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Chapter Text

The day started out like any other.

Your ceiling was something you had grown very akin to over the past year or so you spent in Bonesborough.  You swore that if someone pulled you aside and asked you to perfectly recreate the patterns of the dark wood grain on paper, you could in an instant.  

You found it almost hypnotizing to watch the light of the rising sun slowly reveal the patterns in the wood---while you tuned out the sound of your dad arguing with someone on the phone.

Your Palisman stirred on his perch next to you before fluttering over to land on your forehead, gently stirring you from your daydreaming.  You looked up and smiled at the small creature before lifting a hand to stroke his fragile wings.

"I'm alright, Pluto."  You smiled,  "couldn't sleep is all."

School starts in 20 minutes.  The small poodle moth chirped in a language only you could understand.  You're late.

Shocked, you looked at your alarm clock.

7:23 A.M.

Shit.

You whipped the blankets off your bed and hurriedly made yourself look presentable.  You fixed your hair, brushed your teeth, and splashed some water on your face to make yourself look less undead.  You quickly grabbed your Hexside uniform off the floor and nearly ran into your door pulling the cowl over your shoulders.  Finally, you grabbed your backpack and nearly slid down the steps.

"Dad!  I overslept!  Could you--"

Your dad held his pointer finger up at you, his other armored hand pinching the bridge of his nose as he 'uhuh' and 'mhm'ed at the person on the other side of his scroll.  Someone was speaking harshly to him on the other end—but you couldn’t hear.

You tuned into what your dad was saying as you hurriedly pulled on your boots. You watched as he picked up the bird-like mask that sat on the back of one of the kitchen chairs and positioned it up on his forehead.

"Yes---they will be there to pick it up as soon as possible . . . uh, no, but we had a deal.  You know I can't---"  the caller on the other end seemed to interrupt him with a lot of yelling.  He scowled, "then find the ingredients, then.  They will be down to pick it up asap and if you don't have it ready, I'll---"  The person on the other end interrupted him again before he could continue,  "---thank you.  Yes.  Goodbye."

He hung up the call and waved the scroll away with a curse.  He took a breath and turned, the smile you knew all-too-well came back as if nothing happened,  "Hey, kiddo!  You're up late."

"Yeah.  I uh … need a ride to school."

Your father sighed.  His shoulders fell and he scratched the back of his head, looking tired.  "Can't today, sorry.  There's been a bit of an emergency … I'm supposed to be stationed out on a mission by now but I couldn't leave without ..."

"Oh, no worries."  You waved him off and approached the door.  "If you're already late that's fine, I can sneak in like I did last time."

"Oh, you sure?"

"Yeah.  No biggie."

"Okay, well, be careful.  Your elixir should be ready to get picked up after school--- don't forget.  I should be back from this mission, uh … soon."

You edged out the door and started your way down the steps, anxious as to not be too late.  "Yep!  See you later Dad!"

"Hey, wait."

You poked your head back in the door again, "yeah?"

Your dad was facing you now, and he sent you a gentle but tired smile.  You noticed a few wrinkles that you swore weren't there before.

"Have a good day, kid."

"You too," you returned the smile.  "Be careful---can't have you dying on me or something."

He chucked,  "and you stay out of trouble."

"No promises!"  You said and promptly shut the door behind you.

• ••

School was---well---school.  

Hexside definitely wasn't the worst place to be, you had been to other schools in the area that were far more mentally taxing and boring, that's for sure.  It just so happened that Hexside was the one that your father grew up in---so you felt inclined to do your very best and live up to his image.  It also helped that he had friends on the staff, so you got the help you needed to keep up with the other students.

How was that working out for you?

Well, that was debatable.

You've had trouble with your magic ever since you were little.  Your dad said it was just a hiccup in your genetics, that you would grow out of it with age, and you believed him.  You excelled at illusionism and abomination magic but struggled with other things so, naturally, you had trouble choosing a coven.  Eventually, though, your father made you join the Illusionist coven.

"Bards are nerds and Abominationists are dumb,"  He scoffed to you that afternoon years ago.  "You don't wanna be a dumb nerd, do you?"

