by K. M. Shea
“This is wonderful! It’s beyond wonderful. You four are amazing!” I said, plugging my jump drive into the computer with no small amount of affection. Orion might be worried about his son, but after this, I was pretty sure the kid was going to turn out OK.
Behind Perseus, I was aware that the black and buckskin centaurs were elbowing each other. “You ask her,” the buckskin hissed.
“No, you!”
“No way! You!”
“What Hercules and Hermes are trying to ask, is could we join your class on the next fieldtrip? We know you’re going to the Field Museum tomorrow, but we can’t make it. We have astronomy class,” the girl centaur said, joining Perseus in standing at my side as she snorted with disgust at her night class. “But next time, could we?”
“Absolutely,” I said with a benevolent smile, internally grateful I had asked Perseus if he wanted to come to the museum with my advanced placement group. “Just ask Perseus, and he’ll let you know what we’re up to.”
“Actually, we were hoping we could swap phone numbers,” the black centaur nervously said, standing in front of my computer with his buckskin pal.
“Oh, sure,” I blinked, dropping my backpack and peeling off my jacket before digging my cell phone out of my jeans pocket. “But first, could I get your names?” I asked, scrolling into my contacts list.
“He’s Hercules; he’s Hermes,” the girl centaur said, pointing to the black first before thrusting a finger in the buckskin’s direction. “I’m Athena, and you’re Morgan Fae.”
“Yep,” I acknowledged. “Okay, Hercules first. Do you have a cell phone?”
“Yes!” Hercules said, nodding eagerly.
Swapping numbers was a quick process, especially because I didn’t know anyone else named Athena or Hermes. Perseus got in on the phone action too, so I was pretty confused when the four centaurs stared at their cell phones with satisfaction.
“Yes! We have a legit human contact!” Hermes smiled, scrolling the screens of his smart phone.
“Morgan, how many contacts do you have in your address book?” Perseus asked.
“Uhh…I think like a hundred?”
The centaurs stared at me with gaping jaws.
“Erm, my best friend has over two hundred contacts, but she’s the secretary of our student council, so it’s pretty necessary for her,” I offered, wondering if they were dismayed that I had so few phone numbers.
“I only have nine,” Hercules said in a small voice.
“Oh…,” I said. “But, I mean, isn’t that natural? I didn’t get the opinion that many beings in the MBRC have cell phones.”
“They don’t,” Athena agreed. “Unless you’re with upper management. And I think some handlers are given cell phones to use in emergencies.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Frey has a cell phone. He’s a texting fiend.”
“You text, too?” Hermes asked, his eyes growing wide.
“Of course she does! She’s human!” Perseus scoffed.
At that moment, Asahi entered the room, a singing Madeline on his heels.
“Mooorgan! I want an oooorgan! And maybe some pudding!”
“Pudding doesn’t rhyme with Morgan or organ,” I dryly burst her bubble.
“Oh! Did you get a new computer?” Madeline asked.
“It looks very…sleek,” Asahi said.
Oh crud. I forgot about Asahi’s computer complex. Time to do some damage control. “Yeah, Perseus, Hercules, Hermes and Athena got it for me. It’s going to be great! I can show some video clips with this puppy,” I said, noting that I had perfect-strength Wi Fi. Apparently there was some magic in the MBRC.
“Video?” Asahi asked, perking up.
“Yes, that old computer you got me, Asahi, was really wonderful. But this computer is more compatible with my stuff,” I loosely explained before turning back to the centaurs. “Guys, I can’t thank you enough,” I said in a lowered voice.
Athena smiled and brushed a purple bang out of her eyes. “I’m glad we could help. Come on Hercules, Hermes. We have to get to class,” she sighed, eyeing Perseus with jealousy. “Have fun, Perseus.”
“I will,” he assured her. “Ow!” he uttered when the feisty female centaur kicked him in his gut.
“Bye, Morgan,” Hermes said, following Athena out of the room.
