Longfellow, Upside-Down
Faith’s Note: This short story is the result of another challenge from RJ Blain, and was seen, in very rough form, as a serial in the newsletter and on my website. I have expanded it a lot, giving more detail and emotional nuance. And getting to know Mud better.
◆◆◆
Mud was sitting at her desk in middle school, in Knoxville, half-watching out the one tiny window, half-listening to a biology teacher tell the class how seeds sprout, and how plants grow.
Like she knew anything. At all. About how plants grow.
“Water, dirt, the right temperatures,” Mrs. Skyfield said, “and sunshine, and seeds will sprout.”
Mud managed to not blow raspberries, but it was a close call.
Not all seeds just grew. Some needed scoring, or had to be sprouted between two towels in a specific temperature range.
Seeds, some seeds, not all seeds, because there were always duds, had life.
Energy. That spark that came from the dawn of the big bang creation.
Physicists said life came later, made from the same stuff as stars, but not at the same micro-instant of the big explosion.
Wrong also. Life came at the same moment that everything else did.
All time, all life, all everything, all potentialities.
Bang. And there it was. LIFE! At least, that was how the Green Knight explained it to her when she talked to him about the things she did with plants.
The way her magic worked, and why other people couldn’t—or didn’t—feel the power in the Earth and trees.
Most humans couldn’t and didn’t. To Mud that was a weird reality.
Something red flew past the window. Red. Long and red. Part of a red wing right where it joins onto a body, a pale red belly. A long . . . long . . . long tail.
Holy mackerel. That was the Dark Queen’s flying red dragon. Outside her classroom window. Flying! Jeeze! It appeared again, hanging upside down from the roof. Peeking in. One big red opaline eye met hers. Then it was gone and all she saw was a wing tip flapping away.
Mud grabbed her stuff, leaped to her feet, and raced to the door.
“Mindy! Return to your seat!”
But Mud was out the door and racing down the hall, her bookbag over one shoulder, dragging her down. She shouted behind her, “I’m about to puke! I’m going to the office!”
She barely heard Mrs. Skyfield calling the office on the intercom before the door closed behind her. She raced down the hallway at a dead run. Every footstep tilted her body forward, about to slam down face first and die of a crushed head.
She raced into the office, dropped low, and slid under the flat panel that separated the reception area from the administrative areas.
The woman up front was shouting at her to stop but Mud opened the door to the principal’s office and ran full blast into a meeting between some angry parents and Ms. Jenson.
The man was standing, shaking his finger at the principle.
Screaming. Red-faced. That was all Mud saw before she ran into him full tilt and knocked him off his feet, across the corner of the desk, and to the floor.
Mud landed on top of him, her bookbag continuing its range of motion, and slammed into his head.
With momentum. He moaned, just a little, rotating his head up to her where she sprawled.
Mud swiveled her eyes up to the principal and said, very softly, “Eeek.”
There followed all sorts of adult stuff, the ridiculous things adults said to a kid and to each other when a kid not their own did something stupid.
Mud didn’t listen to much of it. Instead, even while she lay on top of the slightly stunned man’s very large belly, she pulled her cell phone from her bookbag and turned it on.
And dialed the Queen’s head of security.
The wife of the downed man yanked Mud to her feet, shouting at her.
The principal was speaking the usual principal stuff in the usual principal tone of voice that they probably taught in principal school 101.
Mud ignored them all and shoved the cell into Ms. Jenson’s hand, while tapping the speaker button.
“Winter Residence of the Dark Queen of the Vampires,” a man said. Alex. Thank God.
Everyone in the room went dead silent, including all the people who had come from out in the hallways and gathered at the door.
Ms. Jenson stared at the phone, her mouth slightly open. “Wha . . . Who . . . Ahhh.” Not very articulate all of sudden.
Mud got to her feet and said loudly. “This is Mud, sister of Nell Nicholson Ingram Occam, and Longfellow just flew by the window of my classroom, and I’m in the principal’s office probably in trouble because I ran down here and barged in and knocked down a man who was yelling and now he’s lying on the floor. ”
“I see,” Alex said. There was just the hint of amusement behind the two words. And that vanished. “Can we speak privately?”
“No there’s like a dozen people in here.”
“Is the principal in the office with you?”
“Yes. That’s who was trying to talk to you when you answered.”
