I end up getting to school significantly earlier than I would have liked. Not wanting to deal with the crowd of assembling girls in the front hall and their wide eyed stares, I make my way to homeroom as soon as possible. As I enter the classroom, I note that I’m the only one in the room at the moment, save for Ms. Valentine of course. The taciturn rabbit-woman’s long ears twitch in my direction as I enter, and she shoots me a glare from behind her computer like I’ve committed some heinous offense. Her reaction to my arrival utterly baffles me until I begin to make my way over to my seat, the source of her sour mood immediately becoming obvious. Absolutely heaped on top of my desk are dozens of little envelopes, all of them some amorous shade of pink or red. With a sinking feeling taking root in the pit of my gut, I move to sit down, only to be hit by a wave of eye watering stench. Admittedly, the smell itself isn’t exactly unpleasant, but the sheer volume of smells simply overpowers my senses. The envelopes must each be individually perfumed, the myriad odors mixing and swirling together into an impenetrable olfactory wall.

Nonetheless, I press on. I pick up one of the envelopes, trying my best to hold my breath, and quickly open the damn thing. As I read over the handwritten note, I’m wholly unsurprised to see it’s some form of love letter. The text of it immediately professes the writer’s undying love for me, and explains that as soon as they saw me they knew that I was the only one for them. It ends with an offer to meet under the oak tree in the quad after class, an offer I’d be steadfastly ignoring. Honestly, I’d consider it flattering if the note was by itself, but considering it appears to be one in perhaps thirty envelopes, the confession loses some points for lack of originality.

I grab the next one, and it reads more or less the same; the author professes an immediate infatuation with me, along with a complimentary if exaggerated list of my best qualities and an offer to meet after school at the front gate. Of course, those qualities are heavily distorted by the fact that this person barely even knows me. Apparently the writer of this note considers me rugged, a description that fits about as well as a pair of size sixteen boots. In fact, it reminds me of the time I tried to go on a nature hike with some friends and immediately got hay fever so bad I had to run home halfway through. Rugged I most certainly am not.

The third note follows much the same pattern, and the fourth, and the twelfth. By the time I finish reading through the whole stack, I’m no longer alone in the classroom, the slow trickle of my classmates having filled nearly all of the desks around me. Unfortunately, that did not include Freddie, who I was beginning to suspect tended to make a habit of not arriving to class on time.

I can’t honestly say why I sat there and read through every note, especially considering they all just kind of blended together after the first few. Maybe my sense of morbid curiosity got the better of me, or maybe I just didn’t want to trod on the feelings of the girls who wrote these notes. Every single one of them included a preferred meeting spot after school, though the vast majority of girls seemed to prefer the oak tree and the school gate, and every single one of them was going to get stood up this afternoon. Which admittedly made me feel a little guilty, but not enough to change my mind. In any case, very few of the letters are signed, and luckily the ones that were weren’t names I recognized; if one of these were from Mira, or god forbid Ashley, I might just keel over and die from the embarrassment.

Just as Ms. Valentine gets ready to begin roll call and takes her place at the front of the room, a split second before morning bell starts, she’s interrupted by a sudden loud crash as Freddie bursts through the door, gasping for air and looking like she just ran a 400 meter sprint.

“I’M HERE!” she declares as she stumbles to her seat. Ms. Valentine shoots her a glare even more judgemental than the one she gave me, but Freddie is too busy catching her breath to even notice. I try my best to give her an encouraging smile, which she returns for a moment, only to do a double take at the massive stack of letters I’ve got on my desk.

“We’ll talk later,” I hiss under my breath as Ms. Valentine begins the roll call.

 

---

 

“‘Since I first laid eyes on you, I’ve known that I desire you most ardently,’” Mira reads from one of the letters with a sneer. “Watch out Jason, the Jane Austen book club is coming for your ass.”

The three of us are assembled at the same lunch table as yesterday, Freddie having let Mira know the situation via text. While I probably should have told her not to bother, as Mira was one of the last people I’d want to know about this, I couldn’t bring myself to stop her. After all, like it or not, Mira and Freddie seemed pretty close. I’d hate to drive a wedge between them just for the sake of my own comfort. 

