by K. M. Shea
“Yes, of course,” Hunter politely agreed. “What are you doing after school?” he asked.
“Fran and I were thinking about hanging around the park,” I said. “She doesn’t have student council activities for once. Thanks, by the way, for helping out with decorating for homecoming. She really appreciated it. And I’m so sorry she still can’t remember your name. It’s really rude of her, but she doesn’t mean it,” I said.
Fran went nearly insane homecoming week with all of the decorating, float building, window painting, and contests. The sophomores were responsible for decorating a portion of the school, and Fran couldn’t find anyone to do it, so I asked Hunter to help me.
He did, but Fran was never quite able to grasp his name the whole day.
Hunter shrugged. “I don’t take it personally. I’m just one of those people who are hard to remember.”
I stared at Hunter. “Yes, of course,” I said, mimicking his earlier comment. Hunter was not easy to forget, and it wasn’t just because of the sunglasses. The guy was quite hot if you could get him to put down his leadership books.
“So, what are you doing after school today?” I asked.
“The usual. I have to return home to work,” Hunter said, sliding his book into his backpack.
“Where do you work again?” I asked.
Hunter paused, his eyebrows puckering. He opened his mouth to reply when our math teacher stepped into the room.
“Good afternoon, class. Please get your homework out and pass it forward,” he said.
Hunter and I ruffled through our notebooks, and I completely forgot about my question.
At the end of the school day, I happily closed my locker door and frowned when I realized Frey was standing behind it. “What?” I asked as I shrugged my coat on.
“Time to go. We’re going to miss the express train if you don’t hurry,” he said.
“You’re kidding, right? I thought I only had to go on Fridays,” I frowned.
“Oh, no. Thursdays are the only days you don’t have to go,” Frey said. “That’s the only day Dave doesn’t have to take supplementary classes.”
“What?”
“Supplementary classes. The MBRC hosts classes that teach patients about normal, human life. Right now Dave is in Introduction to Human Society,” Frey prodded before turning up the hallway.
I grumbled as I followed him, digging out my cell phone. Frey held the door open for me when we left the school, and I growled a word of acknowledgement at Dave as we walked towards the train station, my fingers tapping out a text message to Fran so she would know I had left.
“You know,” I said to Frey’s backside. “It’s going to be really suspicious if you keep ignoring me in class but everyone always sees us leaving together.”
“Doesn’t the presence of a teacher make it seem less weird?” Frey countered.
I glanced over my shoulder, Dave’s sunny disposition returned over the weekend. He was some distance behind us, twirling his umbrella and hopping like a frog to avoid cracks in the sidewalk.
“No. He probably makes it worse, actually. As it is, he’s not following close enough to look like he’s with us,” I disagreed.
“True. I’ll think about it,” Frey remarked.
“THINK about it? My gosh! Are you a jerk or what!” I said, stopping on the sidewalk.
“What?” Frey asked, turning around.
“You have to actually think about acknowledging my presence when I’ve been an angel about this whole mess? I should go blab your secret to the world!”
“No one will believe you. You said so yourself,” Frey smirked.
I stared at the smirking canine. He was supposed to be SWEET! What was WRONG WITH HIM!? Hadn’t he ever read Twilight? Harry Potter? At the very least, he was supposed to be misunderstood! “That’s it. I’m not going. You can explain the situation to Dr. Creamintin yourself,” I decided.
The smirk fell off Frey’s lips really fast.
“What?” he asked.
“I’m not going. You can’t make me go. I’ll scream that you’re a girl abuser. I’ll shout that you fathered my kid and won’t accept responsibility,” I flatly said.
“You don’t have a kid,” Frey said, his eyes growing wide.
“They don’t know that,” I said, motioning to the general public that strolled, biked, jogged, and walked past us.
Dave finally caught up to us, panting from the exertion of hopping. “Mable, what’s the problem?”
“It’s Morgan,” I darkly corrected.
