Just A Teenage Centaur

Automatically, my hand reached out and slammed the alarm-clock off. I groaned and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, forcing myself to get up. I sat on the edge of my bed, waiting for my mind to shake itself loose of its sleepy haze.

I kept my eyes closed, and my thoughts shifted elsewhere. Last night, specifically. I sat there and thought about everything that had happened the night before. It was so bizarre. . . it couldn't have been real, could it? I dropped my head into my hands and ran my fingers through my chocolate hair. The pain was still there. My stomach and legs felt numb and other strange sensations flooded my body. No, what happened the other day was too weird for it to be just a dream.

I pushed myself to my feet and stripped out of my pajamas into a fresh change of clothes. Today's outfit consisted of the usual baggy, ripped jeans, and the usual tee with a bold design on it. I glanced over to my dresser where a silver bracelet laid amongst the empty soda cans and food wrappers. That too I had gotten last night. I picked it up and ran my fingers across its surface. There was a horse carved on it. Oh, now that was really rubbing salt in the wound. I slipped it on.

I carefully made my way downstairs, keeping as quiet as possible. I tip-toed my way across the living room, and over the squeaky floorboard my dad kept saying he was going to fix one day. And despite all my care, both of my parents were up, sitting at the kitchen table with mugs of coffee in their hands and talking in very low voices with each other. They immediately stopped when they saw me enter, and my mother quickly looked away.

"Chris," my father said in a very shaky voice. He cleared his throat. "Uh, good morning."

"Hi," I said simply. I went to the fridge and pulled out an orange for breakfast.

Dad glanced down at his mug and his grip tightened. "So . . ." he said, shifting slightly in his chair. "You sleep ok?"

"Alright, I guess," I said. I took the orange over to the sink and began to peel it. Soon my hands were caked with the whitish residue of the peels and my hands reeked of oranges. I split off a section of it and chewed it slowly. I reached for another section, but as I did so, some of the juice got into a cut on my finger, and I recoiled, hissing slightly with the stinging pain.

My dad and mom both jumped to their feet. "Chris, are you ok?" he asked hurriedly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said quickly. "Just got orange juice in a cut."

"Oh, ok, good," my dad sighed, seating himself back into his chair. My mother collapsed into her own chair, and began shaking.

"Mom?" I asked slowly.

"I'm going to take a shower," she said loudly, quickly rising to her feet. In her haste she knocked over her coffee mug and it shattered to pieces on the floor. I grabbed a nearby rag and rushed over to her side to help clean up the mess, but as soon as I took one step towards her, she began to scream.

"Don't come any closer!" she shrieked. I froze. "Just . . . I got this, just go. Just go away!" she said. She grabbed the napkins on the table and began to furiously mop up the spilled coffee, tears streaming from her eyes.

I stood there for a second longer, dazed. But I did what she asked. I put down the rag, and climbed my way back up to my room. My half-eaten orange lay forgotten on the counter-top.

As soon as I stepped foot inside my room, I slammed the door shut and punched the nearest wall. My mother's terrified face was all that filled my thoughts. She couldn't even look at me. My hand clenched tighter.

I grabbed my gym bag and started angrily shoving my basketball uniform inside it, along with a spare change of clothes. Just in case. I grabbed my shampoo and deodorant and crammed it in as well. I had everything packed up and ready to go. But I didn't go. I shuddered at the thought of going back down there and facing my parents. I couldn't do that again. I closed my eyes and forced myself to take a deep breath.

The clock kept ticking. I was going to be late if I didn't go.

It was painful, I'll admit it, but I forced myself to do it. I grabbed my bags, opened the door, climbed down the stairs and walked right up to my dad.

"We should get going," I said lowly. "I'm going to be late for school."

He only nodded and we headed out to the garage.

"Got everything?" he asked as he grabbed the keys off the key rack.

"Yeah," I said. I climbed into the passenger side of the car, my dad climbed into the driver's seat, and we drove off to school. I stared out the window at the passing landscape, coated in a fresh blanket of fluffy snow. The sky was still dark and covered with sad grey clouds.

We sat in silence for what must have been fifteen minutes before my dad thought it was ok to break the silence. "You know your mother loves you very much," he said. I closed my eyes, inwardly groaning. "It's just . . . quite a shock, you know?"

"Can we not talk about that?" I asked.

"I think we should," he said. He didn't sound too sure of himself. "I mean, you're the one that . . . that found out you're, um, different. Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," I said.

"Christopher-"

"I said I'm fine," I snapped. My dad tore his eyes off the road to shoot me a pitiful look. I sighed loudly. "Look, I'll be ok. I just need some time."

"Of course," he said. We didn't say anything else for the rest of the trip. When we finally did pull up to my high school, I jumped out of the car and hurried off.

"I'll pick you up after practice," my dad said. I nodded. "I love you, son," he added quickly, almost as an afterthought.

I nodded. "Yeah, I love you too, dad."

