Title: Parallel Pixie
Author: Space Pirate Hamster

Contents: Chapters 1 through 3

Original Source(s):
- http://www.furinkan.net/display.php?command=category&categoryid=82
- http://www.furinkan.net/display.php?command=category&categoryid=84
- ???

Chapter 1: Meet Mallory

There were so many pretty things inside Serafina’s Antiques and Toys. The
inside of the store was dark and dusty. It was little more than a junk
shop, really. If you knew where to look, you could find treasure inside.

Mallory Morgan visited Serafina’s regularly, even though he never bought
anything. He knew many of the unique items inside the shop intimately. He
had even mentally named some of the dolls.

On the shelf furthest from the door was an ancient porcelean doll in a
dusty Victorian-era dress. He thought of the doll as ‘Regina’ despite the
fact that it was unlabeled and apparently unpriced.

Near Regina was a tiny glass swan that sparkled despite the lack of light.

Above the swan, past a red ribbon, and above a little girl’s dressing
mirror, was Francis, the jointed teddy-bear. Not only did Francis’ arms
and legs move, but his paws had cunning levers inside them that allowed
them to close softly if you pressed your finger against them.

Mallory avoided Francis today. He didn’t want to get too close to the
mirror. If he looked in it, he would see a fairly horrible sight. Even
though his nose had stopped bleeding, his eyes were beginning to turn
purple and black. His lip was split, red and raw. His ears were still
ringing.

Even if you ignored the injuries the boy had received, there was no
ignoring the sad expression of shame on his face. Almost nothing could
wipe that away.

* * *

*THWACK*

“You wanna look at me again, faggot? Huh? You wanna stare at my ass
again?”

*PUNCH*

“I wasn’t--”

*CRACK*

“You gonna learn your lesson, bitch? I don’t need little gay faggots like
you following me around!”

*THUMP*

“But I’m not--”

*SLAM*

“You’re gonna learn your lesson, cock-sucker!”

*SCRAPE*

“I’m not gay,” Mallory cried softly. “I wasn’t staring at you.”

He really hadn’t been staring at the other boy. Jason Moore was the
captain of the junior varsity baseball team. He was attractive and
popular. He had a perfectly clear complexion and a perfect smile that
attested to thousands upon thousands of dollars worth of dental work. He
had immaculate sandy-blonde hair that feathered over his ears just *so*.

Mallory was envious of Jason’s hair. He had been looking at the boy from a
distance in the morning math class they both shared, trying to puzzle out
if the captain’s wonderful coif was naturally perfect or if it was somehow
achieved with hairspray or mousse. Mallory would never be able to achieve
the same effect. His own hair was straight and black. Despite his best
efforts, all he ever managed to do was make it look worse if he tried to
style it.

Jason didn’t even notice Mallory’s attention until one of his friends,
another baseball player, mentioned it. They’d been harassing him all day.
They threw opened milk cartons at him in the cafeteria at lunch.

Then, after school, just when Mallory thought his torment had ended for
the day, the set upon him with punching fists and kicking feet behind the
auditorium when Mallory started on his walk home.

His teeth rattled as one of the boys caught him in the side of the head
with the toe of his running shoe. Mallory hurt all over. All he could do
was to curl into as tight a ball as he could and hope that it stopped
soon.

“Goddamned faggots.”

“Prissy bitch!”

“I swear to god, Morgan,” Jason screamed at him. “If I ever see you again,
I’m gonna rip your dick off and make you eat it!”

All Mallory could do after they were done was cry in grief and pain.

* * *

There was something comforting about watching the girl apply her makeup.
Despite the fact that she was only nine years old, Jodah Morgan had the
grace and poise of a tiny fairy. She had long ago abandoned mere lipsticks
and grease pencils in favor of a tiny horse-hair brush. The child
literally painted her pale, beautiful face with the skill and patience of
a master. She wasn’t just covering her delicate features. She *enhanced*
them. She added to their ethereal perfection. Under her skillful touch,
fairy-like took a step forward and became angelic.

“What the hell are you looking at, Freak?”

Sadly, the words that came from her mouth didn’t go by way of heaven.

“Nothin’“

“I see that you got your ass handed to you again,” Mallory’s younger
sister Jodah mentioned in an offhand fashion through half-painted lips.

Mallory knew it pleased her. Her face twisted with obscene joy and
superiority.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, stalking past her. She was sitting on a
stool next to a table in Mallory’s parent’s kitchen. Her makeup kit was
carefully arranged around her and she kept one eye focused on a lighted
mirror in front of her. Prim, imperious Jodah had to pay attention to her
appearance, after all.

“If you weren’t such a dork, Mallory, then maybe you wouldn’t get your ass
ripped off every other day.”

“I don’t get my ass ripped off every other day,” Mallory sniped back
weakly as he stepped around his younger sister.

He opened the refrigerator across from her and began to rummage around
inside. He pulled out a can of soda and placed it against his eye rather
than opening it.

“Maybe if you didn’t prance around like a pansy, you wouldn’t get your
face bashed in every time you make goo-goo eyes at another guy,” Jodah
suggested in a superior, condescending tone.

“Jodah, I’m not-- Just shove it!” Mallory growled.

“You’re such an embarrassment. I can’t believe you’re my brother,” Jodah
complained as she turned back to her make-up mirror.

Mallory shook his head and stepped out of the kitchen. He crossed a short
hallway and walked out of a curtained alcove into a tall shelf full of
old, musty books.

Home for Mallory and Jodah both was the Morgan Bookstore. The Morgan’s
bookstore, run by Mallory’s mother, specialized in used and rare books.
The Morgans’ residence was located behind and above the book store on a
tree-shaded avenue in the center of town.

Moira Morgan, the proprieter of the book shop was behind the counter,
ringing up an elderly woman’s purchase.

In Mallory’s opinion, his mother was beautiful. She was wasted as a clerk
in some strange book shop. She had long, flowing, honey-blonde hair. She
had just the right amount of curviness combined with an understated
muscularity. Even through the thick sweater she wore, Mallory could see
her perfectly pert breasts and rounded hips. Many of the Morgans’
customers had been drawn by the sheer attractiveness of the store’s owner.

Regardless of her body, Mallory loved his mother’s face the most. She had
a sweet, loving, smiling expression that she wore almost constantly. Jodah
came by her good looks quite honestly. On the girl’s face, they were
bitter and mean. On his mother’s face, they were like the warm gaze of a
fairy princess.

He avoided the woman today, purposefully skirting her gaze and hiding
between the stacks of books as he looked for reading material. He quietly
padded towards the large collection of ‘Occult/New Age’ books and picked
out a leather-backed tome that didn’t look like he had read it before.

