2.30. Glass Jaw

Vinegar Tom purrs as he rubs against his witch’s legs.

“Good boy,” Fauna leans down and scratches him under the chin. He flicks his tail and stretches. “See? He’s not all bad.” She picks him up and nuzzles her face against his.

Flora pouts. “He only likes you ‘cause you’re magic.”

“He also likes me ‘cause I give him scritchy-scratchies.”

“And you’re magic.”

“Yup,” the witch beams, “and one day I’ll have a familiar just like Tom.”

Fenrir glances up from his book. “Familiars aren’t real.”

“Vinegar Tom is real,” Fauna frowns.

He tosses his book on the couch and stands. “Familiars aren’t real. They’re just cats.”

She clenches her jaw. “They’re real, and they’re magic, and they’re cats. Duh.” Vinegar Tom senses the incoming bomb, and decides he wants no part of it. He wriggles and slips out of Fauna’s arms.

“Magic is just science we don’t understand,” Fenrir says. “And one day, I’ll understand it.”

“No, magic is magic. It’s what makes you turn into a wolf and it’s why dad can cast spells and it’s why Tom is special,” her voice raises. “Right Flora?”

Flora shrugs and looks at her feet.

 “Oh, c’mon--grow up,” Fenrir snorts. “Just because you’re dumb doesn’t mean everyone else is.”

“You grow up!” Her anger bubbles over. “And—and—shut up!”

“Hey, Dominic interrupts, “what’s going on here?”

“Fen is being a dingleberry,” Fauna says.

“No, I was just saying that Tom isn’t anything more than a dumb old cat, and Fauna can’t prove me wrong.”

“It sounds like both of you are pretty worked up.”

The children answer simultaneously: “He’s being mean to Tom!” Fauna cries.

“She’s being stupid,” Fenrir sneers.

“Stop,” Dominic holds up his hand. “You’re arguing over a cat.”

“Familiar,” Fauna mutters.

“Tom means a lot to Fauna. You know that, Fen, and there’s no reason for you to be so cruel. And Fauna, you shouldn’t resort to name-calling.”

“She’s saying he’s magical,” Fenrir scoffs.

“So? What she believes doesn’t impact you. Besides, it’s your birthday. Time for cake, no time for bickering.”

Fenrir rolls his eyes and trudges to the kitchen. Fauna follows close behind, chattering taunts. Only Flora and her father remain. She stands with her eyes still on her feet.

“Are you okay?”

She doesn’t look up.

“What’s wrong?”

Her voice barely carries. “What do I get?”

“What do you mean?”

“Raven and Fauna have magic, and Fen gets to change into a wolf every month. What do I get?”
Dominic frowns. “Let’s talk about it over cake.”

 Fenrir’s birthday progresses uninterrupted, save for inappropriate laughter from his adopted sister.

“That hair,” Raven gasps, “I can’t--I just can’t!”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Fenrir frowns. His voice reverbs deeply, surprising even him.

Only seven more birthdays to go, and Dominic and Lark will have an empty nest.

***

Raven excuses herself from the birthday party immediately after Fenrir’s age-up. It’s Friday, and Melinda got the okay from her parents to spend the night. The girls lock themselves in Raven’s room, drowning out the buzz of the Bee household with soft vinyl records and musky incense.

The evening isn’t as carefree as Raven had hoped. She’s eager to unwind with a comfy first-person shooter after a long week of phoning it in at school, but Melinda is distracted by a book.

“You could read at home, you know,” Raven huffs.

“But then I wouldn’t be with you,” Melinda replies absently.

“Then put the book down,” Raven feigns a pout, but Melinda doesn’t even look up.

“I can’t. I’m supposed to write a paper about Dracula,” Melinda turns the page, “and it’s due Monday.”

“Only a sadist assigns Monday due-dates,” Raven says.

“Mm-hmm.”

“So what are you going to write about?”

“That’s why I’m reading this--so I can figure that out.”

