Simply this: you must fight those who would make free with you. Win or lose, you must fight.
A taste like summer cherries rose in Gilla’s mouth again. Kashy envied her shape, her strength.
The back of Gilla’s neck tingled. The sensation unfurled down her spine. She gathered power from the core of her, from that muscled, padded belly, and elbowed Roger high in the stomach. “No!” she roared, a fiery breath. The wind whuffed out of Roger. He tumbled back against the opposite wall, slid bonelessly down to the ground. Gilla fell onto her hands and knees, solidly centred on all fours. Her toes, her fingers flexed. She wasn’t surprised to feel her limbs flesh themselves into four knotted appendages, backwards-crooked and strong as wood. She’d sprouted claws, too. She tapped them impatiently.
“Oh, God,” moaned Roger. He tried to pull his feet up against his body, farther away from her. “Gilla, what the hell? Is that you?”
Foster had liked holding her. He found her beautiful. With a tickling ripple, the thought clothed Gilla in scales, head to toe. When she looked down at her new dragon feet, she could see the scales twinkling, cherry-red. She lashed her new tail, sending clothing and hangers flying. Roger whimpered, “I’m sorry.”
Testing out her bunchy, branchy limbs, Gilla took an experimental step closer to Roger. He began to sob.
And you? asked the deep, fruity voice in her mind. What say you of you?
Gilla considered, licking her lips. Roger smelled like meat. I think I’m all those things that Kashy and Foster like about me. I’m a good friend.
Yes.
I’m pretty. No, I’m beautiful.
Yes.
I’m good to hold.
Yes.
I bike hard.
Yes.
I run like the wind.
Yes.
I use my brain—well, sometimes.
(A smile to the voice this time.) Yes.
I use my lungs.
Yes!
Gilla inhaled a deep breath of musty closet and Roger’s fear-sweat. Her sigh made her chest creak like tall trees in a gentle breeze, and she felt her ribs unfurling into batlike wings. They filled the remaining closet space. “Please,” whispered Roger. “Please.”
“Hey, Rog?” called Haygood. “You must be having a real good time in there, if you’re begging for more.”
“Please, what?!” roared Gilla. At the nape of her neck, her hamadryad hood flared open. She exhaled a hot wind. Her breath smelled like cherry pie, which made her giggle. She was having a good time, even if Roger wasn’t.
The giggles erupted as small gouts of flame. One of them lit the hem of Roger’s sweater. “Please don’t!” he yelled, beating out the fire with his hands. “God, Gilla; stop!”
Patricia’s voice came from beyond the door. “That doesn’t sound too good,” she said to Haygood. “Hey, Gil?” she shouted. “You okay in there?”
Roger scrabbled to his feet. “Whaddya mean, is Gilla okay? Get me out of here! She’s turned into some kind of monster!” He started banging on the inside of the closet door.
A polyester dress was beginning to char. No biggie. Gilla flapped it out with a wing. But it was getting close in the closet, and Haygood and Patricia were yanking on the door. Gilla swung her head towards it. Roger cringed. Gilla ignored him. She nosed the door open and stepped outside. Roger pushed past her. “Oh God, Haygood; get her off me!”
Haygood’s shirt was off, his jeans zipper not done up all the way. His lips looked swollen. He peered suspiciously at Gilla. “Why?” he asked Roger. “What’s she doing?”
Patricia was still wriggling her dress down over her hips. Her hair was a mess. “Yeah,” she said to Roger, “what’s the big problem? You didn’t hurt her, did you?” She turned to Gilla, put a hand on her scaly left foreshoulder. “You okay, girl?”
What in the world was going on? Why weren’t they scared? “Uh,” replied Gilla. “I dunno. How do I look?”
Patricia frowned. “Same as ever,” she said, just as Kashy and Foster burst into the room.
“We heard yelling,” Kashy said, panting. “What’s up? Roger, you been bugging Gilla again?”
Foster took Gilla’s paw. “Did he trick you into the closet with him?”
“Why’s everyone tripping?” Roger was nearly screeching. “Can’t you see? She’s some kind of dragon, or something!”
That was the last straw. Gilla started to laugh. Great belly laughs that started from her middle and came guffawing through her snout. Good thing there was no fire this time, cause Gilla didn’t know if she could have stopped it. She laughed so hard that the cherry pit she’d swallowed came back up. “Urp,” she said, spitting it into her hand. Her hand. She was back to normal now.
She grinned at Roger. He goggled. “How’d you do that?” he demanded.
Gilla ignored him. Her schoolmates had started coming into the room from all over the house to see what the racket was. “Yeah, he tricked me,” Gilla said, so they could all hear. “Roger tricked me into the closet, and then he stuck his hand down my bra.”
“What a creep,” muttered Clarissa’s boyfriend Jim.
Foster stepped up to Roger, glaring. “What is your problem, man?” Roger stuck his chest out and tried to glare back, but he couldn’t meet Foster’s eyes. He kept sneaking nervous peeks around Foster at Gilla.
Clarissa snickered at Gilla. “So what’s the big deal? You do it with him all the time, anyway.”
Oh, enough of this ill-favoured chit. Weirdly, the voice felt like it was coming from Gilla’s palm now. The hand where she held the cherry pit. But it still sounded and felt like her own thoughts. Gilla stalked over to Clarissa. “You don’t believe that Roger attacked me?”
Clarissa made a face of disgust. “I believe that you’re so fat and ugly that you’ll go with anybody, ’cause nobody would have you.”
“That’s dumb,” said Kashy. “How could she go with anybody, if nobody would have her?”
“I’ll have her,” said Foster. He looked shyly at Gilla. Then his face flushed. “I mean, I’d like, I mean…” No one could hear the end of the sentence, because they were laughing so hard. Except Roger, Karl and Haygood.
Gilla put her arms around Foster, afraid still that she’d misunderstood. But he hugged back, hard. Gilla felt all warm. Foster was such a goof. “Clarissa,” said Gilla, “if something bad ever happens to you and nobody will believe your side of the story, you can talk to me. Because I know what it’s like.”