Mallory chanced one more brief glance at his busy mother before heading
back into the alcove and up the stairs into his bedroom.

Mallory’s bedroom was one of the few places where he felt at ease. Up over
his oak dresser was a poster of pretty young woman riding a unicorn in
circles over a mirror-like lake. The shelves over his bed were lined with
rows upon rows of fantasy and science fiction novels. He had a complete
collection of ‘Mysteries of the Unknown’ volumes. A tiny, intricate
sculpture of an angel with her wings spread and her face uplifted towards
heaven graced the nightstand next to his bed.

The youth didn’t have an illusions towards the magic that decorated his
room. He knew that there was really no such thing. That didn’t mean it
wasn’t romantic and alluring. The trappings of magic, the unicorn, the
angels, the pixies and faeries, were all so beautiful and lovely. Mallory
felt he was the ugliest thing in his room.

Sighing, still holding the chilled can of soda to his face, Mallory folded
up over his bed and allowed the book he carried to fall open to the first
page.

Before his eyes could focus on the first illuminated sentence in the
strange-looking tome, a light, lilting voice carried up the stair-well.

“Mallory? Are you home, sweetheart?”

“Yeah...” he called back hesitantly.

There were light footsteps, and a gentle knocking at his mostly closed
door.

“Mallory, would you please walk Jodah to rehearsal today? Misty called in
sick, so I have to watch the shop this afternoon,” his mother explained.

Mallory did his best not to groan out loud.

“Moooom!” Jodah’s piping voice protested from outside the door. “I don’t
want that loser to take me anywhere! I’d rather walk by myself!

“It’s not safe for you to walk by yourself in the evening. Mallory will
take you. No arguments, young lady.”

“But--”

“Sush!” Mallory could hear his mother’s fingers snapping together in her
habitual quieting gesture.

Jodah’s voice cut-off instantly. Not even she would dare defy their
beautiful mother.

“Mallory, is that okay?” she asked.

“Yes, Mother,” he called out. “I’ll be down in a second.”

He sighed, stuffed the book into his backpack and waited for the sound of
her footsteps to dissapear, hoping that she wouldn’t see his face.

The trip to Jodah’s ballet school was relatively short. Mallory pulled his
ten-speed bike out from behind the shop and slung both his backpack and
his sister’s athletic bag over the seat. He walked it along beside them.

“What are you, too weak to carry both at once?” his sister asked in an
accusing tone.

Her delicate, perfect makeup finished, Jodah wore a long denim jacket over
her leotard and dancing skirt. She wore athletic shoes rather than subject
her fragile toe-shoes to the walk.

“Maybe if you’re worried about it, you can carry your own damn bag next
time,” Mallory said, responding in an agitated time.

Jodah gave him a *look*. She stared down the end of her nose, glaring
imperiously at the older boy. It was obvious that she didn’t think
Mallory’s comment was even worthy of a verbal rebuke, let along
correcting.

Ballet class was a dress rehearsal.

Mallory parked his bike without bothering to chain it and followed his
sister up the steps of the brick building. He walked her to the door of
one of several classrooms that all contained dancers of various ages.

There were about twenty young women in Jodah’s class, girls of many ages.
Some were younger than his sister and some were about Mallory’s age. All
of them were in makeup and costume rather than plain workout leotards.

A poster on the door indicated that the formal recital for parents and
others would be held the following weekend.

“I didn’t know you were having a recital,” Mallory murmured.

Jodah shook her head angrily. “Don’t go getting any smart ideas. I don’t
want a freak like you showing up for one of my recitals, ever!”

Mallory grimaced, but didn’t protest. It would serve her right if he
didn’t show up.

Jodah quickly stepped into the room and replaced her running shoes with
toe-shoes from her bag. The shoes’ ribbons laced up around her ankles and
calves, and were tied just below her knees.

This seemed to be standard costume for the girls. All of them were clad
the same pale, almost translucent leotards and tights that Jodah wore.
They all had their hair pulled back into smaller or larger buns. Some of
them were sitting in small groups chatting. Others were stretching.

All of them were quite beautiful, Mallory thought. So delicate and full of
grace. They were so agile as to be able to bounce up and down on the tips
of their toes. They weren’t gawky and clumsy at all.

The focus of the room was on a single dancer. Even though everyone was
still warming up, there was a great deal of attention already going to the
girl in the center of the room, clad in a leotard and tights that were
scarlet rather than the ivory white the other dancers wore.

Mallory knew her... was acquainted with her at any rate. He doubted that
she knew him. Her name was Savannah. She was in the homeroom next to his
at school. She was the star of the show, literally a Prima Donna.

She must have seen him out the corner of her eye, or even felt his eyes on
her, because she turned to the doorway to meet his eyes.

Mallory did his best to smile as naturally and honestly as he could.

Jodah, now wearing her own delicate toe-shoes pranced over to the group
surrounding Savannah and began to whisper in a low, dangerous voice.

Still smiling, Mallory felt his ears began to burn at the naughty smiles
and giggles that began to break out around his sister.

“Omigawwwd!” Savannah squealed in a high-pitched voice. “No way!”

“In my mother’s gown and pantyhose,” Jodah said out loud. “I swear to God,
he’s such a freak!”

Mallory felt the corners of his mouth falling. His ears felt wet with
perspiration. His hands were shaking. More whispers erupted all over the
studio. So were the giggles. Hands covered mouths. All eyes were on him.

“I was eight years old,” he squeaked out in a whisper tone.

The outlash of cruel, cackling laughter was immediate. It bore into
Mallory like a drill.

He turned and walked out of the studio. He did his best to keep from
running in shame until he was out of earshot of the room.

Mallory eventually came to rest at the bottom of the stairwell. It was
dark and dusty, but better to be dusty than stared at or laughed at. The
familiar feelings of embarrassment and regret were so overwhelming that he
didn’t even cry. There were tears coursing down his cheeks, but he didn’t
even notice them. Instead, he sat down and opened his backpack, pulling
out the tome he had hidden earlier. He started turning pages, his eyes not
really absorbing the words or pictures on the page as his brain coiled in
self-recrimination.

Mallory dearly wished he wasn’t such a dork. He didn’t try to be a dork.
He really did try to fit in. He didn’t understand how he got himself in so
much trouble all the time. He wished he wouldn’t be laughed at so often.

