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“You have a good future ahead of you. A year ago, you didn’t know any of this existed. It’s only natural to feel overwhelmed. But you adapted well! Even as the only human there, you made it. You’re one of them now.”
“One of them…” That was the last thing I wanted to be.
“Hang in there a little longer, baby. You will get used to it and it will all feel so normal. You belong to that…” she hesitated. “World. You know what they say…”
“Fake it till you make it,” we said at the same time. I chuckled. “Thanks, Mom. That helps.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Despite his promise, Morningstar didn’t show up for dinner that evening. Which was fine by me, since I’d eaten mine in the bathtub. But he didn’t show up the next day either, or the day after that. He didn’t show up for the whole of two weeks! Not that I missed him. Also, I was too busy dealing with the new status quo.
What was the new status quo? Excellent question! In few words, I was now the most popular girl at the Academy, the wealthiest, best dressed, most admired and envied chick everyone wanted to hang out with. I was the only one who had a pixie. My outfits after classes slayed. When I walked down the halls, girls and boys alike stepped aside and looked at me like I was the eighth wonder of the world. They all said “hi” as I went past them, and they all knew my name. And used it.
No more dumpster girl, no more kuchka, and no more whore, slut, man-eater. Sheba, Sammy, and Kitty were now following me everywhere, trying to get into my good graces. At first Pandora, had a fight with Kitty, who was her best friend, but when she saw the redheaded succubus didn’t care because I was suddenly more popular than the daughter of Satan and Paz’s ex fiancé, even she changed her attitude toward me. When she first greeted me in the dining room. – with a smile! – I almost tripped over my own feet. Pandora was being nice to me?! After I’d stolen her boyfriend?! What had become of this world?
Lorna had kept her word and given me her notes. After that, she just stayed out of my way, mostly. Even though she wasn’t mean to me anymore, or trying to hurt me or kill me, the fact that she was the only one who seemed to keep her awful opinion of me intact despite all the changes made feel oddly safe. Made me feel like the Academy hadn’t gone completely bonkers.
My name jumped up on the worth scoreboard. Mila Morningstar was right under Sariel Gracewing and Francis Saint-Germain. I had no idea why, though. I hadn’t done anything special lately. Except carrying a pixie with me everywhere. Soon, I understood what was happening. The professors had stopped taking points from me. Instead, they were giving me 20 or 30 points randomly, usually just because I was there, just because I existed. I knew it wasn’t fair, but that did free up a lot of my time. I wasn’t struggling to keep up anymore. I didn’t have to. Everyone had stopped giving me homework and assignments. I didn’t know how much this miracle would last, so I decided to take advantage of it. There were a bunch of optional classes I’d always wanted to sign up for but couldn’t because I’d simply never had time for extracurriculars.
I took up Literature.
Literature was taught by Professor Lovecraft, and it was every Friday, from 10 AM to 11 AM. I knew the class would be mostly empty, since the other students were in the same situation as I had been before my name suddenly changed to Morningstar. There were four other students – three girls from the Merciful Death Cabal, and one guy from the Righteous Death Cabal. When I entered the classroom and sat at the front, they immediately started whispering among themselves. I ignored them. Corri was sitting on my desk, which was the new usual.
“We have a new student in our class,” Professor Lovecraft started. “Mila, thank you for joining us.”
I nodded. He was a tall, lanky guy, with a long, oval face, deep set eyes, and short brown hair. He wore a rather old suit, a pair of shoes that he hadn’t polished in a while, and a gold pocket watch. The watch must have been the most expensive object he owned. I had no idea what he was. A vampire? He had no fangs. His suit jacket didn’t have the long slits on the back that indicated he had wings, so he certainly wasn’t an angel, a harpy, or some sphinx. Sphinxes looked much more noble than him, anyway. If I didn’t know better, I would have been tempted to say he was human.
“Today, we shall dive into an all-time favorite of mine. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. Has anyone here read it?”
I put up my hand. “I have, a few years ago. It’s about a young, handsome man who is dashing on the outside, but rotten on the inside.”
“Very good, Mila. I want you all to read it or re-read it this weekend, and we will go deeper into Dorian’s world next Friday. For now, let’s talk a bit about Oscar Wilde and the socio-economic background of his works.”
Professor Lovecraft went on like that for half an hour, then the discussion digressed, and we ended up talking about the gothic novel. I liked that about his class. It didn’t have the rigidity of all the others, and the teacher didn’t mind letting the students have a relaxed, natural conversation that he guided gently from time to time.
“Professor, you’ve written some gothic novels.” A dark-haired mermaid from the MDC said.
Mr. Lovecraft blushed a little. “Yes, I have. But I wouldn’t call them novels. More like… novellas. Or short novels.”
“Tell us about them?”
“This is interesting,” I whispered to Corri. The pixie jumped slightly, taken by surprise. She was bored out of her mind! Not a fan of literature, apparently.
“Let’s see… it’s hard to explain.” After a short pause, he gathered his thoughts and started speaking in a changed voice. He’d been carefree and cheerful a moment before, but as he talked about his books and went deeper into the themes and story lines, a shadow fell over his face, and a note of gravity sneaked into his voice. “I’ve always had this interest… this obsession, even, with beings that are beyond good and evil. You may call them gods, I guess, and I do… That’s what I call them, with the caveat that they have nothing to do with God or Satan, and they are not false gods, either. The Great Old Ones. I didn’t invent them, by the way. They’re not a figment of my imagination. I discovered them when I was studying the ancient myths of the natives, then I went deeper, researched old religions all over the globe, and discovered some tribes in Africa had similar stories. They spoke of cosmic beings that had come to Earth a long time ago, ravaged what was to be ravaged, then hid deep underground to sleep until their time might come again. Sleeping and dreaming, waiting for a new age when they would ravage the Earth once more.”
Chills ran up my spine. I stood up straighter, my eyes and ears completely focused on Professor Lovecraft. Great Old Ones. Sleeping and dreaming.
“They have powers, these tribes say. The people who worship them are granted great physical strength, endless wisdom, and even immortality. So, I took these myths and stories, added a sprinkle of imagination and mystery, and I turned them into short novels. Mostly for myself, though. I mean, I did manage to get published by a small press, but I don’t sell many copies. And that’s okay.” His voice lowered even more. “It just makes me feel better to put it all on paper. The Great Old ones, the terror they bring, the isolated groups that still believe in them and bring sacrifices to them…” He waved his hand dismissively. “Not all of it is true. You know what? I was inspired by obscure myths that aren’t probably true. It’s just a hobby of mine.”
My hand went up faster than lightning. “Where can we find your books? Do they have them at the library?”
“N-no.” He was shocked that I asked. “I can lend them to you, if you’re really interested in checking them out.”
“Yes, please!”
“Well, I don’t have them now. Maybe next Friday? If you’re still here…”
I smiled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