Raven bites her lip. The controller buttons click as she switches between weapons and targets. “Just write about how Mina and Lucy are into each other.”

Melinda’s lips curl upward. “I don’t think there’s much evidence for that.”

“There’s evidence for anything if you’re persuasive enough,” Raven shrugs.

Melinda snaps the book shut. “Well not everyone can be as persuasive as you.”

“If I’m that persuasive, then you’ll take a break. Also, there’s a movie for Dracula, you know. You don’t have to read it.”

“Some of us want A’s.”

“Some of us need to relax.”

It turns out her clumsy rhetoric is persuasive enough for a worn-out Melinda. “Fine--but I’m not playing anything gory.”

Raven opts for a cartoony racing game. Under the pretense of “not getting this controller,” Melinda snuggles into her arms. Her body is warm, and her newly washed hair smells faintly of apples. Raven’s face flushes.

Distractions and all, she still manages to trounce Melinda in the first race.

“No fair,” Melinda gasps, “this is my first time playing this.”

“So?”

“You could’ve given me a five second head start or something.”

“You’d never learn that way.”

“Learn what?” Melinda mashes her controller buttons, seemingly at random. “How to play some stupid game?”

 

Raven tilts the controller as her car veers around a corner. “How to lose gracefully.”

“You brat!” Melinda’s giggles don’t match the insult.

The gaming and bickering continues as it melts into early morning. The girls set down their controllers, turn off the TV, and Raven replaces the burnt-down incense with a new stick. Despite their fatigue, they resist sleep. Instead, they lounge on the floor, chatting with worn voices.

“I didn’t distract you too much, did I?” Raven says.

“It’ll be fine,” Melinda shrugs. “Most classes are winding down anyway. Graduation’s soon and I think even my teachers have senioritis.”

Raven’s stomach churns. “What are your plans after graduation?”

“I don’t know. My dad wants me to try to find a job on the island, and Bruno has been talking about moving in together. But I’ve been thinking about taking the aptitude test.”

“Really?”

Melinda nods. “I’m not sure how well I’d do, though.”

“What are you talking about? You have a 4.0, don’t you?”

“Bruno doesn’t think that I could compete against students from more the mainland. Something about the standardization there or whatever.”

“That’s ridiculous. All your classes are AP. And you actually read the books you’re assigned, for maker’s sake.”

“It just Bruno thinks—"

“What the fuck does Bruno know?”

“He knows me pretty well.”

Raven snarls. “If he doesn’t think you’re more than smart enough for college, he doesn’t know jack.”

“I’d still have to figure out how to pay for it.”

“There are scholarships. Tons of them. My dad’s been trying to get me to apply for some, but honestly you’re a better candidate.”

“You think so?”

“Mel, you’re the smartest person I know. Any university would be lucky to have you, and there’s no reason for you not to try.”

“Stop, you’re making me blush.”

“It’s the truth. I’d miss you if you left, but you should decide what you want to do. Your dad and Bruno will be fine without you. And that’s what he’s doing, you know—Bruno’s trying to keep you here because he know he would fail. You shouldn’t let your potential go to waste because of some whiny boy.” Raven leaves off what she really wants to say: some whiny boy you can’t bring yourself to dump. 

“You’re being too nice.”

“I’m never nice. Just honest.”

“Then tell me something honest.”

“You look better without makeup.”

Melinda scoffs.

“I’m serious! But, I mean, that’s not like to shame you or whatever.”

“Shame me?”

“That’s not what I mean. I’m saying I know that you wear makeup for you and not for me and that’s your choice and—”

“You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

“Flustered?” Raven sits up.

“Really? That’s the adjective you decided to focus on?”

Raven smirks. “Well I know I’m adorable. I object to being described as anything other than steely, though.”

“Sure,” Melinda rolls her eyes. “Either way, you’re adorable.”