The problem stemmed from his looks, or rather his lack of looks, Mallory
thought to himself. He had never had much of a sense of style. What he did
have was tacky and poor. Mallory tried to wear attractive clothes, but it
never worked out right. The sweater he wore never matched the slacks, or
the shoes he wore looked silly. He did his best to look handsome, but
there was little you could do to make dross look like gold.

He wished he could be as pretty as the girls who had just laughed at him
until he ran away. They were wonderful. Beautiful. Like faeries from his
fantasy novels. They could do almost anything they wanted. Even when they
did get in trouble, they didn’t get beat up at school.

Life would be so much simpler if he could be a girl. He wouldn’t feel so
uncomfortable. He wouldn’t feel like he never fit in.

Mallory really wasn’t gay, he told himself. He didn’t like guys! Not a
lot, at any rate. Some of them were attractive, like Jason, the captain of
the baseball team, but he’d never want to do anything like kiss or hold
hands with him.

How wonderful it would be to not be a tall, too-skinny, gawky freak, but a
sweet girl like his mother, or Savannah, or even his bratty little sister.
He could wear clothes because they were pretty and not because he thought
they might let him fit in better. He could even wear makeup or pretty
shoes.

Of course it would never happen. Even as the thoughts crossed his mind,
Mallory realized that his upper lip was beginning to grow dark and hairy
with the first shocks of whiskers. He would have to start shaving soon. He
was doomed to be an ugly, freaky boy. The same was true when he played
dress-up when he was little, as Jodah was so fond of tormenting him. Even
then, it was not a pretty girl playing, but simply stupid-looking Mallory
in one of his mother’s dresses.

Mallory had turned about a quarter of the way through the book before his
eyes caught on a strange illustration. It was an old-fashioned woodcut
that looked surprisingly like his mother in a Victorian gown. Startled, he
began to read the description that went with the picture.

“A PRINCEff’ BEfT FRIEND”

It looked like the ads in the ancient Sears Roebuck catalogs hidden in one
corner of his mother’s book store. His eyes insisted on reading the script-
style ‘S’ as ‘F’.

“Be ye fairer or poorer in ftyle, you will be amazed, regardleff of your
fex! Look like the fineft princeff with a ftyle that could only be
magical! Worry not about your atractiveneff, obeifity, or gender.”

What a crock! There was nothing that could just magically make you be a
girl. Even if you had surgery, you’d still just look like a guy in a
dress. Mallory had seen pictures in magazines and on TV.

Curiously, however, Mallory began to page through the book once more,
paying closer attention to what he saw. Most of the book did indeed to be
a catalog. The items inside were all described as ‘magic’ or ‘mystic’ in a
fashion, but in the same manner any advertisement would. It never did
really say that the items were really enchanted. Here was a ring that
guaranteed love. There was a wand that was certain to mezmerize anyone the
holder came across. On another page was a walking cane that would make the
user feel strong enough to carry even the heaviest loads like a ‘burly
young man’. It was the perfect gift for those aging readerf who didn’t
feel quite af ftrong and limber af they ufed to be.

Mallory paged back to the ribbon. He realized he’d been holding the page
with his thumb to keep from losing it. There was the ‘Princess Ribbon’
again, tied in the hair of the faerie-like beauty featured so prominently.

It seemed so familiar. So strangely familiar.

The next line was smudged with the grease of decades like much the rest of
the book. Carefully, he began to scrape it with his thumbnail, trying to
render it more legible.

“Avai-bl- at La-y S-ra-Fin- ‘s -ine An-iqu-s a-d --”

On the shelf furthest from the door at Serafina’s Antiques and Toys, above
the dressing mirror, and inbetween the crystal swan and Francis the
jointed Teddy-Bear was a red ribbon.

It was all by itself, with no case or attachments. It was just lying there
on the shelf. Serafina’s had been around forever, as long as Mallory knew.
He’d never not known the ribbon to be there. Who knew how long it had been
lying there?

Mallory’s legs were moving before he realized what was happening. The book
was closed and in his back-pack. He retraced his steps past the ballet
studio without pausing to look through the window in the now-closed door.
He was on his bike, pedalling as fast as he could in what felt like an
instant.

“Look like the finest princess,” he hissed out loud as he pedaled.

He was very nearly hit by a truck at the intersection next to the dance
school. He yelped and pedaled as fast as he could across the cross-walk,
realizing at once how stupid he was being and how ridiculous the book was.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t completely out of breath by the time he reached
Serafina’s. He wanted to collapse on the sidewalk outside the store. He
wanted to throw up.

“Regardleff of age, obefity, or gender,” floated in front of his eyes.

Mallory gently laid his bike against the brick wall in front of the store
and stepped inside, the clanking cow-bell attached to the door ringing
over his head.

The aging crone at the ancient cash register eyed him evilly as always,
but Mallory ignored her and stepped as quickly as he could to the back of
the shop.

He passed an old man who was poking through a pile of tarnished brass
birdcages. Panic rising in his throat, Mallory broke into a run once more
until he found the shelf... and the little girl’s dressing mirror, and the
crystal swan, and Francis the Jointed Teddy Bear.

There in between them, covered in a thin layer of dust, was the red
ribbon. He picked it up. A single breath blew the dust off of it, leaving
it shining and beautiful before him.

The Princess Ribbon, Mallory though to himself.

He grabbed it and ran to the cash register, heedless of the strange stare
the old man was giving him. The cashier crone stared at him in disgust.

“It’s for my sister!” he exclaimed.

* * *

Mallory felt pretty foolish once he was walking his bike back to the
ballet studio, but he still had the ribbon firmly in hand.

“It’s for my sister,” he mocked himself. His wallet was empty and his self
esteem was dipping lower and lower than he thought possible. Just because
some girls had laughed at him... again... he had gone out and done
something stupid.

Still, the ribbon was a very pretty thing. He couldn’t help but stare at
it. His eyes seemed to be drawn in.

Out of curiosity, he pulled the strange book back out of his back pack
with one hand and layed it clumsily across the handlebars of his bike.
There was the same illustration, of the ‘Princess’ and her ribbon. There
was the smudged out “Avai-bl- at La-y S-ra-Fin- ‘s -ine An-iqu-s a-d --”

How would one look like a princess just using a stupid ribbon. Did you tie
it in your hair? Did you just have to be touching it? Of course that
couldn’t be it, because it’d had already of worked when he held it.

But it wasn’t going to work because it was a crock. Right? There was no
such thing as magic or fairy princesses or enchanted ribbons.

There was more smudged text on the page. He ran his thumb across it again,
nearly dropping his bicycle in the process.

