). Yeah, turns out it's freaking stupid to have kids with the Teumessian Fox. Cadmea was destined to never be caught be any predator, and she passed that blessing on to her and Sablewood's offspring. I'll leave it up to imagination which one of them didn't make it out when their little family wandered into the canyon and came across a pack of hungry foops. Yeesh.

(Just to clarify, the wild animals I'm referring to really are called foops. They're enormous, hulking wolf-like creatures with pelts that shift colors to mirror the sky. They're nocturnal. I can often hear them howling from my bedroom window at the Castle, which is just lovely because they've been known to eat Anti-Fairy babies, and getting digested can trap you in a regeneration loop for days or weeks. Yay. They're an invasive cloudland species and devastating to the ecosystem today. Anyway, no relation; my name just means "wolf" in Djinn.)

So between the slingshot, the sheep farm, and the canyon, I wouldn't feel like a true scientist if I denied there's something going on there. Every time, I got goosebumps up my arms and had to sit down and hold my head. Quite a peculiar experience. I'm not sure it's enough to make me all gung-ho about being Zodii, but I'm mature enough to admit to statistical significance when I see it. I'll keep you posted as this longitudinal study develops further. Look me up someday if I haven't lost my mind.

Anyway… All this to convey the fact that yes, I've been asked to spend spring break with my grandnana, and no, I am not precisely looking forward to it. My nana is stiff, uncomfortable to be around, and would sooner whack me on the back of the neck with her bo staff than offer me any tender touch. I don't exactly need hugs (especially not from her), but I have enough issues as it is with being hit by anyone larger than me. I'd beg my mother to reconsider, but I don't see the point. It would take weeks to get anything through her thick skull and she'd probably forget all my protests and drop me on Nana's doorstep by morning anyway.

I don't have to take a bus or anything to get to my nana's place. She lives in an undersized home in a neighborhood of shabby houses about twenty seconds' skim from the castle's gate. I don't see the appeal, personally, but that might be my mother's blood in me. High Countess Anti-Wanda and I are so much alike: we can't sit still at the Castle for more than a few days at a time, and we love to go wandering until we lose ourselves in the wild. Not always the greatest idea (See also, giant star wolves who eat babies), but I love the outdoors. I might be a total nerd, but I'm an extravert. I like parties. I like meeting people. I just don't want to spend three weeks in my nana's bunker. Yes, I'm a highly independent anti-baby, but even I feel like I prefer the spacious Spellementary School dorms to what otherwise boils down to a one-room home.

My nana is retired now. I hear her counterpart has practically cracked open the walnut of life, going out to soak up more and more experiences in this world since her husband is gone, her children have grown up, and a lack of money is the only limiting factor holding her back from doing whatever it is she wants for the remaining 450,000-something years of her existence. My nana had a rollercoaster of a youth and traveled widely, and I think she's only now putting down roots. She doesn't get out for much anymore apart from Friday the 13th.

It isn't because she's physically weak- oh no, no, no. Far from it, in fact… She's just never particularly liked people. She doesn't want them over at her house playing games. She'd rather not cook meals or prepare rooms for any visitors, and she certainly doesn't go out to eat unless my mother cordially invites her. She lived in the Castle for a while in my father's younger years, but moved out around the time he married. I don't remember if she returned to colony life after that or if she just settled nearby so she could drink tea and keep an eye on him without getting caught in the crossfire, but I stay with her sometimes when my father has enough of me and wants me out of his way.

How curious to me that although both my nana and Poof's have lived completely opposite lifestyles, they both seem to be content with where they are now.

Perhaps I should clarify. When I say my nana is retired, I only mean from serving as the High Count's personal guard and (before that) as a member of the camarilla court. She was even bonded to Saturn, the nature spirit of Fire once upon a time. But if this spring break is anything like my last visit with her, I can bid adieu to any form of coddling or mercy. My nana is all about good health and getting physical. I'm only allowed protein shakes and healthy foods while under her roof. Don't even think about suggesting we bake cookies. She'll shake me awake as soon as the stars brighten, already dressed in her coaching uniform and ready to go. She'll have the whistle. I cringe at the thought of the obstacle course already.

