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Author's Note: This is one I had hoped to finish writing last month but unfortunately, my appendix had other plans. I had to have an appendectomy a month ago and have been slowly recovering since. I've been writing this here and there as I could. I finally finished it up this afternoon. This is just the beginning of what I hope might turn into a universe of stories, not just my own either. I'm hoping that people like this enough that I can not only create a universe but open it up for others to write in and enjoy as well. Think of it as almost a magical Whateley universe if you will. Edit to Add: I forgot to mention that that picture above jumps the gun a bit to show Emery in her school outfit. I made it before I was finished with this part. This story had intended for her to get to the school but as I wrote, I realized I wanted it to happen in another part. I just liked the girl in it so much
 

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"Happy birthday, Emerson," said the social worker, her voice as tired as the cake she handed him.

Emerson looked down at the plastic-wrapped dessert with its limp "16" candle. "Thanks," he murmured, his eyes glazed over with the weight of the day's realization.

The cake looked like something someone whipped up in about five minutes. It was small and lumpy, the "16" candle was leaning to one side. Almost as if someone stuck it in at the last minute.

"It's not much," she continued, "but we wanted to do something special for you. You're a good kid."

Emerson managed a weak smile, his thoughts already drifting to the envelope that had arrived that morning—before the cake, before the half-hearted party. The paper felt heavy in his pocket, the words on it promising something he had never dared to hope for. A family. A home. It also filled him with an annoyance that made him want to punch the peach colored wall next to him. He had a grandmother, a woman who from her letter had made it very clear she'd known he existed and yet in sixteen years, this was the first time she was contacting him.

But maybe it was better late than never.

He was just about to test out of the System, according to the plump woman sitting across from him. Mrs. Hill had been his social worker since he was six. He remembered their first meeting fondly. It was hard to forget. It was hours after his mother had finally succumbed to her cancer. The hospital had allowed him a few meager hours with her before they called Mrs. Hill in and he was whisked away. His memory of his mother's funeral was vague, there were only a few people present besides himself. No one really knew her.

Not even her family showed up. Not even this grandmother of his.

Angry, he gently gripped the medallion hanging around his neck. It was his mother's. It was silver with a green jewel. He liked to refer to it as a "medallion" because it was easier to admit he was wearing a necklace. When he was upset or scared, he would gently grab the green jewel and instantly feel better.

It was only helping a little bit today.

Mrs. Hill smiled her usual warm smile. She tapped the letter. "This is exciting at least," she said, always so chipper. "Who would have thought, huh?"

Emerson scoffed. "After all this time".

Mrs. Hill frowned. "Don't be like that. I took the liberty of calling your grandmother this morning. She and your mother were estranged for years. After your mother died, she was led to believe you'd been adopted. There was some mix up somewhere. Heads are going to roll."

Emerson wanted to say something snarky but just nodded his head. They could sugarcoat it all they wanted but the truth was---according to the way he saw it---the old bat hadn't wanted him. He wasn't sure why she was changing her mind now but it was clear she was up to something. Or wanted something. If he had to guess, it was probably an organ. Isn't that usually what long lost relatives came looking for after being absent all this time?

Either that or money.

Jokes on her. He had a total of three dollars in his wallet, fifty six cents in his pocket and a whooping one hundred dollars in his bank account. He would probably have more if he could keep a solid job but it never seemed to work out. There was always something that got him fired---most bosses said it was his attitude. A lot of them said he needed to "smile" and show he wanted to be there.

Emerson had never been one for smiling. Not since his Mom died anyway.

Mrs. Hill started to unwrap the sad little cake. She pulled off the plastic wrap with a flourish that was too cheerful for the occasion. The cake smelled faintly of vanilla and something else---something almost bitter. Like the memories he had of his mother's last days. She'd always loved vanilla. He watched as Mrs. Hill took out her lighter, the flame flickering to life. She fixed the crooked candle on top of the cake then lit it.

"Make a wish," she told him, her eyes shimmering with an odd mix of pity and hope.

He sighed, leaned forward and blew out his candle.

His wish: For something---anything---better than this.

They ate the cake in relative silence.

Mrs. Hill had brought plastic forks from the kitchen down the hall, the kind you get from fast food places. Emerson took a bite, the icing sticking to the roof of his mouth. It was surprisingly good. Mrs. Hill had never been good at baking but she always tried. He knew that she meant well.

After the last crumb was gone, she handed him a small, rectangular envelope with the Hot Topic logo in the corner. "This is a little something from me!" she said, beaming.

Emerson took the envelope with a raised brow. He had to admit, he liked the store. It was a guilty pleasure of his, a place to escape to when he felt like the world was closing in on him. He liked the edgy clothes, the band tees that screamed his mood, and the knickknacks that didn't make sense to anyone else but him. It was his place of solace in the sea of normalcy that was the foster care system.

He slipped his thumb under the flap and slid out a gift card with a generous amount on it. "Wow, Mrs. Hill. Thanks," he said, genuinely touched.

Her smile grew. "I know you've been through a lot, Emerson. I just want you to have something nice on your birthday."

He nodded, swallowing the last of the cake. "Thanks, I'll put it to good use."

He slipped the card into his back pocket.

"Thank you for the cake," Emerson said, standing up from the plastic chair. It creaked under his weight, a sound that seemed to echo through the quiet room. "And the card".

"You're welcome," Mrs. Hill replied, her smile never wavering. "Now, let's get going. I'll take you home."

Emerson pushed his chair back with a scrape against the linoleum floor. "I'd rather walk, if that's okay. I need some fresh air."

He left the social services building, groaning. It was unusually hot for October. Pulling out his phone, he tried to find something to do besides going back to the group home. He decided to head toward the mall, maybe put good use to the gift card.

As he walked, the weight of the letter in his jacket pocket grew heavier. The grandmother he had never met, the one who hadn't come looking until now. The one who had apparently found him just in time to offer a new life. Why now? Why so sudden? It made no sense.

The mall was on the other side of town but there was a bus stop a few blocks away.

Maybe I should just run away?