The inevitable happens, as it always do when they mix: Temporarily and purposefully, Melinda forgets her boyfriend and Raven forgets her lovesick brother. Every kiss is naïve and innocent in practice, but not in theory.

Outside, the polar lights fill the sky.

***

It’s Monday, 4:00 PM. The day could barely qualify as warm, but after a harsh winter, the island’s teens welcome anything above freezing with loitering. The basketball court serves as the nucleus for pockets of teens, separated and sorted by perceived differences in style, intelligence, and interest. At a glance, the chaos seems ordered.

At the edge of the court sits Fenrir, deflated from his first day of high school. He’s seated on a bench next to Anne Leifsson, one of the only other four werewolves on the island. Jane, Anne’s older sister and fellow wolf, lingers nearby.

Bjorn shares little in common with his younger brother and the Leifsson sisters. Jane is co-enrolled in art with him, and is obviously passionate about her projects. But there’s something about her eyes that unsettles him, and has kept him at a distance in the past. It isn’t just the glow—he’s used Fenrir’s flashing eyes, after all. It’s something deeper, more predatory.

Fenrir, on the other hand, thinks that Anne’s eyes are the most beautiful he’s ever seen. Round, bright, moonlike. Every time he looks at her, he feels a wisp of the vigor that comes with the full moon.

There’s no way for him to say any of this, so this falls out of his mouth instead: “Aren’t your legs cold?”

“Huh?” Anne’s brows furrow.

“You’re wearing shorts. Aren’t you cold?”

“I run hot,” she blinks.

Bjorn is oblivious to his brother’s clumsy attempt at flirtation. “I don’t know what she sees in him,” Bjorn frowns. He stares across the blacktop at Melinda, who’s enraptured with the ongoing basketball game between Bruno and his friend Albert.

Jane squints at Bruno. “He’s athletic and confident.”

“So?” Bjorn shots a dirty look at her.

“You asked. I answered.”

The same question echoes through Raven’s mind, angrier and more demanding. Melinda left their sleepover mid-morning on Saturday, and Raven had the rest of the weekend and an entire school day to nurse a growing grudge. Her limbs are energized by rage, enabling her teenage impulses.

She storms over to Melinda, her heavy footsteps heralding her approach.

“I can’t believe this,” Raven hisses.

“Raven,” Melinda holds her hands up and forces a smile, “what are you talking about?”

“He doesn’t respect you, you know,” Raven’s tone teeters on shouting.

“We’re not talking about this right now, okay?”

“Why not? If not now, when?”

“Look, I was going to ask if I could stay over this Friday again,” Melinda says, “Let’s talk about it then. In private.”

“I’m tired of doing things on your terms. I want to talk about this now. He’s shitty, and you know it.”

“Because you’re being such a non-shitty person right now,” Melinda sneers.

 Their sharp voices capture Bruno’s attention. “Hey,” he looks over his shoulder, basketball in hand. “Is something wrong, Mel?”

“Raven and I are just talking.”

“About you,” Raven snaps.

Bruno’s eyebrow quirks. “Do I know you?”

“Doesn’t matter. I know you,” she says, “and what you said to Melinda.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Raven,” Melinda pleads, “Stop! Forget everything I told you, okay? You’re acting like an idiot.”
The court has quieted, all eyes turned to Raven and Bruno.

“What’s this?” Bjorn crosses his arms.

“Nothing good,” Jane exhales. “Raven knows better than to cast in public, right?”

“I hope so,” he replies.

In the moment, Raven does have enough sense to keep her magic to herself. She’s been trained since toddlerhood to hide that part of her—her father even went far enough to provide her with an enchantment so to most people, she looks human: wingless and dull.

 
She doesn’t, however, have enough sense to keep her fists to herself. She swings wide and hard, her fist colliding with Bruno’s left eye. He grunts and reels back, barely catching himself from falling to the ground.

It doesn’t make her feel any better.

Melinda gasps, and a nearby voice shouts, “Yeah! Hit ‘em again!”

