by K. M. Shea
I admit it, I got majorly creeped out. Garden Guy may be hot, but if my brother Michael has done anything for me, he has taught me to run away from all dudes who seem to be the extreme type, like this guy.
“Umm, I think I need to go now,” I said, backing up.
Garden Guy blinked twice before he abruptly dropped out of his romantic mode.
“Are you serious?” he asked, his black eyebrows snapping together while his eyes grew darker. “I’m out here at sunrise. SUNRISE, MORGAN! I don’t normally get out of bed until noon. I time everything perfectly, the flippin’ sun even hits me like I’m some kind of crappy Romeo, and you don’t remember?! I HAVE BEEN HANGING AROUND A HIGH SCHOOL FOR YOU! THE LEAST YOU COULD DO IS SLAP ME!” he shouted, stalking into the Peace Garden before turning and coming back towards me, creating a pacing circuit.
I took a tiny step backwards. Was he some sort of sadist?
“I even hired a dew fairy to steal your cell phone and stupid logbook so I knew where you were going after school! I do not enjoy being a stalker, Morgan! I enjoy being followed, not vice versa. Why won’t you REMEMBER, you stupid, little human?” Garden Guy ranted. “I had to make a special request to try and get your memories back. I made a deal with Aysel. AYSEL, Morgan, AYSEL. I am a Fairy Council Member. I shouldn’t have to make deals with spoiled elves!”
He whirled around, anger dancing in his yellow irises. He stared at me for a moment before his face morphed into a look of pained torture. “Morgan,” he whispered, his eyebrows slanting up, his eyes crinkling down. “Why won’t you remember me?”
I couldn’t answer him.
So he left, disappearing down the sidewalk.
He wasn’t in the garden after school either. (Not that I looked or anything.)
I didn’t tell anyone about this encounter, not even Fran. It seemed too odd, too unreal. His emotions were so raw—as though I was someone special to him. Was I really that special to anyone?
Friday was cool. I think I fell asleep again in Spanish—I can never seem to remember anything that happens in that class. I get the feeling that my grade is going to suffer because of that.
Fran and I hung out for most of Saturday. We went to her house and played around there. She’s got a karaoke machine, so some of our friends came over and we really belted out some songs. Sunday was typical. I went to church, did some homework, and watched a movie with my brothers.
I dunno. The weekend seemed somehow cheapened by that guy’s display of loyalty and emotion.
Wait, what am I saying?! He’s clearly a nutcase!
Anyway, I approached school with Michael on Monday morning with a great deal of reservation. I had mixed emotions when I walked by the garden and didn’t see hot/psychopathic Garden Guy.
School was…school. I fawned over Brett, talked with Hunter, and Fran kept me back after our last class let out to form an impromptu study group. She’s really bad at political classes, and I happen to study American Government like a fiend so I can answer any question Brett Patterson asks. (Lame, I know.)
Anyway, she had a test coming up, so Fran wanted to review with me for an hour.
When I finally left—Fran was still in the school computer lab, skimming internet study guides when I took my leave—the front entrance of the school was pretty much abandoned.
Our athletic fields are behind the school grounds, and any club that was still meeting met inside the building, so it was just me. I knew I had a while before Michael would be done with football practice, but I had a sketching assignment to finish for my art class, so I figured the Peace Garden would be the perfect nature scene to copy.
I found a spot, settled down, and dug out my sketchpad.
But after several seconds of sketching I heard…a horse neigh.
Now, I’m no farm girl, but I know horses aren’t supposed to be in the school garden. So, I set my sketchpad on my lap and twisted around, looking for the practical jokester that was trying to pull one over on me.
No one was around.
When I untwisted my spine I swear I saw a horse through the bushes straight ahead of me.
“Whoa,” I said, rocketing to my feet, sending my sketchpad flying.
The horse (It was reddish brown with a black mane and tail) disappeared.
I blinked a few times and rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn’t delusional. I did a 360 degree inspection of the area before slinking off in the direction the horse had disappeared in, plunging straight into a sea of bushes.