The thought had occurred to Emerson more times than he cared to admit. But every time he thought about it, the reality of the situation slapped him in the face. Where would he go? He had no money, no friends, and no family. The few people he considered close had either moved away or stopped returning his calls. The idea of freedom was as sweet as the icing on the cake Mrs. Hill had brought, but he knew it was just as fleeting. The world was a big place and he was just a lost kid with no place to belong.

Well one place now, apparently.

He sighed, pushing it from his mind for the time being.

He made it to the bus stop, the wait a bit shorter than expected. It was always touch and go with those things. When it finally arrived, he hopped on without a second thought. The ride to the mall was surprisingly quiet, but it was Sunday. Not too many teenagers hung out at the mall on Sundays. It was his favorite time to go, actually. The only thing he had to deal with were families on their way back from church and bored twenty-somethings looking for meaning in their lives.

When he arrived, the mall was bustling with the usual weekend crowd. The smell of fast food wafted through the air, mixing with the scent of cologne and perfume from the department stores. He took a deep breath, feeling the air conditioning kiss his face. It was a stark contrast to the stale air from outside he just left.

Emerson walked through the mall, his eyes scanning the stores with a practiced ease. He had been here so many times that he knew where to find refuge from the prying eyes of the world. His sneakers slapped the floor with every step he took, echoing in the vast emptiness of the shopping center. The occasional glimpse of his reflection in the shop windows revealed a tall, lanky figure with messy black hair and a sharp jawline, the kind of guy who looked like he hadn't slept in days. He wore a black hoodie that was too big for him, a hand-me-down from one of the more generous families he'd stayed with. His eyes were a piercing blue, the only part of him that seemed to hold any real emotion today.

Finally, he saw it, the neon sign that promised a brief escape from reality. "Hot Topic." He pushed the door open and stepped into the dimly lit haven of band tees, edgy accessories and goth galore. The air was thick with the scent of incense and thumping music. It was his kind of place. The kind of place where no one judged him for his past or his future.

The bell chimed above the door, the sound cutting through the latest pop punk track playing through the speakers. The cashier looked up and nodded, not bothering to ask if he needed help. She knew the look of someone who had come to think, to be alone. The store was almost empty, just a couple of teenagers in the corner arguing over the latest vinyl release.

He made his way to the back, looking through the shirts. He wanted something that told people to leave him alone in a way that didn't announce it.

He smirked when he came upon a black t-shirt that was perfect. "I don't engage in mental combat with the unarmed" he said softly to himself.

It was perfect.

He grabbed it and a few band tees then wandered over to the cash register. The bored goth cashier rang him up, never speaking once. He handed her the gift card, she nodded and that was that. He only spent half of it, so that was a score. Now he had a reason to come back next weekend.

Leaving the store, the smell of grease and sugar from the food court hit him like a wave. His stomach rumbled. He hadn't eaten anything but the cake and it was already past lunchtime. He decided to treat himself, after all, it was his birthday. He strolled over to the Chinese food place that was tucked in the corner. It was his favorite, the lady who worked there always gave him extra egg rolls. She didn't know it was his birthday, she never knew much of anything about him, but she had a kind smile that made him feel less alone.

He got his food quick enough, then wandered over to the nearly deserted sitting area. Nearly deserted because there was a group of teens there. That surprised him. He was sure he was the only one desperate enough to be in the mall on Sunday.

He stared at them for a moment before sitting down. They were prep kids. One of the guys---a tall blond jock---had some kind of crest on his jacket.

Emerson groaned, he knew the type.

He tried to eat in peace but they were close enough to hear.

"You think she's going to give it to you?" asked one of the girls, an Asian one.

Another girl shrugged. She was blonde with the kind of hair that shined. She was gorgeous too if you liked that kind of thing. She had one of those crests on her jacket too.

"Like she has a choice." said the girl in a snotty tone. "I mean, like who else is there? My loser sister? Not likely. It’s as good as mine."

The Asian smiled and nodded. The two boys---jock and his friend---did the same.

Emerson rolled his eyes. Spoiled brats whining about their spoiled things.

He tried to focus on his eating but one of the girls was staring at him. She had dark red hair and most piercing green eyes he'd ever seen. There was something in her stare that made his skin crawl. But it was also strangely comforting too. It was strange really because there was something special about her. There was nothing special about him either but she kept staring.

"Vee, what are looking at?" asked the Asian girl then she turned and looked. She frowned. "He's cute if you like that homeless look."

Ouch. Right here bitch.

"He's humming," said the red head, her voice clear as day.

The blonde looked over. "Him? As if".

Humming? What the hell was she talking about? He wasn't making a sound.

Shortly after that, the snobs finished up their meal and left him in peace. But not before he caught eyes with that red head---Vee---again. She smiled as she walked past him, brushing some hair behind her ear. It was a subtle gesture, but his heart skipped a beat. There was something else too, a strange warmth that passed through his body. Then she and her friends were gone.

He shrugged it off.

After lunch, he wandered the mall a bit more. He didn't really want to go back into Hot Topic right now to spend the rest of the gift card, so he did some window shopping. Halfway through the experience though, he noticed a security guard following him. The man wasn't even trying to hide it either. He sighed. This is generally what happened after he spent a little more time than he wanted in a place. He didn't even look like a criminal and yet he was always judged as one.

Fed up with the annoyance, he decided to leave. He just caught the bus and took it to the stop a few blocks from the group home.

The group home was a typical brick building with peeling white paint. The lights were on, the windows were open, and laughter spilled out from the house. It was the kind of laughter that made him feel more lonely than ever. He didn't want to go in. He didn't want to spend the next two years of his life in this place that was never meant to be a home.

He reluctantly went inside, ignoring the laughing coming from the common room. He went to his small room, nothing there belonged to him. Not really. He sat on the lower bunk then pulled his grandmother's letter from his jacket. He sighed. It was far from the life he wanted but it was much better than the one he was currently living.

He took out his cell and texted Mrs. Hill.

Three words.

"I'll do it".