"Illusionists are just as nerdy ... and you studied all of them!" a younger you retaliated.  "You, Dad, are the biggest dumb nerd."

Your dad barked a laugh---and he didn't laugh loud often.

You always thought it was dumb to chose a coven, especially if you aspired to be in the same coven as your father---but you supposed everyone had to start somewhere.  And since your illusion magic was the strongest, you stuck with it.

You couldn't really complain.  There were far more opportunities for illusionists, and you didn't usually get along with the abomination crowd, anyway.

But, you managed to stay at Hexside for three years and counting and even make a few new friends---which is far more than you ever accomplished at any of the schools you were booted from for being "too much of a distraction,"  "too dangerous,"  or even the dreaded; "not a good fit for our education system."

Hexside overall was pretty patient with you.  Even most of the students usually minded their own.

But still, the bullies definitely outweighed the friends.

You were about hallway to school, zooming past on your Palisman staff and dodging pedestrians as to hopefully not be too terribly late.  The weather was nicer than normal so the fresh air was welcomed as you daydreamed and hummed along to whatever song was stuck in your head at the moment.

Of course you didn't see the flying blob of purple abomination goo until it was already too late to dodge.

You yelled out as the mass barreled into you and knocked you off-balance---sending you tumbling backwards into the bushes.  Pain erupted from your skull as you slowly came to see a familiar, tall girl with pink hair and three cold grey eyes staring down at you.  Her gang of friends laughed at your condition as you slowly recovered and sat up.

Oh, well.

At least you weren't hurt this time.

"Very funny,"  you said matter-of-fact before wiping the goo from your face.  "You'd think you would get a little more creative with these things as time went on."

"Hah!  But yet it still catches you off guard every time,"  Boscha barked a laugh and slapped your back, giving you a nice shove before shoving her hands in her pockets and sauntering off.  "See you in class, glitch."

A spark of hurt ignited in your chest at the old nickname. Ouch.  She remembered.

Boscha had been in three of the four schools you transfered out of before coming to Hexside, however her bouncing around schools seemed to work more in her favor considering she---somehow---made friends in all sorts of places.  Maybe it was her skills in abomination magic, maybe it was her talent in grudgby, but people flocked to her like birds.

This also meant she knew your past and wasn't afraid to spread it.

As you picked yourself up and began combing the mystery goo out of your hair, you heard your name get called.  You looked up to see a shorter kid bounding up the school's grounds, another girl slightly behind in his wake.

"We saw what Boscha did!  That jerk!"   The boy who called your name---a beyond smart underclassmen by the name of Gus---exclaimed as he approached.

"You really shouldn't let her treat you like that,"  his companion added, crossing her arms.  The girl was Willow; someone you grew to befriend only recently when Gus dragged a few more people into your small, misfit study group.  "Seriously---we should really take this up to Bump … this is far worse than I thought."

"It's fine, really,"  you laughed, your staff disappearing as Pluto found his spot at the top of your head.  You rolled your shoulder that was still achy from your fall.  "Reporting her will only make things worse---it's best to just take it until she gets bored."

"Right, you mean until we all graduate?"  Gus scoffed.  "Common, let's get to class.  We can debate this more later."

You chuckled and shook your head.  You could look after yourself, but still you appreciated your friends' concerns.  Willow helped you pick the remaining bits of goo out of your hair as the three of you began walking to class.

"Where's Luz?  Is she sick?"

"We think so,"  Willow answered.  "She hasn't answered any of our texts since Friday, so I'd say it's pretty likely she caught the common mold again or something."

The bell rang from inside and you all ran to the doors just in time.

"Principal Bump is gonna have my head for being late again.  Did either of you finish the homework for third period?”

Gus rolled his eyes and fished a paper out of his binder, "not if he doesn't notice. He will, however, have your head for plagiarism."

"Where's Amity?"

"First period---we figured we would wait here to see if you showed up."

"Aww, you do like me!" You smiled, grabbing the paper and running off down the hallway.  Gus chuckled as he ran after you, shoving your shoulder.

"I owe ya, Gus."

"You owe me two . . . I waited for you!"

"So did I!"

