The Last Changeling

by Chelsea Pitcher

  A moment later, Mr. Jenkins trudged across the grass.

  Alexia immediately began to cry. I did not know whether tears actually streamed down her face, but the sobs escaping her lips were metered to perfection.

  She’s done this before.

  Climbing up the trunk, I peered through the thick foliage and watched Mr. Jenkins sit down. The pants of his dung-brown uniform inched up, revealing mismatched socks.

  “Miss Mardsen?” he asked tentatively. His hand lingered a moment above her knee before he placed it in his lap. Tufts of silver hair stuck out from under his cap.

  “I’m sorry,” Alexia said, erupting in fresh sobs. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “I’m not sure I understand what you did,” Mr. Jenkins said after a moment. “You don’t mean to say … ” He glanced at the school doors.

  “I set off the alarm. I needed someone to talk to and … you’re the only one I have.”

  “Oh my.” Mr. Jenkins leaned back, distancing himself from the situation. “Miss Mardsen, that was a very unwise thing to do.”

  “I told you, you can call me Alexia.”

  His face softened. “Alexia. What happened?”

  “Remember that asshole boyfriend I was telling you about? The one that’s a total loser ?”

  “I seem to recall something, yes.”

  “I just found out he’s been sleeping with my best friend. I mean, can you think of anything more horrifying?”

  Mr. Jenkins struggled for words. “That’s terrible. I’m very sorry.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I wasted four months of my life on that—that creep!” She hid behind her hands.

  “But I don’t understand, Miss … Alexia. You came to the school because—”

  “I wanted to reach you,” she said between muffled sobs. “I knew you’d come if you heard the alarm. I know it was selfish. I just felt so lost and I wanted to talk to somebody.”

  “Well, that’s—well, I wouldn’t call it selfish. But it wasn’t entirely wise. I didn’t give you a key to the school with this in mind.”

  “I know,” Alexia exclaimed. “You were just helping me get that book I forgot before midterms. And when I think about the trouble this might get you into, all because of my stupid problems, I just feel so awful.” She buried her face in her knees, howling in anguish.

  “Now, now, don’t do that.” He patted her back timidly. “It’s okay. Nobody heard but me, and it all worked out just fine. Listen. Would you like to go get a soda and talk all this out?”

  Alexia lifted her head. “That would be nice.”

  Mr. Jenkins rose and locked the doors of the school before he and Alexia walked to their cars. Behind the tree, we waited in silence. When the cars disappeared down the darkened street, we emerged. Twenty minutes later, the first of the invitees arrived.

  We let them in through the window.

  –––––

  The crowd was a ruffled bunch as I led them down the hall. I was pleased to see that they had, for the most part, dressed in black. When we reached the auditorium doors, Kylie held the door open so they could pass through. Taylor ushered them to their seats and Keegan stood by, doing an impromptu dance.

  “What’s with the dress code, anyway?” Kylie asked when the students were seated. She gestured to her black sweatshirt and tiered-lace skirt, the latter of which she wore over jeans.

  “Stealth,” I said with a perfectly straight face.

  “You did it for your own amusement,” said Keegan. He smoothed his black tracksuit.

  I smiled. I got the feeling that he, like myself, viewed clothing as costume. “Possibly,” I said. “But the most important reason is to promote a feeling of unity. We are divided from one another by the false idea that we have nothing in common. Dressing in the same color, though a small detail, creates the feeling that we do in fact share commonality.”

  “Tricksy,” Keegan replied.

  Beside him, his sister fretted. “I hope Alexia’s all right.”

  “I hope she keeps Jim away long enough.” Taylor tossed a glance my way.

  I caught it and held on for a moment. “He’d have to walk around the entire school and peer into these windows, which, if you haven’t noticed, have curtains covering them at night.”

  “Oh, he’d do it,” Taylor said.

  “He’s shifty,” Keegan agreed.

  “This is quite a turn-out.” I tallied the crowd for the third time. “Ready to take your places?”

  “Yes, sir.” Keegan gave a dramatic salute.

  “Good. Scatter yourselves amongst them.”

  Keegan and Kylie entered the auditorium through the main doors. Taylor followed me down the hall, toward the auditorium’s back entrance. “This is crazy,” he said.

  “All the more reason we should be doing it. Will the lighting be easy?”

  “Piece of cake. I did tech last year on Singing in the Rain.”

  I just nodded. I sensed that he had more to say.

  “I actually considered trying out,” he said after a minute. “But I figured I’d suck, so I offered to do lights instead.” He shrugged the memory away. “I’ll frame you in soft light.”

  “So I appear to them as a dream.” I opened the backdoor to the auditorium.

  Taylor stepped halfway through the door, stopping in front of me. “You appeared to me that way.” He slid his fingers down a strand of my hair, revealing a leaf hiding there.

  “The moonlight suits me.” I tucked the leaf behind his ear.

  “Do you want me to raise the curtain?”

  “I can do it.”

  “It’ll take me a minute to get to the lighting booth.”

  “That’s all right.”