Really, I don't know why my nana is apparently so insistent that I run through (in my mind) Fairy Academy levels of basic training every time I visit her. Surely she must know I don't keep up with the exercise the moment I'm out of here? I'll always have magic at my fingertips. Our species is famed for our mastery of combat magic. Plus, if Poof gets himself kidnapped again someday and it's up to me to save him - you know, if I want to live - I don't think this game plan of "Foop, the champion" will go over so well. I'm not half as brainless as my mum. Sending in another individual who won't flinch in pain every time his captives kick Poof between the ribs sounds like a smashing idea.

Anyway… It's not really my choice. Mother and my nana are close, and one if not both of them will freak if I don't show. I may be a royal pain, but at least I commit to showing up. I have a chronic lying problem. Honesty doesn't come easily to me, but I know that one day it will all pay off. My enemies are far more likely to tremble in fear once I'm powerful enough to back up all the threats I make. I'll show them. They will all bow down to me one of these days.

Mother floats behind me while I get packed. I think she suspects I'll kick back at the castle all day if she leaves too soon, which is entirely accurate. Curses. I pack my phone, art supplies, a pop-up book with crocodiles inside, a roll of fresh blueprint paper, and two of my favorite laser guns. I'm also bringing Skullsbeary so I'll have something soft to hold when I'm at roost. Ugh. Roost. It's one of the worst things about growing up. Just the thought of climbing a giant plastic tree to sleep from already makes me ill, but I'd be flummoxed if there's any way out of it. My nana is fairly traditional. I seem to remember that she doesn't own a coffin to lie down in. Now that I'm out of my awkward cube-shaped exoskeleton, she'll insist I roost upside-down beside her. I don't exactly think she'll take 'No' for an answer.

At the last moment, I also pack my crystal ball in its carrying case. We don't get cell service in Anti-Fairy World. I know Laser and Crocker will both be busy and Laser doesn't even have access to the school's crystals like Crocker does, but I'll feel better bringing it along. Just in case. There's not really electricity at my nana's house, but I know my way around the devil's backbone plant. You'd be surprised what you can do with that thing if you've got a mind like mine. It makes a decent power source in a pinch. I'll maybe get to play a few games.

I zip my backpack, realize too late that I could have packed all my things with a wave of my ba-ba instead (Ugh), then brush this thought off again because at least packing gave me enough opportunity to stall. "I'm ready," I tell my mother. She beams and insists that I hold her hand, like a child, as she flies with me from the castle to my nana's charming abode. It's metallic. Curved roof. Quite honestly, it reminds me of a military bunker, complete with barbed wire all around the yard. I'll bet Poof doesn't have to deal with anything like this when he stays with his Mama Cosma for the weekend.

My nana has burn scars all down one side of her face. I asked her point-blank about them when we first met, figuring there was no use in dancing around the subject and we may as well get it over with, but she didn't particularly like that and you know, I think that's where all this trouble of mandatory exercise and obstacle courses began. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to do a thousand jumping jacks back when my body was square and my arms and legs were too short? Thank Darkness the Fairy Council unfroze the timestream. I don't know what I'd do if I were simply stuck like that forever.

My mother drops me off at my nana's door. Then when Mama Anti-Cosma comes out to greet us, I get a single nod before they start talking about school and migration and summer camp. I'm already bored two sentences in. I scoot past my nana's legs and thunk my backpack on the floor by the sofa.

It's been over ten years since I've been inside. The house stands at perfect energy equilibrium. But then, that typically goes without saying when you're an Anti-Fairy. We sense the flow of energy in the universe in a way more intense than most Fairies do… although granted, the Fairywinkles do an awfully good job of it. I suppose my family and Poof's tolerate each other well enough, all things considered. The Fairywinkles know exactly how to decorate in a way that doesn't disrupt energy flow, and they take pride in regular maintenance to ensure stinky magic never builds up in the corners of their home. I guess it's because they're just so perfect.