“I see,” Alex said, sounding terribly patient and yet not patient at all. “What is her name?”
“Ms. Jenson.”
“I assume I’m on speaker phone. Ms. Jenson, may we and the young lady speak privately? This is the Dark Queen’s head of communications. The queen’s head of security is on the way to the school.”
Ms. Jenson’s sense had returned or maybe she had remembered how to speak English, because she grabbed and gripped the cell phone in tight fingers and said, “Just a moment please while I facilitate this.”
“What is your name again?” she asked Mud. “Mindy?”
“Mindy Nicholson.” That was her official name, like on her paperwork, but everyone who mattered called her Mud. There were hundreds of Mindys. Maybe thousands. There was only one Mud.
The administrator said, “Take the phone and go with Safety Officer Benson. Now.” There was steel in that word.
Inwardly, Mud flinched. She slung her bookbag over her shoulder and followed the uniformed officer out the door to the security office.
He closed the door and pointed to a chair. “Sit. He still on the phone?”
“I’m still here,” Alex said. “You are Officer Paul Benson? Badge number 1467?”
The officer, who was about to sit in his desk chair, halted halfway to sitting.
His brain was processing, doing things behind his eyes, most of them clear as day to Mud.
They know my full name. They know my badge number.
This may really be a call involving the queen of the vampires.
And my upline people need to handle this but they aren’t here.
I am. And I’m screwed if I say the wrong thing.
Followed by a different, sour expression that said, Politics . . .
Mud decided the officer looked nonplussed. A little befuddled. Maybe mystified. Mud liked words almost as much as she liked plants, and that was a lot. She was part plant herself, not that she could share that secret with anyone.
The police officer continued downward, though much more slowly, to a sitting position.
He tapped a bit on his computer, probably pulling up her file.
It wasn’t extensive. Mud didn’t get into trouble.
Much. When he got comfortable, and the flummoxed moment (flummoxed was a great word!) had passed, he said to her cell phone, “Yes. And you are?”
“Alex Younger.”
“And this is Eli Younger, in the queen’s official winter residence,” another voice said. The background noise on his connection was really loud, a thumping thudding roar. “May I count on your discretion, officer?” Eli asked.
“No. You may not. I don’t know you from Adam’s navel. My job is to protect my students, and Mindy is a fourteen-year-old girl. And you most assuredly are not on her list of contacts.”
“Ah. Then I do count your discretion. One moment. Alex, are you adding Nell to the call?”
“Attempting to,” Alex said. “Gimme a sec.”
The line went silent. Officer Benson considered Mud with an expression that told her he had seen more than she expected.
He was an older guy, a little fluffy around the middle, but still mostly fit.
Canny. Smart. Her limited experience suggested that most resource officers were in their fifties which was ancient for humans, but she probably needed the officer’s experience, because this was probably gonna be a kerfuffle.
“How do you know the queen of the vampires?” he asked, Mud. “And why did you call her?”
“I didn’t. I called the residence. And I’ve met her but we’re not besties or anything.”
“Fine. Now answer the ‘why’ question.”
“Because the queen’s personal dragon, Longfellow, flew by the classroom window.”
Officer Benson actually blinked, as if having trouble processing that. Not a lot of people knew about Longfellow, except the queen’s personal people, but Mud had gone to her sister’s official federal law enforcement office so Mud knew a lot.
Into the silence of the connection there was a soft but distinct click and Nell said, “Special Agent Nell Occam, of PsyLED, unit eighteen speaking. Who is this? I’m in the field and I don’t have time for nonsense.”
“Eli, Alex, an Officer Benson at the school, and your sister, Mindy,” Eli said.
“Mud?”
“I’m okay,” Mud said fast. Nell was a cop. Cops always went to worst case scenario first.
Officer Benson asked, “Is this Mindy’s sister and guardian?”
“Yes. I’m getting in the car.” A door slammed. “What’s happening. Mud are you okay?”
“I’m in trouble but we can handle that later. Longfellow flew by my classroom window.”
“The queen’s dragon? Why?” Nell asked. The last word was distinct and hard—Nell’s cop voice.
“I don’t know. Yet,” Mud said.
“Now may I count on your discretion, Officer?” Eli asked.
The officer was staring at Mud weird. Probably because she knew people. People who, in his world, would be important. “Yes,” he said. “You may.”