 "Fine, I owe both of you."  You chuckled, "I'll give you two my Appleblood at lunch."

 "You also owe Luz your sandwich because of that bet you two made---don't forget."

 You laughed, pushing the door open to your's and your friends' first period class, "oh, yeah! Those two grudgby kids totally ended up crushing on each other, didn't they?"

 "Luz was totally right!"

 "Hah! Yeah, I can just steal another lunch though, so, no worries."

 "Shh!" 

Your mouth snapped shut as the three of you entered into a completely quiet room. People around the class were staring due to your previous loudness, and your face heated up in embarrassment as you met the deadpan gaze of the teacher.

 "Sorry, sir." You mumbled, quickly shuffling to sit at your table.

You shared a glance with your lab partner, Amity, who raised an eyebrow at you.

"Late again?"

"You'll never guess why,"  you sighed, glancing towards the table ahead of you where Boscha sat.  Amity sent a glare towards the pink-haired Grudgby player who sneered in return.

First period was potions class. Boring, but useful.

It was the one class that you, Gus, Luz, Willow, and Amity were all able to share on your schedule (considering you were a year or two older)---but it also happened to be the worst class you had ever taken in your short, 16-year-old life.

But when your father said something was vital to any chance of joining the Emperor's Coven, who were you to argue?

"As I was saying …" the teacher continued. "Today you will be continuing your projects from yesterday. Remember that the goal of this assignment is to work with Fire Bees to create a potion to the exact temperature of 500 degrees. Not one over or under …"

You pulled out your notes and glanced over them as Amity pulled out the cauldron from under the desk.  In it was Firebee honey mixed with many other substances---you two were close, but something was missing.  You bounced your knee as Amity began flipping through her own notes---her perfect, black fingernails tapped rythumatically on her desk.  Her brow was knit together with worry.

Then, it clicked.  Luz was absent.

"Don't worry,"  you elbowed her slightly, crossing your feet on the top of the desk, "You know how Luz is; always going on some spontaneous adventure ... I'm sure she's fine."

She let out a long sigh, sitting back in her seat, "so nobody's heard from her, then?"

"If she's not back by tomorrow we can go up and check on her.  I'm sure she just broke her scroll doing some weird human activity."  You shrugged,  "if it helps at all, she's probably just as anxious to talk to you, too."

Amity smiled, but it was short lived.

A giggle broke out towards the front of the classroom that was quickly stifled.  Your gaze found Boscha, who hid her laughing under her hand at the sight of Willow fighting to keep their cauldron from overflowing.  Normally, you'd laugh too, if the liquid coming out of the cauldron weren't purple.

It was like a switch flipped, then.

Boscha could mess with you all you wanted ... but she could never mess with your friends and get away with it.

Anger filling your chest---you stood upright.  Your chair squeaked backwards against the floor loud enough to draw everyone's attention, and with a quick twirl of your finger the abomination sludge in Willow's cauldron shot across the room and splattered against Boscha's face.

The class fell silent.

Then, everyone bursted into laughter. 

Boscha stood in shock, her own power shot back in her face faster than she could comprehend it.  Her friends were also splattered with some of the stray bits, and they stood frozen, embarrassed, and shocked as everyone wailed with laughter.

"You!"  The teacher pointed at you with her palismen and you froze, the reality of your situation finally setting in.  "Bump's office. Now!"

Well ...

What a day it sure turned out to be.

• ••

The principal's office was completely silent other than the slow ticking of a clock above you.  Boscha sat across from you while you twiddled your thumbs and stared at the floor---her icy stare raising hairs on the back of your neck.

Nobody said anything, but you knew it wasn't over.

The door opened and Amity stepped out.  She stopped to give you a look of sympathy and your heart dropped a little.  She sighed.

"Bump wants to see you now,"  she said, patting your shoulder before exiting back out the door to go back to class.

You swallowed heavily before standing to your feet and shuffling over to enter the room.

"Bump,"  you said, dipping your head before quickly finding your seat across from the masked man.

His eyes only narrowed.  You couldn't read his expression.  You sat in silence for a little while longer while he organized papers, and each second that passed made your heart beat faster as you waited to hear your punishment.