It doesn't look like much has changed in the den since my last visit. We always put bars on our windows in Anti-Fairy World. We can't echolocate through glass. That gives this place a creepier look than what I'm used to back in Dimmsdale, but it's standard design up here, so I try not to let it get to me. There's a small fire burning in the fireplace (Singeing paper, of course- not forest wood). The L-shaped couch is brown with blue pillows, stuffed in the corners of the wall. It looks vintage. Huh. I trail my fingers across it and try to decide how much I would care if I pressed too hard with my claw and left a gash. Meh.

One old bookshelf, painted green. A breakfast nook with only two chairs. No toys. I brought clay as part of my art set, but I hope I don't regret packing more of my things. It's going to be a long three weeks- I can already tell.

And when I reach the end of my skim across the room and look up at the wall instead of the furniture, I'm stumped. "Uh," I say aloud, bobbing backwards. Seriously, what? Over one hundred different mugs and teacups peer down at me from their perfect square shelves. Seriously, I think the shelves number twelve by twelve at least. I've never seen so many cups in one place, except maybe the great hall of my father's castle.

"Oh, wow…"

Most of the mugs and teacups are glass, though ceramic ones are mixed in to bring darker colors to the set. There are cups with hummingbirds painted on them. Lilacs. Daisies. Otters. Orchids. Bees. Rainbows, kittens, mushrooms, ocean waves, lemons, chickadees, unicorns, hedgehogs, bears, peacocks, feathers, sparrows, pumpkins, leaping trout… I float even farther back, gawking up at them all. What above earth? Why would anyone want a hundred different teacups? Nana Anti-Cosma doesn't even like visitors. Does she simply despise washing dishes, even with magic? Surely she can't plan to use them all at once!

"I always knew she had a big mouth," I mutter behind my fangs, "but this is ridiculous."

My mother and nana don't notice me, still chatting at the doorstep. I float up to one of the shelves and pick a teacup at random. It's one of the glass pieces. You know, it certainly doesn't feel like a sturdy thing when I weigh it in my hand. I could smash it to the floor real easy.

Three large sunflowers are painted across it. One is yellow, one is white, and the last is pink. There's a ladybug resting on one of the leaves. How sickeningly adorable. My father collects glass and ceramic teacups just like these, as you might recall, but he keeps them lined on his office shelves instead of on public display. His preferred designs are far more tasteful. Spiders, eyeballs, skeletons, spooky forests… things like that.

I return the teacup to the shelf and kick my feet forward so I can drift backwards, just… just taking in the whole wall of them. "Mountains, sea turtles, foxes, dragonflies, cacti, flamingos, constellations, cherry blossoms, crabs… Grandnana, I never knew you were such a hoarder." These weren't here when I last came to visit ten years ago…

Is this a recent obsession? Where did they all come from?

I can sense the gears ticking in my mind. Poof told me once that he isn't sure how many more times he'll even be allowed to see his nana. She used to babysit him as a child here and there, but always made faults of Auntie Wanda's virtues. While she had a close relationship with her son (Fairy-Cosmo) when they were young, that relation has soured deeper and deeper over the years. Once he came clean about his marriage to a damsel she couldn't stand, Mama Cosma couldn't keep her hands out of his life. She threads her son's mind with all sorts of poisoned commentary and doesn't seem to feel a smidgen of remorse. Like… wow. I lie, cheat, and manipulate people to, but when I try to imagine my own mother fighting tooth and nail to split me apart from my friends, that just seems unnecessarily cruel.

It's weird. I know my auntie has done her best to tolerate it (holding her tongue and temper in a way that even I admire), but once when I was lurking around Timmy Turner's house before he came home from school, I heard she and my uncle break into a fight. Well… More of a scolding, really. After three or four minutes of listing her grievances against Mama Cosma, Auntie Wanda simply burst into tears.

"I can't go to her house anymore. I can't keep going to these fancy lunches in Fairy World. But I worry all the time that if I don't go, you won't come back to me. Mama Cosma can really stick her hooks in you. I just don't feel like you respect me anymore, Cosmo, or like you believe living with me is an improvement over being a mama's boy and staying all day in your childhood bedroom. I need your support when she bears into me. Can you do that?"

