Page 1 of My Orc Pen Pal (Mated to the Monster: Season 3)

Ro

Fridays, right before the bell rang for dismissal, was Q&A time.

It was a tradition I’d developed a few years ago, and while it cut into our state-mandated literature time, I told myself this was far more important for developing minds. I mean, today’s world is nothing like how it was when I was growing up, and ten-year-olds these days have a lot to worry about.

So throughout the week, I let my students write down whatever questions they have—about their schoolwork, the universe, whatever—and I take twenty minutes to answer what I can. We even sit on the rug like the kindergarteners do in order to make it feel more personal .

“Okay, what’s up first?” I reached into the tissue box I’d decorated with pretty paper and stickers, and pulled out the first one. “ Can we have corn dogs next week ?”

It was Rebecca’s handwriting, but the deal with the Q&A box was that it was anonymous, so I directed my answer to the whole class, who were now snorting and rolling their eyes. “I like corn dogs as much as the rest of you, but the cafeteria sets their menus by the month. I’ll request it for next month, if you want.”

Pretending not to notice Rebecca’s nodding, I pulled out another question, this time in shy Sophia’s handwriting. “ I don’t understand dividing by triple digits,” I read quickly, then smoothed out the paper to put on my desk when I got up. “That’s because dividing by triple digits is difficult, and we’ll go over it again on Monday. No homework over the weekend, so you don’t have to think about it for a few days.”

As the kids, who were lounging on the rug in various states of comfort, nudged each other and began to murmur about their plans for the weekend, I pulled out another one.

And sighed. Jackson’s handwriting.

The kids love it when I answer the gross questions, so I made a big deal out of wrinkling my nose, and they all shut up in anticipation. “ How do I fart ?” I read, and the class burst into giggles.

Rolling my eyes, I hurried through the explanation. “Okay, assuming this isn’t asking me how to like… make yourself fart?” The group of boys sitting around Jackson kept snickering, so maybe that had been the purpose. But maybe I could make biology interesting …

“Right, so you know when you’re chewing gum, or drinking soda or whatever, and you sometimes swallow little bits of air? That gets trapped in your stomach, and your intestines?—”

Selene’s hand shot up, and without waiting to be called on, she asked, “Does this mean we shouldn’t chew gum if we don’t want to fart?”

She sounded worried. Understandably so, considering how many times I had to ask her to spit out gum.

So I shook my head. “You’re going to fart either way. Because most farts are caused by your body breaking down the food in your stomach or intestines. Gas is a by-product of that, and certain foods—like beans—produce more of the gas as they’re broken down, which results in more farts. I can’t believe y’all got me to say fart so many times in class.”

This, of course, resulted in most of them breaking into giggles again.

I glanced at the clock. Still a few minutes left. This time was silly, yeah, but also important. I wanted them to know that there were adults out there who would talk to them and respect their questions and opinions. I wanted them to know they could trust their teachers, no matter what their home life was like.

Granted, the questions weren’t always easy. After the bell rang, I would read whatever questions were left, and decide what to leave for next Friday, what to address in class—like the division question—and what needed more personal attention .

The kids believed they were anonymous, but since I could recognize handwriting this late in the year, it was easy enough to start a gentle conversation with the kid in question, maybe on the playground or after lunch, if they needed some encouragement.

“Okay, time for one more,” I called, trying to quiet the group down. I pulled out one in Benjamin’s handwriting. Uh-oh .

Is love real ?

I swallowed, not sure I wanted to get into this. A few months ago, I was getting a question from him almost every week asking if Santa was real, and eventually I reached out to his mom to let her know she might want to have a conversation about their family’s traditions.

But…

I glanced up, and there was Benjamin, sitting cross-legged and alert, looking sweet as anything, his eyes hopeful. I knew from my friend Nikki—who taught the younger class, and whose stepdaughter was besties with Benjamin’s little sister—that their mother had been struggling to find childcare ever since his father left.

Maybe I could gloss over this. “ Is love real ?” I read, then plastered a big smile on my face. “Yep, it definitely is. Your parents love you very much, right?” I glanced around at the suddenly serious little faces surrounding me. “And you guys love them more than anything.”