“Morgan,” Dave said. “Let’s go talk things over with Dr. Creamintin. He’ll be able to make you understand. Frey has this alpha-male dominance issue. It’s because he’s a werewolf. He’s probably just ticked that Dr. Creamintin is treating you special.”
“What?”
“That is not true!” Frey bristled.
“You shut up, or you’ll forever be labeled a pervert!” I snarled while stalking past him, stomping towards the train station.
Dave trailed after me, humming a little ditty, while Frey remained shell-shocked.
He caught up with us at the train station and bought our tickets while reproachfully glaring at me.
During the train ride, I sat next to Dave and refused to look at Frey, who also refused to look at me. Dave seemed unaware of the tense atmosphere and spent most of the train ride remarking about the beautiful scenery.
Frey and I stormed through Union Station before moving down the stairs and passageways that led to the MBRC.
“Wonderful day, isn’t it?” Dave smiled at Tiny, who was able to read the dark situation between Frey and me.
“Um, sure,” Tiny said as he fumbled with the locks. The iron doors faded, and the giant flinched when Frey and I, still locked in silence, stormed through.
When we reached the main chamber of the MBRC, I dodged a Chinese dragon before heading in the direction of Dr. Creamintin’s office.
“Where are you going?” Frey asked, catching my shoulder.
“To Dr. Creamintin’s,” I replied, shrugging his hand off.
“We have to take Dave to his classes first,” Frey said.
“Maybe you do, but I report directly to Dr. Creamintin,” I said before storming off, barely avoiding a large troll.
I reached Dr. Creamintin’s office and threw open the door. “I’m here,” I announced. “What do you want me to do?”
Dr. Creamintin poked his head out of an examination room and correctly read my mood. “Ah, Morgan. You’re looking powerful today. I would like you to continue talking to Westfall. There’s a kelpie—a water horse—with him in the stables. If he’s not too hostile, you can brush him while you talk to Westfall.”
“Brush the horse. Got it,” I said as I stomped past the doctor, moving down the small hallway.
There were two horses in the barn today besides Westfall. One was a white creature with a foaming gray mane and blue eyes. I couldn’t say I was a big fan of his eyes; they were a little creepy.
The other horse was big, beautiful, and black. He was far bigger than Westfall and looked more powerful. He reminded me of Zorro’s horse, or a knight’s horse. The only odd thing about him was his eyes. They were the pale yellow color of the moon on water.
Westfall looked hopeful when I first arrived and was clearly trying to work up his courage.
“Good afternoon,” he said, his voice trembling.
All of my anger from Frey disappeared as the bright-eyed unicorn looked triumphant and impressed with himself. He was just so cute!
“Good afternoon, Westfall,” I said as he retreated to his hay pile. I turned on my heels to flick my eyes back and forth between the horses. “And which one of you is the kelpie I’m supposed to brush?” I asked.
The white horse sniffed contemptuously, but the black horse released a friendly nicker.
“You then?” I asked the dark horse. He arched his neck prettily. “Great, let me find brushes. Brushes, brushes, where are you? Ah,
there we go,” I said, spotting them near the silver crate I sat on during my last visit. “I don’t even know what a kelpie is. Dr. Creamintin said something about a water horse. Do you know what they are, Westfall?” I called over my shoulder as I grabbed the bucket of brushes and carried it over to the black horse’s stall.
“Um,” Westfall bashfully said. “That’s not, he’s not a…”
I turned around to smile invitingly at the unicorn. “Yes?” I asked. Someone must have worked with the little guy over the weekend; he was way better than last Friday.
The unicorn hesitated, trying to decide what to say, until he lost his bashful look and looked absolutely petrified.
I quirked an eyebrow as I felt something dark hang over me. I turned around. The black horse innocently swished his tail.
I looked back at Westfall. He was quivering like a jello block behind his hay. “Nothing,” he squeaked.
I picked up one of the brushes and started at it. “Ugh, Frey is such a jerk! He’s acting like a brat. He refuses to say hi to me in class even though he’s dragging me here to the MBRC after school. He claims he has bigger things to worry about than mortal society, but I think he wants to score a date with either Dani or Toni, which is why he doesn’t want to admit that he knows me,” I said.
