The weekend was exhausting. But it was less unpleasant than I worried it was going to be when Inessa called and told me we absolutely had to take a classmate’s offer to visit the botanical gardens’ special winter hedge maze together. Inessa was insistent that I (as well as Temperance and Ida) join her on the trip to “relax and be kids for a while.” She used this reasoning a lot; it generally ended in monsters.

But, even if I knew what was coming, what kind of animal would reject his best friend when she seemed so desperate to blow off steam that had probably built up from saving the day over and over again for months? Deep down I mostly just felt glad to be included.

I was mildly surprised that Ida, the tall, dark and athletic superstar of the volleyball, basketball and lacrosse teams, joined happily. If I was busy juggling the county level basketball tournament with the start of lacrosse practice, I would not have had the energy to spend a day out with people. This would have been triply true if I was also a superhero juggling a class-load almost as bad as mine. But I wasn’t a magical girl literally named after her diligence. Ida would not have struggled to lift my small burdens.

For my part, I did my best to smile and offer whatever vague support I could muster when an increasingly anxious Inessa started wondering loudly about what hypothetical people should do if they’d said something mean to a trusted companion. And I managed to find a justification to make everyone split up when the whole group got trapped in the maze that “Winter Rose” created.

Inessa had clearly been panicking about finding a place to transform in secret. Even if I couldn’t really do anything to help the Saints, I could at least give them that much cover and act oblivious once they’d returned, flushed from victory.

“Honestly,” Ida muttered as we made our way out of the garden, “boys!”

I tried to hide in my winter coat, suddenly extremely cognizant of how out of place I was among an otherwise all-girl friend group.

“Not you, C you’re, like, the exception! You would never even think of quintuple timing those poor girls like that,” Inessa clarified, looking equally steamed despite the cold January air. “Well, at least I was able to make up with Micha…”

Temperance swatted at Inessa’s shoulder and gave her a pointed look. Far, far too late, Inessa clamped a hand over her mouth to avoid mentioning anything more about “Michael.” I had no idea who or what they were; but Inessa accidentally mentioned them enough that I was sure they were connected to the whole magical girl thing.

“Umm,” I fought the urge to try and figure out what story they were avoiding this time, “I wouldn’t…”

“See, C is just bad at being a boy, not even trying to two time anyone,” Temperance attempted to distract me with more of her usual harassment. “I stand by the assertion he’d be better as one of the girls,” she nodded expertly. “Just get in the skirt C.”

“Hey, don’t be mean to her… to him like that!” Inessa said, blushing brightly at the Freudian slip.

“Nah, can’t see it,” was Ida’s equally thoughtful contribution. For some reason, the fact that one of them wasn’t playing along with the bit made the whole matter that much more irritating.

“Thanks, all of you,” I offered sardonically, “Seriously though, if you want to hang out with just the girls,” and presumably vent about the monster attack that had predictably interrupted their attempted break from all the monster attacks, “I can head home. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Ida was the fastest to respond, “You’re good C; and really, you’re a friend. You’re welcome here. Besides, I think Inessa would set us on fire if we actually chased you out.”

Inessa blushed, “I invited you here because I want you here. C, you’ve been my best friend forever. You’re like the brother I never had and I don’t want to let anything come in the way of our friendship. With everything it’s just been so hard to find time to spend together lately.”

“And I can’t force you to try on a skirt if we let you escape,” Temperance said intemperately.

“Thanks, both of you. That really means a lot,” I blushed. Obviously I didn’t really fit in with the group. I’d lucked into befriending Inessa as a kid and now her friends had to tolerate me because of that. Besides, between mom and the monsters, things had officially been bad enough for me over the past few months that giving me the boot would probably make them feel bad. But it felt nice to hear anyway, and it’d be rude to point that out when they were already sacrificing their precious free time post-monster to assuage me.

Inessa pulled all of us into a group hug, “It’s like you said earlier, if you don’t say things when they’re bothering you, you’ll end up fighting and hurting each other no matter how much you want to avoid it.”

I vaguely remembered saying something like that, but it sounded a lot more thoughtful and put together in Inessa’s lips.

“I’m just glad we can all be so open with each other,” Inessa added with only a touch of guilt.