“--Umm-n Fa--ry -- -- Rib--”

Summon the faerie of the ribbon? How would one go about summoning the
faerie of the ribbon. It was just a hoax after all. A very expensive hoax.
He should have just stuck with having fun reading the strange book and
leaving well enough alone.

“It’s not just like you can say ‘Mystical Faerie Come Forth’ and expect
there to be a--”

*POOF*

Mallory coughed and waved the smoke from his eyes. When he could see
again, there was a strange creature hovering just in front of him.

“Fraggin’ wonderful! Yet another princess wanna-be. And it’s a fraggin’
guy this time!”

[ ] [ ] ] [

Chapter 2: Pixie Mallory

Mallory’s bike lay on the ground next to him. A small cloud of white smoke
was slowly dissapating into the early evening twighlight.

In front of Mallory, hovering about four feet in the air, was a strange
creature. It was round and fat, about the same size as a basketball. It
had long, bony feet, and short, stubby hands. Strange-looking, curly ears
stuck out the sides of its head. It was covered entirely in pale blue fur,
and had large, luminescent blue eyes. Its whiskers twitched once.

“Fraggin’ wonderful! Yet another princess wanna-be. And it’s a fraggin’
guy this time!”

“W-what?” Mallory asked out loud.

“Don’t ask me, fag-boy. Yous the one holdin’ the fraggin’ ribbon,” the
creature responded.

He floated close to Mallory and stared the boy in the face. He peered
curiously at the youth’s bruised eye.

“Someone gave ya a shiner, fag-boy? Ya kick his nurtz for ‘em?”

Mallory wasn’t seeing it. It was a hallucination. Or he was imagining it.
Or... Or...

“They’s did it because yous a fag-boy huh? Dalmation! Ya gets all the
luck, donchas? Not enough that ya gotta be born *diffrent* and take it up
the axe that way. Ya gotsa get beat, burned at the stake, and roasted in
the fraggin’ ovens. Ya take it up the axe that way, too.”

“I’m not gay!” Mallory hissed.

“You’re the fag-boy that just spent thirty dollars on a fraggin’ toy
ribbon because you’s read it would turn yous into a princess. Hey, there
ain’t no shame in it. You’s just a fag-boy. It’sa way yous born.”

“This is ridiculous. This can’t be happening!” Mallory protested out
loud. “Who are you?!” he demanded.

“Rambler Blue, at you’s service.”

He reached behind his back and pulled out a small, blue business card. It
was printed in the same antique lettering as the strange magic catalog
that was now lying open at Mallory’s feet.

RAMBLER BLUE
Myftic Faerie of the Ribbon
Princeffef Made - Enchantmentf Caft

“But ya already knows all that, ‘cause yous the one what summoned me. Now
unless I’m mistaken, and I ain’t never mistaken, yous late for somethin’.”

“Oh god! Jodah! She’s out of rehersal.”

The strange, floating, rabbit-like apparition temporarily forgotten in his
panic, Mallory grabbed his bike up off the ground and ran as quickly as he
could to the dance school. He was within sight of the brick building
before he remembered to hop onto his bike and pedal.

Jodah was waiting for him on the other side of the building near the
entrance, back in her denim jacket and running shoes. Her arms were
crossed, and her face was twisted in what could only be called a look of
ire.

“Where were you?” she demanded in a cold, callous tone.

“I was--” Mallory stopped himself before he could blurt out the
ridiculousness of what he’d been through.

“We were done ten minutes ago,” the girl hissed through closed teeth. “And
you’re *supposed* to be walking me home. I swear to God, Mallory, if you
were peeking on the other classes, I’ll tell the teacher and get you
banned from the building!”

“I was not peeking!” Mallory protested.

“Like I believe anything that comes out of a freak’s mouth,” Jodah said.

“Dalmation! What a biscuit!” Rambler Blue noted from over Mallory’s
shoulder.

Mallory turned in horror when he realized the strange, talking animal was
still with him. He tried to hold his hands in between Rambler and Jodah.

“Don’t ya worry about it, fag-boy,” Rambler said. “She can’t see me. Ain’t
none of ‘em but yous can see me ‘cause yous owns the ribbon, fair and
square.”

“Can’t see?” Mallory repeated in confusion.

“All I can see is that I’ve been cursed with a brother as freaky and
disgusting as you,” Jodah insulted him.

“Go on,” Rambler instructed Mallory, pushing him with a surprisingly
strong fuzzy paw in in the direction of his house. “Act like yous
listenin’ to Princess Biscuit there. She’s gonna rant and rave anyway.
Might as well let ‘er. I’ll explain everything on the way.”

* * *

It was well past sunset by the time Mallory and Jodah returned to the
bookstore. Mallory was horribly nervous, but Rambler kept assuring him
that the only person who noticed anything unusual was him... or as the
strange rabbit-creature said, “Yous not gonna acomplish a dalmation
thing ‘till you calm down and stop actin’ like it’s the end o’ the world.”

Mallory intended to dash past the door and run back to his bedroom so that
he could grill Rambler about the ‘magic’, but both his parents were
waiting near the back door, getting ready for dinner. Mallory’s father was
supervising a boiling pot on the stove across the small kitchen, while his
mother was setting out plates and flatware.

“Jodah, sweetie, did you have a good time at rehersal.”

“Yes, Mommy!” Jodah replied thickly and sweetly, kissing her mother on the
cheek. “It would have been much better if I didn’t have to babysit
my ‘big’ brother,” she hissed quietly.

“Mallory, why don’t you help me set-- Oh!”

Mallory started in worry, wondering if his parents really could see the
strange creature following him.

“Son,” his father stated in concern. “Did you get in another scrap today?”

“A scrap? Uh--”

“Mallory, go wash your hands and get ready for dinner. We’ll talk about
this while we eat,” his mother instructed.

Ashamned and dejected, Mallory trudged down the hallway and into the
downstairs bathroom. He could hear Jodah bounding up the stairway to
change clothes. How someone so small could make so much noise on their tip-
toes was well beyond him.

“Wonderful,” he complained in a whisper tone. “I get beaten senseless and
I also get in trouble for it.”

“Yous one pathetic fag-boy allright,” Rambler agreed with him.

Mallory got the distinct feeling that the rabbit was mocking him rather
than sympathizing.

Worse was the look of horror on his mother’s otherwise beautiful face.
Mallory couldn’t help but feel devestated that he had caused so much upset
in the woman. It burned in his mind and made the embarassment all that
much worse.

Back at the dinner table, Mallory’s father was the first to speak.

“Son... Mallory, are you trying to avoid the bullies, or are you fighting
back when they hit you?”

“Uhm...”