Emerson's thumb hovered over the send button for a moment, the words feeling both final and liberating. With a deep breath, he sent the message. It was done. He was going to leave the only world he had ever known for something he didn't quite understand yet.

The next two days were a whirlwind of activity. Mrs. Hill had been a flurry of phone calls and paperwork. She had to pull strings to get him out early and make sure all the details were in order. His social worker had never been so busy, but she was happy for him. She had seen too many kids slip through the cracks and she didn't want that to happen to him.

On the morning of his departure, Emerson woke up early, the excitement and nerves mixing in his stomach. He packed his few possessions into a duffle bag. The clothes he had were worn and threadbare, but they were his. The medallion remained around his neck. He didn't know why but it felt more important than ever.

The sun had barely crested the horizon when he heard the low purr of an engine outside. He looked out the window to see a sleek, black BMW idling in the driveway. His eyes widened in surprise. This was not what he was expecting. The social worker had mentioned that his grandmother would send someone to get him, but he had assumed it would be a taxi or maybe a town car.

The door of the vehicle swung open and the driver emerged. He was a large black man, his bald head gleaming under the early morning light, wearing a suit that was so dark it could have been cut from the night itself. The man's frame was intimidating, but his eyes were kind, a stark contrast to the tension that seemed to wrap around him. Emerson felt a knot form in his stomach as the driver approached the door, a gentle knock echoing through the hallway.

"Mr. Clark?" he asked, looking at Emerson.

Clark. His nonexistent father's surname. He never met the man, but his mother said it was important to bear his last name. He never questioned it, he was a little kid after all.

"That's me," he said, hefting his duffle.

"Good." said the driver as he opened the back door on the driver's side.

The man said nothing else. Emerson shrugged and climbed in. As the driver shut the door behind him, he took a deep breath. This was it, this was the beginning of a new part of his life.

The drive was quiet, the car's engine humming like a gentle purr. The scenery outside was a blur of dark trees and moonlit streets. They were leaving the town behind, the lights getting smaller and smaller until they were just specks in the rearview mirror.

They turned into Cherry Hill. It was like a different world entirely. The houses grew larger, more opulent, with manicured lawns and wrought iron gates. It was a stark contrast to the cramped apartment buildings and chain link fences of his old neighborhood.

The road grew narrower as it wound through a thick forest of oaks and maples, their branches reaching out like the arms of giants in a silent dance. The leaves shimmered in the early morning light, casting dappled shadows on the pavement below. The air grew cooler, the scent of earth and dew mixing with the faint hint of something else.

They drove through a forested area, all the other houses dropped off immediately. Finally, the forest opened up to reveal a clearing at the top, and there it stood—his grandmother's mansion. It was a sprawling brick building with ivy clinging to its sides, a stark contrast to the cold steel and concrete of the group home. The windows were dark, almost ominous, but the warm glow from the front door promised a welcome, or at least a respite from his old life.

Emerson's heart raced as they climbed the hill, the tires crunching on the gravel driveway. The house grew larger with every inch they approached, the grandeur of it all making his small, cramped existence feel even more insignificant. The driver pulled the car to a stop in front of the mansion and stepped out, opening the door for him. The chilly air outside was a stark reminder of the reality of his situation. He stepped out, his sneakers feeling out of place against the cobblestone driveway.

The front door swung open, revealing a beautiful blonde woman dressed in a sharp, navy blue suit that was as crisp as a freshly pressed dollar bill. Her face was sculpted with sharp cheekbones and a stern jawline, yet her smile was warm and welcoming. Her eyes were a piercing blue, much like his own, and she had a confidence that seemed to radiate from her very pores. She was the epitome of professionalism with a hint of something more.

"Welcome, Emerson?" she asked, he nodded. She smiled and introduced herself. "My name is Cassandra, I am your grandmother's personal assistant. Please follow me."

He was shocked. His grandmother had a personal assistant? How rich was she?

Cassandra led him through the grand foyer, the walls lined with portraits of stern looking ancestors. The floor was gleaming marble, cold to the touch even through his sneakers. She pointed out various rooms as they passed, her heels clicking on the floor with each step. The living room was vast and filled with antique furniture that looked as though it hadn't been sat in for a century. The dining room had a table that could easily seat fifty, laid with silverware that glinted in the soft light.

Cassandra led him to a pair of large wooden double doors.

"This is the reading room," she said as an explanation. "Your grandmother is waiting inside."

He waited but when she didn't open the doors, he was confused. "You're not coming?"

She smiled. "She wanted you to take the first step."

He sighed and nodded. He felt his hands tremble but he slowly opened the doors.

The reading room was elegant and intimate, like something out of a movie. The fireplace crackled with a gentle warmth that filled the space. Two large, plush red velvet chairs sat facing the hearth, with a small table between them. There were large floor to ceiling windows, allowing a bit of mid-morning sun to stream through. But that only served to highlight the lack of books in this reading room. There was a large door on the far side, so maybe the books were there?

Sitting in one of the chairs was a woman. For a moment, he was mistaken because she was the only one in the room and she didn't look like a grandmother. There was barely any gray in her black hair and very few wrinkles on her face. She looked like his mother too, just older. She wore a crisp suit like Cassandra's, with a silver necklace that had a stone in the center like his. When she looked at him with her hazel eyes, it felt like they bore into his soul.

This was his grandmother?

"Come here boy," she finally said, her voice neither cold nor unwelcoming but there was an authority to it that sent shivers down his spine.

Slowly and reluctantly, he walked fully into the room. He wasn't sure how far he was supposed to go so he walked until he was about five feet from her.

She smiled slightly and nodded. "You're Emerson?"

"Yes ma'am" he said, not sure why he was being so polite, but it seemed to fit.

She smiled slightly again. "You have our hair, good. I see your father's stature and features though. It's a shame, but hardly a bother."

Emerson felt a pang of something insulting the way the woman picked him apart by his features. It was almost as if she was deciding his worth.

"You must want to get settled. I won't keep you," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "Lunch is at noon. We shall talk more then."