"I should really expel you, you know."

You ducked your head, avoiding eye contact with the frustrated principal before you.  Your knee bounced under the table and your hands gripped the arms of the chair like a vice.

You sighed, "look, they had nothing to do with it.  It's all on me---they shouldn't get punished for this."

"The teacher is giving you all detention for the rest of the week, you know I can't convince him out of that.  But listen ..."  Bump frowned, lowering his head to try and make eye contact with you.  "You know I can't keep giving you second chances, right?"

"Bump, listen, I---"

"When your father brought you here all I saw was potential in you.  Even with your curse, you've still got your father's magnificent power,"  Bump interrupted.  "I understand your predicament ... but getting violent, especially with your reputation, will only make things worse.  Attacking another student unprompted with two different kinds of magic is forbidden, you know this.  I shouldn't let that slide."

"It wasn't unprompted,"  you argued.  "Boscha was sabotaging Luz and Willow’s potion.  That’s harassment and you know it."

"I am well aware, but that wasn't your battle to fight."

"Luz doesn't have magic!"  You stood up,  "How is she supposed to defend herself?"

"That is enough!"

You fell back into your seat, regretting your outburst.

Bump squeezed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"It was a one time offense,"  you insisted, pleading now.  "I promise, Principal Bump.  It won't happen again.  You know I haven't done something like that before, I just ... when my friends are hurt I wanna do something about it."

Another moment of silence passed.

Your heart pounded.

"Fine,"  bump decided.  "I'll sweep this under the rug for now, but you will go to those detentions and your father will hear about this."

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding and a huge weight lifted off your shoulders.  "Thank you, sir."

Bump's expression softened.  He sighed and shook his head,  "I'm sorry you're dealing with this, you know ... you and your father really don't deserve the cards you've both been dealt."  He said,  "but that doesn't mean you can just give up and lash out.  You need to stay focussed so that you can ensure a bright future for yourself."

Unsure of what to say, you only nodded.

"You may leave now---the potion department wants you to stay the remainder of the day and clean the abomination substance out of the carpet. Stay out of trouble."

Without another word, you silently shuffled over to the exit and stepped out into the hallway.  You barely spared Boscha a glance as she entered the room after you.  You stood in the silence for a moment and let out a long sigh, staring up at the tapestry of the Illusionist emblem nailed to the wall.  You thought about what your father might think of you once he heard the news from Bump, and you cursed.  You kicked a crumpled piece of paper that lay dormant on the ground. 

That's when you saw it. The bird.

It was small and red, flapping around with some sort of trash stuck on its beak. It flailed uselessly at the end of the hallway, casting a tall shadow over the wall next to it.  It disappeared around the corner before you could get a good look at it and you tilted your head.

A palismen.  Was your first thought. Maybe it was lost.

You let out a breath when Pluto squeaked, and the small moth fluttered away towards the other palismen in trouble.

Now you were curious.

"Oh, hey!  You're back from Bump's office!"  The voice of Gus piped up from behind you as he jogged over,  "I figured I would come help you clean, all we need is some supplies from a janitor's closet."

You squinted at the end of the hallway, slightly disturbed that someone's palismen had just ... wandered off.  And why had Pluto gone to help it? Brushing Gus off, you began to approach the opposite end of the hallway.

"Yeah, I'll ... go grab supplies."

"Oh, uh ... okay.  I'll meet you there!"

You moved slowly as you rounded the corner and into the next hallway.  You could hear it now---chirping and flapping desperately against the echoing walls.

You chased it until the bird found itself in a small corner, and only then did you run over.

Pluto squeaked incessantly, fluttering around your head desperate for you to help.

You approached the bird slowly, sliding to your knees in front of the frightened animal. You held your hands out to gently coax the bird over. It cowered away a little and chirped loudly---stressed from its predicament.

"Hey little guy," you said gently. "Need some help?"

After a moment, the bird settled. You gently picked it up in your hands and tugged the bag loose. It shook its feathers out for a moment and blinked at you with one open eye.

"Where's your owner, huh?" You inquired, scratching it's head. The bird relaxed more into your touch, relieved to be free of the trash. "Are they a teacher?"

