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Mrs. Baxter pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. Her newest student had, as expected of a mid-term transfer, had trouble finding a right fit in the growing social circles of middle school. It didn't help that her speech inflected oddly, or that in the right light her eyes seemed to glow leading the other children to label her as 'weird' or even 'creepy'. She sympathized, she told herself, but that didn't excuse the situation they were now in.
She had found the young Miss. Corbeau standing in front of a recently graffiti'd wall, holding the offending paint supplies in her hands.
"I swear it on my honor, Mrs. Baxter," Abigail protested. "I had no hand in this event!"
"Enough," Mrs. Baxter said, her tone perhaps a bit more sharp than she'd intended if the slight flinch of her student was any indication. "I know you have had a hard time fitting in, but this latest outburst is a step too far. You will be serving in-school suspension starting today, and will work with Mr. Morrison, our school custodian, to remove this graffiti. Do you understand?"
"I didn't -..."
"I didn't ask for more protests, Miss Corbeau," Mrs. Baxter said, trying to keep her voice level. "I asked if you understood."
Abigail cast a pleading glance around, her eyes landing on the grinning face of another student further down the hall before they ducked out of sight. It was Celeste Albright. She'd recognize that long, curly red hair anywhere. Of course, it had been Celeste who had asked Abigail to stand waiting by the freshly painted wall.
It was a mural, she had said. Part of an art class project that she was working on, and she had needed to get more supplies. The redhead had pleaded with her to stay and keep an eye on things in case someone came to ruin it. Given her experiences in the Human school system over the last week, Abigail could see that being a concern.
Only now did she realize the other girl had deliberately deceived her with the intention of causing her trouble. She had been lied to. Growing up in the Faerie courts, Abigail learned at an early age that lying results in harsh punishments.
"I... I understand, Mrs. Baxter," she said, finally, bright green eyes boring into her teacher's own. "I understand with full clarity."
~_~_~_~
"And she got in soooo much trouble!" Celeste Albright crooned to her friends. "You should have seen her face, it was delicious!"
"Wish I could have seen it," Monica Carlson said, snickering. "The creepy little weirdo should go back to wherever she came from, if you ask me."
"What if she talks?" Kyle Estes asked.
"Who'd believe the freak over me?" Celeste said, coolly as she brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. "I am the headmaster's daughter, after all."
"Um, Celeste...?" Monica started, her voice cracking slightly. "You're hair..."
"What about it?" Celeste huffed, fighting with another stray lock before triumphantly brushing it too aside.
"It's coming out," said Kyle. "Like... All of it."
"What do you mean it's..." Celeste stopped, finally looking at her hands. Strands of red hair -her own hair - wove around her fingers like ribbons. "No!"
Pushing her way passed her two friends, the balding girl rushed to the bathroom to get a better look in the mirror. It had to be a trick, somehow. A prank. It couldn't be real. Things like this just didn't happen in real life, right?
The door to the bathroom slammed open as she rushed to the mirror, eyes closed and wishing it to be a bad dream. Opening them, she saw her own face reflected back, the girl in the mirror's head was shorn nearly bald, leaving just a thin layer of red fuzz. Her horrified shriek could be heard across the entire school.
On the far side of the campus, Abigail Corbeau grinned. There were a multitude of ways she could have made the little liar pay for her deception. Having her skin crawl with insects each night, leaving only bite marks behind the next morning. Enlisting the aid of a crow with removing her lying tongue from her mouth. Abigail liked crows. They got along well. No, in the end she decided to hit her vanity. Maybe in the time it took her hair to grow back, the little liar might learn a lesson in humility.
Another horrified shriek sent a flock of birds scattering to the skies from a nearby tree. Unlikely, Abigail conceded. At the very least the little liar may think better of messing with her in the future. And if not, there were always the crows.