The girls were called 'Lauren' and 'Avery.' Lauren had long blond hair, while Avery had black hair like many twisted ropes. Once they learned that I was 'new,' they insisted on showing me to my first class.

"What year are you?" Avery asked, frowning at the printed schedule I held in my hand.

"Three," I answered.

I had wished to start at the beginning, but Ari had said that seventeen was too old for a 'fresh-man' or a 'sophomore.' In that case, I would have pretended to be younger, but by then the documents were already made, and I hadn't wanted to complain. Ari and Soren had already gone to such trouble for my whims.

"Wait — how old are you?" Lauren gaped.

"I turned seventeen in June. On June the twenty-seventh," I added proudly.

This meant I was only just seventeen, and as I had never known the exact month or day of my birth, I was very pleased to have a real birthday at last.

"Shit. We thought you were, like, a lost middle-schooler, or something.

"I am quite small," I acknowledged. "Good nutrition has increased the average height over the past few centuries."

I had read this in a book, but in truth I had been small even for my time.

"Omigod — cute and smart? Can we adopt you?" Lauren asked.

I blinked in surprise. "Thank you, that is very kind, but I am already adopted."

Again, the pair burst into peals of laughter.

"Nope, it's official — we're adopting you," Avery said with a broad grin, linking her arm with mine. "C'mon — looks like we've got the same homeroom, even."

Lauren took my other arm, and together they marched me up the steps and through the great arched doors of the school.

By the end of the day, I would have to convince them it was no use: the false adoption records were already signed.

~ ❀ ~

Lauren and Avery had many friends. I tried to remember all their names and faces, but even my best tricks for memorization failed me. There was so much new and exciting, I found it difficult to concentrate.

The 'home room,' they explained, was a place to 'hang out' before the first class of the day. It was a place to catch up on 'home work,' which one had 'slacked on,' and to chat and make friends.

"A class for making friends!" I exclaimed, breathing the countless scents of strange people and strange things that surrounded me. "How wonderful!"

"What, they don't they have homeroom in London, or wherever?" Avery laughed as she sat slumped in her chair, watching something on her phone.

"I... am not certain," I answered honestly. "It has been... some years... since I last visited."

"So what's your story, anyway?" Lauren asked. "How d'you end up with a hot adopted dad and a cute accent?"

I had memorized my story carefully, but Lauren and Avery weren't the only ones paying attention now. A small crowd had gathered — it seemed my new friends were what Ari had described as 'popular' — and a ring of curious faces surrounded me. Beneath their scrutiny, I shrank as a snail within its shell, and could not remember what I meant to say.

"My... My parents..." I began, and tugged nervously at a lock of my hair.

Ari had combed it for me that morning, and set it with my favorite jeweled butterfly clips, which he said would bring me luck. I touched one for courage and tried to remember my 'backstory.' It involved Soren having a sister in England, and something about an accident, and guardianship, but I could not recall where to begin, and froze as I had once upon the stage—only this time, there was no one to whisper my line to me from the shadows at the curtain's edge.

"Mm... my parents... Th... they..." I tried again as my heart thudded painfully within the cage of my ribs. There were so many strangers, and I had nowhere to hide — no safety or escape, and—

"Oh my gosh!" another girl gasped. She had black eyeliner and silver piercings, and when she covered her mouth with her hand, I saw her nails were also black. "Did your parents abandon you because you're queer?" she whispered.

Another thing Ari had explained to me: 'queer' did not mean 'strange' — or rather, it did, but that was no longer the first meaning that rose to mind for the word.

There were many 'new words' like this, and new meanings, too, and I was still not sure I understood all the nuances.

Here, though, the meanings overlapped: my parents abandoned me on the fen, and the old alchemist who'd saved me had told me it was likely because my parents had thought me 'a queer sort of babe': so small, and with such large gray eyes — a strange, fey little creature better left to the elements and fate.

"Yes," I answered softly, concentrating on the many scratches and rough engravings on the surface of my little desk. "That is exactly so."

"Holy shi..." Lauren covered her mouth. Her nails were pink and sparkly, and I wanted to ask her how she got them that way, but to my alarm I noted that several of the other girls were now visibly upset, and a few dabbed carefully at the corners of their eyes.

Avery sat at the desk behind me and reached forward to rest her hand upon my shoulder. "That's fucked up, man," she said. "Like, how could you reject your own kid like that, just because of who they love?"

"Wait, so... you're gay?" This speaker was a boy with thick brown hair, blue-green eyes, a strong jaw, and rugged features. He wore a 'varsity jacket,' and from Ari's descriptions I identified him as a 'jock,'—a species he had warned me to avoid.

"Dennis!" Lauren hit his arm. "God!"

"What? I'm just asking, not judging," he answered sullenly, rubbing his elbow. "Don't hit me."

Ari had explained that 'gay,' like 'queer,' had a new meaning now. It still meant 'light and festive,' but only if you read it in old books and things. Now it meant boys who loved boys, girls who loved girls, and those who sought happiness, not in a rigid set of opposites, but with whomever lit their hearts with joy.