When you pulled your hand away it looked at you for a moment. A few little clicks left its mouth before it flapped its wings and flew from your grasp. It swerved down the hallway and around the corner, chirping loud and clear.

Confused and curious, you got up to follow.

The bird lead you clear to the other side of the building, and you quickened your pace in order to keep up with the small animal. It ducked through hallways and would look back to check on you if you took a moment to follow. Soon, you found yourself in the backstage auditorium.

The bird was suddenly nowhere to be found.

There was, however, some rustling coming from the storage closet.

Your heart hammering in your chest, you summoned your palismen staff. You approached the closet stealthily. The door opened with a small creak as you peaked inside the dark room---lit only by one small, flickering lightbulb in the corner.

Looking around, you spotted a broom and remembered your task upstairs. You grabbed it and spun it in your soot-covered hands---you really should be getting back over to the others.

Then, there was a rustling behind you.

You turned, every muscle in your body tensing as you now caught the slight movement of something behind a shelf. The rustling of paper continued loudly and desperately, and the sound was followed by the hushed whispering of an unfamiliar voice.

"Ouch! Stop that," there was a chirping noise---was it that bird? "I don't care if it's garbage, Flapjack, I'm not risking getting spotted in the cafeteria."

Curiosity overcoming you, you spun your finger in a circle and cast an invisibility spell over yourself. You shuffled over and around the corner, peeking around a bag of miscellaneous cleaning supplies and---

There was . . . a boy in a trash can.

Well, half in a trashcan.

His legs flailed uselessly for balance over the side of the bin as he used his arms to dig around inside of it---pulling out wrappers and paper of all sorts and cursing under his breath as he did so. Flapping anxiously around him was the little red bird that seemed to sense your nosy presence.

Completely appalled by the sight before you, a stifled gasp escaped your throat.

In the span of about half a second, you found yourself stuck in a fight.

You yelped when the red bird staff nearly came in contact with your head.  You ducked down and kicked the boy backwards into the shelf.  He cursed but grabbed you as you fell, throwing you into the wall.  

The breath knocked out of your lungs, you coughed.  The boy pressed the sharp edge of his palismen to your throat and you froze, staring up at him.

His hands shook, but his red-pink gaze was locked with yours with such absolute certainty of your presence that it shocked you. He had all kinds of scrapes, scars, and bruises across his face and over his uniquely-shaped nose ... only accentuated by the deep bags under his alert stare.

You swallowed heavily. This witch had to be one of the best of the best.

"Who's there?" He panted, his voice cracking but still powerful. "Reveal yourself!"

"I . . . uh," you cleared your throat and released your spell, appearing under his staff. You poked the top of his palismen and lowered it from your throat, offering him an uneasy smile, "didn't know we had a new janitor?"

The stranger frowned and his shoulders dropped as he officially labeled you not a threat. He scoffed and turned, dismissing you with a flick of his cape.

"I swear to the Titan just--- ... Go away!" he barked.

His palismen released itself from the top of the staff and fluttered to your other shoulder.  It seemed to converse with your own palismen for a moment before Pluto turned to you---the little bug let out a series of squeaks that made your lips press into a thin line.

They need help.

You raised an eyebrow before watching as the stranger began to dig through the trashcan again, probably thinking you left.

"I uh . . . I found your palismen with a bag stuck to its head earlier . . ." You continued, approaching the stranger apprehensively.  "I think it wants me to help you . . . ?" 

You studied him for a moment. In the light, you could now see his cloak was an obnoxious shade of blue with patches shittily sewed onto it. The boots he wore were too big for his feet and the shirt was definitely part of a costume.

"Hey . . ." You asked carefully, "aren't those clothes from the theater room?"

"Shut up!" He was quick to shout, whipping back around again to stomp towards you, "you didn't see shit, alright? If you tell anyone I'm here I'll . . . I'll report you to the---!"

"Hey, hey, hey! Relax . . . Sheesh," you chuckled, holding your hands up palacingly. "The only thing that's gonna get you caught is all that yelling."

The boy's mouth snapped shut. He swallowed uneasily as he lowered his staff a little---and his unusually pink, panicked eyes darted around, seizing you up. You offered him a smile.