"I'll try to be better," was his response, stunned and shaky. I'd felt that way myself, curiosity getting the better of me as I floated as near to the window as I dared, my ear pressed against the wall. I could hear my uncle's fingers fiddling with his tie, wrapping the fabric around and around his wrist. "I don't know, Wanda… She's my mama. I know she can be a little harsh sometimes, but she's just getting a little old and cranky. She wouldn't do anything to really hurt me…"

"She's been flinging insults at me for years."

"… This is real? It's not all just some smart people test about sarcasm or irony or hidden underlying meanings? I'm not good at picking up clues, Wanda… You know that." Then, more quietly, "I'll try… It's just that sometimes I have a hard time keeping up with what's going on. I never feel like I'm in on the joke, and then when I finally am, it's like everyone thinks it isn't funny anymore. And what's more confusing is that sometimes, people say something I thought was kind of mean and everybody laughs, but then other times, everybody gets real quiet and uncomfortable. It's really hard for me to figure out the difference before the words are out of my mouth. And I don't always know there's something wrong unless it's explained to me with puppets or words… but I'll try. Can you keep being patient with me, even when I mess things up all over again?"

"Every time, Cosmo. I love you… SO much…"

Well. That had been an awkward thing to overhear. But I know why they had that discussion when they thought they were alone in private. I don't blame my auntie and uncle for trying to keep the trials of their marriage away from their son and two godkids. They're doing what they can to provide stability. My own parents could likely learn a thing or two from them. My father shouts a lot when he's upset, and my mother often floats there and takes it, not saying a word. I've overheard breaking plates and sometimes the frustrated pounding of a hand against the wall, but… Well.

I hope he hasn't smacked her. I complain often of my parents, but I don't actually consider them abusive. Not like their Pivotverse counterparts, who really did a number on my sanity. No, my parents in this universe are a lot more genuine. Even so, I don't particularly like to think about what my father could do if he decided to turn violent. I've learned my lesson about trusting Anti-Saffron and I think he'd find me at my nana's or school, so I guess I'd just… leave? Hide out with my auntie and uncle in Poof's underwater castle, maybe? It's probably the most safeguarded place that I could go, short of Jorgen's or Cupid's houses (and they'd never let me in there).

I had a point to this. And as I stare up at the teacups on their shelves, reflecting on the fact that my nana has never offered me any tea in her life… I wonder if Grandnana and my father are putting in the work to mend a badly broken relationship unbeknownst to me. I know tensions ran thickly between them when my father was a child. My nana pushed him through exercise and obstacle course routines in much the same way she pushed me, only I think she struck him harder with his staff if he ever did anything she disagreed with. She shows more restraint around me, but I think that's mostly because I'm a prince and she possibly fears my father. Or just respects my mother more intensely.

If Auntie Wanda is sticking things out with her husband's nagging mother for the sake of maintaining her husband's, Timmy's, and Poof's relationship with her… then was it my birth, perhaps, which prompted my own family members to lower their walls and welcome one another back into their lives? My father has always loved tea, and I just assumed that interest came down his mother's side of the family. But these glass and ceramic teacups are familiar. They remind me of my father's favorites.

And there are hundreds of them here.

Is my nana collecting them because they remind her of her son? I've never been into tea parties, but I've never wanted to have one more than I do now, floating before hundreds upon hundreds of shelves. I'd love to invite Crocker, Kevin, and Dark Laser up here sometime, perhaps along with my roommates, some of the crechemates who are actually near my age, and Goldie, and Anti-Marigold. You could have twenty guests at a tea party here and not even make a dent in this vast collection. What a weird hobby.

Does she often drink her tea alone?

I spend a minute more looking at the cups before closing my fingers around a ceramic black one coated in silver cobwebs. Hm. Yes, this will do. I take it from its shelf and fly over to ask my nana if she can put the kettle on right away.