Emzon's (Late) Birthday Present

I took the slip up to the teacher, Mr. Mason. He gawked when he saw my seaweed—jealous, I assumed—and of course I winked at him. He sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class first. So jealous was he of my seaweed that he wouldn’t even let the rest of the students admire me. It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back but, somehow, they managed. I took the time to give each one a slow, lingering smile and a wink. I was glad I had taken the time to add an extra coating of slime to my brownish-green exterior. When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound that reminded me of the insects from home, a gangly boy with skin problems and hair black as fish oil leaned across the aisle to talk to me.

“You’re Isabella Swan, aren’t you?” He looked the overly helpful, shrimp type.

“Are you crazy, mother-lickah? I’m Old Gregg!” Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me.

“Where’s your next class?” he asked.

“Why would I tell someone like you; someone who doesn’t know me?”

“I’m headed toward building four, I could show you the way…” Definitely the shrimp-type. “I’m Eric,” he added.

I knew what was happening here. He wanted me. I couldn’t blame him. But I wanted someone strong to hold me at night, and this boy looked like he couldn’t hold a sea bass.

“Go away, man-child. You don’t know what I got.” But he followed me anyway.

“So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?” he asked.

“What’s you talkin’ about, man-peach?”

“It doesn’t rain much there, does it?”

“I think you need the Baileys, boy. Craziness is in your waters, hmmm? I live in a lake!”

“Wow, what must that be like?” he wondered.

“Wet.”

“You don’t look very tan.”

“My mother was a fish.”

He studied my face apprehensively. Poor boy, he must not have any fish in his family. He doesn’t know the joy of swimming in the deep, with your seaweed trailing behind you in the water.

“Well, good luck,” he said as I entered my class. “Maybe we’ll have some other classes together.” He sounded hopeful. Poor, delusional little man-peach.

The classes were long and dull. School was nothing like I had expected. There were no groups of fish swimming from place to place. I hated the people. No one was willing to drink Baileys from a shoe, or create a club where people wee on each other. I missed the cold, lifeless eyes of my fish brethren. The only one I was willing to spend time with was a girl with wildly curly hair. As we walked, I imaged myself decapitating her and sticking her head above on my wall. She would make a nice decoration. Curly Jefferson would like some company. It must be lonely to be a dead body on a wall. I was lonely. I had no one to paint watercolors with or to whisper to me as I fall asleep. So lonely.

It was at lunch that I saw him. I was in mid-rant about the lack of food choices—where were the mosquitos, the frogs, the fish babies? They didn’t even have a cool glass of Baileys—when my attention was drawn to a table in the corner of the cafeteria. There were five of them. They weren’t gawking at me, unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them without fear of meeting an excessively lively pair of eyes. They didn’t look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big—muscled like a man who’d been lifting whales all his life, with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular. The last was lanky, less bulky, with bronze-colored hair. He was less muscular, had no seaweed, no scales, but something about him drew me in. The two girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had the figure of a swimmer and reminded me of one of the many girls I had drowned after catching them swimming in my lake. Her hair was golden, gently waving to the middle of her back. The short girl was thin, with small features. Her hair was as dark as the bottom of the lake, cropped in a coral-like fashion. It reminded me of the reef I had seen when I visited my cousin, who lived near the Bahamas. The entire group had skin like porcelain. I felt sorry for them, having such bad skin tone. I guess not everyone can be blessed with my scaly complexion. But when they all walked out of the cafeteria, it was like watching fish swimming in water. I knew I would be seeing the bronze-haired one again, even if it meant following him home with a net.

It turned out there was no need for me to follow him home. I found out from the curly-haired one that his name was Edward, and when I walked into my Biology class, I found him there. He was the only one sitting by himself. I took the seat next to him, a little disappointed that I didn’t have to evacuate someone else from the seat first. He looked at me from time to time with his black eyes—eyes I could swim in. Eyes I probably would swim in. I like to swim. I’m Old Gregg! His eyes were filled with hostile fury. I could relate to that. I could know him, and he could know me. He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face like he smelled something bad. I took a deep whiff of my seaweed. It smelled like guano, the scent of my favorite shampoo. It reminded me of the bats that shared the cave on the shore of my lake, who dined on mosquitos with me. It seemed an innocent enough odor. I stared at him openly throughout the entire class. During that time, he never relaxed his stiff position on the edge of his chair, sitting as far from me as possible, probably to ward off temptation. I could see his hand on his left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under his pale skin. This, too, he never relaxed. I knew what he wanted, what he was trying desperately not to do. He wanted to take my hand, hold it in his. He had a strong will about him. I liked that. He had the long sleeves of his white shirt pushed up to his elbows, and his forearm was surprising hard and muscular beneath his light skin. He wasn’t nearly as slight as he’d looked next to his burly brother. I was pleased. He was turning out to be the man I had always dreamed of. The class seemed to fly by, unlike any of the others. Was it because the day was finally coming to a close, or because I was waiting for his tight fist to loosen and take a hold of mine? It never did; he continued to sit so still it looked like he wasn’t breathing. With that kind of lung control, I bet he could swim underwater for a long time without surfacing. I would have to keep that in mind if I ever decided to drag him to the depths of my lake. I looked into his eyes one more time. He was glaring down at me again, his black eyes full of revulsion. I think I just fell for him even more. At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me hiss, and Edward Cullen was out of his seat. Fluidly he rose—he was much taller than I’d thought—his back to me, and he was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat. I sat frozen in my seat, smiling after him. He was running from his feelings. Busy playing his love games. It wouldn’t last long. I began gathering up my things slowly, letting my imagination romanticize our next meeting.