  Taylor paused, glancing at my lips like he wanted to kiss me. Nowadays, I got that impression from him most of the time. More startling still was the feeling that I wanted to kiss him too. Of course, I couldn’t act on it.

  Why are you doing this? Keegan’s voice asked in my mind.

  “I’ll see you soon,” I said to Taylor, looking away.

  He slipped past me, heading to the balcony. I went in the opposite direction. I was almost to the stage when the curtain began to lift of its own accord—at least, it appeared that way. I was confident that Taylor had not yet reached his post and would not see it happening. I wanted the curtain to rise in one swift movement, fast enough to startle the onlookers. I couldn’t trust hands to do this.

  Even my own.

  Now every eye was on the stage, trying to spy me in the shadows. Lights were lit about the room, but none upon the stage just yet. Then it all changed. The lights in the room went out and Taylor turned a soft pink spotlight on me. I felt a fluttering in my stomach.

  Relax. You’ve done this before.

  But never for humans.

  I stepped to the front of the stage, welcoming the visitors into my dream. “Hello friends, strangers … everything in between.” I spoke in a clear voice, letting the sound resonate throughout the room. “Some of you know me as Lora. Some of you may have heard other names for me.” I curled my lip, watching them glance at one another, whispering. “Perhaps I have heard names for you as well. It seems, at times, the sole purpose of Unity’s elite is to brand us with identities that could define us for the rest of our lives. To be perfectly honest, that doesn’t sit well with me.”

  Another pause, carefully crafted, as the invitees raised their eyebrows and shifted in their seats.

  “Now, let’s face it. Identity itself cannot be ignored. Identity determines who we are. Yet in this world of a million possibilities, we are led to believe that every choice we make is a reflection of our identity. Each time we choose a brand of carbonated sugar water, we are judged for it. Each time we patronize a franchise at the mall, someone else gives us a
name. But identity is not the summation of our tiniest choices. It is a combination of our most basic beliefs, our actions, and our dreams. It is formed and reformed every day.” I leaned in, as if sharing a delicious secret. “Identity is the reason we are here.”

  The whispering stopped.

  “This elusive concept, which should be treated as an ongoing process of discovery, is used by a small minority to make us feel we are not deserving of the most basic human rights: love, acceptance, self-worth. Identity is used by the beloved to separate themselves from the rest, using rules that they themselves create. Who can give me an example of an identity deemed unacceptable by the elite?”

  “Gay!” Keegan offered gleefully from the back of the room.

  A couple of people laughed. Several others tittered. But the majority of the crowd remained silent, shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

  He tried again. “Fat!” He patted his belly and plodded on before the laughter lost its momentum. “Or chubby. Chunky. Hefty.” He grinned sheepishly. “I’ve heard ’em all. Husky.”

  “Poor,” Taylor yelled from his place in the balcony. Several people turned in his direction.

  While their heads were turned, a girl in the back found her voice. “Dorky,” she called out, and immediately tried to duck behind her voluminous glasses.

  Someone across the way stood up, adding, “Ditzy.”

  And just like that, the girls took over the room. One yelled “Slutty,” while another offered “Prude.” The din grew louder as more joined in, and just when the clamor grew too great to distinguish any words, I brought them back.

  “Exactly,” I said, my voice booming over the crowd. “The longer we are given to think on it, the longer the list will be. In the created social order of high school, we are required to project very specific identities in order to be accepted. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of trying to fit in.”

  I paused, letting the gravity of the words sink in. Half the crowd had risen to their feet, and these enthusiasts were nodding.

  “I’m sick of trying to mold myself into someone else’s definition of acceptable, beautiful, valuable. I know I’m valuable. Why must I spend every day of my life proving it to other people? And at night, as I lie in bed, I think about the efforts I made that day to fit into an impossibly narrow standard, and I feel like I’m living a lie.”

  Living a lie as a human. Living a lie as a princess. After all, what is royalty but a social invention? An imaginary title? It only has power because people believe in it.

  “But now I’m done. I’m taking back my life and I’m taking back this school. And I need your help.”

  “What can we do?” The voice was so soft I barely heard it. When I located its source, I sincerely questioned my perception. Gordon Grayson, the small boy from the Merry-Straight Alliance, who’d never so much as uttered a word in any of our meetings (who had, in fact, ignored my greetings each morning when I passed him on the way to math class), had spoken from his place in the front row. His pointy chin was tilted upward, an arrow aimed at my face, and he pressed his arms firmly into his armrests as he waited for my reply.

  “We can do anything we want.”

  Gordon sniffed, turning his head away.

  “Well, answer me this,” I said. “When you received your invitation, did you think anyone would show up?”

  He looked at me in silence.

  I tried again. “Did you think there was any chance we would actually get into the school tonight, or did you think we were being overly optimistic? Foolhardy?”

  Gordon clutched the sides of his chair, his knuckles whitening under the strain. “I thought … ” He cleared his throat. “I thought it was probably a scheme to get us in trouble.”

  I smiled for him alone. “An elaborate scheme to punish you for believing in the possibility of change?”

  His face reddened.

