“Unless…” Dáithí’s voice cuts in, and I turn to him.
“Unless what?”
“No,” Felix says.
“Sorry for eavesdropping, but it’s one of my favorite things to do,” Dáithí announces. “Fe, maybe Ari?—”
“No.”
“—should know what’s?—”
“No.”
“—going on.”
I look from Dáithí to Felix and back again. “I think that’s a good idea.”
“What part of the word ‘no’ do you all not understand?”
Dáithí leans across my lap, and I push back in my seat to give him more room. I’ve gotten used to casual touches and affection with my friends, but sometimes it still feels like my personal space is being invaded. Or that I’m invading theirs, even when they initiate it.
“I’m not saying you need to, uh,give details,” Dáithí hisses. “But telling him about the situation that’s made hockey difficult for you over the past couple of years isn’t a bad idea.”
Felix opens his mouth—presumably to say “no”—then pauses to consider. That’s good, because now I really need to know. Hockey is difficult for Felix? Why?
“Fine,” he concedes. “It’s not like it’s a secret or anything. Or a big deal. It happens to everyone. Every shifter, I mean.”
Okay, now I’m curious. What could they possibly be talking about?
Dáithí straightens back up, and I turn expectantly to Felix.
Who immediately looks away. “It’s not a big deal,” he repeats. “I’m at a stage of my life where I, uh… where my feelings get intense sometimes. And my senses are a little sharper too. It makes it hard to… think.”
What? “I’m sorry you’re going through a difficult time,” I say by rote. “Is there a-a treatment, or… I guess I don’t really understand. Is there a reason for this?” Wait, didn’t he say before that every shifter experiences this?
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Dáithí declares. “You suck at this, Felix.”
“You suck,” Felix retorts, and then they both snicker like randy teenagers. I look past Dáithí to Eoin, who’s not paying any attention to us at all. Too bad, because I could really use some support and maybe interpretation right now.
“Here’s the thing, Ari,” Dáithí begins blithely.
“Oh no,” Felix mutters.
“Shifters are wildly emotional and volatile, and because they also have the ability to change themselves into a completely different shape, the life force, in all its wisdom, decided that maybe they didn’t need to experience the full onslaught of hormones while they’re teenagers trying to get used to growing bodies.”
“You’re the worst,” Felix accuses.
“So instead, they have two puberties. One while they’re physically changing, and another a few decades later to allow for hormonal changes. It’s called reproductive puberty and usually begins in their late thirties. Our Felix is a bit of a late bloomer, so he’s dealing with his now.”
I frown, trying to parse Dáithí’s rapid explanation, and then blink when it clicks. “Oh. Heightened emotions, surges of irritation and lack of control?”
Felix nods miserably.
“Ohhhh. So that’s why you…”
They both wait for me to finish that sentence, but I can’t think of a way to do so that’s not rude.
“Uh, I mean… It must be frustrating to see your teammates squander opportunities to score.” I have no idea if that’s actually what happens or not, what with never having watched more than the clips of Felix beating up his teammates. It seems logical, though.