You know those days where school just seems to go on forever and ever and there's no end in sight? Today was one of those days. Everything passed in slow motion. The clocks ticked forward at half-speed, enjoying their torture. I couldn't take it. I couldn't bring myself to pay attention to any of my teachers. They all droned on like bees, and for whatever reason I just couldn't understand a single word they said. Everything was in a foggy mist and I couldn't break through it. My first class, I passed in my homework without even noticing-or caring- it wasn't done until I handed the teacher the paper. But how could anyone expect me to finish stupid things like homework when last night I ended up-

I shook my head. I didn't want to think about it. I folded my arms across my desk and buried my head in them for the remainder of the class.

I didn't even taste my lunch. In fact I don't remember what I ate. It could have been dirt for all I could have told. I had some vague recollection of some of my friends telling a funny story but for the life of me I couldn't remember a single detail about it.

But finally it ended, and I couldn't help but let out a loud sigh of relief when that glorious final bell rang. I hurried out of my classroom, and packed up my backpack before heading off to basketball practice. I had a half hour to kill until then. What to do?

I wandered around the school, half-dazed, before my sluggish feet took me to the library. Might as well try to get some homework done. Or research. Yeah, why not? Why not find out more about what I was now? I headed to one of the empty computers tucked in the back corner. Around me were other students typing up research papers, or just playing games. I glanced over and saw two girls on Facebook and another on Twitter. I slouched into the chair and logged into the computer. The usual welcome screen popped up as it processed my information. In seconds I was logged in, and I headed straight to Wikipedia. I paused for several seconds, and stared at the home page. My heart was thumping loudly in my chest.

Come on, Chris, just do it. I thought to myself. With sweaty fingers, I typed centaur into the search box. My finger hovered over the Enter key for only a second before I slammed it.

A page popped up immediately, with a photograph of a half-man, half-horse sculpture to the right and a neatly organized web-page in the center, proudly displaying everything it knew about centaurs. I began to read.

In Greek mythology, the centaurs (from Ancient Greek: Κένταυροι – Kéntauroi) are a composite race of creatures, part human and part horse. In early Attic and Boeotian vase-paintings, as on the kantharos (illustrated below left), they are depicted with the hindquarters of a horse attached to them; in later renderings centaurs are given the torso of a human joined at the waist to the horse's withers, where the horse's neck would be.

This half-human and half-animal composition has led many writers to treat them as liminal beings, caught between the two natures, embodied in contrasted myths, both as the embodiment of untamed nature, as in their battle with the Lapiths, or conversely as teachers, like Chiron.

Caught between the two natures? I read again. Oh, joy. What does that mean? I'm going to be partial to sugar cubes and carrots from now on? I read on.

The centaurs were usually said to have been born of Ixion and Nephele (the cloud made in the image of Hera). Another version, however, makes them children of a certain Centaurus, who mated with the Magnesian mares.

I stopped right there. "The Greeks were seriously messed up," I said to myself. I continued to skim through the article, stopping in several spots to make sure I properly read a section. Supposedly centaurs were savage and wild creatures that enjoyed eating people and snatching up women. I closed out of the web page and logged off, fuming. It was time for practice anyway. Hopefully it would take my mind off of things for a bit.

The locker room was already filled with my teammates, along with the overwhelming stench of body odor and Axe body spray. My teammates all waved or shouted hello. I smiled back and greeted them in turn before I began changing. As I slipped on that familiar silky jersey, I couldn't help but feel a smile cross my lips. I felt at home here. This was somewhere familiar I could always retreat to and escape the weirdness of the real world. I laced up my shoes and bolted out to the court, the welcoming sting of the cooler gym air splashing my face as I left the locker room. I grabbed the nearest basketball and immediately dove into my element. The loud bang bang bang of the ball against the hardwood floor accompanied me as I raced up and down the court. I grabbed the ball in my hands and hurled it at the nearest basket, and landed it perfectly. Here, everything was normal and what it should be.

My coach's whistle rang through the air, rounding us all up. Now practice really began. First, a familiar five-point shooting drill, then three-on-threes up and down the court, and finally scrimmage. We broke off and set to work. In no time I could feel sweat bead on my forehead and drip down my face. Adrenaline pounded through my veins and I felt a comforting sense of euphoria wash over me. This is what I lived for. Up and down the court, dribbling the ball against the floor, swoosh, the burning sensation in my legs and arms. I had never felt so ecstatic before. I loved every moment of practice and felt almost heart-broken when it was over. I took one last shot at the basket before I went into the locker room to change. It bounced off the rim and rolled to the edge of the court.

My dad was waiting outside for me. I climbed into the car.

"Hey," I said.

"How was school?" he asked casually.

"Boring," I replied with a small smile. "Then again, when isn't it?"

"Anything happen?" he asked. His voice was slightly more strained this time.

"No," I said. "It's ok, I'm fine."

He nodded, and we drove home. I was starving. So much so I could eat a virgin.

Ok, bad joke on my part. It's not like I would ever do something like that.