“Do you want to take martial arts lessons?” his father suggested. It was
something he’d hinted about in the past. “I have a friend who teaches
Karate. Maybe we could find a spot for you in one of his classes.”

“Oh, and Mallory would do so well in Karate,” Jodah sniped. “The freak
would be pulverized if you put him in the same room with a bunch of
martial artists.”

“Jodah! Do not insult your brother,” Moira scolded her
daughter. “Apologize right now!”

The woman seemed so kind and considerate, but the angelic defense she
offered Mallory tasted rather bitter. If Mallory couldn’t defend himself
against a little girl, what hope did he have in a Karate class?

Mallory’s father’s eyebrows knitted in concern and more than a little
frustration.

Jeffery Morgan was not a small man. He was over six feet tall, and had
powerful, broad shoulders. The tendons in his neck stood out like steel
cables. Mallory knew that he had played several sports in school and in
college. He’d seen pictures of the man wrestling, lifting impossibly heavy
weights, and knocking over his fellow foot-ball players. Despite being in
a shirt and tie, Jeffery still looked like a athlete rather than a
businessman.

Mallory suspected the truth of the matter. His father had probably never
even *had* to deal with bullies of any kind before.

“Maybe, son, you should start running track and field,” he stated
pragmatically. “You certainly shouldn’t have to deal with that kind of a
abuse at school, but you shouldn’t have to fight if you don’t want to.
Perhaps if you trained up a little, you’d have a little better luck.”

Unspoken, but still clear was the obvious sentiment. Mallory couldn’t even
run away from the fights he got into.

Mallory began to tune the conversation out. It wasn’t really doing
anything to help him. It wasn’t like he was unhealthy or that he didn’t
ride his bike every chance he got. He was shorter or thinner than most of
the other boys who attacked him. He didn’t even have the opportunity to
run, let alone the speed to get away from them.

Ignoring his father’s suggestions, he began to watch Rambler, who was busy
shovelling steamed carrots off of Mallory’s plate.

“Mrmph... I’ll say this for ‘im. The man can cook.”

“If you like getting nothing but health food,” Mallory noted.

“*URRRLLLRRRRPPPPP*” the rabbit belched loudly.

“What was that, darling?” Moira asked her son.

“I said that I try to eat healthy food,” Mallory quickly ammended.

His father shook his head. “Diet is good, but it won’t accomplish a lot
without proper excercise.”

*FFFFFFBBBBBPPPPTTTTT*

Rambler raised one leg and eyebrow and then grinned in satisfaction.
Mallory thought that the floating rabbit had risen a few inches.

“How’s that for excercise, Charles Atlas? Gimme su’ more o’ that broccoli,
would ya?”

Mallory pushed the limp-looking greens across his plate towards Rambler,
who quickly scarfed them.

The young man still wasn’t sure he wasn’t insane.

* * *

After everyone else had gone to bed, after the last sounds of his parent’s
conversation had died down, Mallory nodded to the magical rabbit.

“Okay. Here’s th’ drill,” Rambler instructed quietly. “For this t’ing ta
work, it’s gotta be in contact with yous body or yous hair. Yous should
tie it in yous hair.”

“But that would look...”

“Pretty as a pink button,” Rambler responded, finishing Mallory’s sentance
for him.. “Whatch yous afraid of, kid? I though ya dug this sort of
shimmer.”

Mallory swallowed and nodded. He attempted to tie the ribbon into his
hair, but couldn’t seem to get it to stay in one position. Instead, he
wrapped it around his neck and tied it with a loose bow.

“Good enough,” Rambler noted. “Now yous needs ta take off yous clothes.”

“What?!”

“You fraggin’ heard me,” the rabbit said. “Take off yous clothes. We don’t
know how yous gonna change yet. Probably won’t be a problem, but we don’t
wanna break yous feet or strangle ya to death the first time ya change, do
we?”

Mallory was stiff for a second, but disobeying the magical rabbit wasn’t
really an option. He wanted what the creature was offering too badly to
consider any ulterior motives. Off came his shoes, shirt, pants, and even
his tighty-whitie briefs.

For a second, all he could do was stand in front of the creature with his
arms folded over his chest and his hands covering his privates.

Mallory caught sight of himself in the mirror over his dresser. It was...
distasteful. It almost made him ill to see his own body, even from the
side. He really did loathe the way he looked.

“Now the magic words. Repeat after me: Paralelu Pikushi Pahekasukora
Pinky.”

“Parawhat?” Mallory’s mind roiled at the alien-sounding phrase.

Rambler repeated the phrase he had just uttered. “Pa-ra-le-lu... Pi-ku-
shi... Pa-he-ka-su-ko-ra Pin-ky.

It sounded vaguely asian for some reason, and Mallory was no expert at
language. Hands still guarding his crotch, he attempted to whisper the
phrase.

“Parallel Pixie Pahexakora Pinky?”

The transformation began instantenously. It felt like Mallory’s tongue had
been ripped out of his mouth as soon as the ‘Pinky’ rolled off of his
tongue. It was painful. Extremely painful. It felt like his whole body was
being twisted apart. It was like someone wrapped him in a strong rope and
then pulled it tighter and tighter, squeezing him, twisting his skin off,
and making what little that wasn’t being crushed feel like it was going to
pop.

As intense as it was, it was over in just a few seconds. Mallory realized
he was lying on the floor. He could taste the dusty surface of the
hardwood. He was too sore to close his mouth, however. Getting up was
altogether another prospect.

“Meh, yous’ll get used ta it.”

Mallory gagged.

“What? I have to do it again?” he cried weakly.

His voice was... different? Unfamiliar hope began to flare in his chest.

“Yous just gonna up’n be a biscuit the rest of yous life? Nah, ya gotta be
able to go back and forth or it don’t mean nothin’. Now stand up and take
a look at yous’self.”

It was all Mallory could do to stand, but when he did...

When SHE did... she caught sight of the strange apparition her body had
become in the mirror.

The girl standing in front of Mallory in the mirror was short and blonde.
The honey-blonde mop on her head was instantly recognizeable as the same
shade both Mallory’s mother and sister bore.

The face was similar too. She had a thin, upturned nose and high
cheekbones, just like Jodah. In a few more years, the girl could be
Moira’s younger sister.

Mallory moved her arms from in front of her body. The girl in the mirror
did not have anything like breasts when Mallory exposed them. She did have
slightly swolen mammaries and slightly puffy nipples.

Rambler could apparently tell what she was looking at.

“What? Yous fourteen years old. Yous lucky to have glass cutters. Give it
a couple years and yous’ll be bouncin’ like a beach ball.”