“I love my dog the most!” announced Ella.

So I nodded and hurried on before that interruption unleashed a barrage of what I love comments. “And your pets, and probably some of you have lovies that you love a whole bunch too, right?” There were a few nods, although some of the other kids were glancing around, as if uncertain they should admit to something they probably saw as juvenile.

“And although it’s hard to believe, because you’re likely fighting all the time, you guys love your brothers and sisters, and they love you too.”

Benjimin didn’t bother to raise his hand. “But what about true love , Ms. Young? The stuff in the movies? Between a boy and a girl?”

Damn.

I was hoping he wouldn’t push it. I sighed and glanced at the clock, which was apparently moving backward.

“Well…you’re talking about two people who get married, right?”

“They don’t have to be a boy and a girl!” announced Megan. “My cousin has two dads!”

I nodded, cutting off more interruptions. “Yep, and that’s love too. So Benjamin asked about two people getting married, and if that’s true love, right?” I glanced around at their little heads bobbing in agreement. Seems like they all wanted to know the answer.

Crap . “I can’t answer for everyone, okay? I’m sure I’m supposed to say that getting married is just like in the movies. You love someone, and that’s true love, and that’s all you need to decide to marry them and spend the rest of your life with them, right?”

Benjamin was frowning .

“But getting married is about more than just loving someone,” I said gently. Then inspiration struck. “My parents live on the island, and they’ve been married thirty-five years.” There were impressed noises from some of the kids, who probably couldn’t imagine being that old. “And my whole life, they’ve loved each other. They also fight and get angry at each other.”

“Then it’s not true love!” announced Rebecca indignantly.

I shrugged. “That’s what marriage is, though. You can love someone and still get angry at them occasionally. As long as you can trust them to be a good partner, and as long as you can still love them despite the anger.”

“Marriage is supposed to be forever,” Benjamin said quietly.

Oh my gosh . I really, really wanted to give this kid a hug, but I wasn’t going to risk embarrassing him in front of everyone, so I nodded sadly. “Yeah, it is. If both of you can love each other enough to forgive when you get angry, then it might last forever. But true love is different than marriage—it’s about trusting your partner. It is a partnership, like a team. You have to trust your teammate to do what they know is best, even if it’s not exactly what you would do, in order to reach your mutual goals—mutual means same ,” I hurried to explain because I could see Jackson opening his mouth to ask.

I saw Benjamin’s lips form the words trust and partner , as his frown turned more thoughtful.

“But Ms. Young,” whined Selene, “does this mean that you believe in true love ? ”

Could I get away with not answering? Luckily, our alarm went off, and I slapped my knees. “Well, that’s it for this week! Everyone get their bags and lunchboxes—Emily and Jose, don’t forget I still need your permission slips for the field trip,” I called amid the disorder. “Victor, you’re still the line leader!”

The Friday afternoon bus line was always more chaotic than usual, but I could admit I was feeling the excitement for the weekend. Not just two days off, but… I had a date for the first time in a while, and wasn’t that interesting?

By the time I’d gotten everyone off and was back in my classroom, I’d almost forgotten Benjamin’s question. But as I scooped up the discarded pieces of paper, I found myself staring down at the one in his handwriting.

Is love real ?

I knew what he’d been asking, poor kid. He wanted to know why his parents split, even though it had been a while. All the shows and movies they watched fed them this idea that True Love was the solution to everything, and everyone was owed it…but they didn’t understand the nuances. And how difficult long-term relationships can be.

I crumpled the paper and turned to throw it into the bin, but squeaked when I saw Nikki in the doorway, her arms folded and a smirk on her face. “I was wondering how long it would take you to notice me.”

Recovering, I stuck my tongue out and continued to clean up the classroom .

“I popped by earlier to borrow your stapler—I have no idea where mine went—but you seemed pretty intent with Q&A time, so I went next door.” Her dark brows drew down. “That true love question seemed intense. You okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” I paused in the middle of flipping a chair on top of the desks to make things easier for the cleaning staff. “Why?”

She shrugged. “Kinda looked like you didn’t want to answer the whole Do you believe in true love thing.”

I quirked a brow at her. “I didn’t.”