---

Dad was home early that afternoon. But I was lucky and he was too moody and self-consumed to pay any attention to me. He was also probably drunk, but that wasn’t any of my business. Either way I didn’t have to lie or deal with the warring blame and guilt that fought across his face whenever he looked at me. It hadn’t always been this bad; but, recent events had left us both a lot worse at hiding our worst selves.

Of course, he also stayed home all Sunday and had plenty of time to tell me exactly what he thought of me being such a disappointing waste of space who’d never be a real man. I managed to resist inflicting myself on Inessa’s family that evening. Boys shouldn’t cry and—even if letting someone see me in that state had been on the table—I didn’t need to add managing my inability to deal to Innessa’s long list of troubles. Besides, I was oddly eager to talk to Mr. Noir again on Monday. I trusted him and I could tell him about almost anything after all.

Instead, I locked myself in my room to do homework and sedate myself with the kind of online stories that can eat your attention and help you shut off your own thoughts for a little bit. I dreamt once more of a world where I could actually fit in with the group and help them instead of constantly being in the way.

---

“Your problem,” Mr. Noir said with a cloying condescension, “is that you try to restrain yourself too much. You’re a growing boy, it’s only right to have desires, to want things.”

My Monday morning session with Mr. Noir was not going well. Life had taught me that you had to control your desires, to be a good person. You had to restrain yourself from wanting things you weren’t allowed to want, or at least to stop that from becoming anyone’s problem if you couldn’t want the right things in the first place.

“Boys have needs! When you’re young, you need to indulge! Turn your back on the world of light that demands you restrain yourself to match everyone else’s level, to be merely normal. These magical girls are beautiful and charming. It’s perfectly normal to want them; healthy even.”

There was something seductive in his tone, in the way his eyes seemed to bore holes right through me as we sat in a fog of incense. He reminded me a bit of my dad. At least, he would if I took away the penetrating gaze, the care and consideration and the fact that Mr. Noir seemed to almost respect me.

“I guess,” it didn’t really seem like he could be wrong. Mr. Noir wasn’t ever wrong, was he? I could trust him.

“Now,” he continued, “tell me more about these dreams of yours.”

I hesitated, as much because of the overwhelming urge to meet his demands as in spite of it. To disappoint him was unthinkable.

“I dream of fighting together with them, the Angelic Saints, as a member. I’m not a victim. I can give something back to them for everything they’ve done for me and do something that matters.”

Mr. Noir shook his head and I winced. I couldn’t tell him everything. What weird boy dreams about being a magical girl? My recalcitrance must have disappointed him.

“To give back? To do something that matters? No, no one really cares about such pretensions. Admit it, you want to win their respect, but not for some silly altruistic notion. You want them to be yours, to fawn over you and praise you, to serve at your beck and call.”

His words filled the room in an almost tangible sense. It was impossible not to take them seriously. Was that what was going on? All that strange nameless longing I felt was some kind of distorted attraction to my only friends filtered through whatever inferiority complex being so useless had given me? I couldn’t admit I wanted them, so I imagined being one of them instead?

Mr. Noir watched in silence as I thought, smiling so widely that—if he weren’t so trustworthy—I might have called it megalomaniacal. It was nice of him to give me the space to come to my own answers.

But, what were they? I’d definitely noticed that Inessa and her friends—many of the girls in class—had grown up to be beautiful. And, definitely, when they transformed, they could shine so brightly it hurt to think about them. And I definitely felt something in response to that beauty, an ache I wouldn’t dare form into words.

I wanted to challenge him. To find the line of argument to rebut what he was saying and tell him what I really felt. I looked into his eyes and the weak objections died on my lips.

“Maybe…” I admitted slowly. Maybe I was just a useless pervert after all. Even Ida had said that’s how boys were. I’d heard it from my dad over and over again, how men were supposed to act toward women. Maybe all of this was just running from myself. I was a boy. That sucked, but I knew deep down that was all I was and all I’d be.

And because I was a boy I could interrupt, dominate a conversation, stare, harass or do any number of things that made all my friends uncomfortable and probably get a free pass from the world for doing it. I probably made use of these things in ways I didn’t even notice. Probably, deep down, a part of me wanted to revel in that advantage. And it was easy to see how I could run from wanting that. Everyone wants to imagine themselves as a good person.