The black horse side-stepped me and stuck his head in my brush bucket. When he removed his head, he was holding a black rubber brush, the hand-strap clenched between his teeth.
“This brush first?” I asked.
The big horse nodded.
I tossed my original brush back in the bucket and attacked the horse’s fur with the rubber brush. “Magical animals are so much more intelligent than regular, domestic animals. Don’t get me wrong; horses are pretty smart. But they would never be able to interact like this,” I said, rubbing the kelpie’s neck.
He nickered and twisted so he could brush his velvet muzzle against my cheek.
“So, Westfall, how long until you move to a therapy barn?” I called.
The only noise the unicorn made was a whining sound similar to air leaking out of a balloon.
I sighed. Looks like the bay hadn’t gotten that much better. “Conversation topic,” I muttered, brushing the black horse. “Hmm. So my best friend Fran tells me the school is going to be throwing a Halloween dance,” I announced.
Again I monologued for an hour, brushing the black horse as I went. Westfall occasionally made squeaking noises, which, I suppose, was an improvement over the awkward silence of Friday.
“You are a beauty,” I told the black kelpie, gently stroking his cheek when I finished brushing him.
The equine breathed into the palm of my hand before resting his large head on my shoulder and ruffling my hair with his lips. He gently tugged on my hair with his teeth, pulling just hard enough to let me know he had a grip on me.
I laughed and pulled my hair out of his mouth. “If I get more split ends because of you, I will trim your magnificent mane,” I threatened.
The kelpie shook his head and affectionately lipped my shoulder.
I patted his muscled neck before leaving him in his stall and turning to Westfall.
“It was great seeing you again, Westfall,” I smiled. The golden-horned unicorn was mostly out from behind his hay bale, but I had a suspicion that if I walked toward him, he would quickly back up. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, checking my watch.
“Hummm,” Westfall said, anxiously weaving and glancing at the newly brushed kelpie.
“Bye, guys,” I called over my shoulder as I walked out of the stable.
I moved down the little hallway and popped into Dr. Creamintin’s office. The good doctor was talking with Frey while leaning against his front desk.
“Equine shock therapy completed, Dr. Creamintin,” I announced, walking up to his side, icing out Frey. “I don’t think Westfall’s poor nerves could handle me much longer.”
“And how was the kelpie?” Dr. Creamintin asked, setting his clipboard on Felisha’s desk.
“Excellent. He is very beautiful,” I said as the mermaid secretary loaded files onto Dr. Creamintin’s clipboard.
“In a savage way, I guess he is,” Dr. Creamintin supposed.
I was about to ask what he meant when I felt Frey lean in on me and sniff.
I’m not kidding. He was tipped in my direction, hovering about a foot above me, and sniffing at my neck. He was like Kitty, my family’s cat, when he smells another cat on me and gives me that accusing look that says I’ve been cheating on him.
“WHAT are you doing?” I asked, taking several large steps back.
“There is a very funny scent on you,” Frey said, inhaling several times to clear his nasal passages. “Very…earthy.”
“I was in a barn. What do you expect?”
“Thank you, Felisha. Right, then. I must be along. Dave should be finished with his class soon. Have a safe journey home, and I’ll see you two tomorrow,” Dr. Creamintin said before picking up his clipboard and motioning for a tiny fairy to follow him across the room where they disappeared into an examination room.
As I watched them leave, Frey muttered behind me. “Very earthy. Very strange.”
4
The Perverted Pooka
Tuesday wasn’t all that different from Monday. Frey ignored me; Dave bumbled through class (although he got my name right for once), and at the end of school, Frey popped up by my locker and escorted Dave and me to the MBRC.
I sat next to Dave on the train, texting Fran and acknowledging the occasional comment from cheerful Dave. Frey scowled at us.