Right?

Dinner was waiting for us on the kitchen table, and to say the least, I was deeply disappointed. Three large bowls of freshly-made salads were waiting for us, complete with hearty slices of carrots and tomatoes. I glanced hopefully around the kitchen for the main course, but that was it. Salads. For dinner. My mother was already sitting at the table and tried to smile at me as I approached. The fear was still in her eyes, and I could clearly see her shift away as I took my seat.

I stared down at the huge bowl of lettuce in front of me and closed my eyes. I tried my very best not to be angry or upset, I really did. I knew mom was doing her best to deal with this thing, and I knew I really should be thankful for being this thoughtful. I mustered up the biggest smile I could.

"This looks great!" I said with false enthusiasm. I grabbed some dressing and poured it on. "Thank you for dinner, mom."

She didn't say anything. She picked at her own dish, and my dad in turn did his very best not to make a face as he shoveled down a fork-full of vegetables.

"Chris," my mother said in a very timid voice. I stopped eating and looked up at her. It was the first time she had talked to me willingly since the other day. "I've been thinking a lot today. And so, tomorrow I'm taking you in to meet Mr. um, oh, what was his name? Oh, Hancock. Hancock. We'll take you to Mr. Hancock and we're going to fix this problem of yours."

I felt my heart fall to the floor. "What?" I choked.

"We're going to fix you," she said. She was smiling now, with her hands twisting over each other. "We're going to make this horrible thing all go away and you'll be normal again."

I lost all feeling in my hands and felt my fork slide from my fingers. "Mom, there's nothing wrong with me."

"Christopher Browning, don't you dare talk back to me," she said stiffly. Her hands were clutched tightly and her knuckles quickly grew white. "You're . . . I want you to be back to normal. None of this . . . nonsense about magic and things that don't exist."

"Mom, it's ok," I reassured. "Yeah, it's weird, but I'm sure after some time I'll get used to it. In fact, I might-"

"I will not have a monster for a son!" she yelled, jumping to her feet.

We froze, all three of us. My mom, wheezing with breath and her eyes wide with anger, and my dad, staring flabbergasted at the both of us. I must have sat there for at least a minute, trying to compose myself. I could feel my cheeks grow hot and my hands ball into fists.

"I'm not hungry," I finally growled. I stood, and quickly made my way out of the kitchen and back up to my room. I slammed the door behind me as loud as I could and threw myself on the bed. Behind the closed door I could hear my parents throwing angry words back and forth between each other.

My mother was set on her little mission.

She called me sick into school early the next day, and I was excused from class. I didn't say anything to stop her. The only thing arguing with her would prove was that there really is something wrong with me and I need to get fixed.

She had printed out directions to Mr. Hancock's facility and was smiling the entire trip there. And that facility happened to be a high school. Mr. Hancock was the principal of a school for people who weren't exactly people. People like me. I really didn't want to go there. But all I could do was sit in the car and wish every stop light we passed to turn red to at least delay the inevitable.

We pulled up one long and uncomfortable car ride later, to be greeted with a pleasant electric billboard proudly displaying Delphi High School. To the right was a side-street almost hidden from view behind lush evergreens and thick maples. My mom pulled in.

I have to admit, the entrance road was very pleasant. Tall thick trees and hearty shrubs lined the drive before opening up to reveal an impressive two-story structure. A parking lot was off to the side, with students pulling in and quickly heading inside. I spotted a few girls all huddled together, their heads tucked close, and shuffling their way inside. We pulled into an empty spot labeled "Visitors."

'We don't have to do this," I said.

"Yes we do," my mom persisted. She stepped out of the car. "It'll be alright. Everything will be back to normal, don't you worry, sweetie."

I closed my eyes and didn't move.

"Chris! Let's go!"

It wasn't like I had much of a choice. I opened the car door and stepped out. Closed the car door. Shoved my hands deep into my pockets. Lowered my head and followed my mom in through the front door. Inside were a good number of students milling about the hallways, but most of them stopped and stared at us the way a wolf eyed a stray lamb. I sunk my hands deeper into my pockets. My mother ignored them all, and walked right past them. I jogged to catch up with her, and as I passed some of the students, I could hear them whispering. About me, nonetheless.

"Who is that?"

"He doesn't look familiar, does he?"

"Never seen him before."

"Is he new?"

"I can't tell if he's one of us or not."

I kept my eyes glued to the floor.

"Excuse me!" my mother said. I looked up. My mother was talking to a student with thick curly brown hair and a thin frame. She eyed my mother carefully before turning to me. She looked me up and down and then back to my mother.

"Can I help you?" she said guardedly.

"I'm looking for Mr. Hancock," she said importantly. She clapped a hand on my shoulder. "I'm here to get my son fixed, if you know what I mean."

The girl's jaw dropped open in horror. "Excuse me?"