Mallory did her best to ignore the blush that appeared on the girl’s
cheeks in the mirror and peeked downwards. She also had a thin, wiry
triangle of hair at the base of her torso, where something important was
missing.

At first Mallory was horrified. Of course girls didn’t have the same
equipment boys did, but she was still surprised about the radical change.

After a few seconds, she realized how beautiful the girl in the mirror
was. She was *very* pretty, like Mallory’s mother, like Jodah. She was
just the kind of girl that Mallory could fall for, let alone love to be.

She looked down again and contemplated her delta. There seemed to be an
awful lot of it. Of course, unlike before, there was nothing protruding
from it.

“Biscuits gets the bushes and fag-boys gets the shrubbery around the tree,
remember?” Rambler stated. “If yous wants, I bets dollars to donuts yous
old lady gots sumptin’ to get rid of it. Shave it off or rip it out. Yous
might wanna get the gams and the pits while yous at it.”

“Ouchie,” Mallory whispered, realizing that her mother did indeed tend to
secret herself away in the bathroom for several hours each weekend in
order to ‘deal with feminine issues’. There was also a pink razor and
fruit-scented shaving gel in the cabinet under the sink in the bathroom.
Jodah promised Mallory on more than one occasion that she would use the
razor on his throat if he ever even thought about touching it. Mallory
doubted that the girl had much hair on her legs yet, but she did wear a
leotard on a daily basis.

Most women probably shaved or waxed their body hair to a greater or lesser
extent. Mallory would now have to start worrying about that too.

It didn’t *seem* like too big a price to pay.

Nervously, Mallory reached down to tug at the wiry hair.

“Heya, Pix! Whoa! Hold on there. I can completely understand yous wanting
to take a test drive and play with all the buttons and knobs, but gimme a
chance to get out of the room, okay?”

“I wasn’t going to!” Mallory protested angrily, her high, piping voice
sounding alien, yet strangely familiar in her own ears. It was like a
combination of her own voice and her sister’s.

“Uh-huh.”

Another glance in the mirror told Mallory that the burning blush on her
face covered her ears as well and was creeping down over her chest and
onto her barely-formed breasts.

“So now what do I do?”

“A fag-boy like you doesn’t have any women’s clothes stashed?” Rambler
suggested.

Mallory’s blush deepeend and threated to creep down to her waist. She
started to shivver in the cool evening air blowing in softly under her
door.

“Yeah,” Mallory admitted darkly. “I do. To look at. Not to wear. None of
them would ever fit.”

“Now’s your chance, Pix.”

The clothes-- dragged out of a shoebox at the bottom of Mallory’s closet--
were rags for the most part. They were his mother’s and sister’s discards.
Mallory would never steal the clothes, but a few items had been lifted
from the Morgans’ ‘throwaway’ hamper before they made it to the trash bin
or the Salvation Army.

Here was a too-big dress. There was a too-small sunday frock. There was
also a nightgown and a small bra and panty set. Mallory even had a pair of
Jodah’s old dance tights. They had a long run across the knee.

In another shoebox was a pair of patent-leather flats that were worn and
scuffed. There were also a pair of heeled sandals that looked like they
had been discarded in another decade.

None of the clothes particularly fit Mallory’s new body, but she tried all
of them on anyway.

Rambler hovered silently, just away from the mirror the entire time
Mallory stared intently at her own reflection.

After some time, after she had tried every possible combination more than
once, Rambler coughed politely and gestured with his strange bunny arms to
Mallory’s alarm clock.

It was after three in the morning.

“Yous needs some sleep, Pix.”

Was his tone softer? More gentle?

“Yeah. I guess so,” Mallory agreed numbly. She didn’t want to go to bed.
She wanted to spend more time in front of the mirror experiencing the
newness of the wonderful gift she had just received.

“I knows yous don’t wanna hear this, but yous should change back and hide
the ribbon before yous go beddy-bye.”

Mallory wanted to protest, but she knew the magical rabbit was correct.
There would be no telling what would happen if the person who woke up in
Mallory Morgan’s bed didn’t seem to be Mallory Morgan.

* * *

*KA-THUNK* *KA-THUNK* *KA-THUNK*

Of all the ways to be woken up, hearing the washing machine disembowling
itself immediately underneath you was not high on Mallory’s list.
Hopefully, unlike last time, this particular incident would not require
the services of an insurance adjuster or a carpenter. The last time the
washing machine broke down, it had torn a large gash in the wall and
knocked Mallory’s mother to the ground, bruising her.

It was irrational to be angry at a machine, but the washing machine still
managed to flame Mallory’s ire.

There was a knock at his door a few seconds later and a squeak as someone
pushed it open a few inches.

“Mallory? Are you up, sweetheart? I need your sheets and linens. The
washing machine is broken again and I want to get everything taken care of
in one trip to the laundromat.”

Another reason to hate modern appliances. The Morgan family never seemed
to have much luck with them.

Desperately, under the covers, Mallory’s hand immediately snaked into his
pillow case. It closed around the ribbon he had hidden there the night
before. He pulled it out and hid it under his body.

“Uhm... okay,” he replied nervously.

Rambler snored rudely from Mallory’s sock drawer as his mother pulled the
door shut. He prayed once again that he was indeed the only one who could
see or hear the faerie rabbit.

In horror, Mallory realized that there were no clean underwear in the
drawer next to Rambler.

The briefs he’d worn the previous evening, before his transformation, had
been cast into a hamper next to his door. He hadn’t noticed it, but the
hamper must have already been confiscated by his mother as she gathered
laundry.

Of all the nights to sleep without underwear!

A few alternatives presented themselves. He could try to don the panties
from the too-small set he had stashed until he was able to obtain other
underwear.

That was no good. They would be shredded by his too-large frame.

One part of his mind remembered that if he used the ribbon, that’s wasn’t
a danger. The panties wouldn’t be ruined!

But, there would be an unfamiliar person running around the Morgan house,
with an unfamiliar face and an unfamiliar voice.

He could abandon the ribbon for a few seconds and try to find the hamper.
That would mean venturing out of his room in a completely nude state.

Rambler was obviously no help. Abandoning the ribbon was no good either.
Mallory felt sick in his gut at the thought of leaving it behind. Instead,
he carefully folded it so that it fit in the palm of one hand.

His heart pounding, he stepped into the hallway outside his room. He
exhaled sharply, catching sight of the hamper just around the corner. He
stepped towards it to try to grab his briefs and...

“EEEEEEEEEEEEE!” Jodah screamed.

“Uh...”

