The Magic Mirror of the Mermaid Queen - Delia Sherman [12]
Basic Manners lasted forever. We practiced making formal introductions and polite conversation. Fortran made a blatting noise on Tosca’s hand instead of kissing it. The Diplomat sent him to the corner to sort a jar of mixed dry rice and beans into separate bowls as punishment. While he was still sorting, the horn blew, and the Diplomat excused us.
My first day of school was over.
Out in the courtyard, I stopped to take off my Inside Sweater, which I stuffed into Satchel with the Big Book of Rules. All around me, changelings were chasing each other, huddling in groups, and playing mortal games with twirling ropes and bouncing balls. Over near East River Park, a magic swing hung from the sky by ropes of ivy. I thought I saw the horrible Tiffany in a crowd of blonde heads and skinny, jean-clad bodies, but the East Siders all looked so much alike it was hard to tell.
The Pooka came bounding up to me, black tail whipping the air, yellow eyes aflame with welcome, barking out questions about how I was liking education and what had I been after learning and were there any mortal boys as handsome as my fairy godfather at all.
I wanted to throw my arms around his furry neck and tell him just how horrible it all had been and how much I hated Tiffany and Bergdorf and how Fortran and Espresso were okay, for City mortals. Then I remembered Rule 3.
I shook my head.
The Pooka stopped bouncing and sat at my feet. “Are you telling me there are none? Or there are, and you’re sparing my vanity?”
I shrugged. His ears drooped. “Well, if you won’t tell me, you will not. It’s beneath my dignity to ask twice, as I’d think it was beneath yours to deny your fairy godfather an answer to a civil question.”
“I can’t, Pooka. There’s a rule against talking about school stuff to Folk.”
“They can’t be meaning your fairy godfather, surely?”
“It mentioned godparents particularly. Don’t be mad, Pooka. I’ve had kind of a complicated day.”
His ears returned to normal. “No harm in asking.”
“I want to go home,” I said, trying not to sound as pathetic as I felt.
“Right,” he said. “Step into the Park with me, then, and I’ll be shifting into something more practical for traveling.”
Chapter 4
RULE 160: STUDENTS MUST NOT BULLY, INTIMIDATE, TEASE, OR OTHERWISE PROVOKE OTHER STUDENTS.
Miss Van Loon’s Big Book of Rules
The second morning, the Pooka didn’t show up.
Astris fixed a silver clip in my hair. “He’s a trickster, pet. He comes and goes. You’ll be fine on the Betweenways.” She surveyed my slightly ragged Green Man T-shirt disapprovingly. “Are you sure that shirt’s appropriate?”
“It’s what everyone else is wearing,” I protested. I didn’t say that the green man’s faded, leafy face painted across the back was like a little bit of the Park I could carry with me. I also had my jade frog amulet around my neck, for luck.
The frog was from last summer, when Fleet and I had spent an afternoon shopping in Chinatown. It reminded me of strange smells and bright colors, of meeting my first genuine mortal changeling (apart from myself), of making my first mortal friend. She’d given it to me because it winked at me. I was still waiting for it to wink again.
“Well, pet. If you’re sure.” Astris twitched the T-shirt straight. “You be good, now.”
My second day of school wasn’t any better than the first. I totally forgot to put on my Inside Sweater until some snotty East Sider reminded me. I didn’t know the words to the school song. I couldn’t find Bergdorf to take me to my morning lesson and had to ask the door lady where it was. I got to Mortal History and Customs just as the second horn blew, very out of breath.
“Knowing about time,” the Historian said as I sat down, “is important. Think of it as a kind of mortal magic—something we have that the Folk don’t understand. It helps us tell the difference between yesterday and today, which is how we know that things change.”
Then he explained that mortals Outside divide days into hours and minutes and seconds. He showed us a small clock and told