"Yes," I agreed, having contemplated a moment. "I do believe I am quite gay."

No one spoke. Then the boy — Dennis — raised his hand, palm outward, for a 'high five.' Cautiously, I reciprocated, and tapped his palm with mine.

"Good for you, bro," he said. "Be yourself. Hey — ever think of joining drama club?"

"Drama?" I echoed, startled.

"Yeah, you know — 'The Theatre.'" He said this in a low, pompous voice with an affected accent, which sounded a bit like mine. "That's what we are," he went on in his normal voice, gesturing at the group gathered near. "We're the 'out an' proud' freaks of this school. Couldn't you tell?"

~ ❀ ~

I was bewildered, but delighted. A theatre troupe, at school? In my brief human life, my fellow actors had been the closest thing I'd known to friends and family, and were what I missed most from that existence. They had accepted me for what I was; to find such a group of kindred souls again was more than I had dreamed.

Dennis, Lauren, and Avery stayed with me all day, though not at the same time. Different faces filled each class, and each class presented different things to learn. By lunch, I'd been to English, History, Art, and Math. At lunch, Dennis showed me how to get a tray in the 'cafeteria' and collect an assemblage of unappetizing foods. I could eat only a taste, but a taste was all I needed to determine it was not something I wished to eat, anyway.

"Not hungry, huh?" Dennis asked, dragging my nearly untouched tray towards himself.

I shook my head, keeping my eyes low, trying to recall what Ari had told me to say. "I have... diatomic restrictions," I said, "and... bad allegories."

This did not sound exactly right, but it worked anyway.

"Oh, gotcha," Dennis nodded sagely. "I got a cousin like that. One whiff of peanuts and he's toast."

I did not understand, but Dennis was happy to eat my lunch for me, and then he told me all about his volleyball team. I found this less interesting, but I listened carefully nonetheless.

~ ❀ ~

After lunch, there was 'study hall,' and then P.E.

This last had caused me much trepidation. 'Physical Education' sounded quite threatening, and I had imagined a scenario in which I might be beaten for answering a question wrong, but Ari had assured me this was not so.

He had said that while it often resembled torture, in truth it involved little more than tests of endurance and strength, and the taking of various measurements.

Avery had the same class, and she and a few other girls walked with me to the training field, where the teacher, Mr. Ramsey, had told us to assemble. He was very tall, with no hair, a deep voice, and dark skin. When he introduced himself, he told us he had been a 'rising star' in the game of basket-ball until he 'blew out his knee.'

He was wearing shorts, and both his knees looked intact to me, but I knew medical science had progressed over the past century or so.

"It just means he pulled a tendon, or something," Avery whispered, when I'd asked if 'blowing out one's knees,' was a risk of P.E. "It didn't really explode."

"Oh." I picked at the sleeve of my sweater self-consciously. I still wore my 'regular' clothes, but everyone else had changed into 'gym' clothes, which I hadn't known that I should need.

"All right boy and girls, and whatevers," Mr. Ramsey called. "Today we start off with the mile. Get your base times. Over the next three months, your goal will be to improve this time. Do you understand?"

A few students nodded or mumbled a reply.

Mr. Ramsey frowned and opened his mouth, perhaps to request a more enthusiastic answer, but something else distracted him.

"Ah, Mr. Gray, you've deigned to join us after all, I see."

The whole class turned to follow Mr. Ramsey's gaze, and I saw a boy approaching alone down the sloping grass-covered edge of the field. Like me, he did not wear 'gym clothes,' but instead was dressed in blue denim trousers, rough leather boots, a black sweater, and a stylishly slouched cap. He had dark eyes and severe brows, slanted like a hawk's, and he looked distinctly unhappy.

"Who is that?" I asked, leaning closer to Avery.

The girl on my other side answered before Avery could.

"That's Trouble," she said.

"What an odd name," I remarked, curious.

She giggled, and Avery rolled her eyes. She had helped me understand many things that day.

"That's not his name, although his name is weird. It's Constant, but everybody just calls him Gray."

"Constant Gray," I murmured, thoughtfully. "That is an odd name, though no stranger than my own."

"You'll wanna steer clear," Avery said. "Sahara's right: he's trouble, and not the fun kind."

"Yeah, his family are like, vampires, or something," Sahara agreed in a whisper.

"Are they really?" I asked, astonished.

Avery scoffed. "Not literally. They're just strange. They moved here about half a year ago, and they keep to themselves. And Gray's like, aggressively lonely, or something. He's got the looks and skills to be top dog, but he almost never talks, and when people try to be nice to him, he basically tells them to piss off."

"Oh."

Despite these warnings, I was deeply curious about this newcomer — perhaps because he was a recent arrival like myself, or because he was the only other student not properly dressed for class.

As Mr. Ramsey blew his whistle, and we all began to run, I kept an eye on him, studying him carefully.

I matched my pace to Avery and her friend, and mimicked their breathing so that I appeared to exert myself. Constant Gray merely walked with his hands in his pockets and his head down, and ignored Mr. Ramsey's vociferous demands that he run.