"Well, you see, a few days ago I found out my son isn't normal, but I mean no one here is normal, are they?" She laughed good-heartedly. The girl's dark eyes grew wide. "But I heard this Hancock fellow can help with that. Just want him to make my son normal so we can go back to the way things were!" She pulled me in close, but I shoved away.

"Mom," I groaned. I shot an apologetic look at the poor girl.

The girl furrowed her brows and scowled angrily. "Look, whatever your son is, there is absolutely nothing wrong with him, ok? Nothing."

"I'm sure," my mother said coldly. "Now, can you please answer my question? Where is Mr. Hancock?"

"Main office, just down the hall," she said flatly, pointing down the corridor we were standing in. "But if you're here for that, you might as well leave. He'll tell you the exact same thing. You can't fix anything because there is nothing to be fixed!"

"Thank you," my mother dismissed, and started off down the hall. I stayed behind a second longer to apologize to the girl. It was the least I could do after the way my mother talked to her.

"I'm sorry about what she said," I said.

"Don't worry about it, it's not your fault," she replied with a tiny smile. "But I meant it. Whatever you are, it's ok. Don't let her tell you anything different."

"Chris, let's go!" my mother called.

I sighed loudly. "I have to go. And thank you."

"Any time," she said. She turned down another hallway and soon disappeared from view.

"I don't want you talking with anyone here, you understand me?" she said.

"She was just trying to help," I said defensively.

"She's also a freak and she doesn't know what she's talking about!" she said.

"Mom, that's not fair-"

"Not another word!" she said. She stared straight down the hall, past all the students, until finally we reached the main office. "Here we go!" she said happily. She opened the door and ushered me inside. Ok, more like "pushed." I once again dug my hands deep into my pockets and took a nearby seat. My mother approached the front desk, where two women, identical twins guessing from their creepily identical appearances, were sitting.

"Good morning," the woman on the left said. "You are here to see Headmaster Hancock, correct? Right away. Please take a seat until he is ready to meet with you."

My mother stood there, dumbstruck, for a second longer before slowly making her way back towards me and taking an adjacent seat. She fiddled with her purse, with her ankle resting on her knee and biting her lower lip in a pensive manner. I looked out through the windows at the passing students, and wondered what sort of monster each of them were hiding beneath their skin.

The door creaked open, and in walked an older man with his white hair tied back into a ponytail. His skin was like weathered parchment and his clear blue eyes scanned the room before resting on mine. I froze up for a second, but relaxed when he smiled.

"Christopher, I presume?" he said kindly. He motioned off to the side with his hand. "Please come with me. You too, Mrs. Browning."

My mother eagerly bounced to her feet and hurried to his side. I was slower to get up but grudgingly followed. He lead us past the front desk, to a short hallway with his office at the end. He opened the door for us, revealing a comfortable, fully furbished office with expensive-looking chairs and a rich textured desk. Books lined one wall, framed diplomas on the other, including a teaching certificate and some sort of plaque for community work or something. Mr. Hancock practically glided around to his side of the desk and took his seat, and motioned for us to do the same.

"Now," he said, folding his hands in front of him. "What brings you two here?"

"Sir, if I may," my mother began. She was clutching her purse more tightly now. "My son . . . well, he's not right. Can you make him normal again?"

Hancock's expression didn't change, but I could physically feel the tension in the air grow. "Please explain what you mean when you say you son isn't 'right.' "

"Well," my mother said with a nervous laugh. "He was perfectly normal until one of your teachers came over to our house and started feeding us all these ridiculous notions about monsters and magic and then Chris here . . . well, he-"

"I turned into a centaur," I blurted out. My mother jerked backwards away from me and emitted a tiny squeak of surprise. "There. I said it. I turned into a centaur."

Hancock's lips twitched slightly upwards. "I see. And obviously, you're having difficulty coping with this new discovery. I can recommend you to a good therapist for family counseling-"

"I don't want counseling," my mother said thickly. She calmed herself and took a deep breath before continuing on in a much sweeter voice. "I just want you to make this go away."

Hancock brought his hands up to in front of his face. "I understand," he said quietly. "May I have a quick word with Christopher in private?"

My mother looked back and forth between me and Mr. Hancock. "Yes. I'll be right outside," she said slowly. Rising to her feet, she stepped outside and clicked the door shut behind her.

"Sir, can I just say that this was entirely my mom's idea?" I said as once as the door was closed.

He chuckled. "I can tell that much just from your expression. I know times will be very challenging to you, but I want to hear it from you. How are you coping?"

"Ok, I suppose," I said. I rubbed the back of my neck. "I mean, it was really freaky when I turned but . . . I mean, it's not exactly the end of the world that I'm part-horse, right?"

Hancock's smile grew. "Right you are."

"But why did it have to be a centaur?" I said, more to myself. "I could have been anything, a dragon or something, but I end up with a horse-butt."

This earned a deep, booming laugh from Hancock, and even I couldn't keep myself from smiling a little. "Well, believe it or not, this is very good news," he said. "I know others cannot handle this new situation nearly as well as you have, but I'm afraid that this is only the beginning." He glanced up at the door.