“Hey,” Albert calls out. Raven whirls around to meet his sneering face. He jabs his finger into her chest. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, you bitch?”

The word is so casual coming from him, something that he no doubt says daily. That nonchalance feeds her instinct, and undoes her years of training. Her wings flutter angrily, lifting her gently off the ground, and her hands move without thought, bringing forth a wave of ice. It’s minuscule, barely enough to chill the air, but Raven is proud nonetheless. Albert doubles over, wrapping his arms around his body and shivering.

The sound of a camera shutter—or the smartphone facsimile of one—snaps her to attention. Raven’s eyes dart around as she takes in the number of people watching, and her heart sinks. A small crowd has gathered, but she can’t tell who took the picture.

Bruno has managed to collect himself enough to resist Melinda’s fawning. “Are you okay?” she inhales deeply. “It’s already bruising. How bad does it hurt?”

Raven can feel the apology coming out, one she doesn’t even truly mean. Before she can utter a word, Bjorn grabs her by the wrist and tugs her away.

“C’mon,” he growls, “let’s get out of here.”

She feebly protests as he drags her into the library, though she’s fully aware that a hasty exit is prudent.

 “What the heck was that about?” Bjorn demands.

“I really don’t think it’s any of your business.”

“None of my business? You clocked a guy and nearly froze another. Something’s going on.”

“I can handle it.”

“Raven,” he puts his hand to his face, “do you need me to say it? I’m worried about you. You know better. You are better. What’s going on with you?”

She deflates. “You know Melinda?”

“You know I know her.”

“Well,” she rubs her arm absently, “we’ve sort of been seeing each other?”

Bjorn tilts his head, and his glasses slide down his nose. “Romantically.” It isn’t a question. She senses a quiver in his lip, but in a millisecond he takes control.

“Little bit,” she says.

He sighs and gestures to a table. “Let’s talk.”

The teens settle into the cheaply made chairs at one of the library’s tables. “How long has this been going on?” Bjorn asks.

“A few weeks,” she responds.

“Since before you knew about how I felt about her?” He knows the answer.

Raven looks down at her hands. “No. After that.” Bjorn inhales and closes his eyes. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, okay? I mean, I hoped but I wasn’t intending to steal her or anything. Fuck, I worded that poorly. She’s not a thing to be stolen. Goddamnit, you know what I mean.”

“I do,” he nods, his eyes still closed.

“I’m sorry.”

He opens his eyes. “Why? If she likes you, she likes you. No way I could control that.” He punctuates his sentence with a smile—forced and overdrawn, but a smile nonetheless.

“Are you serious?”

“Of course. It was just a crush, Raven. Nothing serious. If she’s into you, I never had a chance. There’s no point in dwelling on it.”

“That’s,” she pauses as she considers her options, “that’s big of you.”

“So was Bruno giving her trouble or something? I mean, I thought they were still dating but--”

“They are,” Raven shifts in her chair, “still. The whole time, actually.”

“Then you punched him because?”

Raven’s excuse is weak. “I’m not a huge fan of how he treats her.”

“How he treats her—Raven, maybe you should think about how she treats you. And him. If she cheats on him, what’s to say she won’t do the same thing to you?”

“We’re not, like, dating-dating. We’re just, like, hanging out.”

Bjorn frowns. She searches for anything other than his eyes. Her gaze rests on a nearby computer, left on a screensaver of a bouncing ball.

“You’re an awesome person, Raven,” Bjorn says.

“Why say that?”

“I think you deserve the best.”

“You do, too.”

“Then we’re agreed.”

Raven nods, and stands up.

Bjorn shoots out of his chair. “Where are you going?”

“I need to text Melinda.”

 Before she can pull out her phone, Bjorn throws his arms around her.

“What’s this?” She laughs.

“I love you, sis. I hope you know that.”
 
“I love you, too,” she pats his back. “Um, thanks for not being mad.”