That was it. The grand first meeting with his grandmother. There were no hugs, no tears, no sincere words at all. Just an uncaring woman and some scrutinizing words.

He nodded. He realized he'd just been dismissed like some servant and while pissed, it was kind of what he expected. He felt like telling her off, but realized a woman like that wouldn't care. Instead, he took his duffle and left the room like she asked.

Cassandra was waiting outside the room, looking annoyed. "The nerve of that woman" she mumbled under her breath.

She didn't realize Emerson was standing there and felt slightly embarrassed when he appeared.

"I'm supposed to get settled?" he asked, not sure where he was supposed to go.

"This way," she said, leading him to the grand staircase. The wood was polished to such a high gloss that he could see his reflection in it. He felt like a ghost haunting his mother's past as they ascended to the second floor.

Cassandra opened a door at the end of the long corridor. "This was your mother's room," she said, her voice softer now. The room looked like a time capsule from the early 2000s, with posters of boy bands and movies from that era plastered on the walls. There was a pink bedspread with matching curtains and a desk cluttered with dusty knickknacks and a laptop that looked ancient. It smelled faintly of his mother's perfume, something floral that made his heart ache.

Emerson stepped inside, his sneakers squeaking on the freshly polished hardwood. The bed was made perfectly, not a wrinkle in sight. It was like nobody had slept in it for years. He set his duffle bag down and took a seat on the bed, his thoughts racing. This was where his mother had slept, dreamt, lived her teenage years. It felt weird and eerie at the same time. He didn't know if he was allowed to touch anything, so he just sat there, looking around.

He remembered her vaguely telling him how after going to college at 18, she never went back. Here was the evidence, a room locked in time. His parents ran off together a year later, he was born when they were 22. His mother never finished college, according to her, she was disowned for not following The Plan. Whatever that meant.

He looked around the room, taking it all in.

"She wants me to stay here?" he asked incredulously, looking at Cassandra for confirmation. “Its pink?”

Cassandra was just as annoyed as he appeared to be.

"Perhaps some paint?” she paused, probably realizing that was something they couldn’t fix at the moment. “I'll get you some fresh bedding and clean up a bit, it's been untouched for years," she clearly sounded annoyed.

Emerson looked about the room. It felt like his mother, it smelled like his mother. He used to tell people he didn't remember her, that he was too young when she died. That was a lie to help him cope. In truth, there wasn't a day that he didn't think about her. Being here, in this special place of hers---her space---it felt like she was alive again.

"Leave it, it's fine" he said softly, taking a slow tentative step into the room.

Cassandra nodded as she followed him inside. "At least we can air it out a bit," she said, opening the window.

"Did you know her?" he asked, hoping that he might get something out of someone close to his Mom.

Cassandra turned and paused before shaking her head. "I was young."

Emerson sighed, understanding. A moment later, Cassandra had her arms wrapped around him, hugging him. A hug. He couldn't remember the last time someone hugged him and actually meant it. A moment later it was over, but it was a moment that he never thought would happen. He stared at her, she was pretty but for some reason, he felt nothing romantic toward her. If anything, she gave off a sisterly vibe.

"Thanks" he found himself mumbling.

Cassandra smiled slightly then regained her professional composure.

"I'll give you some privacy," she said, leaving the room.

Emerson sat on the edge of the bed, his heart racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation. The room was eerily still, the air thick with memories that weren't his. He could almost hear the whispers of his mother's laughter, the sound of her music playing faintly from an unseen corner. The ghosts of his past seemed to hover just beyond his grasp. He reached out and touched the pale pink bedspread, feeling the soft fabric under his fingertips. It was a strange comfort, like he was reaching back through time to connect with her.

He closed his eyes and fell back, his head gently hitting the pillows.

She'd been here, in this space. He took a deep breath, breathing it all in. It was almost like her warm hug, one he barely remembered.

The dresser drawers stuck a bit but after some effort, they slid open. The scent of mothballs and old fabric filled the air. Inside were clothes that looked like they'd been picked from a teen magazine from over a decade ago. Low rise jeans, baby tees with sayings like "Drama Queen" and "I'm not bossy, I'm just right." It was a strange time capsule of fashion that made him chuckle. He carefully folded his own clothes and placed them in the drawer with hers. It was oddly comforting, like sharing a space with her again.

He tried his best to ignore the panties and bras, especially those thongs. The thought of his mother wearing them---even as a teenager---was nightmare fuel.

He finished unpacking the rest of his meager things.

Emerson walked over to the vanity and sat down. The chair was plush and spun around. He picked up a bottle of nail polish. It was a bright pink, definitely not something his mother would have used. He set it back down and picked up a hairbrush, running his fingers through the bristles. It was well used and there was a strand of her dark hair still there.

The vanity mirror was surrounded by lights. The kind you see in movies. He leaned in, looking at his reflection. He saw his mother's nose, her cheekbones, her eyes. It was like looking into the past and future all at once. He was a boy in a room that had seen a girl become a woman.

This was the place his grandmother wanted him to live. It was almost as if she was torturing him on purpose.

He took a deep breath and stood up, his heart racing. He hadn't even been here an hour and already he felt like he was in way over his head.

The gentle knock on the door brought him back to the present. He walked over and pulled it open to find Cassandra standing there, a concerned look on her face. "Your grandmother wishes to speak with you again," she said.

He nodded, his mind racing. What could she possibly want now? He followed Cassandra through the grand halls of the mansion, the echoes of his sneakers on the marble floor a stark reminder of his new reality. They turned a corner and entered a small sunroom that was filled with light and the faint scent of flowers. It was a stark contrast to the dark, foreboding feeling of the rest of the house.

His grandmother sat in a high-backed chair, her legs crossed, a cup of tea in hand. She looked up as he entered, her expression unreadable. "Ah, there you are, Emerson," she said, her tone not quite welcoming but not entirely cold either. "I trust you've had a chance to settle in?"

Settle. There it was once again.

"I'm all unpacked," he said, lowering his gaze from her.

Something about her made him not want to look her in the eye.

