Chapter 13

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Tomorrow is only a day away…

Andromeda is humming "Tomorrow" from Annie while she sits across from me in the main classroom and doodles. Zahra's busy seeing kids off while I'm looking over budgets for the school board meeting tonight. It's been four days since movie night. It has also been four days since I decided that maybe some cults aren't so bad. Maybe. After all, I'm almost positive the maybe vibe is exactly what gets people stuck in cults. It's only once you're in too deep that you start to see maybe you shouldn't have given a cult the benefit of the doubt.

After several minutes, Zahra enters the classroom and arches a brow at Andromeda. "You stickin' around, small fry?"

"Not done yet," Andromeda replies.

"What if Alexios is waiting for you?" I ask.

"Didn't smell like stone earlier. Just rain. And I can be around Zy now. He's my doting kitty mom."

Oh, right. Forgive me. I forgot about the rules that constitute letting a little girl walk home by herself.

She's going to get kidnapped like Annie.

Maybe I should start walking her home… Not as an excuse to see Pollux because I haven't seen my dreamboy since the first time and I'm going into a few inexplicable withdrawals. No. It's because I'm a good teacher and I want to make sure she's okay.

In case anyone asks, it is not beyond inappropriate if I fall asleep thinking about the way Pollux's thigh brushed mine while we were innocently watching the movie four days ago. I also think about how Andromeda climbed into my lap and cuddled with me throughout most of the film.

Certainly I am not depraved and affection-starved. It was just a very big night, and I'm still processing many details.

Like how the faerie cult leader sat on the floor hugging Alana while she rocked a burrito in her arms as though it were an infant. The most negative emotions he gave off were in relation to that burrito. I'm almost certain he was jealous of it.

So.

Yeah.

Big night.

Processing things.

"Playground fund," Zahra murmurs above my head. "You're really going to make another push for that?"

I look down at the budget report our treasurer got to me earlier today. All the math scribbles I have jumbled in the margins suggest that maybe we can pool together just enough to update our pitiful "playground." Because a row of four swings just isn't a "playground." "I really, really would like to make it work for the kids for Christmas. We'll be advertising to parents for new students come January, and right now, our recess activities only include dodge ball in the gym, a sandpit that's more wood chippings than sand, and enough swings for a third of our current students."

"Don't forget the chalk," Zahra notes. "Kids love chalk."

I glance sidelong at my humming kid companion, who does love chalk and is currently drawing the unthinkable in her sketchbook. She's using a black pen, which is a new style and a majestic contrast from the matted wax of her crayons. It is sketchy and horrifying.

I don't want to say so in front of her, but some children who love chalk aren't allowed to use it sometimes because some teachers have had to scrub terrors off cement prior to other school board meetings. "I just think it would be very nice to have some actual equipment. For Christmas. Don't you, Meda?"

Andromeda looks up off the monster scrawl. "Hm?"

"Would you like some playground equipment for Christmas?"

Zahra snorts. "Are you supposed to drag one of the kids in on this scheme of yours?"

Probably not. But Andromeda is special.

"I don't know," she says. "What's Christmas?"

And we're back to thoughts of skinning her father alive…

Her being in a cult does miraculously explain why she seems so terribly sheltered.

I take a breath, calm myself, and remember how elaborate this past movie night was on account of it being Pollux and her first time going. "Christmas is a holiday."

"Ohh. Another one of those." She looks back at her drawing and adds a few extra spines to the creature. "What horrors does this one hide beneath the surface of merriment and cheer? Maybe I can use it as inspiration for my nightmares."

"There's a fat guy who reverse robs the children he's been stalking all year," Zahra obliges. "He wears blood red and steals cookies from everyone."

"Zahr. Santa's clothes aren't even remotely blood red."

"She wants inspiration." Zahra crosses her arms. "I'm doing my duty as an educator aide and inspiring."

