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They didn’t like her. Why didn’t they like her?
Jude sat in the Mystery Shack's living room, chewing her food like she wanted to kill it. The couch, armchair, beanbags, and folding chairs had all been claimed by quicker kids than she, the carpet too. No one had invited her to sit next to them. No one had wanted her to sit next to them; they never did. So Jude sat in the corner farthest away from the holo, farthest away from the other kids, stewing in frustration. And the question played on loop in her head. Why didn't they like her? Why?
When she had drawn up the circle—swiped Xerox and pencils from her dad’s office supplies, pricked her thumb on the needlepoint of her mom’s antique brooch, and scribbled up the symbols from memory in the precious little time she had to herself—it was supposed to be over. Whether that was living under her parents’ rule or just plain living, she hadn’t known at the time, but in any case, her pain and misery were going to end. That was the plan.
The demon swept her away instead of eating her, and things were going much better than expected, until she found herself in a swaying shack full of hurt and broken kids, kids like her. That was not part of the plan.
“You asshole!” she hissed at the demon, which was probably not a good nor grateful thing to say. “What the hell is this? You just took me to some bullshit magical orphanage!”
He pressed his lips together tightly and closed his eyes for a long moment before finally speaking. “Funny, all I remember is you saying 'I want to get out...'. You never specified where."
The only response she could think of was to scowl.
She was scowling now, this time at one of the empty seats next to a boy with a braid that was asking to be tugged. Though there were a few spots still technically open, those were being 'saved' for friends, or rather, anybody that wasn't Jude. If they thought she didn't notice when the friends never showed up, they were wrong. She noticed everything.
She noticed how suddenly the conversations dropped when she walked into a room. How pale their faces turned if they saw her looking at them. How quickly an area seemed to 'mysteriously' clear out if she was there, leaving her alone again.
They hated her. They were afraid of her. And she had no idea why.
Or maybe she did, and she just didn't want to admit it. There were, a small part of her suggested, a few things she could have possibly handled better.
When Alcor had disappeared on her first day, leaving her standing in the hallway of the shack, one of the eldest kids came to welcome her and give her a tour.
Still angry at Alcor's trick, she snapped, "I don't want your welcomes, just tell me where my goddamn cot is so I can go to sleep and forget that I'm here."
The chipper smile on their face faded and she immediately regretted what she'd said, but it was too late. When the kid responded coolly she only snapped more, and then someone else tried to defend them, and she had laughed, and shouted some, and then there was crying...
After things had settled down and she found out from the first kid that she did not just have a cot, but, in fact, a room all to herself, she felt so guilty she wanted to cry. Instead, she kicked the wall.
From then on, the rest of her interactions with people went the same way as her first fuck-up. She already had two kids disliking her from the get-go and it didn’t take too long for the other children to follow suit. It didn’t help that her personality seemed to be directly opposed to everyone else’s. She was bold, they were always afraid. She liked to pick fights, they wanted to avoid them. And probably the biggest difference was that she was so loud, and they were painfully, annoyingly quiet.
If she raised her voice even the slightest bit, most likely when asking them to speak up, they would flinch. Even though she knew why, she found herself laughing at them, talking louder, grinning as she watched them fold in on themselves and begin to whimper.
It was…bad. She knew it. She was bad. She wasn’t even sure why she did it—it’s not like she actually found it funny, especially not when they started crying. Or when an older kid—16 years old, or 17— rushed to comfort them, shot her a glare, led them away. She’d feel a cold hard lump in her ribs and a pricking at her eyes, and yet, and yet, she’d be laughing. Hysterically, even.
And there were other things too, other things that just made them hate her further. Telling that 8 year old who thought ‘Jude’ was a boy’s name that it was a perfectly legitimate nickname for Judith, and then telling him he was a fucking idiot, was most likely a bad move. Suggesting that the girl with the Sight should go stick a fork in her eye because she said Jude’s aura “looked gross”—that was probably unnecessary too. And then there was thing she did with the gum and scissors after that comment about her cropped hair…
She couldn’t help it, she thought to herself, snapping a carrot in half. She looked around at the rest of the kids in the room, who were sitting in their own little cliques and groups, murmuring to each other. They were all so annoying. Their stupid little comments made her angry, and the way they cowered in front of her made her angrier, and how was she supposed to help it if she lashed out now and then?
Or all the time?
She rolled the broken carrot between her fingers thoughtfully, at least until it slipped from her grasp and fell on the floor. At that, she pushed away the rest of her food to be picked up by someone else—or eaten by the Shack, she still wasn’t entirely sure how that worked—and stood up. Eyes flicked toward her like an owner’s would toward their dog that was prone to biting; at this, the corners of her mouth twitched down. Doing her best to ignore them, she left and walked toward her bedroom.
----
Alcor was sitting in the mindscape, flicking lazily through a book about sheep, when he felt the twinge of a summoning. The very particular inadequacy of this one made him sigh. He wondered how the kid always managed to summon him when he had pretty much nothing better to do than answer it.
It’s not like he would’ve ignored it anyway, at least not forever, not after he took her into his care. Not to mention that soul of hers; it was best checked in on her at least occasionally. It was just—if he’d had a better excuse than “let me he finish reading this chapter on ovine discoloration” then maybe he could’ve put it off until he felt up for dealing with Jude’s…difficult personality. But his sense of responsibility urged him on.