"Good," she said, setting her teacup down on the saucer with a delicate clink. "Now, it's time for us to talk about your future."

My future? So was this the reason he was here?

"I was wondering about that actually," he said, trying to figure out the best words. "I was wondering, why now?"

The cold older woman stared at him, a slight smile curling the corner of her mouth. "How much do you know about our family?"

Emerson coughed. "Nothing. I didn't even know you existed until I received your letter."

His mother never talked about her family. She barely talked about his Dad from what he could remember. Memories from that time were rough at best.

"Did she really hate me that much?" asked the older woman, more to herself than him. She collected herself quickly. "To put it formally, my name is Elizabeth. I don't care to be addressed as grandmother, so Elizabeth shall do."

He nodded. He'd met a few people like her through the foster system. Older women, clutching ahold of something. Not wanting or willing to accept the passage of time. Not that he said that to her of course. She didn't look old enough to be his grandmother anyway, more like an older aunt. While he guessed she was probably in her sixties, she didn't look much older than early fifties.

"This is your home now," she said, waving her hand about. "You are free to explore it if you wish. I only ask you to stay out of my room and the private study next door to it. Is that clear?" He nodded his head, so she continued. "I do not care for servants. I suspect you are self sufficient?" Another nod from him.

"What about Cassandra?" he asked, looking at the young woman still standing silently to his grandmother's left.

Elizabeth smiled coldly, the first he'd seen. "She is my grand niece, your cousin. Her father has graciously put her under my wing. She lives here as well, her room is also off-limits."

Well that was a no brainer. There was no way he was going to go snooping around a woman's room anyway.

He was surprised though happily so. The System really hadn't done their due diligence at all. Not only did he have a grandmother, but there were great aunts and uncles and cousins out there as well.

A sudden question came to him. "Did my mother have any siblings?"

The question surprised both women. He saw it in their reactions.

"Of course" said Elizabeth, regaining her composure. "Two, a brother and sister. Both a few years older, twins in fact."

The news floored him. Mom had siblings. He was really starting to get pissed off. Where had all these people been his whole life?

"I know what you must be thinking about all these revelations" His grandmother sighed. "Honestly, I have no explanation you would care to hear."

"Try me" he said, letting a bit of his usual hot headedness slip in.

Elizabeth smiled again. "Your mother married a man I did not approve of. I forbid it, she rebelled and left. She cut us off completely, didn't even leave any contact information. I only heard about her passing when the hospital informed me after."

That news floored him. That was ten years ago. This woman knew his mother was dead and yet NEVER once bothered to reach out to take him in? A fire was burning inside of him. He wanted to lash out, he wanted to scream and curse. This woman was a horrible person. How could she not want him?

"You were never mentioned," she continued.

"What?" he asked, incredulous.

"The authorities never informed us of your existence" his grandmother sighed. "I only found out I did some initial investigation of my own. By that time, you were adjusted."

Adjusted?

BS.

"I didn't adjust to anything" he said, seething inside but calm on the out. "I was shipped around from place to place, mistreated, abused." He pointed to his forehead, where a slight scar was. "My foster father got drunk once here" He rolled up his sleeve where there was a burn mark. "This one wanted to see how loud I'd scream when getting burnt by his cigarette."

Elizabeth nodded. "Aiden Church and Thomas Kincaid"

That surprised him. "You know about them?"

"I am well aware" she said, taking a sip of her tea before speaking. "And while you do not share my last name, I can tell you that NO ONE messes with a Cole and survives the ordeal."

"What does that mean?" he asked, wondering how much clout a rich person with a house like this really had.

"It has been handled" she said simply then took another sip.

The way she said it sent a cold shiver down his spine.

Cassandra gave him a sympathetic look but addressed their grandmother. "Ma'am, perhaps getting back on task" she suggested, noticing how Emerson looked like he wanted to punch the wall.

Elizabeth nodded. "As I was saying, through my connections, I discovered your identity and whereabouts and made arrangements".

"Arrangements? You make it sound like we're some kind of crime family" Emerson scoffed, still pissed about her revelation from before.

His grandmother chuckled. "Crime families wish they had our power"

Cassandra looked at the older woman but said nothing.

"That's neither here nor there" continued Elizabeth, going to take a sip of her tea but realizing the cup was empty. She held it up and Cassandra refilled it in a second. She took a sip before continuing. "Like I said before, this is your home now. I expect you to follow all the rules and be on your best behavior. Is that at least agreeable to you?"

He scoffed again. "Do I have a choice?"

She smiled. "There's that defiance that my Ellie possessed. That spark. Good, you're gonna need it".

He watched as she stood up and walked away without a backward glance. It was as if he didn't even matter. That was fine with him, he had felt like that his whole life.

Cassandra stepped forward awkwardly. "Umm, would you like something to eat?"

"I think I'll just head back to my room." he grunted, abruptly getting to his feet and brushing past her.

Cassandra nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. "I'll be around if you need anything," she called out after him.

Emerson stomped through the halls, his anger bubbling just beneath the surface. The revelation that his mother had siblings, that he had a family, was a bitter pill to swallow. The injustice of being kept from them, of being thrown into a life of pain and isolation, fueled his rage. His sneakers squeaked against the marble, the sound echoing through the cavernous corridors. The portraits of his stern ancestors watched him pass, their eyes seemingly judging his every move.

As he reached the stairs leading back to his mother's room, he paused, his hand tight around the banister. The idea of living in this mansion, with all its opulence and secrets, was overwhelming. His grandmother's coldness didn't help, but he knew he had to play along for now. He needed to figure out her game before he could decide his next move.

For the next two days, Emerson slipped into a rhythm that was eerily reminiscent of his group home routine. The grandiose surroundings couldn't mask the loneliness that clung to him like a second skin. He'd wake up to the sound of an antique clock chiming in the hall, its melodic echoes a stark contrast to the blaring alarms of his past. He'd shower in a bathroom that was bigger than his old room, the water pressure a luxury he hadn't felt in years. Breakfast was served promptly at 7 AM, a spread fit for a king, yet he found himself missing the predictable blandness of the institutional meals.