“This is ridiculous,” I said, shoving my way between two fat bushes. “Seeing a horse in the middle of the city? I have finally lost my mind, ack!” I said when I got a branch in the face.
I made it through the wall of bushes and spit out a leaf. “I should have just taken the path around,” I muttered darkly.
There was a large hedge in front of me, but I could hear voices.
“Did she see you?” someone asked.
“I, I think so,” a timid voice replied.
A horse whinnied.
“I mean she did! She did!” the timid voice shrieked.
Carefully, I stalked towards the hedge before walking along side it. (This time, I would follow it around. Even I couldn’t throw myself through three solid feet of branches and leaves.)
I was all prepared to peer around the corner like a sneaky snake, but when my eyeballs saw the sight, my whole body jerked out from behind the hedge.
Standing in the middle of the peace garden was a chubby guy with red hair who was steadily growing bald, a cute, petite, bay-colored horse, and one giant, beautiful, black horse that had yellow eyes like the moon.
I didn’t hesitate.
There was never a question in my mind who that black horse was. After all, he broke my brain the first time I found out who he was. And as soon as I saw him, I knew what he had done for me.
“DEVIN!” I shouted, running across the lawn.
He reminded me about the MBRC.
10
A Pervert Becomes My Hero
Devin tossed his horse form aside in a blur and sprinted towards me. I threw myself at him, giving him a strangling hug when we met in the middle.
We were laughing, hugging, maybe I was even crying a little bit. Devin’s hands stayed around my waist, which is a real accomplishment for that pervert.
“I was going to kidnap you if this didn’t work,” Devin said into my hair.
I laughed. “You should have just been your perverted self. I would have smacked you and remembered your tricks!” I said, releasing my choke hold on him and getting off my tippy toes. (He was practically holding me in the air.)
“Why did this work anyway? I thought Aisis made me forget all about you?” I asked as Devin released me but tugged on my hair.
“She did, in a way. She told you to forget all about me, but she never told you to forget about my horse form.”
“She didn’t know you met him in any of his alternate forms.”
I looked up at the speaker and finally recognized Dave the chubby vampire.
“Dave,” I grinned, jogging the few feet to give him a side hug.
“Do you remember me, Morgan?” a timid voice asked.
I turned to face the last being in the Peace Garden: Westfall.
“Westfall!” I gushed, walking the few steps before throwing my arms around him. “I’m sorry this is probably making you uncomfortable, but it’s so good to see you,” I said, squeezing his horsey neck as I buried my face in his thick, black mane.
Westfall lowered his head and rested it on my shoulder. “I’m very glad you’re back, Morgan. I never got to say goodbye.”
The little unicorn sounded so sad, this time I really did cry.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, squeezing him tight one more time before stepping back to look him in the eyes. “I’m so sorry,” I said, stroking his cheek after rubbing tears out of my eyes. My hand froze as I realized something was different about the mystical equine. “Westfall, your horn! Where is i
t? What happened?”
“It got sawed off,” Westfall said with a proud little snort. “It will grow back over time, but it needed to be removed for my stay at the therapy barn.”
“You mean you’re ready?” I asked, my eyes widening.
“Almost. I have been brushed and petted by lots of humans this week, but there’s one last step. Morgan, would you be the first human to ride me?” Westfall asked. He backed up slightly, tucking his head against his neck, steeling himself for a no.
I reached out and placed a hand on Westfall’s neck, unable to keep an idiotic smile off my face. “I would love to,” I said.
Devin laughed, materializing at my side. “Welcome back, Morgan,” he said, throwing an arm over my shoulder.
“Do I get to keep my memories this time?” I asked. I was too happy to be bothered by Devin’s touchy-feely character.
“Yep. It was part of the deal,” Devin confirmed before carefully studying Westfall. “And now we have to figure out how to smuggle this little coward back out of the school grounds. He had two meltdowns on the way in here.”