“Yes, that makes sense,” I said with a sense of defeat, “All of us men are just beasts.”

Mr. Noir nodded patronizingly, “good, you’re getting closer to facing yourself. One or two more sessions and we should be able to make something great of you indeed.”

---

I avoided Inessa throughout the rest of the day. I couldn’t see her without realizing how cute she was when she smiled, and felt even worse for all the more it made that horrible nameless feeling stronger in me. Was that why I kept dreaming about being a magical girl? Because I knew Inessa would never want to be with a boy and it was the only way my subconscious could envision getting close enough to do whatever unimaginably weird or gross things that I probably wanted to do to her deep down. Imagining what I might really want made me nauseous.

Unfortunately, rule one of dealing with Inessa is absolutely that if someone runs away, she will chase them. At first it was easy to avoid her. She’d try to talk to me in the halls and I’d make a quick greeting then retreat. But by third period, she absolutely knew something was up and I had to shift from pretending things were normal to actively hiding.

And, even more unfortunately, I was so focused on dodging Inessa that I never noticed a Temperance as she snuck up behind me at lunch.

“How are you today C?” she asked, flat as ever.

“Not great, please no more jokes about shoving me in a skirt right now.”

She pouted, “But you seem to enjoy them.”

“I, what? Look, guys don’t like it when you challenge their masculinity. It’s,” I hesitated. I’d never been macho, and time with Inessa’s family had helped me avoid internalizing most of dad’s bullshit, but I knew how the world worked, “It’s demeaning when you say that I’m not a real guy. People don’t like that!”

She tilted her head to the side, betraying rare signs of some faint emotion, albeit one I couldn’t parse, “Is that so? You keep blushing and smiling whenever you hear those jokes.”

Did I? That didn’t make any sense. I glared at her, “I don’t like it! Look, that’s because they’re embarrassing! Okay! I get that you don’t really do emotions, but that’s why I react like that!” I hated myself a little for lashing out at Temperance. It wasn’t even like I really minded as much as I should. But I knew what I was. And I probably wasn’t even one of the good ones, not really.

She winced, and somehow, I felt like I’d gotten through to her.

“Sorry,” she managed, unusually pensive, “I’ll drop it if it hurts you. But, I wanted to talk to you about something without Inessa or Ida around. Do you have a moment?”

I desperately wanted to avoid her entire friend circle for the day, but I’d basically never seen Temperance emote. On the other hand, I was inches away from screaming at someone. I hated that my friends did so much more for me than I could ever repay. They’d literally saved my life multiple times within the past week. And here I was unable to even sit through a simple conversation in return. I owed Temperance far more than that.

But I couldn’t manage it, “I’m not feeling great. Could we talk some other time?”

I tried to tell myself that if Temperance wanted a serious talk, she deserved me actually focusing and not obsessing over my conversation with Mr. Noir. But thinking of that conversation only made me notice how slender she was, with a cold beauty as if she was carved from ice.

Temperance nodded, “it would be best if you’re in good condition when we talk,” she said, then turned to leave. “I’ll keep Inessa off your trail,” she offered emotionlessly.

I couldn’t help but stare after her. Temperance was definitely cute in her own odd way. A stupid impulse made me wonder if she wanted to ask me out. It was a silly thought; that would never happen to someone like me.

Still it was less deeply uncomfortable to imagine dating Temperance than Inessa. I allowed myself to imagine us. I would grab the tip of her chin and lift it up even as I bent over and brushed the hair out of her face. Tentatively our lips might brush against each others’. Honestly I had to fight the impulse to start giggling like a maniac then and there. The thought wasn’t bad or gross to imagine. The image was just so deeply awkward and implausible that I couldn’t find anything tempting about it.