Just because we can tell the kid about Krampus does not mean we should. I sigh. "Christmas is a holiday honoring the birth of Jesus Christ. It's a time for family, friends, and exchanging gifts. There are many traditions associated with it and many different ways of celebrating, some more Christian than others. It falls on December twenty-fifth each year."

"Jesus wasn't born in December," she says.

I blink. I'm sorry. Why does she know that but not what Christmas is?

"It couldn't have been in winter," she continues. "The shepherds the angels got wouldn't have been in the fields. Had to be during lambing season." She draws a couple more talons, then she gasps and looks up at me. "Wait, is this one of those holidays that was stolen by people who didn't like the original holiday? Oooh, I wonder how positively dreadful it had to be for the squeamish to slap the entire birthof Christ on top of it. Doesn't it make you want to research all the details and add its history to your lesson plans?"

No. It makes me want to ask your father what the heck he's teaching you at home…

"Some Christmas traditions are fae." Zahra pulls out a chair and takes a seat. Her green eyes glitter. "Like, Christmas trees. Some tales claim that trees were brought into the home and adorned with gifts for the fae. Is that something you know about?"

"It definitely sounds feasible. I wouldn't be one of the faeries invited in like that, though. Trees are a dryad thing, but if it's covered in treats, it may be for the pixies. Pixies are very curious and can be caught grabbing several tiny handfuls of sugar out of baking bowls if they get into your house. They don't mean to, but sometimes they ruin recipes with their mischief. To keep your pastries from flopping, you need to ask the pixies to wait until after you're finished to share." Andromeda's nose scrunches as she looks up. "A holiday where you exchange premeditated gifts sounds stressful."

"Aren't faeries known for giving amazing gifts?" Zahra asks.

"Never on a deadline. We pay back what is due when our hearts are full and willing, not because a date obligates us to. Obligations are for the people we trick into owing us. What if Christmas appears, but I don't have a gift for someone who gives me something?"

"Well," I murmur, "the holiday isn't supposed to be about that."

"What if I hate a gift I'm given? What if someone only got a gift for me because they felt like they had to? Sounds awful." She drops her attention back to her picture and begins scribbling background details. "Humans are silly."

"Agree." Zahra stares at me. "So silly. Some truly tragic silly goose behavior occurring right in this general area."

I deadpan. "I guess you don't celebrate Christmas anymore, Miss Identifies as a Faerie?"

She splays her perfect nails against her chest. "My friends and I do not celebrate Christmas. We partake of Winterfest, which, okay, is a lot like Christmas, but it consists of a bunch of weirdos from bad homes coming to my backyard and helping me build a bonfire while we all eat baked goods and drink hot chocolate. Or mead… No, I don't know how alcohol winds up present any more than I know how the giant freaking legs of turkey do. My job is to use my three ovens to maximum cookie efficiency and volunteer the backyard. It's not my fault if my friends turn it into a renfaire. The bloody edgelords…"

I rub my neck to fend off a headache. "It's clear to me you have a lot of emotions concerning Christmas."

"Nope," she chirps. "You must be mistaken."

Resting my chin in my hand, I look down at the budget numbers again. They all blur together, looking less feasible than they did a moment ago. "So no one is going to help me because Christmas is silly?"

"I didn't say that." Zahra closes her fist against her chest. "Madam, I will fight at your side to the ends of the earth in an effort to secure whatever it is your heart desires. You can count on me."

?

The board voted no. No, we could not move the funds around at this time in order to revamp our playground for Christmas. We need to make sure we're able to pay our teacher's aide. And the electricity. And other stupid things like the water bill. Zahra saying that she didn't need to be paid for the rest of the school year went over somewhat poorly.

Our chairman scowled at her, and I swear the man was about to send her to the corner for timeout.

Yet another year passes where the best I can do for Christmas is organize a Secret Santa, give small homemade presents, and plan a little party with some cheap microwave pizza.