"I know," I sighed. "Why is she so freaked out? She wasn't the one who just found out she isn't even human anymore."

"She simply does not know how to handle this new part of you," he said calmly. "Her entire life was flipped upside-down in a matter of minutes. It's not something everyone can adapt to so readily. Having your son turn into a centaur out of the blue isn't something you can easily explain, and she is uncomfortable with that."

I nodded. "Makes sense."

"But you do realize this is also something that can't simply disappear, correct?" Hancock said. I nodded once more. "Good. Now, I will say this. I know your mother's type. They think everything needs to be a certain way or else the world doesn't work. She will not-cannot- handle your true centaur form. You now have a few options. I can give you the name of a therapist who can be trusted with our secret, and he will help you and your mother resolve your differences. You can try to come up with a compromise on your own, or you can do whatever you see fit. And I will always be happy to help you however I can."

"I'm not big on seeing a shrink," I said glumly. "I'll talk to her about it." I looked up at him. "Can you try talking to her?"

"I can try," he nodded.

I stood to open the door, and there was my mom, looking at me hopefully. "He would like to talk to you," I said, and nodded inside. She pushed past me and went into the office. I closed the door behind her and leaned against the wall. The door was to my left, but I didn't look at it. For several moments, I couldn't hear anything; they were speaking too quietly. But slowly the voices grew louder, growing from a faint inaudible mumble to being crystal clear.

"I want you to fix this!" my mom yelled.

"Ma'am, there is nothing I can do," Hancock said calmly.

"You said you could help!"

"I can help him learn how to control his other side, and how to master his transformations. He is perfectly fine with his centaur form-"

"Well he shouldn't be! He's not supposed to look like that!"

"Ma'am, as I explained, the centaur form is his true form. His human form is only a disguise to-"

"Shut up! You're wrong!"

"Please, calm down and let me explain-"

"No! Stay away from me!" The door abruptly flew open. I jumped as my mother stormed out and rushed right past me. I glanced inside. Hancock only gave me an apologetic look before I had to catch back up to my mom. She was literally sprinting down the halls and didn't stop until we reached the car. Knowing better than to talk to her when she was like this, I climbed into the back seat of the car. By now she was crying, and muttering angry words under her breath.

"No-good, cheating, senile old scumbag!" she snarled. She drove away from the school at a good fifteen over the posted speed limit and made a hard left out of the school without even stopping to look. Thank god there was no one else on the road. I gripped the armrests tightly, and silently prayed for my mom to slow down. She was scaring me.

We finally got home, in one piece much to my relief. My mother flew out of the car and bolted inside, and I swore I could have seen tears in her eyes. I sat there for a while longer. I didn't want to go inside. I didn't want to go back in there where my parents treated me like a dangerous animal and tip-toed around me like a land mine.

I needed to get out of the house.

I ran inside, grabbed a few things, and headed back out. My father was gone at work and I am pretty sure my mother wouldn't even care if I went missing for a couple hours. Grabbing my coat, I headed out. I didn't know where I was going. I just started walking and kept on walking.

The air was frigid, but there was no wind, making the weather comfortable enough to walk in. I kept my head down and just walked, my feet kicking in front of me in an even tempo. I don't know how long I was walking for I found myself not far from the local forest preserve. Which got me thinking. No one would be out in the preserve, given how crappy it was and there wasn't enough snow for snowmobilers, and hunting wasn't allowed in the preserve. So that meant I had all 200 acres to myself.

To do whatever I wanted. I shuddered, but I knew I had to face this thing sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. I shut my eyes tightly and forced myself to walk into the forests. I made my way over the rocks and fallen logs, and trudged deep into the heart of the forest, well off the beaten path just in case someone was crazy enough to go walking around in this. The trees grew thick and thorny, which I guess was a good thing but my hands were getting scratched up from all the branches and thorns. I kept trudging deeper and deeper until I came across a partially frozen stream and took a look around. The forest looked completely untouched and I was a good half mile from any nearby trails. I think. I couldn't remember the exact layout of this preserve but I should be relatively safe.

And now for the hard part. I was technically a centaur, disguised as a human thanks to a magic spell, but it was still insane to try to wrap my mind around that notion. Strangely enough, I wasn't afraid. Just unnerved. And who wouldn't be? I knew the best thing to do was to just . . . get used to it.

I looked down at my wrist, where I still wore the silver bracelet. That was supposed to keep my clothes from ripping apart when I transformed, and I knew it worked. After all, the lady who told me all about what I was put it on my wrist right before I turned.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. This would be my first time turning on my own. I still didn't know what to expect- except a lot of pain and legs growing everywhere. I took another deep breath. Here goes nothing.