“We’ll text you,” Hercules promised before chasing after his friends.
“Thanks again, Perseus,” I whispered before ducking away from the desk and waltzing over to Asahi. It was time to assure him that his computer really was “great,” even if it was a boldfaced lie.
16
The Truth about Brett Patterson
I was fairly nervous Friday morning. I mean, I was taking a group of magical beings to a museum. A public museum. And yeah, it was a group of twelve nice kids, (NOT the Pastels), but one of the party members previously had fleas, which everyone thought was normal.
So, naturally I was starting to question my sanity. I resolved to find Fran and wail to her about my upset stomach just so I could complain about something to someone. The problem was that I couldn’t find her.
Last night, she seemed to cheer up when I bought her an ice cream. By the time I dropped her off at her house, her forehead was no longer creased with stress and— it sounds overly dramatic to say it—despair. Something was off with my friend, but I was confident she would tell me when she was good and ready to tell me, not before then.
But even if she was feeling off…I could always find Fran. So, after checking the student council room, her locker, our hangout cafeteria table where the rest of our friends were, and her first-hour classroom, I decided to try the student council room again.
“Where are you, Fran?” I muttered as I tried calling her on her cell phone, again. My call immediately went to voicemail.
I hurried up the hallway, noting with faint surprise that raised voices were echoing out of the student council room/closet. It was a guy and a girl, and they seemed to be fighting. As I drew closer, I was able to identify Fran’s voice and, to my surprise, Brett Patterson.
“No, Brett, I’ve told you a dozen times! No, no, NO!” Fran shouted. Her voice was tight with ire. “My answer is not going to change!”
“Why not?” Brett asked, frustration curling in his voice.
I slowed down, leaning against the lockers near the open door of the student council room. I peered inside. Fran was standing there, her knees locked, legs planted as she folded her arms across her chest. Brett stood in front of her, his profile visible to me. His eyes were drawn together, and he looked sad—and perhaps annoyed—rather than matching Fran’s anger.
“You KNOW why, Brett!” Fran said, her voice cracking like a whip. “I would never betray Morgan!”
…What?
“You wouldn’t be betraying her!” Brett groaned.
“I don’t know where you get that! Dating the guy she likes is betrayal, Brett,” Fran said, her jaw clenched.
My heart actually froze in my chest. I lost all coherent thoughts.
Fran and Brett?
Brett liked Fran?
I swallowed thickly, vaguely aware of the flat taste filling my mouth.
“But, Fran,” Brett quietly said, “I like you. A lot.”
“Sorry, but I don’t feel the same way,” Fran said, sounding very cold. I’m pretty sure Brett didn’t hear what I heard: the tears clogging the back of Fran’s throat.
She liked him.
Fran liked Brett. That much I was sure of.
“Fran, maybe if I tell Morgan that I don’t like her—,” Brett feebly started before Fran interrupted him.
“Don’t you dare. I will not have you breaking her heart,” Fran snarled. “In fact, if you don’t learn to accept that I refuse to date you, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to cut all ties with you.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“No, I am not! I treasure Morgan’s friendship more than anything. So no, I will not go out with you. No
, I don’t like you. Now leave, please!” Fran begged.
“I won’t,” Brett stubbornly said.
“If you won’t, then I will,” Fran said. She moved so fast, I didn’t have time to straighten up from my leaning position on the lockers.
Fran froze when she realized I was there. Her eyes widened, and the tears she had been holding back started falling. “Morgan,” she whispered as I stared at her.
I straightened up, my head still trying to catch up with the conversation I had just heard.
Brett liked Fran.
“Fran,” Brett said from inside the room. “Fran, what’s—oh,” he said, freezing in the doorframe when he saw me.
I ignored my crush and instead took a deep breath.
“Morgan, I—I,” Fran stammered.
“Let’s take a walk, Fran,” I suggested, twisting around. I couldn’t face Brett. Not like this.