During the day, he'd retreat to his mother's room, the only place in the mansion that felt like it had a semblance of warmth. He'd sit at the desk, surrounded by her relics, and try to imagine her sitting there, her youthful energy bouncing off the walls. Sometimes he'd dare to touch her old laptop, his fingers tracing the dusty keys, hoping to unlock some secret message, some glimpse she'd left behind. But the computer remained stubbornly silent, locked behind a password he couldn't crack.

Things took an interesting turn on day four, three days since arriving.

They were sitting around the dining table, the morning light filtering through the heavy velvet drapes, casting a warm glow on the polished silverware. The silence was thick, only occasionally pierced by the clinking of spoons against china. Emerson picked at his eggs, his thoughts swirling like the steam rising from his cup of tea.

Suddenly, Elizabeth's voice cut through the quiet. "I've decided to enroll you in high school, Emerson," she announced, not bothering to look up from her newspaper.

High school. That was something he hadn't thought about in about a month. He got kicked out of the last one he'd been in. There was a fight which he hadn't started but had no problem finishing. It was always that way. Someone self-important jackass who thought they were better than the poor orphan boy. It was one of the jocks as usual, he didn't even know the guy's name. One thing led to another, words were exchanged, then fists. He took great pride by not being a slouch in a fight and got in a few good shots before some teachers broke it up.

Of course they blamed him.

At his questioning look, she continued. "I am well aware of your recent expulsion".

Of course she was. In the last few days, he started to think that she might perhaps know more about him than he himself did. Whoever she hired had been very thorough.

"He started it" he muttered, pushing around his eggs.

"And you ended it, quite gloriously I might add" she smiled, somehow pleased that he whopped some asshole. "Regardless of the antics of a neanderthal, I have no intention of sending you to a dreaded public school."

Emerson's eyes narrowed at the mention of the fight. "So where are you sending me?"

Without looking up from her paper, Elizabeth slid a pamphlet across the polished mahogany surface of the dining table. The glossy cover was emblazoned with the crest of a school, Hollow Vale Academy. The picture showed a large, fancy red brick building with ivy climbing up the walls. It looked like a place straight out of a movie, with its grand arches and sprawling lawns.

Emerson picked up the pamphlet with a sense of dread. He flipped through the pages, his nose scrunching at the sight of smiling, well-dressed teenagers holding textbooks and playing sports. It was like they were trying to sell him a lie. He knew that schools weren't like this. Not for him. Not after everything.

He groaned, closing it and placing it back on the table. The last thing he needed was to be in some snobby school with brats and jackasses.

"I'll pass" he said, sliding it back across the table toward her.

Elizabeth finally set down her paper. She stared at the pamphlet briefly before sighing. "We both know that's not an option. So far I have been very accommodating, letting you mope around here like one of those protagonists from a sappy teen novel but no more."

She raised her voice a bit there at the end. That kind of surprised him. Many people had yelled at him in the past, hell it was par for the course. But none had ever really cared. Not that thought she cared about him---they'd only known each other a few days, but she was showing some genuine concern. That was something he'd never seen before. Someone scolding him and really meaning what they were saying.

He looked up at her, not realizing he'd been averting his eyes again. "What's so important about this place?"

"Tradition" she said simply and sighed when it wasn't enough. "Your mother went there. Your aunt and uncle went there. Hell, even Cassandra managed her way through it."

She dismissively waved her hand at Cassandra, who looked a little embarrassed at the insult.

Emerson shot her a sympathetic look. "Sorry" he mouthed when his grandmother wasn't looking. She gave him a warm smile.

The two of them had become somewhat friends since he arrived. He knew it was only a short period of time but it was nice to talk to someone and not expect something in return. Like a black eye. They just talked too. No strings attached. She had explained to him further about how young she was when his mother left---only five---so sadly she remembered her very little. She also talked to him about her own parents, how they barely acknowledged her and how his grandmother really was doing her a favor by taking her in like this.

They were kindred in this weird place.

He shifted his back to his grandmother and considered her words. "I'm not sure a place like that is suited for someone like me".

She smiled. "Who said anything about sending you there".

Her emphasis on "you" sent shivers down his spine. But more than that, was she going senile? She literally just told him she was sending him there. He turned slightly to Cassandra but this time she wouldn't meet his gaze.

"I don't..." he started but was interrupted by the older woman standing abruptly.

She placed her paper on the table. "Cassandra, clean up then make the preparations".

"Yes ma'am" said his dutiful cousin as his grandmother swept out of the room.

That was it. No explanation. No nothing.

He blinked, not sure what just happened.

"What preparations?" he asked after a moment of collecting his thoughts.

Cassandra was already busy clearing the table. She paused, as if looking for the right words. "There are certain traditions and expectations in our family. I'd like to say you'll understand when the time comes, but I don't think you ever truly will. Know that she means well and does not intentionally do cruel things".

What did that even mean?

Emerson's thoughts were racing as he helped Cassandra clear the dishes from the table. He'd never felt so out of his depth. Everything here was a puzzle, a secret wrapped in an enigma, and he had no clue how to unravel it. The whole situation was messing with his head, like someone had dumped him in a pool of Jell-O and told him to find the deep end.

They worked in silence, the clinking of silverware against the delicate china plates the only sound in the grand dining room. It was a stark contrast to the cacophony of the group home's breakfast rush. The thought of the chaos he'd left behind brought a strange nostalgia, a reminder that amidst all the noise and the indifference, there had been some semblance of predictability.

Here, nothing made sense. It all seemed normal on the surface---a rich old lady living with her niece as a servant. But he couldn't read his grandmother. She wasn't crazy but she said things that contradicted other things and never made any sense.

After he helped Cassandra finish cleaning up, he went back to his room.

The door clicked shut behind him, the sound echoing through the hallways of the mansion. He leaned against it for a moment, his mind racing with questions. What was his grandmother's game? Why the sudden mention of school and why that school in particular?