I pictured my horse body in my mind, and willed my body to take on that form. I was instantly greeted by a strange pin-prick sensation crawling up and down my legs. Suddenly my legs felt very hot. They had started to grow a nice thick layer of fur. I clenched my teeth and kept going. My tail was next; a jolt of pain fired down my back where it began to escalate at the very base of my spine, until it literally exploded outwards into a tail. I could feel it growing longer, and fur began to cover it. Thick coarse hairs started growing longer until I could feel it reach the back of my knees. New muscles covered my back and in my mind I could feel that new appendage, and I swished it back and forth. It was unreal, but I still had a long way to go.

My legs began to cramp up, as my thighs and calves shortened significantly and felt my heels growing longer and longer. I jerked forward as my weight shifted to my toes. Muscles rippled beneath my pants, and they began to tear. Instantly my bracelet began to glow, and as my pants began to rip, the clothing was absorbed into it. My toes began to melt together, with my nails growing thicker and blacker until they became hooves. Soon my legs were fully transformed into those of a horse, complete with light brown fur and dark socks. I felt my tail twitch involuntarily.

Now began the hard part. I let out a groan as my spine began to grow longer and longer, as if stretched by a taffy puller. I could feel my insides mix around to adjust for my growing mid-section, and felt new bones begin to crack and develop. Along with a growing spine, I felt two small lumps out of either side of me, growing larger and larger. Those would be my new fore-legs.

Desperate to just get this over with already, I willed the changes to happen faster. And thankfully it did- but the cost was a whole lot more pain. My new legs shot out of my stomach- or what used to be my stomach- and I couldn't help but cry out, both shock and pain. My fore-legs thudded against the ground, and I felt my back re-align and my legs finish shifting to support my body. So many sensations flooded my body I couldn't even begin to describe, but it was over. I was now a centaur.

I took a careful step forward, testing out my new legs. Coordinating all six limbs was going to be tough, but wasn't that the point of coming out here? To practice? I began to walk forward, very slowly and clumsily at first, but soon enough I was getting the hang of it.

I reached up to scratch the back of my head, when I noticed something else. My ears felt weird. Gingerly, I touched them with the tips of my fingers. Huh, they were fuzzy. And I could move them. After a bit more exploring, I realized my ears were now in the shape of a horse's as well. I briefly wondered how I didn't notice that the first time I changed.

Well, in all fairness, growing a second set of legs out of your stomach tends to distract you quite a bit. I kept walking.

The forest was quiet, but occasionally I could hear a songbird chirp, and I could feel my ears instinctively turn towards the sound. And I had to admit it was a little bit cool. Weird, but cool. I rotated my ears this way and that, and realized just how much more sensitive my ears were. My pace broke out into a soft trot. I could get used to this.

I stopped, spotting something in the distance. It looked like a dog- a very big brown dog. The dog noticed me looking at it and began to walk over to me. Oh, crap, was there someone else in the forest? In my head I began to pray that the dog was a stray.

"Oh, so you're a centaur," the dog said. "I kind of figured you for a faun, but close enough."

I stared at the dog, my ears falling flat. "Did . . . did you just talk?" I stuttered. Not only that, but its voice was horribly familiar.

The dog nodded. "Of course. I'm a non-human too. You met me in the halls of Delphi today, remember?"

My ears instantly perked up. That's why the voice sounded so familiar! The dog was the same girl I ran into just earlier today. "Oh! It's you! That girl my mom was talking to!" I paused. "Wait, how did you find me?"

At this, the girl-dog cowered slightly. "Headmaster Hancock is psychic . . . somewhat. He knew you'd be here and I volunteered to come see you."

"Why?" I asked dumbly.

She shrugged. "It just seemed the right thing to do. I mean, you did look upset today, and maybe you just want to talk?" she offered with a small smile.

"It's ok, really," I said slowly. "I appreciate it . . . I guess, but I'm not upset about being a centaur. It's my mom who is."

"I noticed," she said, glancing over her shoulder. She sat down on the snowy ground. "But regardless, sometimes it's just nice to talk with someone, you know?"

I shrugged. "Um, ok," My tail swished back and forth awkwardly. "So, what are you?" I asked.

"I'm a werewolf," she said, wagging her tail. "And my name is Angie, by the way."

"Chris," I said. I turned my head slightly, one ear perked up with the other flat. "Huh, not the first thing that comes to mind when I think of werewolf, though."

"Just wait until you see me on the full moon!" she said mischievously. Her tail was still wagging. "That's when I turn into a werewolf. This is just my wolf form."

"Interesting," I said. "Hey, if you bite me, would I turn into a were-centaur?"

We both laughed, Angie shaking her head slightly. "Doesn't exactly work like that," she said. She rose to her feet and started walking off, and I followed her. "But any other questions? Like serious questions? I'm more than happy to help."

"Not really," I said, still shrugging. "I guess there's not much else to know. I'm a centaur now and I just . . . gotta get used to it." I glanced down at my feet- now hooves. But another question floated through my mind. How do I get my mom to accept this? I remembered her face all to well- contorted with fear and horror. I could never face that look every day. And even though I was comfortable enough with this new side of me, I would get rid of this all in a heartbeat, if that meant my mom would look at me like a normal human being again.

