~ Rose Bertin

The clock on his bedside table reads 7A.M. Normally, he wakes up around this time, always having been an early riser—something Lorain teases him about. Today is his birthday, though, and that’s more than enough excuse to sleep a little longer. So he continues to sleep.

He sits up sluggishly with a groan before stretching, not wanting to leave his cocoon of blankets and pillows, but knowing he has to. He needs to eat breakfast and shower and help with what he can—

A sudden, strong itch blooms at the top of his head and he moves to scratch it while untangling his legs from the blankets. A strange sensation brushes against his fingers, and he freezes. His hair has always been extremely soft, but this isn’t a stray strand of hair. It’s too solid for that. He brings both hands up now to the fuzzy enigma only for his other hand to be met with the same sensation on the other side of his head. Then they move, a small twitch, but one he feels against both his hands and his head. He tears the rest of the covers off and runs to the bathroom across the hall.

His breathing has grown erratic, and the sight of himself in the mirror doesn’t help. Normally, he’d be trying to fix his unruly bedhead he always wakes up with. But normally, he doesn’t have a pair of medium-small, triangular ears on top of his head either. He stares wide-eyed at his reflection in the mirror, his breathing still uneven.

He pinches himself, but the pain that causes tells him otherwise. The sound of his dad flipping the page of his newspaper downstairs makes one of the shapes—ears?—twitch in response and he feels that too. It’s now that he notices everything seems louder than usual. What would normally be the low mumble of his mom talking to her friend on the phone seemed loud enough now that he could hear each individual word. But he doesn’t focus on that, instead he continues to focus on his reflection and halfheartedly getting his breathing under control.

He brings both of his hands up again to poke and prod at them, seeing how they move in response. A slight tug on both causes pain, and then the itching sensation returns, revealing its location as the base where the ears connect to his head. Sam’s still trying to process this when one of his hands accidentally brushes aside some of his hair and he freezes, pale at the sight.

His normal, human ears are gone; as if they’d never been there. A bloodcurdling scream rings out from somewhere, and it takes Sam a moment to realize it’s him.

Panic strikes him hard enough to allow him to move to close and lock the door just as the sound of footsteps on the stairs reaches him.

For extra measure, he presses his back to the door and sinks down to the floor, curling into his usual tight ball as he hyperventilates. The sound of someone turning the knob was loud next to him and it only makes him hug his knees tighter.

“N-Nothing! I-I, um, I-I stubbed my toe! O-On the—the, um, the toilet!”

Shitty excuse, rendered unbelievable because of his stuttering. He hears his dad scoff behind the door.

“Sweetie, are you sure? Are you bleeding? Do you need any help?” His mom again.

“N-No, I’m fine! I-I got it! It—I just felt, um, a-a little sick!”

“Should we cancel—”

“NO, DON’T!” He slaps a hand over his own mouth, startled more at having raised his voice before a wave of guilt hits him, “I-I’m sorry, just—just give me a little bit. I-I’m f-fine, really!”

“Come on, Abby, let’s give him some space. He’s at that age.” His dad says to his mom.

“But Mike—” The sound of the doorbell ringing cuts his mom off before she can finish, “Oh, that’s probably Lorain! We’ll get the door for you, sweetie, just come down when you’re feeling better.”

Then their footsteps were shuffling back toward the stairs and Sam was—relatively—alone again. He releases a shuddering breath as he tries to get his breathing back under control, resting the back of his head against the cool wood of the door.

How can he get out of this? Even more than his parents, Lorain is the last person he wants to see him like this. He tries to think of options. A hat would be a good option—if he owned any. Hats always messed up his hair, so he never wore them and therefore didn’t have a need for them. Plus, his parents were smart, they’d ask about the sudden desire to wear a hat, and his difficulty with lying wouldn’t save him. Well, there went all options out the window.

He snaps out of his thoughts at the sound of a different pair of footsteps running up the stairs and suddenly Lorain is there, on the other side of the door.

“Yoo, what’s wrong? Your mom seems really worried.”

“Nothing’s wrong! I’m—I’m just not feeling well.”

“Come on, Sam, how long have I known you? I know you’re lying.”

He groans while thumping the back of his head weakly into the door. Lorain’s smart too, so of course he can’t get away with lying either.

For a moment there’s no sound from the other side of the door until, “Is it a zit? Did you lose your fight with bedhead? I’m sure whatever it is can’t be as bad as that time at summer camp with the slime.”

That particular memory makes him shudder, but honestly, a hundred zits or even getting slime dumped on him would be preferable to this. Those things he can deal with—he doesn’t know what to do about this, any of this. He sighs, forlorn, staring up at the bathroom ceiling.

“Sam,” Lorain calls, her voice taking on a softer, more serious tone, “you know I won’t judge you for whatever it is, right? Please come out? We’re all worried about you. We can’t help unless you let us.”

He knows she’s right. Lorain’s always right. And it’s true that nothing will get solved if he just remains locked up in here. But…

“Promise?” He asks, unable to help but think about the possibility that his parents might send him to a zoo or something.

“Have I ever steered you wrong before?”

Another sigh, this time of resignation as he shifts to stand up and turn to face the door. He hesitates a moment before finally reaching out and unlocking the door. He opens it a crack and peeks out, his green eyes meeting Lorain’s blue. She smiles reassuringly, so he opens the door completely.