*SLAP*

“GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU PERVERT!” the girl screamed at the top of her
lungs.

Desperately, Mallory tried to cover himself with the hand not full of
ribbon.

Jodah lashed out again, clonking him in the nose with her tiny fist. Still
in her pajamas, she ran screaming down the hallway.

“MOM! MALLORY’S WAVING HIS PRIVATES AT ME!”

Humiliated, Mallory grabbed what looked like a pair of briefs from the
hamper and retreated.

“So smooth, Fag-boy! That was so smooth I almost cried,” Rambler noted,
sitting up in his drawer.

“Yeah, thanks a whole lot.”

* * *

“Mallory, you know that your sister is young and insensitive, but she’s
also at an age where she’s easily threatened.”

His ears burning, but his body finally fully clothed, Mallory nodded in
humiliation.

“Meh, Princess Biscuit doesn’t have anyt’ing to be threatened about. It’s
not like she’s gots Gazongas like these.”

Mallory wanted to glare at Rambler, but his face wouldn’t leave the floor.

“You also know that your body is changing, Mallory. Every person your age
goes through this. The changes can be confusing, not just for you, but for
Jodah as well.”

“Fag-boy obviously ain’t gonna get it up for that at all. Now these firm,
ripe, juicy melons on the other hand...”

Mallory wanted to howl.

“It’s not very fair, I know, but young men can be threatening to young
women completely by accident.”

It was just another reason for Mallory to hate his body.

“If you’re confused, or you have questions, I want you to talk to me,
Mallory. You’re not alone. I want to be with you.”

“Wit’ yous nestled firmly in the shady valley right betweens Everest and
Kilamanjaro!” Rambler hooted.

“Jodah is going to scream and fuss, but please don’t feel like I have any
suspicion that you’re being threatening on purpose.”

Mallory nodded again, unable to speak.

“Because if I did think you were being threatening on purpose, you would
already know about it.”

It wasn’t a threat, Mallory thought to himself over and over again. It was
a warning. It was guidance.

It still felt like a slap in the face.

“Now get ready for school. You don’t want to be late!”

* * *

A few blocks away from the Morgan Bookstore, Mallory began to complain
about Rambler’s behavior.

“That was amazingly rude! I should slap you for talking about my mother
like that.”

“And which army yous gonna hire to beat me up? Yous ain’t gonna do it.”
Revoling around Mallory like a moon, Rambler reached out and pushed at one
of his soft arms. “Assuming they can finds me, and they ain’t gonna
because I’m magic, yous gonna be seriously surprised at the magical axe-
whipping I can throw down.”

Mallory stared at the ground suddenly, realizing how silly he was being,
but still feeling mortally insulted by the rabbit.

“Ya needs to quit worryin’ at it. Yous ol’ lady is just as human and
screwed up as everyone else. Ya knows as well as I do that biscuits gots
to shirts and pinkses just like fag-boys do.”

“That doesn’t mean that you can just talk about my mom’s breasts in front
of me!” Mallory complained.

“Why not? You think about ‘em all the time. I guarantee yous old man
got ‘em bouncin’ up and down in front of his face come beddy-bye-time. Hot
lady like that? I’d hit it like a punchin’ bag!”

“Rambler!”

“What? I told yous she’s human just like you. She’s got needs. She and
your ol’ man both needs a good caulking just like everyone else. Ya rather
dey were makin th’ meat-jerky?”

Mallory’s face could not get any more red. He simply stared at the ground
and tried to keep from crying at the magical rabbit’s obscene commentary.

“She likes it when yous ol’ man gives it to ‘er. ‘S why they had ya and
Princess Biscuit. Assumin’ she’s not a fag-girl like yous a fag-boy,
someday Princess Biscuit is gonna find some conch she likes and get
hersself rode. Ya think it ain’t gonna happen?”

Mallory didn’t answer, continuing to stare at the ground.

“Ya got some kinda complex goin’ on that women ain’t human,” Rambler
stated in a huff. “Ya gots to get over that if yous gonna be one. Dey
ain’t goddesses, dey ain’t perfect, and dey gots just as many problems as
yous.”

After a few minutes of bobbing along silently behind the sullen boy,
Rambler Blue snickered. “So, yous didn’t even think about trying to take a
shirt with biscuit parts yet,” he accused.

“No,” Mallory admitted in a gruff voice.

“First order o’ business once we get you changed back is to get some eats
and drinks so yous can experience the joys of digestion. Now look up.
Unless I’s mistaken, there’s some losers what think givin’ shiners to fag-
boys is fun.”

Mallory looked up just in time to catch the captain of baseball team and
several of his cronies-- at least two or three of the same boys who’d
kicked him in the ribs yesterday, loitering near the low brick wall in
front of the school. They were lounging casually on it, but their
expressions spoke of barely contained violence. There were at least five
boys that Mallory could see, and all of them appeared to be searching for
someone without trying to look like they were.

“They’re waiting for me again,” he breathed. He stopped and made an abrupt
turn, stepping into the lee of a shop awning.

“Oh, good way to be inconsipuous. Hey, conch-face! Come find me hidin’ so
yous can kick my axe again!”

“Shut up!” Mallory cried, grabbing for the bunny, but missing.

“They can’t hear me,” Ramble scolded him floating just out of reach, “but
if they hears yous yellin’ they really are gonna come put a boot up your
axe.

Nearby a aproned shopkeeper stepped out of a glass doorway and began to
sweep off the mat in front of his store. He caught Mallory out of the
corner of his eye and tried not to act as if he were staring at the
frightened youth.

“Now, into the alley,” Rambler suggested. “Hands on your conch like yous
gots to take a pinkses.”

“I can’t pee in the alley!” Mallory protested, obeying the rabbit
nonetheless.

“Yous pretty rare then,” Rambler said, holding his nose. “Not behind the
dumpster. Yous gets a disease or somethin’. Elvis Presley, it stinks back
here!”

Mallory tried to ignore both the sudden wave of nausea at the rising smell
of rot combined with ammonia that assailed him as the sudden urge to empty
his bladder.

Rambler hovered over to the other end of the alley and looked carefully
both ways.

“Okay, yous clear. Now yous gonna learn the ‘Pixie Invisibility’ trick.”

“I’m gonna teleport past the guys?” Mallory asked.

“No, yous gonna transform and walk past em. They’ll be so busy lookin’ for
fag-boy they’ll never notice the biscuit walkin’ in right under their
noses.”

“I can’t! Not here. Not right now!”

“Yous gonna have to sooner or later. Why get pulverized if you don’t
gotta?”