He poofed into Jude’s room and gave the papers strewn around him, oh-so-familiar pencil scribbles on their surfaces, a disdainful look.
“Jude, you have so many resources available to you now—chalk, candles, books on circles and sacrifice—why can’t you summon me properly for once?”
The kid smirked. “Why would I do that when I can use this shit and have you show up anyway?”
He found it unfortunate that she had a point. “What do you want, Jude?”
“I need you to do something for me.”
Coolly, measuredly, he said, "I don’t care whatever payment you’ve come up this time; I patently refuse to brainwash children that I’ve taken into my protection—” here, his eyes flashed gold— “for any reason. Especially not just because another child wants friends.”
The girl looked down, eyes furrowed, aura flushing forest-green shame. She opened her mouth to speak—
“I’m not setting any of them on fire either,” he added.
“Will you shut up and let me speak?” Ah, those familiar reds. “I need you to…” She shifted uncomfortably. “to make me not…me anymore.”
Alcor blinked. “You want a makeover?”
“No you dumbass!” Jude snarled. Suddenly she seemed to catch herself, aura tingeing green again. “…That. I need you to make me not that.”
“Ah.” He understood now. He leaned back in the air, as if reclining on a couch. “You want me to turn you from a Ms. Meanie McCursealot into someone people actually want to be around.”
This time the reds spread to her face. Looking like she was swallowing an unimaginable amount of curse words, she choked out a yes.
“Well, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“WH—“
He held a hand up and she fell silent—or perhaps muted would be the term, considering he used magic to do it. She shouted silently for a couple more seconds, then, dumbfounded, looked at him. “Kid, even if some random summoner asked me what you just asked, which is to utterly change their personality and who they are as an individual, I wouldn’t do it. Brainwashing isn’t exactly my forte. But messing with you and your soul? I am not risking that for any reason. It’s too strong of a force for me to dare touch.” At least, not again. He lowered his hand, un-silencing her.
Jude furrowed her brow at these comments, but he had made and deflected all her questions about them before, so perhaps this time she knew not to pursue the topic. Instead she asked, “So, you’re saying…that I’m naturally like this? I’m…always going to be this way? It’s a part of my soul?” Her voice broke on the last word, and Alcor blinked again.
“Well, yes and no,” he replied, returning to a standing position and landing on the ground. “Yes, this…abrasiveness is a part of you. It makes up who you are, right now.” She bristled as he walked closer to her. “But it doesn’t have to be; it can change— “and oh how he wanted it to change— “just not by my magic. If I go digging around in there, who knows what I’d wake up. And even if nothing bad happened, wanting to not be you anymore would make you unrecognizable. Some sort of…” he waved his hand around, “doll made by me. And I’m telling you, that’s a really creepy thing to want to be, instead of yourself.”
“But I would want to be that! I hate this! I hate the looks everyone else gives me when I walk into a room, and having no friends, and being locked in my room by this freaky shack because I can’t behave! I hate being me!”
He shook his head. “There are good parts to you, Jude, deep down. There always are, with everyone. You’d be asking me to get rid of those too. You can change. You can improve. But you have to do it. Not me.”
The girl frowned again, looking at her open hands. “I don’t know how, Alcor. I’ve tried so hard, but I get so fucking angry and then I can’t stop, I can’t stop cursing or yelling or laughing and I know there’s something wrong with me but what is it? What is it?! Can’t you tell me that?” She was shaking now, hands balled into fists.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, as her face fell. “I can’t.” Though he guessed that a lot of the rage did come from Bill’s soul, there was something else there. He thought back to where he first met her, the dingy house with the leaking roof. What she had said about her parents, the fear in her eyes. And he had suspicions, but he didn’t know, couldn’t know for sure what exactly was wrong, or how to fix it.
But that didn’t mean he could leave her like this.
“Tell you what, I’ll make a deal with you.”
“You’re going to fix me after all?”
“No,” he said firmly. “This isn’t like last time. And you can’t be ‘fixed’ like a broken object. But I’ll help you, Jude. I don’t know the answers to your questions, but other people might. We can find them. We can figure things out.” He wondered how much he was going to regret spending an increased amount of time with an angry teenager who cursed every other sentence.
“That sounds fucking stupid,” she growled. “But I guess I can do it your way, if you won’t change me like I asked…” She stuck out her hand impatiently, sniffling a little.
He guessed he was going to regret it a lot.
“Hold on,” Alcor said. “You still need to pay me.” He gave her a wide, toothy smile.
“Ugh! Fine. How much of my shit do you want?”
Grinning wider, he said, “Oh, I want all of your ‘shit’, Jude.” She opened her mouth, probably to curse more, but he continued, “And all your ‘fuck’s and ‘damn’s and every other curse word you have in you, for the next six months. Deal?”
Jude scratched her head and grumbled a little under her breath. “Six and a half months if you do one more thing for me.”
“What’s that?”
“Soundproof the walls.”
Alcor obliged and stuck his fingers in his ears as Jude rattled off every single curse word she knew, which turned out to be a not-entirely-surprisingly large amount, at the top of her lungs.
Breathing heavily, she stuck out her hand again.
“Deal.”