And so here we were, our trays put to the side of the lunch table, the mound of letters heaped between us, and the girls both taking turns reading through them as I suffered silently with my head in my hands.

“Listen to this one,” Freddie says, barely containing her laughter. “‘I ask only that you take my offer seriously and spend the time to consider your options carefully.’ Bitch, this is supposed to be a love letter, not a job application!” 

She gives the envelope a tentative sniff. “I don’t think this is even real perfume. Smells like strawberry kiwi.”

“It’s been three days,” I groan. Part of me was exasperated at my apparent popularity, but part of me was just upset that the girls seemed to be making a game of this.  “These girls barely know who I am. What the heck is all of this? Is this normal?”

Mira and Freddie look at each other for a moment, before turning to me with sympathy in their eyes.

“I mean, kind of?” Freddie answers, before turning to Mira. “It’s like with that other boy a couple years ago. You remember Jackson, yeah?”

Mira nods. “He transferred in when we were sophomores. I think he also got some letters before the end of the first week.”

I wave my hand at the pile. “So girls write these kind of letters a lot? It seems kind of… I dunno, outdated to me.”

Freddie tilts her head like she’s thinking about it. “Well… yeah, it is I guess. But it’s kinda tradition, yeah? And a lot of people here come from, like, old money, or whatever. I mean, you've said yourself that your notifications have been blowing up since Monday, there's probably like three times as many girls trying to ask you out that way.”

Mira nods along. “Yeah, most of 'em are just too coward to ask a guy out to his face. And it’s not like these kind of displays don’t work. I mean, by the end of his first month, Jackson was already going steady with five girls.”

I look up at her agog. “Five?”

Freddie just gives me a noncommittal shrug and a sly grin. “Some guys are more into the aggressive approach, I guess.”

“Most guys are into the aggressive approach,” Mira scoffs.

“Oh, and you would know?” Freddie asks. “Got a lot of experience with boys?”

Mira, to my total surprise, shrinks away from Freddie’s words. “Well, at least that’s what I’ve heard,” she says with a grimace. Her face, to my surprise, is even looking a bit flush. Who knew the feathered girl could even be embarrassed.

“That aside,” I interrupt them, “that’s not really what I meant. You mean to tell me this Jackson guy was two-timing with five girls at the same time?” Personally, I can’t imagine someone keeping five relationships like that secret, especially if this dude was being stalked by the entire female student body the same way I am.

“I think at that point it’d be called five-timing,” Mira supplies, seemingly committed to being as unhelpful as possible.

“And no, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t,” Freddie adds. “I didn’t really know the guy, but I don’t think he was trying to hide it. They all knew what they were getting into, dating the same guy. I mean, it’s a pretty standard poly setup, y’know?”

"Poly?"

She nods. "Yeah, lot of girls nowadays go for a poly relationship and date the same guy. Either he breaks it off with most of them when things start getting serious, or they work it out among themselves how to share."

“So that’s… that’s normal? For one guy to have like five girlfriends?”

Freddie just laughs at my incredulous reaction. “Jeez, Jason, how sheltered are you? It’s the 21st century dude, lighten up.”

Mira gives Freddie a playful little slap on the arm. “Oh, give the guy a break, yeah? It’s obvious he wasn’t expecting all this attention, and making fun of him doesn’t help.”

Ironic to hear my own personal tormentor say that. “It’s not a big deal, I was just a bit surprised is all. I’ve only ever had one girlfriend, you know, I can’t imagine trying to make five at the same time work.”

“Anyway,” I press on, trying to steer the conversation away from discussions of my unfamiliarity with this world’s social conventions, “doesn’t that punch a hole right through our plan then? Even if I did start the fake dating scheme, what’s to stop other girls from trying to force their way in as my second girlfriend?”