Brett liked Fran.
It suddenly all made sense. The random notes, the way Brett always seemed to pop up whenever Fran was around. Fran must have been treating him so coldly and rudely to try and rebuff him.
I was aware that Fran joined me, walking down the hallway at my side. She was shaking, and her tears were falling faster now. Her mascara was getting smeary.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
Fran flinched. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” she said, brushing her tears aside.
I nodded. “How long?”
“Since this summer,” she said.
Ah—then this was long before I joined the MBRC.
Brett liked Fran. That single thought kept barraging my mind, making me feel like a broken record.
“He knows I like him?” I asked.
Fran clenched her eyes shut for a moment before opening them again as we walked down the mostly abandoned hallway. “I accidentally told him when he asked me to homecoming,” she whispered.
I paused and turned to stare at my long-time best friend. The girl looked like someone had kicked her puppy. She was nervously wringing her hands and biting her lip.
Brett liked Fran.
And Fran had kept this fact from me for months.
“You like him,” I said. It wasn’t a question; it was a statement.
“No, I wouldn’t do that. No, Morgan,” Fran protested.
This also explained why Fran had been so gung ho about Frey and me. If I liked a different guy…. “This explains a lot,” I considered before my eyes were drawn back to my long-time friend.
Fran looked crushed. The weeks of trying to hide her feelings and being forced to lie had finally caught up with her. The poor thing; it must have been torture.
I sighed. “I’m sorry, Fran. I’ve been a rotten friend.”
Fran froze, her shoulders hunching around her ears. This was not what she expected to hear. “What?”
“You like him. You like Brett, and he likes you. Man, I must have been blind not to notice this,” I groaned, tempted to pinch the bridge of my nose in a very Devin-like gesture. Fran uneasily shifted, and I smiled and reached out to hug her. “So, I’m very sorry.”
Fran returned the hug with the strength of a baby. “You’re not mad?” she whispered.
“No, why would I be mad?” I asked, my forehead wrinkling as I backed out of the hug.
“Because you like Brett. You’ve liked him for years, and I—,” Fran started before I waved her into silence.
“That’s the past, Fran. What kind of friend would I be if I were to hold you back? Like I said: you like Brett—don’t you dare try to deny it—and he likes you. You should go out with him,” I said. The words came out pretty easily even though they tasted like dirt in my mouth.
Don’t get me wrong, my heart was totally cracking here. The guy I had liked for ages had a major crush on my best friend. Talk about a painful, one-sided love. But that was my problem, not Fran’s. I wasn’t going to push my emotional baggage onto her.
“But, Morgan…that…. You can’t mean it,” Fran insisted.
“I do,” I nodded. “What, don’t you believe me?”
“Well, at the beginning of the year…Ashley and Caitlin,” Fran reminded me.
Ah, that was it. At the beginning of the year, two of our very good friends had stopped talking to each other—and still weren’t to my knowledge—because the guy Caitlin liked had a crush on Ashley.
“Fran,” I laughed. “Please give me more credit than that. You are my best friend. You’ve been there during all my weird spells. If I let a guy get between us, I would be a horrible person.”
“But friends always fight over guys,” Fran said.
“Maybe other teenage girls do, but we’re different,” I said. If my studies with my MBRC students had taught me anything, it was that teenagers needed to have the maturity that all the magical beings have. We need to have the courage to step out of the roles, stereotypes, and clichés we always push ourselves into. “I choose you, Fran. Our friendship means more to me than any dating relationship. So go ahead, date Brett. I freely give you my blessing. Although I do wish you had told me about this sooner.”
“Really?” Fran asked.
“Really. Now go,” I said, playfully pushing her back down the hallway, towards the student council room. “And Fran,” I called.
Fran turned around, her eyes regaining some of their former mischievousness.
“Tell Brett if he ever makes you cry, I’m going to set Whitey loose to maul him,” I said. I had a feeling Frey would totally get a kick out of chasing Brett in his canine form. He never liked him much anyway.
