Chapter 10

Oh my sweet monster gods.

Brandon looks debauched. His curls are sweaty, his shirt is rucked up to his brown nipples, his pants are down to his thighs, and his lovely cock is in his hand.

And he is coming.

While my instinct is to say "Sorry" and immediately leave, I am frozen in place as if he has cast a spell on me.

I simply cannot move. I can only stare. I do not know what my expression is, but Brandon's face has gone red. "Wait, Sorry, hang on," he says. He quickly pulls his pants up.

Finally, my body gets the message that I should not be gazing at him so intently, and I half turn back toward the door, which thankfully shut behind me.

Bran clears his throat. "Oh my god, I'm …"

"It is okay," I say. I swallow hard, my cock thickening. "Actually, it is very … You can … I am. I am not offended." I am turned on and trying to hide my own arousal from my roommate. I tug the hem of my hoodie down lower.

Brandon, now mostly clothed, scoots off his bed, grabs some fresh clothes from a drawer, and slips into our bathroom. I hear the water running, and I assume he is washing his hands and body where he came all over them.

But his phone is still playing.

And it is playing monster-human porn. I do not believe I am imagining things when I think that the pair looks like us.

Is there any chance that Brandon is interested in me as something other than a friend?

That is impossible. He has a girlfriend back home.

Brandon returns and hastily shuts his phone off. Then he runs his hands through his hair. "Ugh. I didn't think you'd be back. I didn't mean for you …"

"It is okay, Bran."

"Everyone does it at some point?"

"I suppose that is true, yes." I feel my cheeks heat. "In any case, I did not mind seeing you like that. It was … sexy," I admit.

Bran scrubs his face. "Okay. Hmm. I guess." He chuckles. "Except for my mom when I was about fourteen, no one's ever walked in on me like that." He gestures between us. "Living together, it's hard to get privacy." He tilts his head. "Oh my god, do you need me to leave sometimes, too? So that you can get off?"

My roommate has now shown me what it looks like when he comes. That will be material for my time alone.

I must have a faraway look on my face, because Brandon smirks. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Um. Yes, I suppose. We do not need to plan that. It is okay. I will be fine."

"Okay. But if you need some private time, just let me know."

"Thank you," I say, for lack of any other words, and I feel my body temperature rise about as high as it gets. "I need to go …" I gesture at the door. I want to get out of this room as fast as I can, so I drop my rucksack and leave for a walk in the forest.

I want to talk with someone. Unfortunately, I do not know very many people. I could text my father, but he would not understand. My mother …

Then I remember Kellie, who is one of the only numbers in my phone.

Steve: This is the nokk. I met you on the train. I wanted to see how Chris was doing.

Kellie: Oh, I'm so glad you messaged! He's fine! He's starting school next week. It's so exciting to see him grow and change.

It is suddenly hard to swallow. Kellie could not know that her simple words would affect me so strongly. But my mother never paid attention to what I was doing or how I was developing. All she did and does is complain about what my father did to her. While she has a right to complain, it leaves no room for her to think about her only son.

Kellie: Are you all settled in? What classes are you taking?

I list off my classes, and she tells me that she knows one of my professors, who is friends with her wife.

Kellie: Those classes sound great! And how is it living in the USA? Is your roommate nice?

I wait a moment trying to decide how to respond, and during that time, a text comes in from Brandon. As usual, it is a bunch of emojis that I do not understand.

I never know how to respond to his texts. But I look forward to them. I spend a lot of time trying to figure out what is going on inside his head. Every set of tiny digital hieroglyphics he sends makes me feel closer to him.

I send him a waving hand. That gets me more emojis in return: water droplets, waving hand, eggplant, peach, blushing face. My lips part.

He is not flirting, is he?

I return to my other conversation.

Steve: I like the USA. I like the Creelin U campus. It is very pretty, and the trees and rivers are especially good for forest spirits and water spirits, like me.

Steve: My roommate is very nice. He is also very handsome. I have to stay away from him as much as possible, because otherwise, I fear I would get too close to him.