"Have you thought about coming to Dlephi?" she asked.

"What?" I said, more startled. "Oh no. No way. If my mom can't even look me in the face now, how will she react when I start going to a school full of fr-uh, non-humans?" I said, catching myself before I said "freaks." "Besides, I think I'm ok."

"And that's always a good thing," Angie nodded. "Still, if you ever change your mind . . ."

"I know," I said. I didn't want to go there. I don't know why, but the whole idea just didn't appeal to me. In my gut I knew I was afraid. Afraid of what, though? I was ok with my centaur form, or at least, I thought it was. I stomped one of my hooves nervously. I just wasn't sure about this whole thing.

"Oh! By the way," Angie said, dragging me out of my thoughts. "You're going to have to get yourself registered. All newly-turns are required to do that."

"Huh?" I asked.

"Well, non-humans have stayed secret for this long because we have a system set up to keep track of all non-humans. It's to make sure no one does anything stupid to get us all exposed," Angie explained. "So, sooner or later, an officer's going to be banging on your door to get you registered. It's basically like getting a driver's license. Just stand there and look pretty for them while they take your picture and you're done."

My head was in a whirl. "Um, officers?"

"Oh yeah, most police you see around know about us. Makes sense once you think of it. Come on, there's a station not far away," she said, starting off. I slowly followed her.

As the brush began to thin, I stopped so I could change back. It only took me a few seconds, but it was very uncomfortable and weird. Angie did so too, and soon enough we were just two teenage kids walking along the road to the nearest police station.

"It really is kind of hard to believe people haven't found out about us yet," I murmured. "You'd think someone would slip up and change in public . . . "

"Believe me, it's happened more than once," Angie said. "But that's why we've got these guys. They're experts at covering those sort of things up. There's agents literally everywhere to make sure nothing goes wrong."

"That seems an awful lot of work."

"It's worth it in the end, trust me," Angie said gravely. "We're better off alone."

We approached the station; a simple one-story brick building that could have passed for a bank, except for the big "POLICE STATION" sign in the drive way. We headed inside, to a very normal-looking lobby, with a desk near the back and tables and chairs to the left and right. A single wooden door was behind the front desk. Angie approached the front desk and casually waved to the secretary.

"Can I help you?" she asked politely.

"Yup! Got a newly-turned centaur here and we need to get him registered!" Angie said, slapping her arm around my shoulder. I felt my cheeks go red.

"Right away," she said with a tiny smile. She pressed a button on the telephone next to her. "Mr. Davis, please report to the front desk for registry."

Not a minute later, a man with dark hair and narrow eyes approached, his mouth turned downwards into a scowl and hands dug deep into his pockets. He glared at Angie before turning to me.

"Kid," he said with a voice like sandpaper. "With me."

I turned to Angie. She nodded reassuringly.

"It's ok, you can trust him," she said, giving me a gentle shove forward. I nodded and headed over to the man, Davis as the secretary called him. He turned and led me behind the desk and through the wooden door. Behind was another much larger office space, with cubicles set up along the walls, each housing another police officer hard at work. Davis led me to the back of the room where yet another door awaited me. He led me inside. It was a small dark room, with camera equipment all set up and ready to go. Davis walked over to the camera and began to set it up.

"Go ahead and change," he said gruffly.

"Erm, alright," I stammered. I tried to transform, but I couldn't. Davis noticed.

"What now?" he asked.

"Um . . . can I go to the bathroom or something to change? I feel really weird with someone watching me," I said in a very small voice. Davis rolled his eyes, but thankfully he left the room. I changed quickly, not wanting to make the guy wait longer than he had to. What was up with him, anyway?

"Done?" Davis asked, peeking back in. I nodded. "Good, now stand there and don't move," he ordered. I stood in front of the camera, and he quickly snapped off a couple pictures. He then came over to my side and started taking measurements of my height, from head to hoof. Once done, he scribbled something down on a notepad pulled from within his coat. "Alright, you're done kid," he said, and left.

I stood there for a second longer, just wondering what happened. "Uh, do I get like, an ID or something?" I asked. Davis whipped around and shot me a look that made my knees weak.

"Yes, why don't you walk around with a picture of you as a centaur? I'm sure that won't raise any questions at all," he said sarcastically. "Stupid kids," he muttered under his breath. My ears flattened to the side of my head, annoyed. I decided I really didn't like this guy much at all.

I changed back quickly and headed out where Angie was waiting for me. In silence, we walked out and just began to wander around.

"I should head back. My parents are probably wondering where I am," I said distantly.

"Alright then," Angie said happily, flashing me a big smile. "Take care of yourself, ok?"

I nodded, returning the smile. "Will do."

When I got home, my father was back from work and he and my mother were talking to each other in quiet voices from the kitchen table. They turned when they heard me enter.

"Hey, Chris," my dad said. "Where did you run off to?"

