At last, after those final days spent scrambling to finish projects, the day of the showcase finally arrived. Students and their companions poured into the cafeteria to set up their projects on their assigned tables as Mr. Woods and the other teachers scurried around offering setup assistance and last-minute words of encouragement.

The smells of dozens of homemade treats danced through the cafeteria. A deer with Christmas ornaments dangling from its antlers stamped its hooves anxiously as a kid ran past with a hot glue gun, screaming something about their owl pellet sculpture falling apart. The chaos roared almost as loudly as it had the day Anna had lashed out with her bees, and nobody's family members had even been let inside yet.

Taylor was grateful for her spot on the far side of the cafeteria by the library. The scent of cinnamon and applesauce wafted from Anna's cookies on her left. On her right, Mason put his project to good use as his fingers skittered across the miniature forest of termite chunks he had patterned after different trees. He handed a piece shaped like coral and painted with delicate blue waves to Taylor with a proud smile. "I hope it helps."

Taylor thanked him, but he was too busy running his eyes over the acacia in her painting to notice. "That belongs in a book," he said before returning to his spot with his termites crawling on his arms in soothing circles as he put on a pair of noise-cancelling headphones.

Eliza set her project across from Taylor's. Feathers drifted from the collage every time anyone so much as breathed in its general direction. The flowers it was meant to depict blurred together in a formless bouquet. "I should have used more glue," she muttered as her hummingbirds fluttered over to greet Jack.

"Don't worry about it." He gestured to his jars of mud with sloppily sharpied labels. "Your project's real pretty. Reminds me of wildflowers."

A sudden whoosh of humid air announced the arrival of everyone's families. A middle-aged woman staggered straight toward the cluster of tables by the library as her pig left muddy hoof prints on the linoleum. They snorted in unison as they eyed Jack's project. He grimaced as Harry firmly planted himself between him and the woman, fur bristling.

"So this is what you've been wasting so much time on," the woman said. "What is this anyway?"

"Moisturizing cream," he said through gritted teeth. Hummingbirds perched on his shoulders and chirped reassurance. "I made it from soil by the bayou, wildflowers Eliza helped me find, and some other stuff."

"So it's mud, and you couldn't even make it yourself. Typical."

Ugly, squealing laughter echoed through the cafeteria. Eliza bit her lip. "Ignore her," she whispered.

But it wasn't that easy. Jack's shoulders slumped. "I worked really hard on it," he said softly. Harry backed away from the pig with his head hung low but his hackles still up.

Taylor took a deep breath and marched straight to Jack's table. "Can I try some?" she asked. She thrust out her hand right in front of the woman. Her flies buzzed around the jars. Eliza's hummingbirds fluttered from Jack's shoulders to join them in a defiant dance.

"Leave it to the fly girl to be interested in filth," snarled the woman.

"Try this one," Jack said. "It's my favorite."

Taylor unscrewed the jar he offered her and sniffed the brown mush. A gentle, flowery scent caressed her nose. "Lavender, huh?" She scooped out a glob with her fingers and spread it on the back of her hand. The smooth mixture left her skin feeling soft and surprisingly clean. "It feels even better than it smells!"

Harry's fur flattened as Jack smiled. "Thanks. It helps me sleep."

Before the woman could hurl another insult, a cow strolled between her and Jack. A heavyset man with a mop of hay-colored hair put a hand on the woman's arm. "Glad to see you found him already." His concerned eyes showed how he really felt, but they brightened up when he noticed Jack's smile. "I'd love to give your project a shot."

The woman suddenly gagged and swayed as if she was ready to puke and collapse at the same time. The cow lowed softly as it offered her its side to lean on.

The man winced. "I'm afraid your mom and I should stay out of your way for now though." He flashed Jack a quick thumbs up as the boy deflated. "Still super proud!"

"See you later, I guess," Jack said.

"Looking forward to it," his dad said with a sad smile. "Glad to see Harry's got a promising career as a model," he called over his shoulder as his cow escorted the pig and her owner to the restroom.

Jack's eyes widened as he looked at Taylor's painting. "Man, it really is him." He stroked his companion's back. "What do you think, buddy?"

The boar squealed like a teenager at a boy band concert.