Kellie: Too close? Oh, honey. Do you not feel like it's safe to have friends?

A tear wells in my eye. nokks are loners, because we are hideous creatures without souls, and if we are with people, we will destroy them. But maybe I can take the first step in trying to be a friend. Or more.

Steve: It is not safe, often, for me to have friends. I fear they will reject me if they somehow see my true form. Or that I will give in to my monster instincts and harm them.

Kellie: Ugh. I hate it when we judge people based on looks. There is so much diversity in humans and monsters alike. I think we should celebrate that. I think those differences make us more beautiful. And your monster instincts are natural, too. If you suppress them, you're suppressing yourself.

Steve: I wish more people thought like you. It has not been my experience.

Kellie: Many people—particularly humans, but monsters aren't immune—do make assumptions based on appearance, no doubt about it. But that's because it's the first thing we notice. You have to look for those who want to see beyond that.

The thing is, I am not sure whether my true self is worth knowing, either.

Steve: Thank you for saying that.

Kellie: I'm not just saying it. I mean it. But tell me some more about school.

I keep texting her until I get to where the Lin waterfall flows, and then I thank her again and say goodbye.

I look around. I am alone. I risk changing into my true form and diving into the water.

Peace. Joy. Tranquility. This is who I am. I revel in the freedom for seconds or minutes; time is irrelevant when I am one with nature and my surroundings.

Until I hear leaves rustling, and I quickly shift back into my human form. I worry that I am going to get caught in my true form and not ever be able to change back, but I suppose that is an irrational fear. It has never happened, not to any shifter I have ever heard of. Changing form without wanting to? Yes, that happens—but I have never experienced that, either. I hope I never do.

The next weekend, we have a polo scrimmage against Shuford College. I recognize the werewolf and the hydra from the sporting goods store, and there are others on the team who are meaner.

I'm fast in the water, but even I get kicked and held down. The point of water polo appears to be to do the most damage that the player can get away with without either referee seeing. Since this is just a practice, our coaches are refereeing. And while ours is whistling for penalties big and small, the Shuford coach is only calling the most egregious fouls.

We are all going to be bruised at the end of this scrimmage.

"We really need to beat them," Nick says, treading water.

"How did our team do last year?" I ask.

"We lost. They don't let us forget it, either."

"This year will be different, then." I set my shoulders and take off. I am determined to score on their hydra goalie.

But while I can cut through the water better than anyone on our team, the hydra seems to be everywhere at once and pulls off save after save. While some water polo games can be very high scoring, in this one, we have barely scored at all.

The werewolf is cackling. Something in it activates a force in me. I need to defeat them. Brandon passes to me, and I dart around a merman, fake out the hydra, and put the ball in the net before they know it. Then again. And again.

We beat them, but barely. The Shuford team leaves, muttering curses at us. Did we just motivate them to play dirtier next time?

Things get worse when my father calls. I stare at my phone and rub my face before answering. Needing to be alone when I talk with him, I head toward the woods surrounding the school, walking on a well-worn path among the shady trees.

"Hei, Pappa," I say, trying to keep a sigh out of my voice. I do not want to talk with him, but I also do not want him to know that.

He asks me in Old Norse—the language of the nokk—how my classes are going and if I am learning the fiddle.

It is best to tell him the truth. "I have not been able to play the violin. When I do, I put everyone to sleep," I say. "It is not practical for them to have me study that instrument, because no one can stay awake to teach me anything."

"Then they are not respecting the nokk," he says, sounding irritated. But he always sounds irritated.

A rustling in the trees makes me look around. I spot a dryad dashing through the forest as fast as I can swim. I do love being at a school that welcomes nature spirits like me.

I scrub my face with my free hand. "I am not sure what to say to you."

After a brief silence, he asks, "When are you going to gather your first soul? It is disappointing that you have not done so yet. When are you going to be a real nokk?"

"I am a real nokk, Pappa. Just because I do not want to rob a human of their soul does not mean that I am less."

He lets out a derisive snort.