He sighed and made his way over to the bed, his feet feeling heavy with every step. His mother's room was starting to feel less like a museum and more like his own space. The bed was made, the sheets fresh and smelling faintly of lavender. She flopped onto it, absently grabbing a stuffed rabbit that had been his semi-companion through the past couple of days. He clutched it to his chest and closed his eyes, feeling some kind of connection to it. Had it been her favorite? It was the only stuffed animal in the room after all.

The week dragged on without any further mention of the school. Meals remained the same, with Elizabeth's cold demeanor never wavering. Conversations were stilted, mostly about the weather or the garden that he hadn't even stepped into yet. Cassandra was his only source of human connection, but even she was tight-lipped about the whole school situation. They'd sit in the sunroom, her reading a book and him playing on his phone, occasionally sharing a few words about their days. It was... peaceful, almost too much so.

Then, Sunday night, right before bed, Cassandra arrived with a tray of tea. It was an unusual meeting, but he accepted it, his curiosity piqued. She'd never brought him tea before, and there was something about her nervous smile that didn't sit right. He took a sip, the liquid warm and sweet, tasting faintly of mint. As soon as it hit his stomach, a wave of nausea washed over him, and it felt like someone had lit a bonfire in his gut.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed, pushing the cup away, his hand trembling.

"I'm sorry" Cassandra looked frantic, on the verge of tears. "You'll understand"

He had barely registered her words before the room swam in a whirl of colors. The minty taste of the tea grew bitter in his mouth and the heat from his stomach began to spread. His head felt heavy, his eyes drooping.

"What did you do?" he managed to croak out, the words barely a whisper as his vision blurred.

"It's for the best," she said, her voice shaking. "You'll see."

Then the world swam around him and he blacked out.

*******

The sun had barely crested the horizon when Emerson's eyes snapped open, his head pounding like a drumline at a parade. He looked around. He was in his room. Did he fall asleep? No, it was the tea. He looked around, staring at the window. He squinted against the soft light filtering through the curtains, the taste of mint still lingering in his mouth. His thoughts from the night before came rushing back, crashing into him like a tidal wave of dread. He'd been drugged. But why?

Sitting up with a groan, he noticed the bed was made with military precision, the pillows fluffed like they hadn't been touched all night. Someone had definitely been in here, but the room remained unchanged. The laptop on the desk, the photos on the walls, all as he'd left them. The only difference was a folded piece of paper on his nightstand. His heart racing, he reached for it, his hands shaking as he unfolded the neatly creased page.

He stopped halfway when a cascade of hair fell in front of his face. Hair? Why did he have so much hair?

Reaching up to touch it, something else immediately drew his attention.

There was something heavy on his chest. Two somethings. Shocked and confused, he looked down to see two mounds on his chest. Reaching up to touch them, he found them squishy. What joke is this? Did someone put them there? He gave them a squeeze and winced. These weren't fake. They were real. More than that, they were his.

How? Why?

Still trying to process what the hell was going on, there was a gentle knock on the door. Before he could say anything, the door opened and Cassandra came into the room. She paused in the doorway, staring at him for a long time. The expression on her face was unreadable and while she was holding a tray that clearly contained his breakfast, he definitely wasn't going to touch anything she ever gave him.

He was NEVER going to trust her either.

She did this. No. He suddenly remembered something he overheard his grandmother say to her: "Preparations".

They did this.

Cassandra walked into the room calmly, placing the breakfast tray on the bedside table as if nothing was wrong. Emerson sat frozen, his heart hammering in his chest, the heavy weight of his new reality pressing down on him. The smell of eggs and toast was lost on him, replaced by the bitter scent of betrayal.

"You...what did you do to me?" he asked, suddenly realizing his voice was different too.

She reached for him, most likely trying to gently reassure him. He quickly slapped her hand away, pulling back.

Cassandra pulled away but nodded. She opened her mouth to speak but stopped. Then took a deep breath before finally deciding what to say. "I know you're angry and scared. Confused and you probably hate me right now. I know I'd hate someone if they gave me a potion that changed my gender."

There it was. She said "potion" but she also said "change his gender".

So it wasn't a joke. It wasn't a trick.

He was female now.

So many thoughts and questions raced through his head. At the top of it all was one. "Why?"

He even surprised himself by asking it. After all, most people would immediately demand to be turned back. He did consider it but given the situation---these women forcefully and secretly did this to him---there was probably no way they'd ever turn him back. That thought alone had surprised him. He'd never been this rational before. Was it something to do with this change or...?

Cassandra collected her thoughts. "Have you calmed down?"

Had he?

Emerson was sitting up in bed now, his knees folded to his chest. He had his arms wrapped around them. He'd never sat like this before. It felt weird, feeling his knees push against the foreign objects on his chest.

"I don't think anyone would be calm in a situation like this" he said, fighting back the tears that were coming.

"You have every right to be angry" she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Scream, shout, punch your pillows. Hit me"

Hit her? A split second, the thought crossed his mind. After all she was the one who gave him the tea. But to hit her, he'd never hit someone without cause. Sure this was a big cause but he wasn't angry enough to strike her. Sure he slapped her hand away moments ago but that was out of reflex.

"I don't want to hit you" he mumbled.

He shifted, letting go of his knees and absently grabbing the stuffed rabbit. He found instant comfort hugging it.

"I'm sure you have questions?" she asked, reaching over and touching his knee. This time he didn't slap her away.

"How?" he asked softly then. "Why?"

"The how is a simple one to answer, its magic" said Cassandra as if that wasn't the most insane thing for a person to say.

There it was though. The word at the tip of his tongue. The one he refused to think about or utter because it was crazy. "Magic doesn't exist."

Cassandra chuckled, patting his knee. "That my little cousin is the stupidest thing a person could say."

It was the first time she'd called him "cousin" and while he was still angry at her, it felt nice.

"Not only does magic exist," she continued. "It's been a core part of human society for centuries. We're just really good at hiding it."

"What?" he asked, raising his head. "I don't understand."

