NOVEL WEB Chapter 8
The world is dyed a strange amber hue as the sun lulls in a perpetual twilight. The blades of grass between my toes are damp, like I’ve stepped onto this field after a fresh summer rain. Looking around, I recognize this park as my regular haunt… but something’s up. The jungle gym, which is supposed to look like a condemned mishmash of rusty bars and sharp edges, is pristine and polished. The sandbox, which is usually speckled with “presents” from the local feline population, is clean and looks raked to perfection like some kind of zen garden. The bathroom… is still a public bathroom and I feel no need to explore deeper than that. Point is, either the department of parks and recreation in my city is run by much more competent folk than the characters in that overrated sitcom from a few years back… or I’m, like, really fucking high.
“You seem pensive… what’s up, doc?” A lilting and playful voice captures my attention as I turn back to the jungle gym. Sitting atop the highest beam is Willow. Not some malformed and mediocre likeness, hastily sketched onto lined note paper… a living breathing person. My jaw drops, and the woman continues looking at me expectantly. “Not really the chit-chat-y type, are ya?”
“Y-- you’re--”
“Magnificent, gorgeous, cute as a button? Aww shucks, you’re making me blush.” Nope, pretty sure you’ve got the flattery covered all on your own. No, the glaring detail that’s thrown me for a loop are the long, fluffy ears poking out of her head.
“You’re a bunny!?” I ask, sounding a bit more taken aback than is probably necessary.
Rolling her eyes, the beautiful woman with the small poofy tail and humongous feet has a hearty laugh at my expense. “Well duh! What the hell were you expecting, Godzilla?”
“No, I wasn’t! That would’ve been cool as all hell though. Honestly, I didn’t know what to expect, but I thought it’d be something badass, like a lion, or tiger, or–”
“Hare, oh my?” The bunny girl snorts and laughs again, really enjoying her own sense of humor. Eventually, the momentum of her own bellyaching knocks her off balance and she falls off the jungle gym, landing in a heap on the ground. Within seconds she springs back up, the amusement that once dominated her expression replaced by hurt. “Hold on, you don’t think I’m badass? I’m sorry I don’t come standard with sharp teeth and claws! All you get with the upgrade to Bunny Babe is - Oh, I don’t know, how about a lifetime supply of beautiful!? Yeah, check it, fucking adorable!” Willow vogues for a few seconds just to drive home her point. “Do you like speed? Well, take a gander at these supposedly lucky feetsies! Girl, we put any human olympian to shame. And considering your track record with pissing people off, we’ll be taking full advantage of an enhanced ability to flee.” Touche, I deserve that one.
“Alright, I get it, you’re amazing. I just wish there had been signs.” Willow looks like she’s about to say something, stops, and shoots a disapproving look somewhere over my shoulder. Instinctively following her gaze, I turn around to see a whole lotta nothing. “What are you looking at?”
“The fourth wall, hun. Trust me, they know exactly why I just died a little inside.” After staring off for another second, Willow snaps back to reality. Hopping close, she slings an arm around my shoulder. “Trust me, you might not have seen the signs, but they were there. Big, bright, neon, billboard-sized signs that’d put the Vegas strip to shame. Signs that you’d need to be legally blind to miss. Signs–”
“Alright, I get it, I’m dense!”
“As a neutron star. But it’s all good because you’re here now! You finally figured out who you are! Congratulations!” From absolutely fucking nowhere, confetti bursts forth, showering us both while the sound of a dozen party horns echoes in stereo.
For a moment, I’m completely swept up in the overwhelming energy my much more positive half emanates. This is it. I’ve finally found the missing piece. This is what I’ve always wanted!
… So why did a few of Willow’s choice words keep rattling around my head like a pop song with a contagious rhythm and lyrics written by a fourth grader? “Who am I, exactly?”
The confetti shower freezes in mid-air as Willow’s expression scrunches up in confusion. “Wait, seriously? Do you not get what’s happening here? You’re going through metamorphosis! Hooray!!!”