“I don’t think it’ll be that big of a deal,” Mira answers me. “I mean sure, there’s always gonna be girls that don’t like taking no for an answer, but it’ll repel most of them. Most of these,” she says while gesturing towards the pile, “are probably from overly sentimental girls who want to be the new guy’s first girl. And shit, for the rest of ‘em, you can always have Freddie be your attack sheep.”

Freddie furrows her brow at her friend’s suggestion, her floppy ears flicking in annoyance. “I think you mean attack dog.”

Mira smirks. “Not when it’s you. I’d rather have this big scary lamb have my back than anyone else. Jason, you should see her on the ice, splattering girls up against the wall. She’s a fucking wrecking ball.”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll headbutt you,” Freddie warns, her expression darkening. “These horns aren’t just for show.”

"Oh, threatening violence? Great way to prove me wrong, Fred."

As Freddie gives Mira a playful punch on the shoulder, their banter made me remember something I'd been thinking about that had been bothering me for a bit.

“You know, with Freddie it’s pretty obvious, but if you don’t mind me asking, what animal are you Mira?” While the sheep girl’s ears, horns, and tail gave her away, I don’t know nearly enough about ornithology to place Mira’s plumage.

Freddie breaks out into a sudden laugh, and Mira shoots me a supremely offended look. “Jason!” she chastises me, “You can’t just ask someone what animal they are!”

Feeling that embarrassed blush burning my ears again, I begin to panic. “Uh, well, uh,” I stammer, realizing I must have made a terrible faux pas.

“She’s just fucking with you,” Freddie supplies, though Mira still seems to be upset, her visible feathers all fluffed out. “She’s a duck, if ya gotta know.”

“Freddie!” Mira squeaks out in that same tone of voice.

“What? You are.”

“It’s still rude to ask, and it’s even worse for you to answer for me!” she exclaims, her voice rising higher in pitch than I’ve ever heard it. Freddie just rolls her eyes, and it seems pretty obvious to me this isn’t the first time they’ve had this disagreement.

Seeing her having her feathers ruffled, an expression that has never been more applicable in my life, it almost feels to some extent like I’m finally getting one up on her after she spied on me and ambushed me Monday night. However, that doesn’t stop me from feeling a bit guilty about it. Maybe I’m just too soft, but it'd leave a bad taste in my mouth to not clear up the misunderstanding.

“I’m so sorry,” I say to her, trying my best to convey my sincerity. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just… wasn’t aware that a question like that was offensive or anything.”

“Probably because it’s not?” Freddie says, but Mira gives her a return smack on the shoulder for answering for her.

“You’re fine…” she says after a moment, sinking into her seat and calming down somewhat. “Maybe I overreacted a little. It's a bit of a touchy subject.”

I knew I might be digging myself deeper, but my curiosity forced me to proceed regardless. “Why’s that? What’s wrong with being a duck?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it,” she stresses, obviously annoyed, before standing up and grabbing her backpack. “Anyway, we should get going. Lunch is almost over.”

Me and Freddie exchange a glance as Mira grabs her tray and moves to head out of the cafeteria. There’s a part of me that’s curious as to why I seemed to have touched a nerve, but I suppose now's not really the time to try and pry. Before I can say anything anyway, the synthesized tone of the lunch bell sounds out, and both of us move to pack up anyway. As much as she might be a pain to deal with, I do feel a little bad about upsetting her. I grudgingly have to admit that Mira’s kinda growing on me. 

You know, like a fungus.

As I’m stuffing the stack of envelopes back in my backpack, which I’m just starting to realize will probably smell like a lingerie fart for the next couple weeks, I get an alert on my phone. It’s a text from Ken of all people, and he’s asking me if we’re free after school today.

“Hey Freddie,” I ask as she slings her backpack over her shoulder, “Ken wants to hang out. You up for it?”

She gives me an apologetic smile. “Sorry dude, I’m still kinda busy with something at home. I should be free Friday though. Say hi to him for me.”

I nod, and fire off a quick text letting Ken know it’d just be me. It might actually be a good idea to run our half baked plans by him, what with him being the only dude I can really talk to right now. And if there’s anyone out of the four of us that knows what it’s like to deal with overly pushy girls, it’d probably be him.