He pulls away and gives her a sheepish look. “Well. This makes for a cute story, right? We both have a crush on the same girl, and she’s not really,” he hesitates, “well. Like I said, it’ll be cute.”


“Maybe,” Raven says. She slides her phone out of her pocket.

“You're really going to text her?”

Her eyes flutter up from the screen. “You called it a cute story, right?”

***

The sun sets on Aurora Skies, and Raven worries from her perch in the fort.

She had expected an immediate response from Melinda, acknowledgment that her devotion is endearing and not concerning. But it takes nearly an hour for the girl to respond, reluctantly agreeing to meet Raven at the playground. By then, the sun has dipped below the coastline, and the moon has risen over the mountain.

“Aren’t you cute,” Melinda’s voice barely carries to the fort. “You playing make-believe up there?”

“Thanks for coming,” Raven calls down.

“I almost didn’t.”

“What made you change your mind?”

Melinda cocks her head. “I had to find out.”

“Find out what?”

“What you are,” she says. Raven smiles but doesn’t answer, so Melinda continues. “It hit me, when you did whatever that was to Albert: you’re not human, and I can’t believe I never noticed.”

“I can’t either,” she says before sliding down the play fort’s pole to the ground.

They settle onto nearby swings, close enough together that they can talk, but far enough apart that Raven can avoid eye contact.

“So have you always been like this?”

“Gay? I think so.”

“No,” Melinda pauses before whispering the word, “magic.”

“Oh, that. Yep, one hundred percent born this way.”

“Why have I never noticed your wings until today?”

Raven shrugs. “My dad would have to explain that to you. I’m not sure how the spell works.”
 
“Spell? Is he a, um, a— “

“Fairy? No. I’d be willing to be I’m the only one on the island, possibly this sector.”

“So you’re special,” Melinda smiles. “Though I already knew that.”

“Seems that way,” Raven beams. “But that’s sort of the problem. Remember our promise about you and Bruno?”

“The one you almost broke today?”

“Well, yes—that’s not the point. The point is, my dad is equally likely to kill me for telling you about this as your dad is to kill you about dating me.”

Melinda wrinkles her nose. “We might not have the best fathers.”

“He’s just looking out for me,” Raven snaps. “Simnation hasn’t had the best track record with non-humans. So keeping this a secret is, you know, kind of crucial”

 “I didn’t think we had any track record with, um, non-humans. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so blasé. I won’t tell anyone, promise.”

“Thank you,” Raven exhales.

“I was thinking, by the way,” Melinda kicks at the ground, “about that promise. Maybe it isn’t such a huge deal if Bruno or my dad find out.”

“What do you mean?”

“I broke up with him,” she says. “Right before coming over. It just dawned on me—nothing about him makes me happy, and he was such a wimp about it all.”

“You broke up with him because he has a glass jaw?”

“No,” Melinda laughs, “I broke up with him because he’s—he’s dull. Flat. Just nothing. You’re so bright, and even when you punched him, he didn’t capture any of that light.”

“That’s one way to put it, I guess.”

“Hey, can you fly?”

Raven rolls her eyes. “Barely. It’s a little unfair, actually.”

“I’ll help you,” Melinda slides off her seat. She grabs the chains of Raven’s swing and take a few steps backward before letting go. Then she pushes Raven’s back, propelling her into an upward arc.

“I don’t think this will help,” Raven laughs as she swings, her feet kicking toward the stars.

“Not with that attitude.”

The night grows darker and colder, and at 10:50 PM a beep interrupts them. Raven pulls her phone out of her pocket. “My dad,” she frowns. “I gotta get home.”

“I should go, too,” Melinda says as she grabs Raven’s hands. “Thank you.”
 
“For?”

Raven doesn’t get her answer.

***

Author's note: I think Fenrir is very, very cute as a teen. Having already aged up Fauna and Flora in-game, I think he might be my favorite teen from this generation. But when I showed him to Mr. Owly, he said--and I quote--"wow, that might be your ugliest sim!"

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