Shrugging off the other me’s arm, I turn to face them completely. “I get that, and don’t get me wrong… I’m happy– thrilled, even. I just… Who am I? I’m Willow, sure, absolutely on board with that. But what changes from here? Should I act differently? Dress differently? Speak a certain way? You just said that now I know who I am, but… what if I don’t? My entire life, I’d assumed I was supposed to be… you know. I lived my life with that in mind. I forced myself into a box because I thought that’s where I belonged, and now that I’m out… I’m still the same shape I’ve grown into. A cube that doesn’t know what it would have been if not for the box.”
The party horns from early play themselves off with a sour and low note as the confetti withers and vanishes. Willow’s shoulders drop as she sighs deeply before forcing a strained smile, probably for my benefit. “You’re one hell of a party pooper, you know that?”
“Yeah, I guess I kind of am. Can you blame me?”
Dropping to the ground with her legs crossed, Willow pats the grass next to her and I take a seat as well. “I get what you’re saying… and you’re right. The physical change, as wonderful as it's gonna be, ain’t gonna solve all of our identity problems overnight. Unfortunately, I’m gonna have to pass the reigns to you to figure everything else out. I know it doesn’t seem fair to just drop that on your lap and run, but the answers to all of your questions have to come from you.”
Nodding along, pretending like any of this makes sense I hum to myself for a second before speaking. “Helpful, very helpful. Now, where’s the fortune cookie you’re reading off of? If I’m gonna get a generic cliche non-answer, I should at least have the satisfaction of eating the crispy treat it came in.”
Willow snorts and lets herself flop backward so she’s staring at the blazing sky. “I really shoulda seen the snark coming for that one. You didn’t get to grow up the way you should’ve, and it’s a goddamn shame. I mean it, sincerely. If there was some way I could have forced the change sooner so we could have had time as ourself as a kid, I would have. But what you’re neglecting to see is that you’re not done growing yet. Yeah, you’re starting from a place you don’t want to be, but you’ve got the incredible opportunity to meet yourself all over again. Try new things, hell, try everything that isn’t irresponsibly dangerous, maybe try a few things that are. Talk how you want, act how you want, dress how you want. Do whatever the fuck feels right to you! You’re free now, so make the most of it. We’ve got an entire lifetime to keep growing and changing, so don’t be in such a rush. We’ll get there, on our own time.”
Laying down to watch the slowly darkening sky above, I elbow the bunny girl next to me. “You still sound like a string of poorly regurgitated platitudes… but thank you.” The two of us just hang out, in a comfortable, peaceful silence as the world finally enters night and a myriad of stars slowly make themselves known across the sky.
Launching herself to her feet so fast that I get a headrush just watching her, Willow stretches her back and arms. “Not that this hasn’t been absolutely lovely, but it’s getting real late and I think you need to be heading on back.” I sit up and prop myself up with my arms, almost sad to see this dream end. “Oh don’t give me that look, I know I’m good company and all but you can’t spend your whole life playing with yourself… huh, I think I just invalidated the lives of a sizeable percentage of adolescents with an internet connection. My bad.”
“You’re a fucking idiot,” I say, trying to stifle immature laughter.
“Yes. Yes, we are. Now, put her there, pal.” Willow offers me her hand to help me up, and as I take it, the idyllic world around us fades away.
***
I’m still in high school, so given the country I live in I am legally required to say that I have no idea what a hangover feels like. Wink wink, nudge nudge. But HOLY FUCKING SHIT do I feel hungover right about now. My skull feels like it's split open from the top and I swear if those birds outside sing one more note, I’m adopting an army of cats just to spite them all. Really, though, did someone give them a megaphone or something? How is it humanly… er, avian-ly possible to be this loud? My hands shoot up to cover my ears, but for some reason I can’t seem to find them. How groggy am I that I lost a key part of my own anatomy!?