And even if Temperance was to start dating me in some alternate dimension, it wouldn’t go anything like that. For one, she’d probably take things up a notch and actually bully me into a skirt for anything even resembling a date. That felt alarmingly plausible. Temperance would sit me down and threaten me until I let her do my makeup and put me in a sundress. She’d tease me of course, and I wouldn’t know at all how much of her praise was mockery (not that it could really be anything else). Then she would drag me out in public like that, to watch a movie or get dinner, leaning in to whisper quietly how right she was and how she’d made me almost as cute as her…

I buried my head in my hands. Mr. Noir was right and there was no way I could ever talk to Temperance again.

----

Senior year was not going well. I’d picked a demanding course schedule, with 5 advanced placement classes, under the hopes it’d look good to college admissions departments and help me escape my family. I would have struggled to stay ahead in the best of situations. Then mom had just left on the third day of the new school year. She hadn’t come back. I’d handled it badly; but it broke dad. He just gave up on avoiding all the mean little feelings he’d always tried to hide around me.

It wasn’t the worst. He was nasty, and he said nasty things, but he didn’t hit me or anything. He wasn’t abusive. Still, I’d already been in a bad spot before I factored in the constant monster attacks.

I’d barely scraped by with a 2.8 GPA on my report card in Fall and, while I didn’t think colleges would look at my spring grades before deciding on admissions, my hopes for a merit scholarship depended on them.

We were only on our third week back at school and I’d already gone through four monster attacks; I’d missed most of my classes on three of those days, to say nothing of the bruises or the restlessness they provoked.

And now, instead of studying I spent Monday evening obsessing over Mr. Noir’s words and the strange thoughts they’d made me face. I drifted off to sleep confused and worried, and woke much the same. I only knew one thing: Mr. Noir could help me; I could trust him.

Dad was up early that morning, which made breakfast a quiet affair full of unspoken barbs and veiled glares. I wondered what dad would think of Mr. Noir’s assessment of me. He’d probably have told Mr. Noir that whatever my perversions, I’d never be manly enough to act on them. I was more kitten than lion, and undeserving of the energy.

Granted, Dad also had somehow convinced himself that I was going to end up dating Inessa someday soon, so maybe he’d think Mr. Noir’s advice about acting out whatever I was feeling was just what I needed to be “a real man.”

I had to shove down a fit of nausea at that thought. With a last glance and a mumbled goodbye at Dad, I abandoned the rest of my breakfast, grabbed my backpack and made my way to the door.

Inessa Brandt, who I’d managed to avoid for nearly a full day, was naturally waiting for me outside. She looked sleepy but determined and I knew instantly there would be no escape.

“Morning C,” she said, with a tension that told me avoiding her had not gone unnoticed.

I did my best to smile comfortingly at her. Judging by her expression, it didn’t work.

“Morning Inessa,” I offered weakly.

“How are you?” she asked in a tone that said very clearly that she knew I was avoiding her and was now demanding my explanation.

I didn’t know what to say. Could I tell her I was struggling with emotions I barely understood and didn’t want? That the past 3 months had been one disaster after another and that I’d only managed to mess things up more in every instance? Should I have told her that I’d turned around and my only friend had started to shine so brightly it hurt to look at her sometimes. Was I supposed to tell her that—while I honestly had nothing but respect and admiration for her—it still hurt a lot to know she’d gone and made herself amazing while I languished in the mud.

“I’m fine,” I said with an air of nondescript finality.

She put her hands on her hips and glared. “Oh come on, don’t be such a boy! You can and should talk about your feelings!”

I winced, something about being judged as a component of my gender always stuck me the wrong way. But I wasn’t going to try to tell anyone that “not all boys.”

“It’s okay to talk about what’s wrong,” she continued in a more conciliatory tone. “Everyone knows you’re struggling with things lately. We’re here for you C.”

I bit my lip to avoid responding with my first impulse and marched past her wordlessly, starting the journey to school.

“It’s not just me. Everyone wants to help: Ida, Temperance, my family. We all care about you a lot. But if you don’t tell us what’s wrong, we can’t fix anything for you.”

“I don’t need anyone to fix me,” I snapped at her, with a degree of confidence in that statement I did not feel.

Inessa winced, “that’s not what I meant C; you know that.”

“I don’t need pity,” I said, hating myself for saying it. Inessa had been nothing but nice to me. I was the one who’d worried her, who’d leaned on her while she was busy fighting for the fate of our world. I was the one unable to do literally anything for myself.

