Page 3

He nods. "You're welcome, Olivia,” he says in a soft voice. “You're going to be okay."

I clear my throat, confused by all of this. I thought for sure he would have tossed me out by now. "So, am I fired?"

"Will you go back to school if I fire you?"

A shudder passes over me when I remember the rigidity. The layers of social expectations that never made sense. Or how they related to grades.

"Absolutely not."

He lets out another long sigh. "Then you still have a job. Though we should keep you in the back, I think."

A snort escapes before I can stop it. "I told you that last week."

He scowls, but I'm pretty sure it's one of those ones that are fake. I think…

His tone when he speaks confirms it is and I let out a sigh of relief. "Get out of here, and when you come back, leave your cheek at home."

I stand up slowly, clutching the book to my chest, thoroughly confused. It’s a feeling I've grown accustomed to. People make no sense.

I turn to leave, but he speaks up again. "I know this isn't any of my business, but do you have anyone you let touch you? Don't you get lonely?"

I flinch. Of course I get lonely, though it bothers me less than most. I clear my throat, not sure what someone is supposed to say in moments like these, so I just let words pour out. "My mum used to give me the best hugs… but that's been years now. It's just too much and I just… lose it."

"Maybe someone you trust, then? I've read a bit about…" he stops himself, and his face screws up into another expression I don't have enough context to understand.

My body is rigid, waiting for him to tell me how messed up he thinks I am, but the words don't come.

"Sorry. I'm making you uncomfortable. I just wish… It doesn't matter. I'll see you tomorrow."

As nice as he's been, my desire to be alone is at a fever pitch now, so I scramble out the door.

2

Kroaicho

Onwaking,thesoundof my involuntary chittering resonates off the damp walls of my cave, and after a few stretches to be rid of the kinks crippling my movement, I run a claw down the side of the ancient case I've been scratching my back on lately.

To say that I am embarrassed will be underselling the sheer expanse of indignation I feel at the moment.

They have continued to taunt me.

I don't need to see my reflection to know that my pigmentation has changed. I should calm myself.

I cast a satisfied glance at the small pile of glittering, hardened, rarely found volcanic rocks to the side, and preen at the sight of them, taking pleasure in the endorphic rush that paints my skin yellow.

Braving the heights of Mount Rev'ercha to gain access to its lava pits and navigating those as well was no easy feat. Many zhasie preferred to hedge their risk by sticking to the cooled rocks that found their way to the banks of the expansive lava lake within the mountain, but a few of the more unhinged zhasie, that being myself for the most part, were more than happy to skip across the rock-littered mass of burning mountain to retrieve as much as one could carry from the more abundant rocks on the other side.

I pull out the best prize from where I tucked it before sleeping off the trials and insults of yesterday. A melted and reformed gemstone, its perfect, alluringly green, glittering depths pulling the eye in whirls of delight.

The pain in my muscles and the after effects of the red fear that pulsed through me making me feel slightly ill. I remember that final leap to get away from the whole thieving lot of them. It pushed me to my limits.

The other zhasie often weave tales, shouted from their cave entrances, that put my sanity into question. But they are the ones being odd.

Treasure is the ultimate goal. There is no risk not worth taking for this singular process, especially when there is a story to be remembered from the gathering. I certainly will never forget that leap, or the red fear and the orange triumph.

Remembering the stories behind the treasure are what give them value. It’s what makes them important, which is why so many are jealous of my hoard. The risks I take and the tales they tell only increase the significance.

They call me a fool, but I know it’s because they are jealous.