The pain I’m in causes me to groan. That was a groan… right? From me? I didn’t know I squeak like an adorably rusty hinge. Seeing as how the songbird symphony has determined that sleep time is over, I stretch out to begin my twenty-seven-step boot-up sequence. Yes, all twenty-seven steps are essential, do not question my methods! As I’m relishing the feeling of all of my joints popping, my feet slip off the far end of my bed. That’s odd… My head is still as close to my wall as ever. Did I get taller?
Still confused, I roll up into a seated position. Two heavy strands of hair flop in front of my face and I brush them both back. Weird. Yawning, I indulge in a second big stretch, opting to ignore the obvious frog in my throat making me sound like I just sucked in a bunch of helium. Ugh, what time is it? Can I possibly put off being awake for a few more minutes? Ten forty-five… yeah, I think I can spare -- TEN FORTY-FIVE!? I am late. I am beyond late. There’s late and there’s “extra strength late P.M.” and I took a double dose of those motherfuckers.
Jumping out from my fortress of comfort-ude, I run for the bathroom… only to immediately trip on something and land flat on my face. Alright, ow, not cool gravity. What the hell did I even trip -- what the fuck happened to my feet!? The post-sleep haze that I’ve been relishing to this point clears up in an instant and I remember my encounter with Willow. Right! Bunny. I’m a bunny… there’s no goddamn way any of my shoes are going to fit now, huh?
Wait, why the hell am I complaining!? I’m a bunny g- Oh shit, I have to make sure!
Carefully standing up, I slowly make my way to the standing mirror in the clutter corner. Alright, moment of truth, gotta check myself out and make sure everything’s a-ok… but what if it isn’t? Is there some kind of warranty or return policy if nature fucked up? My eyes are glued to the floor for a couple of minutes. Until I actually see myself, I can imagine I look any way I want to, it’s comforting. Maybe Willow should have been a fraidy cat since it seems like I embody that spirit quite well.
As I struggle in vain to find the courage to finally look at my reflection, a pair of ears I’m not used to feeling on the top of my head twitch as the sound of rapidly-moving feet thunder through the house. Reflexively, I turn to my door as a force of nature beyond reason stampedes down the hallway at a breakneck pace. My door tears open at mach-five-speed before slamming into the wall and nearly embedding itself in the plaster. Through the threshold, panting heavily with eyes frenzied and wild is mom. “Dad? Are you home?” I tentatively call out in my new high-pitched voice, hoping against hope that he skipped out on work as mom obviously had.
I love my mother, I really do, but everyone in my family knows ‘the look.’ It’s often spoken about in hushed, reverent whispers and never brought up when she’s in earshot. Myself, I’ve only ever seen the look twice. The first time was when she won backstage tickets to a Spruce Springstein concert, he was mom’s favorite treant “hard-wood” rockstar whose fans affectionately referred to him as "The Moss." The second time, was when dad surprised her with a vacation to Italy for their wedding anniversary. We all knew the look, and all knew what it preceded.
Mom leans back and sucks in more air than I think any normal person's lungs could accommodate before letting loose a scream that'd make banshees shit themselves. While still unleashing her sound from hell, mom drops to all fours, arches her back like a coiled spring, and begins bouncing around the room showing reckless disregard for her safety and the safety of everything around her. Hopping around with no rhyme, reason, or direction to speak of, mom has become an engine of chaos and destruction, threatening to take the whole house down with her if she so wishes. The ferret-shaped pinball that has unleashed itself upon my room starts ricocheting off of my walls and shelves as her tail swipes every poster and book that I own. "IknewitIknewitIknewitYou'regorgeousahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" Mom 'says' and I use that word lightly as she somehow squeezes coherent thoughts into her single, held, screeching tone. Good gracious Ignatius, I'm getting exhausted just watching her go... and I'm half her age!
It's probably best that I let her tire herself out for now and try to have a conversation later. Taking her excitement as a positive sign, I finally steel myself and turn to face the mirror in earnest. Ready to accept and love whatever stares back at me.
