The Journal of Mortimer Anhingas
October 10th
I have a serious problem. And not just because there’s only one egg left in the incubator. The rest have died and I’m not sure this one will survive. That’s a problem, but it’s not the problem.
The problem, is that I have really, truly, hopelessly fallen in love with Iris Gray and I have no idea how to tell her.
My mouth ran away with me the other day and I feared my secret might have been found out, but she said nothing about it even now. And I’ve been overthinking the moment since.
I know I’ve had a crush (I hate that term, it’s very… agh… I just don’t like it) since freshman year when we’ve met, but I’d never dare act on it. Crushes are mere infatuation, attraction. A chemical. She was nice to me, and that was different than any other girl I met. We were friends, and I enjoyed that.
But now… yesterday… I realized it wasn’t just a crush. She’s… she’s special. Beyond friend special. She understands. She does things like spend sunny afternoons in dark corners so I’m not studying alone all the time. Doesn’t stare when I’m around. Doesn’t seem to mind or be scared by my bad eye.
She likes geese. She’s smart. And every time I think about what my life beyond high school will be like, I keep seeing glimpses of her, no matter how many times I shove them away.
But her being in my life beyond boarding school…
It’s not possible.
Ack.
I don’t want things to be this way. It makes things… complicated. I don’t like it.
I don’t want to lose her, whatever happens.
On a different note, Iris keeps finding reports of these…. Strange people in her research. They’ve even gotten into a local paper— something about a boy in the next town being able to lift cars and cows over his head like they’re a leaf. Today she read an article about the discovery of the cause— an RNA editing virus that alters genes and adds an entirely new set of data to the human system. The Alteration Virus is what they’re going with. People have already begun to refer to them as Altereds.
Today I might ask Iris to look up my father, see if he’s said anything about it. Knowing what he puts his fingers into in the science and government world, he’s bound to have ideas about this.
Then again… maybe it would be better to not.
Ack.
I hate it when things get complicated.
I hear tapping from the incubator. Maybe the gosling will hatch?
I could use something good right now…
~Mortimer
***
The Mental Observations of Iris Gray
October 10th,
“Iris!”
I can barely hear Mor’s voice over the downpour– the weather has decided to turn downright stormy, and the rain is quite loud against my umbrella– but I still hear enough to turn around as he rushes up to me, holding an umbrella but still soaking wet. From the gleeful look on his face he’s either discovered something or he’s just enjoying the gray, rainy day.
“You’ve got to come to the dorm,” he pants. “The gosling… it actually hatched!”
I gasp. “Really?”
He nods. “He’s very small, but I think he might be okay… a little stunted… stunted is better than dead.”
“Definitely.”
He leads me back to his dorm building. His room is at the end of the hall and in one of the furthest corners of the building, so even though technically I’m not supposed to be here, no one ever really checks to make sure the rules are enforced.
As always, Mor’s insanely organized dorm makes me smile. Neatness is not a skill I possess, but Mor’s got it down in spades. He hangs his jacket up, and waves me over to the incubator in the corner.
I sit down at his desk chair as he carefully lifts a panicked, peeping gosling with brown and yellow stripes out of the incubator. It’s all fluffed up, and as he cradles it, murmuring softly, the peeping quiets as the gosling settles in his hand.
“Oh, he’s so cute!” I reach out and brush my fingers against the downy feathers. “He’s so little.”
“I’m not actually sure whether it’s a hen or gander,” Mortimer admits.
“Since it’s been cooler, probably a hen.” I hold out my hands. “Can I hold him?”
He nods, handing the gosling over. It peeps with panic, but I bring it up to the crook under my chin. Sensing warmth, he presses against my neck, trilling.
“They’re not going to let you keep a gosling in here you know,” I mutter.
“Experiment,” he says. “Imprinting. Doing it in the name of science.”
“Uh huh. Stealing my idea?”
He starts. “No, not at all… I wasn’t trying to imply –”
“I’m joking, Mor.” I stroke the gosling. “I know you’re really just a big softy for geese.”
He shoves his hands into his pants pockets, flushing.
“I’m not sure what I’ll do with him when I get home,” he mutters. “I can’t exactly keep a goose on the estate.”
“But he won’t really be able to be returned to the wild either,” I add.
“Exactly.” He shrugs. “Maybe you can take him after the school year. Your father might know how to… reintroduce him to his own kind or something.”
“If the gosling has imprinted on you, that’s gonna be hard.”
“Maybe he hasn’t imprinted on me.”
I set the gosling on the floor. Panicking, he walks in circles, squeaking loudly, before Mor finally breaks and crouches down. “Hey, you’re fine, I’m right here.”
Recognizing his voice, the gosling spins around and settles himself onto Mortimer’s shoe, snuggling against the fabric of his pant leg.
“He thinks you’re his mama,” I snort.
“He doesn’t have better options.” He picks up the gosling, stroking it. “So, we just raise him out for the rest of the school year and figure out what we can do once he knows how to fly?”
“Seems like the best plan we have.”
He sighs, but doesn’t seem terribly disappointed. The gosling pipes contentedly. He strokes it several times, then looks up at me. His bad eye ticks off to the side, but his good one is soft, almost lavender in this lighting.
“Iris… I…” He licks his lips, nervous. “I… ah…”
I wait, curious and slightly nervous, but he shakes his head. “Want to help me set up a brooder for him?”
I get the sense that it wasn’t what he was going to say, but there’s too much doubt to really call him out on it.
“Sure.”