Once we got past Tiny and into the main chamber of the MBRC, I flounced away, leaving Frey to guide Dave to his classroom.
“Good afternoon, Dr—oh, he’s not here,” I said, throwing open the door to Dr. Creamintin’s office.
“Good afternoon, Morgan,” Felisha greeted, smiling at me. She waved with a flip of her green fish tail.
“Good afternoon, Felisha,” I greeted, strolling across the empty waiting area.
“Dr. Creamintin is with a patient. He requested that you again talk to Westfall and brush the kelpie,” the mermaid said, typing away on her computer.
“Excellent. Thank you, Felisha. I shall do just that,” I said, pushing away from the desk. I walked down the hallway, humming under my breath as I entered the stable.
“Good afternoon, Westfall, kelpie, crabby white horse,” I greeted the three equines that were still housed in the stable.
“Good afternoon,” Westfall bravely replied. He was standing in the aisle, his legs locked. It was only sheer will that kept him from retreating to his hay bale, I think. The little guy really did want to get over his fear of humans.
The black kelpie nickered a greeting as I picked up the brush bucket and joined him in his stall.
When I glanced over my shoulder, Westfall was still standing in the aisle. “So, Westfall, do you have to take any classes before going to live in this therapy barn?”
“No. I work with a team of specialists who teach me how to act,” Westfall said as I started brushing the kelpie.
“Really? That sounds interesting,” I said, giggling when the black equine lowered his head to smell my jeans.
“It is very ed-ed-educational,” the little unicorn said, eyeing the kelpie with fear.
“What kind of things do you have to learn?” I asked.
“I cannot talk. No matter what. That is the number one rule,” Westfall replied, his eyes still glued to the big horse that I brushed. “Even if the humans greet me, I cannot greet them back.”
“Wouldn’t it be more difficult to not talk back if they insulted you?” I asked, frowning.
“No. My mother raised me to have very good manners,” Westfall said.
I laughed as the kelpie wedged his muzzle against my neck.
“Um,” Westfall said.
“Yes?” I asked, turning to face him.
He scrambled, his legs sliding underneath him, back to his hay pil
e. “Nothing!” he squeaked.
I sighed. Apparently he wasn’t ready to face me yet. Again I felt something leer over my shoulder. I spun around.
The black kelpie was innocently arching his neck, although the white horse flared his nostrils at me and pinned his ears back.
“Weird,” I said before I attacked the kelpie’s mane.
After my hours of chatting with Westfall (who occasionally surprised me with softly spoken questions), I returned to the office and followed the pattern of the day before.
Dr. Creamintin thanked me; Frey sniffed me, and I swept out of the office, pushing the muttering werewolf away from me.
The pattern continued Wednesday. Westfall got the courage to stand in the aisle for a full half hour and ask me, in his quivering voice, questions about humans. The kelpie affectionately nudged me, nibbled on my hair, and breathed on my neck. I left the stable; Frey not so discreetly sniffed me and said I smelled; I threw Dr. Creamintin’s clipboard at him and stormed out.
Thursday was blessedly Frey-free, and instead I hung out with Fran.
“I’m freeee,” I sang, waltzing around the student council room. (I suspect it was originally supposed to be a supply closet, the room is that small.)
“Your after-school job makes you that unhappy? I would have thought spending so much time with Frey would be a dream come true,” Fran said, making a checkmark on her list of things to do. “The boy is hot.”
“Please,” I scoffed. “I’m not that shallow. Yet. Besides, there’s Brett to think of.”
“What about me?”
Speaking of my crush, in strolled Brett Patterson, his boyish smile stretching across his lips.
“Hey, Brett,” I smiled.
“Hi, Morgan. Hey, Fran,” he said, turning to smile at my friend. “What are you two up to?”
“Meh,” Fran said, waving a hand in a shooing motion at Brett. I took the liberty of answering for her.
“I’m keeping Fran company and enjoying my day off work. Fran’s got student council stuff to iron out,” I smiled.
“That’s Fran—always busy,” Brett said, fondly smiling.