  “Not surprising,” I said quickly. “It is easier to believe we are being misled than to believe in our own power, isn’t it? But we did it. We broke into the school without breaking a window or a lock.”

  “You did it,” Gordon said.

  “And you came.” I turned to the people next to him. “And you came, and you came. If it was this easy to come together, think of what we can accomplish with the slightest bit of effort. Tonight, all you had to do was show up to learn that so many people feel the way you feel and want to make a change. Think of what you can do tomorrow, next week, next month. Think of the power our numbers have if we put them toward a cause that benefits us all.”

  “Like the prom?” Taylor called out.

  “The prom,” I said with practiced indignation, “is just another chance for them to put us in our place. Or is it?” I grinned. “As someone who has only been in public school for a short while, it is easy for me to see the ridiculousness of such a ritual. We dress up in elaborate ensembles, are forced to pair off into perfect units of two, and prance about like peacocks—all of it, it seems, in preparation for a party that never comes. But perhaps we can gain more from this experience. Perhaps we can use it as an example of the way we will access our collective power for the rest of our lives.

  “The principal has taken it upon herself to keep people with certain identities from attending the prom. Just as in the past, it has been decided for us which identities are appropriate and which are not. But you have the chance to stand up to these prejudices, to make it known that you won’t tolerate injustices based upon real or invented identities. You have the chance to tell Unity that regardless of someone else’s perception, you deserve the same rights as your peers. And to accomplish this great feat … ” I looked out at their hopeful faces. “All you have to do is show up.”

  18

  TayloR

  The week before prom, both Brad and Lora were elected to the Prom Court. That Friday, Brad caught up to us at lunch. He swaggered across the grass and leaned against our tree, hands in his pockets. James Dean style, I guess. And he looked down at Lora like she was the only one there, giving her that patented sleaze-ball grin.

  “Hey babe.”

  Oh, God. Did he really just say that?

  “Hello, Brad.” Lora’s eyes sparkled the way they did when she was excited. Before her, I never thought anyone’s eyes could actually glisten. “What can I do for you?” she asked.

  For a minute, they played out this old-timey movie scene where two lovers meet for the first time. Coy glances. Little smirks. I thought I was going to be sick.

  “I figured it out,” Brad said.

  “You did?”

  “Okay, not at first. But after that meteor shower, I started thinking about the stuff you said. About iron, and … ” He stuck out his hand. A ragged dandelion drooped over his fist, still dangling its roots. Smeared across the petals …

  “Is that blood?” Kylie’s eyes stretched to their limit.

  Brad glared at her before turning back to Lora. “Blood has iron in it. Iron comes from stars.” He beamed. “A flower that shines with the light of the stars.”

  What an idiot. Does he really think she’ll fall for that?

  “You did it,” Lora said, climbing to her feet.

  Um. What?

  “I did it,” Brad repeated dumbly. Everything about him was stupid. God, I hated him and his stupid dumb face.

  “So now you have to go out with me,” he said.

  “I have to,” Lora agreed, taking the blood-speckled weed. She slid it into the pouch she wore around her neck. “Well done.”

  “So I’ll see you tomorrow.” Brad grinned.

  “Tomorrow it is.”

  No. She can’t be serious.

  Kylie gasped. “But that’s—”

  “Prom,” I finished for her.

  “You have to,” Brad said again. “I mean, you agreed.”

  “Oh, yes,” L
ora said, clasping her hands. “I think I will find that quite enjoyable.”

  She’s messing with him. She has to be messing with him.

  “But there is a complication,” she added.

  “Complication?” Brad repeated.

  “Too many syllables?” Keegan asked.

  “The thing is,” Lora broke in, “I must officially enter the prom with Kylie. It’s political. You wouldn’t understand.” She waved her hand. “But once the party is underway, I see no reason why you cannot be my secret date. That is,” she stepped forward, trailing a finger beneath his chin, “if you don’t mind being my dirty little secret.”

  Brad nodded like one of those bobbleheaded dolls.

  “We might even have an after party … if you’re elected King,” she added with a wink. “One has to be mindful of her status. You taught me that.” She was still touching him. I wanted to pull her hand away. Scratch that—I wanted to rip off his ugly face. How could she do this? Had she ever cared about me at all?

  I should’ve been happy when Brad ambled away, but it barely registered. My heart had ached a million times since Lora’s arrival, but now the pain in my chest was something I couldn’t even name. It was all consuming.

  “Holy crap,” Kylie said when Brad was out of earshot. “You’re a scary good actress.”

  Lora shrugged in that careless way of hers, settling in beside me. “Are you all right?”

  Sure. I just can’t look at you.

  “Perhaps I should have told you that I was entering the prom with Kylie,” she said. “But I must set an example for the group. You understand that, don’t you?”

  “Yep,” I replied. “I understand everything.”

  She’ll go to prom with Kylie. She’ll go to prom with Brad. She’ll go to prom with anyone except me.

  She narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean?”

  “You baited him! You got him to give you his blood.” I turned away. There was nothing she could say to make this better. I’d finally seen who she was.