“I don’t pity you C. Just, talk to us. We’re not trying to fix you, we just want to help!”

“Right, because Mom left and Dad’s himself and the monsters won’t stop bullying me. Poor C,” why was I shouting at her? Inessa, of all people, deserved none of this. “But the truth is? That’s not even really why I’m so miserable.”

I wasn’t sure of that. There is no easy way to separate strange nameless longings from other things. How are you to tell apart feeling sorry for yourself because your future is going down the drain from feeling sorry for yourself because you’re constantly assaulted by monsters themed after innocuous household objects from feeling sorry for yourself because you weren’t good enough to stop half the people in your life from abandoning you? I lacked a sophisticated palette that could differentiate such miseries.

Inessa clenched a hand around the strap of her backpack, her knuckles turning white from the strain. “Why then?”

“You and the gang all know who you are and what you want. You’re reaching for things, growing every day, standing up for people. You’ve all become so amazing. And I’m just a dumb useless boy who can’t do anything for himself, who doesn’t have parents who care enough to help him figure out college if he can’t get a scholarship he doesn’t have the grades for.”

I took a deep breath. My throat stung and I was half certain dad could hear us from inside. I would face consequences for that later, but that wasn’t enough to stop me.

“But even if I did it’s not like I have any idea where I want to go or what I want to do in the first place. So much is going wrong and it seems like the only thing I can do is to sit on the sidelines and wait to see what monster attacks me next and whether the Saints have finally gotten sick enough of it that they don’t go risk themselves to rescue me. I’m powerless, and even if you offered me the world, I wouldn’t even know what to ask for.”

As pathetic as I felt, there were no tears. I’d learned that lesson well enough.

“So no, unless you know a way that someone useless like me could actually become, I dunno, a magical girl, then I don’t think there’s anything you can do for me Inessa.”

Was the howling need buried deep in my chest really lust? I didn’t know. Either way, Inessa didn’t deserve this.

For her part, my best friend since childhood looked confused, then she smiled at me, and I found that some little part of me didn’t think being upset at her was the worst of my many terrible decisions after all.

“I’m really not sure the Saints are girls only,” she offered, stumbling a little of her words, “I’m sure they’d take boys, if the right one came along.”

“That’s not,” that did nothing to fill the emptiness, “that’s not the point Inessa.”

I wondered what the right boy would look like. Obviously he wouldn’t actually be anything like me, whatever Inessa’s implied offer.

“Sorry,” she sniffled.

“No, I’m sorry, I’m being awful to you,” I sighed, “you don’t deserve any of this. You’re right, things aren’t great, it makes everything,” was I going to try to justify myself? Make excuses for my bad behavior instead of just owning what I was doing?

“C, I literally just asked you to vent,” Inessa said, shaking her head like I was a lost cause. Then she laughed and tried to hug me. I wanted to recoil, but she’d done nothing to deserve that, so I smiled weakly and pretended like I was in on the joke.

“It’s fine C, I come to you with my problems all the time,” she added, reassuringly.

That wasn’t true. Sure Inessa and I had argued a few times, and she was usually the one who lost her temper, but I almost always deserved it. And sure, Inessa frequently came to me for advice, but we talked about things like sane mature people that were practically adults. She didn’t just start screaming attempts to bury me with her inadequacies. And even if she had, she would still be the one secretly fighting for her life against a horde of monsters.

“I’m working through some things,” I did my best to smile, “I’m talking to the school guidance counselor. He’s been really helpful in reframing things for me. So much has happened, I just… need some time to figure myself out.” There, that was true more or less, and it definitely sounded like the kind of thing that might make people actually worry less. Of course, Inessa wouldn’t give up until she could find a way to help; it was best to give her a bone with this kind of thing. “When I know how you can help, I’ll ask. If you’re not mad at me for just now.”

Inessa pulled me into a tight hug. “You’re basically family C, of course you’re not going to get rid of me that easily! Now, don’t you feel better for letting it all out?”

I didn’t.