He, still, looked entirely too frightened.

"Are you . . . okay? You're bleeding."

"I'm ... I'm fine, thank you."  He turned away again, still shaking.  He seemed conflicted. "Just . . . leave me alone. I'm busy."

You hummed, approaching to lean over his shoulder. "We uh . . . we have a cafeteria, you know."

He didn't reply, instead he continued to investigate the trash now spilled all over the ground. You studied him carefully, wracking your memory for any time you may have seen this disheveled stranger around the school.

That's when you put two and two together.

The borrowed clothes ... digging through a trashcan ... hiding from people ...

"You ... don't go here, do you?"

"What?! No---" He stood up again with a frusterated growl, "I'm---I'm a student!"

"Oh yeah?" You crossed your arms, "prove it then. Do something only a Hexside student would do."

"What is that supposed to mean??"

"I don't know, guy, like a spell or something? What's your coven?"

"None of your business, geez, why can't people just leave me alo---"

Gus called your name from out in the hallway.

You twirled your finger again just as the strange boy yelped and backed into the trashcan---casting another invisibility spell on him right as Gus came barreling around the corner.

"Did you ever find cleaning stuff?" Gus asked, "we're gonna be in a lot of trouble if we don't clean that mess up . . ."

"Oh, yeah, I did, actually," you said, picking up the broom to your right. "I was just . . ."

The red bird chirped again and flew up out of the trash, zipping past you and Gus in an instant and disappearing through the door. You cleared your throat.

Gus paused, his eyes scanning across all the trash that was littered throughout the room.

"Do I even wanna know?" He asked, unfazed.

"A bird got in," you explained. "Clearly."

"Oh. Well ... Amity is outside, you were taking a while so we came to look---"

You sighed, "yeah, I'll be right out, Gus."

Gus rushed back out the door and you let out a breath of relief.  

"Well, that was a close one." You waved your finger again, releasing the spell, "you owe me one, birdbrains."

No reply. The trashcan was toppled over again and a trail of old trash was strewn further down the closet towards another door left ajar, and you frowned to yourself.

Gus called your name again and you rushed back out the door you came from, but not without a second glance back towards the closet. Satisfied that the stranger had run off, you followed Gus out into the hallway.

The boy in question watched in careful curiously as you stumbled back out of the closet. He let out a sigh of relief, letting himself slide down against the wall until his head was in his shaking hands.

He was far too tired to deal with this right now.

Of course he'd get caught---what was he thinking? Being out in the open like that.

The energy sucked from his body and his stomach still empty, the boy pushed himself back to his feet and dragged himself back to his hiding spot. He layed in his makeshift bed for the remainder of the day, his nightmares constantly stirring him awake.

However, when he awoke, he would find a paper bag sitting untouched in front of the closet from earlier that night. In it were three things; a sandwich, a bag of chips, and a note.

"For your troubles, birdbrains"

Reluctant, the boy stared at the note for a long time. What if you told the principal about him? What if the food was poisoned?

His palismen chirped impatiently.

"This is a trap," the boy mumbled. "This is so obviously a trap."

The bird squeaked again, landing on the bag to give the boy a very stern stare. The boy's stomach protested loudly---he honestly couldn't remember the last time he had actual food. Maybe yesterday morning? The day before that?

Maybe . . . maybe it would be okay if he had a little bit.

"Fine," the boy grabbed the bag and ripped it open. "You can have the chips, but that's it. The rest is mine."

The bird chirped happily, and the boy thought back on the fact that you casted that spell so that he could escape. He looked at the sandwich in his hands reluctantly, biting the inside of his cheek as conflicting thoughts raced through his head.

Why did you help him if you didn't know anything about him? Hell, anyone could tell he wasn't a student here. Did you have ulterior motives? Did you want to fight him yourself?

Or were you just . . . simply being kind?

He figured maybe---maybe maybe maybe---if you told the principal about him he would have been found by now, right?

If you wanted to cause harm you would have done it while he was cornered.

Right??

With a sigh, the boy bit into the sandwich, thinking of ways he might possibly be able to show his gratitude tomorrow.