“What deal?” I asked, my eyebrows furrowing.
“Morgan?”
After a week of utter cluelessness, I finally recognized this voice. It was Frey.
I turned around—Devin, that grabby Pooka, moving with me so he could keep his arm on me—to face Frey.
He was standing by the hedge, in the exact same spot I stood when I got my first glimpse of horse-Devin. He didn’t look angry. In fact, the way he sadly looked at me with his big green eyes and his hands shoved in his pockets reminded me of an abandoned puppy.
“Hey, Frey,” I said, walking forward. (Devin’s arm slid off me like a dead fish.) I stopped a few feet short of the silver-haired werewolf.
“So, you got your memories back,” he said, lowering his eyes. He nodded his head a few times while awkwardly hunching his shoulders.
“Yep,” I said, biting my lip. I paused before saying, “Look, Frey,” at the exact same time Frey said—
“Morgan, I’m—.”
We both broke off our sentences and blinked at each other.
I did my best to smile. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I really was being a first-class nag at the end. I was really stubborn and bratty. Sorry. I shouldn’t have held your nature against you.”
Frey shook his head and looked at the ground. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t let Devin get to me like he does.”
Behind us, Devin snorted.
I whipped around to glare at him, but Frey continued.
“I was born in human society. I should know better. I should have been more sensitive to you; I was just so focused on using you,” he said.
I was surprised by this admission. I didn’t think I would ever hear such an emotionally intelligent apology uttered from a boy’s lips.
“So, let’s forget about it,” I suggested. “We were both being stupid. Sounds good?”
Frey nodded a few times before cracking a smile. “Yeah. Sounds great!”
“Wonderful. Thank you for that Hallmark Channel reunion,” Devin said, rolling his eyes as he walked forward to ruffle my hair.
“Devin!” I objected, slapping his hands away. “Don’t even start!”
“What? I, for one, think it’s a good thing you two have made up. You’re probably going to be seeing each other outside of class a lot anyway,” Devin said with a kingly shrug of his shoulders.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows.
“Not much. Come to the MBRC tomorrow, ‘kay?” Devin asked, his head lolling to the side.
“Um…sure,” I agreed.
“If you ask Dr. Creamintin, he can direct you to my class center,” Westfall said. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, cutie,” I said, walking over to Westfall and hugging him.
“We had best return to the MBRC. Ahhh, my instructors are going to lower my grade because I missed my lessons today,” Dave mourned.
“So?” Frey asked, one silver eyebrow arching. “You’re already the lowest in your class. Do you not remember why Morgan knows about us in the first place?” Frey asked, his familiar bossiness returning.
“Technically, that was your fault,” Dave said, emphatically pointing at the werewolf.
“If you just drank your tomato juice—,”
“That drink is poison!”
“Oi, could you two stop the student and teacher bit for once and get Westfall back to the MBRC?” Devin asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
Frey frowned, but Dave grabbed the werewolf’s arm. “Let’s do him this one favor. I’ll explain the situation,” Dave said in a lowered tone. “Come, Westfall. Let’s find my umbrella. If I don’t get some shade soon, I’m going to closely resemble a lobster,” Dave said before setting off through the bushes.
“You’re sneakier than usual today. Have you been sneaking sips of A+ blood again?” Frey suspiciously asked as he followed Dave, Westfall trailing after them.
“So. What deal?” I asked, turning to face Devin.
Devin sighed and rubbed his forehead. “You are almost as stubborn as that mangy mutt.”
“Devin,” I said, tapping my foot.
“Yeah, yeah. Come here,” he gruffly said before reaching out and pulling me into another hug. This one was tight. I was pressed uncomfortably close to his chest, and he rested his lips on the top of my head.
“Hey, Devin,” I said, growing cross when I noticed the way my heart was erratically beating. This was Devin. Playboy, perverted Devin. He might be hot, but I think he’s had more groupies than any boy band.
Think about Brett. Think about Brett. The familiar mantra popped back into my head, and I clung to it with relief.