"I needed some air," I said with a shrug. He nodded slowly.

"Chris, why don't you take a seat?" he said, gesturing to my usual chair at the dinner table. I took my seat, curious but cautious with what they had planned for me. "Your mother and I have been talking, really talking, and we know this all must be very hard on you. And we want what is best for you. You're our son and we love you."

I remained silent. What could I possibly say?

My mother closed her eyes. "Which is why . . . we think you should go to Delphi High."

My head snapped to look at her. "What?"

"You deserve to be with other . . . people like you. We want to make you happy. And if that means being a . . . a centaur," she shuddered slightly as that word was forced out of her mouth. "Then so be it."

"It's ok, I don't want to go there," I said reassuringly. "I'm fine."

"Chris, at least think about it."

"I don't want to go!" I said, a little louder this time. My hands curled into fists. I didn't want to go there! I could handle this thing on my own and I didn't want to be surrounded by other freaks! I didn't want to be reminded of what I was now! "I can do this on my own." I persisted weakly.

My father's hand fell upon my shoulder. "Asking for help is not a sign of weakness," he said.

I hesitated. I didn't want to go there. I just wanted to be left alone. I was fine with being a centaur but I didn't want to be reminded of it. No, that wasn't it. I didn't want others to know about it. That was it. That's what I was afraid of. To go to Delphi would be to admit I was a freak. Everyone would know. Once people see me there, they will know. I didn't want that. I just wanted to be left alone.

"I'll think about it," I muttered.

Several Months Later

Chelsey was draped around my arm, sporting her signature smile that would just about make your heart melt. "So how are you doing today?"

I smiled back at her. "Good. And you?"

"Never better!" she giggled.

Well, the last few months had been interesting, to say the least. My parents finally managed to convince me to give Delphi at least a shot, and I grudgingly went, only to find out I actually enjoyed it. It was just like any other school, except . . . you know, fluffier. And scalier. Not to mention I managed to get myself a smoking hot girlfriend within a few weeks of coming to Delphi. Definitely a plus. Said girlfriend was currently gripping my arm tightly and snuggling it. I swear if she wasn't a satyr I would have totally pictured her as a cat.

I was walking down the hallways, just wasting time until classes began. We still had about ten minutes-plenty of time to just hang out with my girlfriend. We headed to the cafeteria, arm in arm, and took an empty chair. And we began to chat.

"So how's your mom been? Better?" Chelsey asked carefully.

I nodded. "Yeah, she's better than the first time I turned, that's for sure. Still gets uncomfortable when I mention it, though."

"Oh," she said sadly. "Well I guess sometimes you can't help it." She looked around, and thankfully changed the subject. Even after all this time, it was still a touchy subject. "Funny, Jason and Angie are usually here by now, but I haven't seen them."

I shrugged. "Maybe they're just running a bit late."

Chelsey bit her lip. She was worried. "Angie's never late and she never missed a day of school before."

I frowned. "Full moon is in a few days," I murmured. "Maybe some sort of weird werewolf sickness?"

Chelsey huffed. "Maybe. Come on, let's go look around for them." She tugged my arm and I stood, following her down and up the hallways. As we approached the main office, I spotted a familiar mess of wavy brown hair.

"Oh, there she is," I said, pointing down the hall. Chelsey immediately brightened.

"Hey, Angie!" Chelsey called out, waving furiously. She didn't look up at us. Huh, weird. I didn't notice the guy she was standing next to her until I came closer. He was huge, and immediately I thought "football player" when I saw his square shoulders and muscular arms. This guy was built like a bull. He didn't look familiar, and not someone I have seen around before.

"Hey, Chelsey, who's that next to Angie?" I asked.

"I dunno, he doesn't look familiar," she said. We kept walking closer, but all the sudden, my legs refused to move. I didn't notice the cane the kid held in his hands, and I didn't notice the horrible-looking scars across his face until I got closer. The kid was walking slowly, one hand gripped tightly around the cane, the other around Angie's hand. Angie was tenderly holding his arm, gently guiding him down the halls. Her eyes were wet and red. Chelsey's hands flew to her mouth.

"Oh my gosh," she whispered.

"He's blind," I said slowly. And he mustn't have been blind for very long. He looked unsure, and occasionally stumbled, or would ask Angie to help him. Which she did, all the while biting back bitter tears. "Poor kid." I kept walking forward, towards the new kid.

"Hey," I said quietly. The kid's head jerked up, but his glassy grey eyes didn't focus on me. They were looking at something far in the distance. I could see the scars a whole lot better now. They still looked red, fresh. And I swear they were in the shape of claw-marks, right across his eyes.

"Hi," the new kid said slowly.

"My name is Chris," I introduced. The kid, again very slowly and very carefully, took his hand away from Angie, and I grabbed it with both of my hands and gave it a firm shake. His hands were large and calloused. "Welcome to Delphi High."

The new kid smiled. "Thank you." Angie herself couldn't help but smile, as a few tears streaked down her cheek.