He had copper-toned skin, an expressive mouth, high cheekbones, and a straight, high-bridged nose. He kept his eyes on the ground and paid no attention to anyone — even though a few students shouted things at him as they ran past.

When we finished 'the mile,' Mr. Ramsey recorded how long it had taken us to run around the track four times, and then we were free to stretch and drink water, and 'socialize.'

Constant Gray walked on, alone.

"You know what, Gray? Forget it!" Mr. Ramsey called. "You get an F. In P.E. Congratulations."

"What does that mean?" I asked Avery.

"Basically nothing." She shrugged. "Gray gets As in most stuff. There's just some things he refuses to do — like run. Dude's mysterious."

I still did not understand, and watched as Constant Gray ignored Mr. Ramsey even then, and continued to walk until he had finished the mile.

~ ❀ ~

All too quickly, the end of the day arrived. Most students seemed happier than they had yet, but I was sad it was over so soon.

My new friends said goodbye to me and then boarded a large yellow bus, and then I went to sit on a bench and wait for Soren to pick me up.

As I waited, I let my senses expand a little.

I'd done my best to keep them clamped down all day, so that I did not get too overwhelmed. Now, I listened to students chatting with their friends, the rumble of engines as buses and cars drove up and then drove away again, the crinkle of snack packages, shouts and laughter, running footsteps, and many other small sounds besides.

Gradually, it grew quieter, until very few students remained.

Then another set of sounds reached me: gasps and grunts, and muffled cursing. These were sounds I knew from the streets of London long ago, and they signaled violence.

Alarmed, I rose from my seat and looked about, trying to pinpoint the source. It was coming from around the side of a nearby building, where the edge of the school property bordered a dense growth of evergreen trees.

Cautiously, I picked my way over and peered around the corner, and then my heart began to beat very fast.

There were three large boys — 'seniors,' I thought — and two of them held Constant Gray against the wall of the building. The third hit him, and spit profanities near his face, and told him to 'go back where he came from,' and called him other things I didn't understand.

Fear began to cloud my mind. The scene recalled memories of pain and shame and terror, and that was from before I lost my humanity. There was only one time anyone had helped me, and although that kindness had ultimately led to a different, worse cruelty, I had never ceased to be grateful for it.

Perhaps I might return the favor now.

Fighting both remembered and present fear, I stepped forward, straightened my spine, and called in a slightly shaking voice.

"Get thee gone, knaves! Or I shall... report thee!"

It seemed to work. The three stopped and stared at me, and if I had turned purple and sprouted wings I do not think they could have appeared more astonished.

Then they began to laugh, though, and to walk towards me.

I could get away from them if I needed to — I was not helpless — and if they hurt or frightened me too badly, I might do much worse without meaning to.

"Well, well, what have we here?" asked one.

"It's the little tranny fag Ave's been hanging with all day. Dunno why you like that bitch, Dawg."

"'Cause she's hot, bro. You know you'd hit that if you could. 'Sides, I don't care who she hangs with...unless it talks to me." He sneered in my direction.

I did not understand much of this at all, except that the last bit was aimed at me. My mind began to cloud, my heart to race, and I knew if I didn't think of something fast, I would be in a worse kind of trouble.

Trying to imagine what might scare such creatures as these, I was struck by an odd inspiration. I stood at the building's corner, and could see along both sides, while they could only see me. Turning my head, I pretended to wave at someone along the other side.

"Mr. Ramsey! Over here, Mr. Ramsey! Quickly, please!" I called. My voice was a high squeak, but it carried well enough. Then I turned back to the scoundrels and offered them my best glare. "He is coming," I said. "You had best away, or I shall tell him what you've done."

They stopped and glanced at one another, and then — to my utter relief — it worked. Backing away, they shot me hate-filled glares and kicked at Constant Gray where he sat slumped against the wall.

"Better watch your back," one called, pointed at me. "We out for you now, freak."

In a moment, they were gone.

Constant Gray got to his feet, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. His legs shook, and I went to him and set my hand upon his back.

"Are you well?" I asked. "My name is Fenn Dayraven, and I am new at this school."

He did not answer. I reached for his hand. "Perhaps you ought to come with me. There is a 'nurse's office,' and—"

My fingers barely brushed his skin when he jolted as if I'd shocked him.

"Don't TOUCH me!"

He spun and shoved me, hard.

It might not have budged me half an inch, for I am really quite strong, but a human boy my size would have been knocked flat.

Not wanting to reveal that I was anything but a human boy, I fell back and landed in the rough dirt, and heard my sweater tear beneath me.

I gazed up at him, astonished, and he stared down at me. His ebony eyes were wild, but not with anger or fright. In fact, he looked as if he were about to cry.

"Don't touch me," he said again, though in a whisper this time.

Then he stepped over me, and walked away.

I raised myself and looked after him.

Ari had told me that everyone was different in their own way, and that the most different were often the most in need of friends.

I did not know what made him different, or why he fascinated me, but Constant Gray, I decided then, was in dire need of a friend.