“Look, Ro, you’re the one that set yourself up for the tough questions?—”

“And how am I supposed to tell a bunch of third graders that no , I don’t think true love is a thing because I’ve seen so many marriages fail, and trust is easy to lose, and real partners—like, real partners, the ones you can trust to always have your back no matter what…” I trailed off, then blew out a breath and went back to my task. “Few and far between.”

From the door, Nikki hummed, and I winced, hoping she wouldn’t see.

I probably shouldn’t say that to someone like her, someone who’d found her True Love at Christmas… Or rather, since she was married to Eastshore Isle’s mayor, who happened to be an orc: her Mate . Orcs did things differently than humans, I was learning.

Luckily, she changed the topic. “Is tonight the big night? ”

“Nope, tomorrow. I wanted to be…fresh.”

Nikki snorted. “And are you ready to meet him?”

Was I?

I plopped the chair I was holding on the last desk, upright, so I could rest my chin on the back. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “I hope so.”

“Oh, RoRo.” Nikki pushed away from the doorframe and came across my room. For a minute, I thought she was going to hug me, but she stopped a few arms’ lengths away and eyed me in concern. “You really don’t have to do this. I swear, it’s okay, you don’t have to?—”

“No, I want to,” I assured her, blowing out a breath and straightening. “I do. I like Akhmim. It’s just… When I started emailing him, I never thought I’d actually meet him in person, you know?”

It took a second for Nikki to understand, but then her expression cleared. “You’ve been sharing all this stuff with him for months, probably baring your heart and soul…?”

Nodding, I flipped the chair over. “And then he shows up on my doorstep.”

Well, not quite.

“Sakkara was so excited to find the guys,” Nikki murmured, finally moving to stand next to me and rest her hand on my forearm. “It really means a lot to him and the twins—heck, to all the guys—to have this new batch here in Eastshore. But that doesn’t mean you have to date one of them. ”

“One date,” I was quick to assure her. “When Akhmim told me that your Mate tracked them down and offered them a place on Eastshore Isle with all the other orcs, they debated, but he…” Suddenly feeling awkward, I glanced away, not sure if I wanted to share what he told me.

When I realized that’s where you were, sweet Rosemary, it wasn’t a question of if, but when.

“I like him,” I muttered, picking up some of the crayons around Jackson’s desk. “I just didn’t realize I was going to see him in person .”

“And are you okay with it?” Nikki asked hesitantly. “Because if you’re not, I can get Sakkara to tell him to back off…”

“No.” I straightened and shook my head, then nodded, then shook my head again. “I mean, yeah, I’m okay with it.” Taking a deep breath, I admitted the truth. “I’m excited about it, just nervous. When his email said he’d been invited to live on Eastshore, it was just natural to tell him that’s where I’d grown up. It seemed so…serendipitous, you know? And I know him—really well, by this point. So yeah… I’m excited to meet him in person.”

We were nearing the end of the school year, Nikki’s first. When she joined the teaching team for Eastshore Elementary, she was skittish and introverted. At Christmas, she learned that the guy she’d been crushing on online was actually the town’s mayor, Sakkara, and the father of one of her students.

Now that they were Mated, she was ridiculously happy, and I was happy for her. During one of our girls’ nights, she told me about MonsterSmash, the app she’d used to meet Sakkara—who went by a different name online, of course—and on a drunken dare, I decided to check it out.

I’d never been interested—you know, interested interested, pretend I’m waggling my eyebrows—in orcs in that way. I was just curious to learn more about them, and despite having a half dozen loping around town, this seemed like the safest, most non-confrontational way.

Then I’d met Akhmim.

Our friendship had quickly progressed from the chat box on MonsterSmash to email, and for the last few months, we’d written to each other at least daily, sometimes two or three times a day.

I loved his insights, the way he thought about things. I loved hearing his observations of our world versus the one he’d come from, and I loved how willing he was to discuss orcish culture, human politics, favorite ways to spice spaghetti squash—as if the only acceptable answer wasn’t garlic and more garlic —and a million other things.

He was my friend .

And tomorrow…? I glanced at Nikki, who was smirking at me.

Tomorrow, I was going to meet him in real life. For a date.

With my pen pal.