----

It did, however, give me the excuse of being tired and needing to think about things to avoid everyone for the rest of the day. Mr. Noir hadn’t scheduled our next appointment, but I was buzzed over the PA to visit his office in the middle of third period. That should have been a pain. Calculus BC was the hardest by far of all the courses I was struggling to stay afloat in. But, while my sessions with Mr. Noir had only made me more aware of how awful I actually was, they’d given me a glimpse into just what was wrong with me. That had to be a step toward getting better. Besides, I could trust him. It only made sense to do what he asked of me.

I packed up my textbook and made my way to him, struggling to pretend the odd looks from the other dozen students in the class did not exist and no one had noticed me getting called to the school shrink right in the middle of class. Really I just had to imagine that no one could perceive me. Yes, easiest and best to just imagine a comforting world where no one knew I existed at all as I made my way to Mr. Noir’s.

A now familiar olfactory wall of cinnamon and copper greeted me as I slipped inside his office.

“Charleton, good, take a seat,” his voice was strained, but Mr. Noir seemed happy to see me at least. I wondered how he could breathe sitting in this incense all day.

Nonetheless, I did as instructed, keeping my gaze on the table between us.

“Now, now,” his voice seemed faintly mocking, almost bemused. “Look me in the eyes Charleton. It’s only polite.”

Reluctantly, I lifted my gaze to stare at his completely ordinary eyes.

“Much better. See, you can do that much if you try.”

“Thanks,” I muttered sarcastically.

“None of that now,” something dangerous lurked under his tone, an undercurrent of authority looking to lash out at the slightest disobedience. I’d heard that tone enough from dad that I understood the meaning.

“Sorry,” I offered more sincerely.

“So Charleton,” he continued, emphasizing my name in a way that cut, “have you been thinking over our last meeting.”

I nodded, “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’m not happy with the way things are, and it’s not like I don’t have things I want. But, well,” I wasn’t sure how to finish that thought. My daydream about Temperance swam through my head.

“Your problem Charleton,” Mr. Noir cleared his throat, “is that society demands we domesticate ourselves. People used to be able to live with their emotions, to let their inner beasts run free. Boys could be boys before civilization caged them up.”

He stared at me seriously, “No beast survives a zoo Charleton. Take the mightiest alpha wolf, the deadliest tiger, and confine it to a cage for lesser beings to come and gawk and it will die as surely as if you tore out its heart.”

“What do you mean?” I vaguely recalled that alpha wolves were a myth, but Mr. Noir seemed sure of himself and I had to trust him.

“I mean, your problem is that society is strangling you with its expectations. Be polite, respectable, meek and virtuous. These are the means by which lesser men trap their betters and strangle the life out of them, Charleton.”

I wasn’t sure. There was something appealing about seeing society as a cage. It would be nice to declare evil all the pressure to think about my future, to know where I wanted to go and to make sure it fit inside that nice little mold everyone seemed to think a good man should fit told me a man should fit and declare those things the enemy. It would be freeing to abandon them as the enemy. But, would anything be left of me if I did?

“And then what?” I asked despite myself.

“Indulge yourself. Howl at the moon and run rampant. Reject this safe little zoo we call civilization and return to the forest where the wild things are. Face yourself as a true beast and satisfy all of your desires!”

I giggled despite myself at the, no doubt, accidental reference to a children’s book. Storm clouds drove the impassioned smile from Mr. Noir’s face.

“S-sorry,” I managed, worried I’d offended the odd man. “It just sounded like Where the Wild Things Are and my mom used to…”

“It seems you will still need more work,” Mr. Noir’s voice was arctic. “Now, Charleton, look into my eyes.”

NEXT WEEK ON SHINING VIRTUE ANGELIC HEART!!!

The gang goes to cheer on Ida during the first match of an important basketball tournament. However, when Temperance discovers Avaritia plotting to make a Resinner, Ida could be forced to choose between showing up for her team and showing up for her team. What will the Saint of diligence do when her responsibilities pull her in different directions?

Tune in for Episode 14: Go for the Gold, Attack During Ida’s Match!

Shadell

And here's chapter 2 where we get to dig a bit deeper into C's issues and anxieties. Hopefully things start looking up for our poor egg soon enough?

Chapter 3 should be released this coming Tuesday when chapter 4 releases on SV.