Zahra pets my hair while I rest, flopped, on my desk in the classroom the morning after the meeting went majestically bad. "There, there," she comments. "It's okay. Those stupid people don't understand what joy is. They only know sadness."

"I found fiftypercentoff sales. I made a PowerPoint."

Zahra hums. "Not gonna lie. The PowerPoint did surprise me. Especially the short video in grayscale of sad children. Where did you even get a please adopt our puppies before we have to murder them video of kids?"

Canva, obviously.

Turning my head, I frown up at my assistant. If she keeps going on like this, I'm going to put her in my next sad video presentation. About needing to hire a new teacher aide.

"Mrs. Role? What's wrong?" Andromeda's voice snaps me to attention.

I put my I'm a teacher, I don't even use the bathroom, because I'm not human and live for my kids calm smile in place. "What do you mean, sweetheart? What are you doing here so early?" I blink, and my brows lower. "How did you get inside? Zahr, did you lock the door behind you?"

"I let myself in. It's locked now." She takes a seat at her desk. "I'm here early because Daddy blew something up."

"He did what?"

"He blew something up in the basement. He told me his observation research was done, so he's been running tests for days now. I hardly think he's even been sleeping. He takes me to work, takes me home, and goes right down to the lab. This morning, something blew up, so he kicked Yama-nii-nii and me out."

This does not spark joy.

"Is he…okay?" I ask.

"Oh, sure. You could hit Daddy with a semi and he'd probably just curse and walk it off."

Nice to…know. I suppose the age-old tale of fathers looking like superheros to their little girls maintains even in the "Faerie" world.

"Are you well?" she asks, painfully adorable and caring and sincere. Also known as: all the things her father isn't. Because if I suspected that he were, I'd think about him more. And I definitely don't.

Zahra taps my head. "Don't worry about Ms. Role, Meda. She's just lamenting being told she can't have any new toys."

Andromeda perches her chin in her hands. "Ahh…I see. The school board said no to new playground equipment."

"They said that maybe we could dig out the sandbox and put real sand back in it. Maybe." My good teacher fa?ade dies as I cross my arms like a petulant child. "After all, it's a worthless expense, isn't it? The children and weather will just undo our efforts in a month, and have you even seen the price of sand?"

Zahra's face morphs into an evil little amused grin. "They pulled up a bag of premium sand that was forty dollars for twenty pounds."

"Premium!" I throw my hands in the air. "Why do you need premium sand? It's sand! You're playing in it! Not eating it!"

"Josh would eat it," Andromeda kindly reminds me.

I sink in my chair.

Zahra, heavily amused, says, "Josh is an outlier and should not be counted."

Andromeda giggles. "You really love us kids, don't you, Mrs. Role?"

It's a perfectly normal question, but it seems too odd and adult coming from one of my kids. Nevertheless, I say, "Of course I do. You're my littles, and you're only little for so long. These years need to have enough joy to last you throughout your entire lives. You deserve better than a sandbox full of wood chips."

"You really want a playground? For Christmas?" she asks.

I sit myself back upright in my seat. Like an adult. "It's all right, sweetie. It's the third year I've been pushing for this. It's just a lot of money for something that we've already been managing well enough without. It's hard to justify a twenty-thousand dollar luxury."

Andromeda's eyes go massive. "Twenty-thousand dollars? Wow. Think of all the hot pockets you could afford."

I exhale a laugh. "Truly a massive amount. Anyway… I'll look into some fundraisers for next year, and maybe we can upgrade before you graduate. It's nothing you need to worry about right now."

"Oh, I'm not worried." Her teeth bare in a darling little grin. "I know how to problem solve." Changing the subject, she asks, "What are we learning about today?"

I, personally, am learning I have the emotional maturity of a grapefruit and want to be Andromeda when I grow up. Pity that's not entirely possible. Checking my plans for this third Tuesday of the month, I say, "Fractions."