“Aren’t you Isabella Swan?” a male voice asked.

I looked up to see a cute, egg-faced boy, his pale blond hair carefully gelled into sea-urchin spikes, smiling at me in a fishy way.

“What have you been suckin’? I’m Old Gregg, fool!” I yelled, my voice echoing around the room.

“I’m Mike.”

“I don’t like you, Mike.”

“Do you need any help finding your next class?”

“Gregg don’t need no man taking him to gym.”

“That’s my next class, too.” He seemed thrilled and unaware of the danger of crossing Old Gregg. We walked to class together; he was a chatterer. I was about to quiet him permanently when we entered the gym and he asked, “So, did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or what? I’ve never seen him act like that.”

“What now, boy? Are you talking about the fuzzy little man-peach that was sitting next to me in Biology?”

“Yes,” he said. “He looked like he was in pain or something.”

“That’s love, you uncultured grebe!”

“He’s a weird guy,” Mike lingered by me instead of heading to the dressing room. “If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you.”

“I’m gonna hurt you.”

By the end of the school week, Forks High School dropped from having three hundred and fifty-eight students to three hundred and twenty-one students. Seven were swimming with the fishes in my lake, two hung on my walls, and the rest were scattered throughout Forks. The body count would most likely have been less had Edward not missed several days of school. Without his presence to divert my attention, I had to entertain myself with seaweed-lacking students of Forks. None of them appreciated me as they should. Mike was simply a nuisance. Jessica—the curly-haired girl—still walked the halls, but only because I needed to find a plaque and mount that would suit her better. Edward was back at school on Monday and I looked forward to Biology class. School attendance only dropped by two that day. I arrived at Biology before Edward. I took my seat and waited for my man. My eyes were glazed over as I thought of the Baileys waiting for me at home and I did not noticed when he took the chair next to me.

“Hello,” said a quiet, merman-like voice.

I looked up, stunned that he had so easily given up his resistance. He was sitting as far away from me as the desk allowed—so not totally given up—but his chair was angled toward me. His hair was dripping wet, disheveled—even so, he looked like he’d just finished shooting commercial for seaweed gel. His dazzling face was friendly, open, a slight smile on his duck lips.

“My name is Edward Cullen,” he continued. “I didn’t have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Bella Swan.”

“You’re lucky I like you, boy. I keep telling you mother-lickahs, my name is Old Gregg.”

“Oh, I think everyone knows your name. The whole town’s been waiting for you to arrive.”

“Well, that’s obvious! This town needed this funky-fresh man-fish. But that’s not my name!”

“Do you prefer Isabella?”

“Are you playing games with me, boy? I’m Old Gregg!”

“Oh.”

I would have to teach him. He would know me. I would make sure of it.

The next day was cold and icy. The roads were dangerous for those driving. I had no problems, of course, being Old Gregg and all, but I was almost killed by one of them mother-lickahs. I was standing next to a truck when one of the students, Tyler, came skidding towards me in his van. I knew I should have taken care of that boy. Anyone who didn’t like Baileys was too far gone. I was about to be a fish sandwich with the vehicles as metal buns when Edward took me in his strong arms and rescued me.

“I made the proper assessment.” I said, pleased. The school was in hysterics at the near catastrophe but I dealt with the most insistent ones. I doubt their bodies will ever be found. I slept soundly that night. That was the first night I dreamed of Edward Cullen and his strong arms.

I dream of Edward nearly every night now. He talks to me now, no longer shy of his emotions, and I even sit with him at lunch. He appreciates a good Baileys. As he got to know me he loved me more. But his coldness was leaving him and I was becoming disappointed. I hid it, though. I would not let him know until I had made my decision. We made plans to go for a hike a few weeks later. He said he had something to show me. It was warm, warmer than it had been in Forks since the day I’d arrived, almost muggy under the clouds.

“This way,” he said.

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “You’d better not lead me astray little man-peach.”

“I won’t let you get lost.”

“You won’t live to see the outcome if you do, manwich.”

He led the way through the forest. The day turned sunny and light leaked through the canopy of trees. A pool of light illuminated a small, perfectly round meadow filled with wildflowers—violet, yellow, and soft white. I walked slowly, barely containing the hiss that clawed at my throat. Light was bad. I liked my dark cave. There was only one light that was alright with me. My light. This light sizzled my skin and made me feel like fried cod. I turned toward Edward and waited expectantly. It was time for his demonstration. He stood just inside the shadow of the trees. I took a step toward him. Edward seemed to take a deep breath, and then he stepped out into the bright glow of the midday sun.

Edward in the sun was shocking. His skin literally sparkled, like thousands of tiny diamonds were embedded in the surface. I knew what he was, then. What I had always suspected. I whispered the truth.

“Fairy.”

Edward made a rather nice addition to my wall. I had to fix that sparkling skin of his, of course, but I managed. I couldn’t allow anyone to be shinier than myself. I couldn’t handle the sparkling. I mourned the loss of those strong arms that pulled me up, but, alas, it was not to be. I thought he could know me, see me, but he was not the one. At least he would not go to waste. His corpse would forever accompany Curly Jefferson and Jessica and the other students of Forks that were worthy of my wall. If I was to find the man for me then I would have to wait. One day. One day someone will take my sweet hand in marriage. For now, I drink Baileys and do my watercolors.

I'm Old Gregg!