He sighed, realizing the rabbit was right.

“Yous know the words.”

Mallory nodded. Shaking again, he put one hand on the ribbon hid under his
collar and began to whisper quietly.

* * *

Chapter 3: Pixie and the Peasants

“Parallel Pixie Pahexakora Pinky!”

Mallory managed to stay on her feet despite the wave of tearing, shifting
pain that washed over her body as it warped into its new shape. The
general condition of the alley alone helped a great deal. The desire to
keep from falling down into dried urine, rotting food, and what ever other
refuse that littered the ashpalt did a great deal to keep her upright.

After a few seconds, her vision cleared. She managed to keep from
staggering into anything. Mallory realized her pants were sliding down
around her hips, so she grabbed them and pulled them back up.

“Belt,” Rambler suggested.

Mallory nodded and began unfastening her belt in order to tighten it. She
had to pull the sitched leather strap past the last hole.

“Just tie it in a knot. It’ll stay for long enough,” Rambler told his
charge.

It was difficult, especially since the belt seemed so much larger and
difficult to handle in her petite hands than it did before.

“Yous lost some strength in the transformation and yous wasn’t exackly the
Incredle Hulk to starts with,” Rambler noted, watching Mallory
pull . “Don’t hit nobodys, Pix, because yous gonna be in for a severe
shock if yous do.”

“I’ve never hit anyone anyway,” Mallory grumbled, again startled at her
own piping voice.

“Untuck your shirt,” Rambler suggested, “and out of the alley that way.
We’ll do a block. Shoes don’t fit, so yous’ll need a few minutes practice
walkin’ in em.”

Mallory’s loafers did indeed feel like they were going to fall off, but by
shuffling just a little bit, she found that she could keep them on while
taking steps rather than having them flop off her toes. Her pants were
more or less hanging around her hips by her belt, so they bagged out in a
way that was unconfortable. Mallory did her best to keep them from falling
down over her heels and tripping her.

She walked out of the alley and turned back towards her house. It was a
quick trip around the shops to the sidestreet and back where she came,
despite how difficult it was to walk in her ill-fitting clothes.

She stopped briefly, catching sight of herself in the reflective glass on
the storefront she had initially hid in front of. She looked silly, she
though, but not ridiculous. This person was a pretty girl wearing baggy
clothes and not an uncomfortable-looking, gawky boy. What few curves she
had were just barely displayed by the too-large turtle-neck sweater as it
hung over her shoulders. Her hips were outlined by the tight belt, but
only slightly.

The shopkeeper, who was just finishing his sweeping, glanced curiously at
her and smiled broadly. Mallory couldn’t help but smile back.

Still careful to keep her shoes hanging on her toes, she continued
onwards, her eyes fixed firmly on the front doors of the school, but her
attenioned focused solely on the group of young men waiting for her alter-
self. They didn’t notice her. In fact, they seemed more interested in the
small crowd of students gathering around them, waiting for the first bell
to ring.

She walked past them without garnering so much as a glance. It really was
like she was invisible. Just as she was about to step into the building,
where students were filterng past the lobby and into the hallways, she
turned back to look at the group to confirm her lack of conspiciousness.

The captain apparently felt her eyes on him, because he turned to meet her
gaze.

He smiled.

Mallory was startled. She stepped forward, driving the toes of her left
foot into the front of a step. She only had time to windmill once before
she fell over, landing face first on the brick walkway in front of her.

“Ow.”

“Very smooth, Pix,” Rambler laughed. “Makin’ goo-goo eyes at conch-face.”

“I was not! Ow!” Mallory protested as she tried to scramble to her feet.
She had lost one shoe in the fall and her foot was rapidly becoming
tangled in her pants leg.

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve met!” a voice sounded out from above her. “I’m
Jason. You have to watch your step around here.”

Mallory’s heart started pounding. She felt a pair of warm hands close
around her hips, and then a lifting, pulling sensation that had her back
on her feet.

She turned. Unable to speak, she saw the feather-haired boy standing over
her. His athletic bag was slung over one of his shoulders and his hands
were still firmly resting on her narrow hips.

“This is what yous refer to as a classic pick-up. Don’t fall for it, Pix!”
Rambler warned her.

“P-p-pick-up?” Mallory stammered, unable to tear her eyes away from the
team captain’s perfect hair.

“I don’t mind at all,” he said warmly.

Behind him, she realized that his friends were snickering and elbowing
each other. They were making quiet jokes, but their leader was apparently
ignoring them.

“T-t-thank you!” Mallory stammered, just a little too quickly. She twisted
to get away and dodged inside the door, past another student. She dodged
back a second later to grab her discarded shoe and darted back inside.

“Very nice,” Rambler snickered as she headed for the nearest restroom
through the milling students.

She got one or two curious looks as she headed into the building, but no
hateful glares or smiles of amusement

“I suggest yous don’t let him stick his conch in your custard until yous
has more than a few days experience having one,” Ramber laughed.

“Not a problem!” Mallory assured the rabbit. Breathing rapidly, she
whispered, “I thought for a second that I was really invisible.”

“Nah. Now if you wanna do *real* magic, Pix, we’ll tackle that later on.”

Mallory boggled. She was silent as the sheer unreality of Rambler Blue’s
statement washed over her.

If you could change your gender and appearance, why couldn’t you do other,
different, more profound magic? Everything Mallory knew told her that
there was no possible way Magic could really work. Of course every time
she happened to catch sight of herself in a glass window or mirror, every
part of her being discarded that notion like it was week-old garbage.

Changing back was as simple as finding an unoccupied boys’ bathroom and
locating a stall before anyone else came in. That wasn’t nearly so simple
when Mallory walked in on a young man washing his hands in the nearest
restroom. She ran and found another bathroom at the end of one of the
school’s hallways. This one was empty, so she had time to loosen her belt
and take off her shoes before taking the bow off from under her sweater.
Her body seemed to expand back into the one she was familiar with.

Mallory refastened his belt, tied his shoes again, and checked his zipper
four separate times before the first bell rang. A little dissapointed that
he couldn’t walk around and attend classes in his new body, he headed off
towards his first class. The ribbon was tucked safely away under the
collar of his sweater once again.

Rambler was strangely silent as they passed through the students. For
once, Mallory’s eyes weren’t busy seeking out the hateful expressions on
other faces so that he could avoid people. His eyes were staring off into
the distance as he considered what he’d just done and what he’d heard.

Mallory was so caught up in his thoughts that he never saw the captain of
the baseball team or realized that he was about to collide with him in the
hallway.

* * *

~ to be continued