Chapter 24:

Princess

It’s All Just So Weird and Confusing


When Paul walked out of the farm house, I was torn between wanting to hug and strangle him.

But I didn’t get the chance. Paul's father smacked him. He rubbed his cheek, and I cringed.

My parents had never physically abused me—just verbally. And that was a long time ago, anyway.

Paul told me what happened and what I said. I was devastated. I apologized profusely, trying to let him know that I didn’t mean any of it. He had saved me and I was too proud and too stupid to be grateful.

The party was like the materialization of my biggest fear: that deep down, I was secretly just a dick like my father; drinking would just bring it to the surface.

I resolved to never drink again. I still had my entire life ahead, and I didn’t need to destroy myself over something I didn’t even enjoy.

Paul was far too understanding, however.

“It’s my fault,” he told me. We met up in the small park outside the Cheng’s Kitchen, the town’s goto Chinese restaurant. I was so happy that he wanted to clear the air, since I was too scared to even try. It’s funny how I essentially learned nothing from the Jessica incident.

As for his statement, I wasn’t even sure what part he faulted himself for. I just sat under the pavilion, contemplating.

He grimaced. “Look, I’m sorry if you’re angry.”

“I’m not!” I corrected, ashamed. “I just… you messed up… but I-I am messed up… I said those stupid things to you, and I didn’t mean any of it, but there’s a part of me or something—I mean, there’s something in me, or—some part, I don’t know… but being drunk isn’t an excuse…” I lamented, a lump in my throat.

“Hey, look, I get it. But you wouldn’t have been in that situation to say those things if I wasn’t such an idiot. I don’t think that’s the real you, dude. I mean, I messed up on so many levels. I could have hung out with you instead of letting those fucks bully you, I could have not forced anyone to come, I could… I dunno, you get the point.”

“You’re just….” I trailed off. I didn’t just want him to blame me, I wanted him to recognize how shitty of a person I truly was. I wanted negative validation.

“I’m what?”

“Nevermind. Thank you for talking with me,” I said with a clinical tone.

He wasn’t satisfied. “Look, I just hope we can still be friends. I feel like you’re the only person I can trust to just be real,” he earnestly said. “Even if you’re a dork,” he added, trying to lighten the mood.

“Thanks,” I smiled. “I’m not a dork, though.”

“Dude, you’re the dorkiest MF’er I know,” he grinned.

I scoffed. “What? What about that Jeremey kid?”

We ended the heady topics, seeming to sweep it under the rug. I was glad I could continue having him as a friend.

He ended up helping the husband of the woman to rebuild the coop, and his father made him take a summer job to pay for the chickens.

My parents decided not to punish me, even though my brain’s masochist-lobe wished they did. In my father’s words, I had “been through enough to know to watch [myself].” I was disappointed he thought drinking again was something I was even considering.

I learned that Paul was supposed to stay home during the full moon. His family had set up a literal dungeon in the basement. It was bizarre, but I had seen a teenage girl lay eggs, so there was little that could faze me.

With the semester over and the summer progressing, life was slow. I finally managed to get my computer fixed, but after having spent so long away from it, I could feel the true emptiness behind every click. I simply turned it off, and put it in my closet.

My boredom remained, however.

It was the end of June when my mother returned from her trip to South America. She wanted to see me. I had a short conversation on the phone a few weeks after the Change, but we otherwise had no contact.

I told her what I had become, but I still didn’t know what she was. She said she wanted to “surprise me.” My only clue was that her voice was much more masculine on the phone. I had an inkling, but it seemed too perfect of a coincidence.

It was exactly as I suspected.

My mother was a man. A devilishly handsome one. Literally: she had horns and a tail just like me.

But there were some notable differences: her skin was peach instead of blood red. Her tail was black and scaly as opposed to red and leathery.

We had the same horns, though.

It was safe to say that she was what most people would call an incubus. I felt a pang of jealousy.

She wanted to spend the weekend together, and I relented. It would be my first time in ages. My parents had long since broken their joint-custody agreement, and neither seemed to care. I honestly think Liz was happy about it.

She came to pick me up. I awkwardly waited on the couch while my father greeted her.

“Oh wow, you’re smokin’!” my mother complimented him suggestively.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he—hopefully—unintentionally flirted.

“I said you’d make a good woman,” she continued.

“You said a lot of things when you were drunk,” he laughed.

“How is Liz doing?” she continued.

“Fine. She’s just upstairs with Jamie.”

“And I presume the business is doing well?”

“As well as it could be. Our inventory got a little bit screwy after the Change.”

She nodded. “Noel, Princess, come give Daddy a hug,” she called out to me, holding out her arms. It took a few moments for me to register that she was referencing herself.

I was revolted. I scowled. “Please don’t say that ever again.”

She smiled and shook her head, letting her arms down. “Girls, am I right?”

“Okay, actually, please stop that,” I urged.

“Sure,” she dismissed frustratingly.

“Are you ready to go, then?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Tell Liz I said hi,” she said on the way out.

I begrudgingly followed her to the car.

“You should drive and show me what you got!”

I huffed, taking the keys. We drove off.

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