My heartbeat speeds up. I want to ask him how Mamma is, but there is no benefit in doing so. He does not care about her, and she does not care about either of us. It is probably best if she and I pretend the other does not exist.

The line is quiet for a moment. Finally, I ask, "Can I help you with something?" Pappa does not deserve my politeness, but I will give him respect anyway.

"I just want to ensure you are a credit to the nokk culture."

If I do not bite my lip, I will scream—and I do not want to cause anyone to drown. Why do I have to be like him to be a nokk? Can I not be myself?

I just say, "Yes, Pappa." And I hang up.

During the first few days of school, people dressed up in good clothes with fresh haircuts—except Brandon—and they carried unblemished notebooks to class or had their laptops open with new documents at the ready. Now that we are squarely into the school year, people are starting to relax more. With humans on campus still a relatively new phenomenon, a lot of the shifters are remaining in their humanoid forms. But there are exceptions.

On Friday, I walk into my cryptid biology class, and one of the swamp lizard shifters is in her true form. I have never seen one in that form, and when I see her I gasp, my heart freezing for a moment, then pounding.

Because she is so brave. She somewhat resembles me in my true form. In addition, she is wearing pajamas and looks like she just rolled out of bed.

The other thing that impresses me is that no one seems to care.

Is that what it is like being yourself? I am so used to everyone (okay, my mother) focusing on how people (okay, I) look, I forgot that some people do not. Maybe more than some.

I stare at the lizard shifter throughout the lesson, wondering what it would be like if I went out in public in my true form.

After class, I catch up with her and tap her on the shoulder. She turns with a smile.

I shuffle my feet. "Do you mind if I ask you some questions?"

"About what?"

"I am …" I pause and try again. "This is not my true form. I am not a type of monster that humans traditionally find sexy. I appreciate you coming to class today this way. Do you ever get any comments on not being all …" I wave my hands, not sure there is a way to say what I mean that is not insulting. To tell her that I am both judging and not judging her by her looks.

But she does not seem to take offense. Her laugh is strong and fierce. Her green teeth and black eyes make it clear she is more like me than like a human. "I don't care what anyone thinks or says. This is who I am. They can deal with it. If they don't like the way I look, that's on them. Not on me."

I am unclear on how to respond. She may be right, but I have never thought about it that way. I have always thought that I needed to mold myself to fit in. To be like everyone else.

But maybe … I do not.

I don't .

Maybe the point of college—or part of it—is to figure out who I am.

"Thank you," I say. "You have been very helpful."

"I hope you do show off your true form. We can handle it," she says, and she waves goodbye.

Would I ever be brave enough to show my true form to Brandon?

I am supposed to be meeting him for lunch. He has talked me into going to the cafeteria more often. I get in line for food and select some fish and vegetables. As I move past the cashier, though, Bran waves at me from the table where he's sitting. He is accompanied by Clay and that harpy who is always fawning all over him.

I look down at my tray.

I am not hungry anymore.

I set my tray in the return and leave.

Bran bursts into the dorm room like he always does. I should be used to it by now, but it still startles me.

"Hey! How come you bailed on me in the cafeteria?" he asks. "I thought you saw me."

"I did," I say, "but then I decided I was not hungry."

"Were you really not hungry?" He hands me some fruit: an apple, a banana, and an orange. "Because I know you don't have to eat as much as I do, but you have to eat something . And keep up your strength for polo."

I am touched by his gift. Brandon is always bringing me gifts. "Thank you."

"You're still coming to my birthday party, right?"

"Yes, I will come," I say.

"Cool," he says. Then he checks his phone. "I have an afternoon class. Catch you later?"

"Yes, I will— I'll —see you later."

Brandon tilts his head. "You just used a contraction."

I shrug. "I am— I'm —trying to loosen up."

He touches my shoulder. "That's nice. But, you know, you can just be yourself." Then he leaves, and I miss him before the door closes.

If it is his birthday, I should give him a present. It is the least that I can do, given how much he has done for me. But what kind of present? Bran does not seem to need much, although I do not believe he is rich.

Perhaps I should give him something only I can.

I smile and pull out a piece of paper.