“You had better be worth it,” Devin grumbled into my hair, squeezing me tighter still as I wriggled in his grasp. “Not only will I be the laughing stock for robbing the cradle, but it was Aysel! You have no idea how much that pains me,” he sulked as he continued to hold me, poking my spine for good measure.
“Um, what?”
“Just say thanks.”
“Thank you, Devin.”
“You’re welcome, Morgan.”
“…”
“…”
“…Could you let me go now?” I asked.
“Oh. My. Gosh. Would it kill you to be quiet for thirty seconds?” Devin growled.
I didn’t reply and instead fell silent, my face pressed painfully against the zipper of Devin’s jacket.
After a while, he released me, ruffling my hair, and stepped back. “See you, Morgan,” he said.
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, brushing off my jacket with the utmost concentration to hide my blushing face.
When I looked up, he was gone.
I didn’t think much of the incident, and inside I mostly rejoiced, utterly excited to remember every part of my life again.
Perhaps if I hadn’t been so self-absorbed, I would have remembered that Devin normally just fondles me; he never clings as he did that afternoon.
If I hadn’t been so self-absorbed, maybe I would have been able to tell him just how grateful I was.
This time, Tuesday afternoon, when I shut my locker door, I was prepared to see Frey there. “I’m ready!” I declared, my jacket already on, backpack hefted over my shoulder.
Frey only nodded, but a lopsided smile broke across his lips as he watched me.
“So, you two are talking again?” Fran asked, standing up next to me before she reached out and pinched my cheek. “How cute! You’re just like a couple of elementary students.”
“Owie,” I muttered as Fran yanked my face up and down by my cheek skin.
“If you’re ready, Morgan, we should head out. Work’s waiting,” Frey said, slowly edging backwards.
I grabbed Fran’s hand and pulled it away from my face before rubbing my red cheek. “Yeah, I’ll second that. See you tomorrow, Fran.”
“Uh-huh. Bu-bye,
” Fran said, smirking at me and wriggling her fingers in a suggestive wave.
After we left the building and picked up a singing, umbrella-toting Dave on the edge of the school grounds, Frey filled me in. “So, I talked with Dr. Creamintin, and he told me that from today on, you’re going to be a privately employed worker at the MBRC,” Frey said as we walked towards the train station.
“That sounds a lot like an unwilling volunteer or conscripted slave,” I said, wrinkles puckering on my forehead.
“No, you’ll be paid,” Frey said. “But because you’ll be going there five days out of the week (maybe more based on your clients), you’ll be getting a monthly train pass, compliments of the MBRC. You’ll get the passes through me. Your employer decided it would be easier to have me dole out monthly passes rather than send them to you.”
“Wait, I have a specific employer?” I asked, starting to feel irked. Unless it was my cyclops union, I wasn’t sure I wanted to work for the bureaucratic MBRC. And I don’t even know what bureaucratic means!
Frey uncomfortably scratched the base of his skull. “I really don’t want to get in the middle of this,” he muttered.
“Devin made all the arrangements for you,” big-mouthed Dave blabbed.
“He what?” I darkly said.
“It’s better if Dr. Creamintin explains it to you,” Frey said, shooting Dave a warning look.
I’ll admit, I was pretty psyched when I got the monthly train pass. I have this thing for punch cards and tickets. Don’t ask. Because of my already good mood, getting to the MBRC was an even better experience than usual.
“Morgan! You’re back!” Tiny greeted me, his face beet red with cheer.
“Hey there, Tiny! How have you been?” I asked as he turned cranks and gears so we could get through the door.
“I’m great. It’s good to hear you’re back with us. Now, don’t forget me when you meet your posh new clients,” he winked.
The smile fell off my face. “My what?”
Frey coughed and hacked like Dave when he’s near a smoker before making an X with his hands at Tiny. As if I didn’t notice. “Right then, let’s go. You don’t want to keep Westfall waiting, do you, Morgan?”