"My thoughts exactly." He carefully screwed the lid back on the jar and put it back with the others. "Sorry you had to see that. Mom is... really something."

"Don't worry about it." She gulped as the main bulk of the crowd surged toward their tables. "We've got plenty of other people to deal with tonight."

A stampede of parents and companions pushed its way from one table to the next as Mr. Woods and the other teachers struggled to squeeze close enough to get a decent look at the projects. "Make way," a familiar voice yelled over the crowd, "Proud parents coming through!"

Taylor's dad led the rest of her family to her table with a jaw crackingly huge smile on his face. "You've really outdone yourself with this one," he said. Pitch purred in agreement.

"It took me years to control my companions well," her mom said. Her butterflies twirled around her in a living rainbow. "You make me so proud!"

"It's nothing really," Taylor said. "Mr. Woods taught me how to do it."

"Don't sell yourself short," Lydia said. Her snakes rose out of her sleeves to get a better view. "Your project is loads better than mine was, and, last I checked, Mr. Woods isn't the one who spent hours teaching flies to paint."

Aunt May nodded. "You're very talented, honey. You could open up a whole gallery with this sort of thing."

"It is pretty neat, isn't it? I'm lucky I had great sources of inspiration." She snuck a glance at Anna. Her friend beamed with pride as an old man with a black bear lumbering behind him and a warm, gap-filled smile helped himself to one of her cookies.

"Don't let your inspiration distract you too much tonight," her dad teased. "There'll be plenty of time to gush about her later."

"Come on, guys," said Lydia. "We'd better go check out some of the other projects so she can focus on showing everyone how awesome she is."

With that, they left Taylor to face the oncoming crowd alone.

Droves of people asked all sorts of questions. "Did you really get your companions to paint that or did your parents do it for you?"

"Why is there a big black scribble in the middle of your painting?"

"Flies? I suppose they're better than rats, but couldn't you have tried harder to attract something better?"

Taylor hid her frustration behind a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Each question added yet another crack to her presentation-perfect façade. "Yes, they made it. That's a swarm of flies. So what if my companions are flies? Why would I ever want anything else?"

At last, a friendlier visitor addressed her.

"Tell me about your technique," Mr. Woods prompted her with a clipboard in hand. A dozen curious eyes pinned her like spotlights as other students turned to watch. "It must have been hard to get flies to paint something with such precision."

Taylor took a deep breath and rubbed the termite chunk in her pocket. The slightly rough, gently curving lines helped her relax and slow her breathing until it was as regular as the tide. "It was actually easier than I expected. Once I found out they like applesauce, I used that to help me guide them."

"Very clever." He scribbled down something on his clipboard. "And what does this project say about you?"

"It's about how my feelings about my companions have changed." She pointed to the chaotic black lines in the middle of the painting. "The swarm represents how I felt about my flies at first. They turned my life upside down by getting me bullied and making me lose my best friend. I kept thinking I was garbage and couldn't make the thoughts stop."

Eliza mouthed, "Sorry," as she watched Taylor present. Harry nuzzled her leg.

"The tree represents the new friends I made and how they made me feel better like cool shade on a hot day. And the boar enjoying the sunset while he soaks in the mud reminds me of how I eventually learned to appreciate my flies instead of wishing they could be different. Things that seem bad at first can be awesome if you give them a chance."

Mr. Woods was smiling, and so was the rest of the crowd that had clustered around her to see the painting. Taylor was too deep in the zone to notice as she explained the bright yellow specks intermingling with the flies beneath the hive.

"Those beautiful bees represent the amazing person who inspired me to make this painting in the first place." Anna's jaw dropped as everybody's attention focused on her and her bees. "Instead of applesauce, I used honey from the sweetest person I know to guide my flies to make the finishing touches."

Anna couldn't hold back anymore. She ran over to Taylor and swept her into a bear hug. "Oh my God, Tay! That is the nicest thing anybody had ever said about me!"

"Excellent work, Taylor," said Mr. Woods as his ferrets chirped excitedly. As he left to grade the other projects, a swarm of people descended upon her table like flies zooming to a picnic.

But Taylor didn't hear a word anyone else said for the rest of the evening. All she knew was that Anna had hugged her, and she had never felt so amazing.