Frank beamed from ear to ear. “Thanks, Morgan,” she said.
“You’re welcome.”
The school day wasn’t much fun.
I mean, it’s pretty hard to secretly nurse a broken heart when your best friend is walking on cloud nine over the same guy. But Fran did make it as easy on me as she could. Even though she was officially going out with Brett, she forbid him to get within a thirty foot radius of her and me. (She had the boy totally whipped, and they hadn’t even been going out for a full day yet. That’s my girl!)
American Government was beyond awkward since I sit next to Brett. We exchanged uncomfortable hellos and then pretty much ignored each other for the rest of the hour until the bell rang.
I was gathering up my stuff, incredibly aware that Brett was standing by my desk, scratching his neck. “Hey, Morgan,” he started. “I just wanted to say, um, thanks. Fran told me what you said, and I don’t think she ever would have gone out with me otherwise,” he said.
“Yeah, no problem,” I said, shoving my pencil bag in my backpack. I would not look up at him. I would not look up at him!
“So, um, sorry about—,” he started, but he was interrupted by one of the most unexpected forms of help: Frey.
“Hi, Honey,” Frey said, poking his head into the classroom before stepping inside, his canine eyes fastened on me. “I’m walking you to your next class,” he said, firmly stepping between Brett and myself.
I have never been so utterly grateful for that jerkish furball as I was that moment. “Great, glad to see I have a vote in the matter,” I grinned.
“You don’t have rights,” Frey snorted as I stood. He grabbed my backpack for me and herded me out of the room. “Alphas always rule the pack,” he said as he joined the hallway traffic flow.
I breathed out and let the alpha comment slide as I took my backpack from the werewolf. “Thanks.”
“No prob.”
“How did you find out?” There was no question in my mind that Frey didn’t know about the Brett-Fran-Morgan love triangle.
“Fran.”
“Ah, I should have known.”
“She worries about you.”
“And she should. I’m going to get acid indigestion from today’s fieldtrip.”
“Hey, I’m coming with. You’ll have no problem,” Frey promised.
I chuckled before musing on the sentence. In a way, Frey was right, but not the way he m
eant it. Ever since I had regained my memories, I had really come to see Frey as a true friend. Thankfully, I had abandoned my girlish crush on him—after all I had Brett—no.
I actually froze in the middle of the hallway. “No,” I breathed. “ohno, ohno, oh no.”
“Morgan?” Frey asked, nudging me out of the way of oncoming traffic before dragging me to an empty staircase. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh no,” I groaned, shutting my eyes. My life was about to blow up in my face. The reason I was able to resist Asahi’s brilliance, scoff at Aysel’s otherworldly beauty (you know, besides the fact that he was a jerk), reject Frey’s obvious hotness, and survive in an organization that had some of the best-looking males I had ever seen was because of the excessively loyal crush I had on Brett.
Now, because I had to give up my stupid one-sided love—much like a tragic, rejected heroine in one of those romance books Fran was forever reading— I was going to be a sitting duck.
“I must be strong,” I said, gritting my teeth. I couldn’t allow those magical pretty boys to get to me. I wouldn’t! I mean, I couldn’t be that shallow, right? (A sinking part of me whispered that yes, I probably was.) “This is going to make life far more difficult,” I tersely said.
“Uh, Morgan, don’t worry. I promise the fieldtrip won’t be that hard,” Frey said, sounding worried.
“What?” I asked.
“What?” he returned.
“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head, pushing my sudden realization to the back of my brain. I would have to be on my guard. There was no way I could nurse my crush over Brett because he dated my best friend, but there was also no way I was going to let myself become some romantic sop just because High Elves, werewolves, and the Pooka happened to be hot.
Wait, scratch that last one. He wasn’t even here!
“Let’s go,” I said, mustering my courage.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Frey asked.