She smiled. "That is on purpose. Normal humans aren't supposed to understand. They've been trained to say it's 'silly' or it's the 'stuff of stories'. It's done by design. We are a secret society and while we do operate in the open, its with a lot of stealth and subterfuge. Our chief goal is making the rest of the world think we don't exist."

His thoughts were going a mile a minute. Everything was too much to grasp. In only mere moments, he just learned the world he thought he knew was a lie and there was some secret world hidden there too. Like Harry Potter or one of those weird urban fantasy stories some of the kids in his old school used to read. He was never one for all that fantasy crap. He liked to live in the here and now, grounded.

Now here he was being told all of it was real. More or less.

It took him a couple of minutes to process it all. Less time than he actually thought.

He took a deep calming breath and decided to ask the million dollar question. "So why am I a girl then?"

Cassandra smiled as if waiting for it. She didn't dance around it either. "That's a complicated one" she said, getting up from the bed. "Your grandmother wishes to answer that one herself. So she's asked me to bring you breakfast" She pointed to the tray. "Once you eat, I'll make you presentable and take you to the study so you can talk."

Presentable? An overwhelming feeling of dread flushed over him as he looked over at his mother's dresser. She didn't mean?

"I'll leave you to do some of the things for yourself" continued his cousin, walking toward the door. Before she left, she paused and turned, speaking softly. "I truly am sorry for my part in all of this".

Then she left.

Emerson was alone again. He turned and stared at his breakfast, a spread that did look delicious but was probably pretty cold now. There was another reason he wasn't touching it either. He didn't trust her. It was sad really. He thought they were becoming friends and then she gave him that tea. He knew it wasn't her fault, that his grandmother had clearly put her up to it but the damage was done. He couldn't drink or eat anything these women gave him anymore for fear of something else crazy.

Crazy like magic.

Magic. Actual magic.

It would be nuts if he wasn't living, breathing proof of it currently. He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. They were dainty now, his fingers so thin, his nails slightly longer. These were his hands now. This was his body now too. The strange thing though---the thing that had been lingering there in the background---was why. Not why did he have this body but why wasn't he freaking out more?

Maybe it was because he'd been through worse. Being shuffled from home to home had given him a certain...flexibility. An ability to adapt. To survive. But this? This was something else.

He was a boy turned into a girl. This type of thing just didn't happen. Well it did but it took years of hormones and eventually an extensive surgery. He was given tea and woke up the opposite gender. He should be having a full blown mental breakdown but he wasn't? He wanted to know why. Was it something to do with the "spell" or was it something else? Was it truly just his ability to adapt to the bad?

He shook it off. He could sit here all day debating this with himself. There were more pressing matters right now.

Something else he'd been ignoring.

He had to pee.

He climbed out of bed, realizing he was wearing some long night shirt. That part annoyed him, knowing that Cassandra probably put it on after undressing him. Not only did she change his gender but she violated his privacy too. He felt the anger flare but pushed it back. He'd deal with it later, right now he really had to pee.

He rushed to the bathroom, dreading what was about to happen next. He ignored the mirror, pulled up the bottom of the "dress" and nature took its course.

It was the most normal thing in the world except for the fact that he wasn't sure if it was going to work now. He'd never had to deal with a girl's plumbing before. But it was like his body knew what to do. Like it had always been this way. It was eerie and weird.

Once done, he flushed. He wanted to get out of there as quick as possible but the mirror drew his attention.

He gasped.

The girl in the mirror was definitely not what he was expecting. Her raven black hair fell in waves down to her shoulders, framing a face that bore a striking resemblance to the teenage photos of his mother scattered throughout the room. Those hazel eyes, the same color as his own, stared back at him with a mix of fear and confusion. It was as if he'd stepped into a twisted version of his mother's past, seeing himself reflected in her features.

He leaned closed, even touching his face. The girl in the mirror did the same. It was his face. Had his grandmother done this too? Had she made him look like his mother or was this the result of his own genetics? It was almost as if he turned into his own sister, if he had one of course.

There was a gentle knock on the bathroom door. "Emerson, are you done?" asked Cassandra's muffled voice from the other side.

Of course she's back.

He sighed, stepped away from his own reflection and slowly opened the door.

"Everything ok?" she asked with genuine concern.

He didn't say anything, brushing past her with annoyance.

"Your grandmother asked me to get these for you" she called after him. "I picked out some things that I thought you might like."

He turned and saw her carrying several shopping bags.

"What's all this?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Your new wardrobe" she said, gently setting the bags on the bed. "Well the start of things to come."

He grimaced, recognizing some of the high-end teen brands. Brands that were way outside his usual price range. Brands that screamed 'money' and 'feminine'. He felt a bit sick at the sight of the bag from Victoria's Secret. What the hell was he supposed to do with that? Ok so he knew what he was supposed to do with it but just the thought made him blush.

"You don't have to wear everything at once," she said, reading his expression. "Just enough to not make grandmother think we're ungrateful for her hospitality."

He nodded, his stomach churning. The thought of wearing any of this felt like a betrayal to his identity. But he had no choice. If he wanted answers, he had to play along.

Cassandra pulled out a pair of skinny jeans and a simple white blouse. It wasn't too bad, he thought. Maybe he could get through this without feeling like a complete fraud. She handed them to him with a soft smile, trying to ease the tension in the room. He took them, not looking at her as he walked over to the bathroom.

"Not so fast" she said, stopping him mid-stride. "You're forgetting something crucial."

He turned and sure enough, she was holding up a bra and panties.

"You're kidding, right?" he groaned, looking at the dreaded garments as if they were made of bees.

She smirked." I was told to make you a presentable 'young lady' and no self-respecting young lady goes around without either of these."

Emerson took the underwear, feeling the fabric. It was softer than he expected. He'd never held a bra before. This was going to be a learning experience, and one he'd rather not have. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "Ok fine, I'll wear them" he said, hoping his voice didn't betray his embarrassment.

Cassandra nodded, smiling gently. "Dress in the bathroom. There's a few things I still need to do. Shout when you're done.”

He grunted and stormed into the bathroom, slammed the door shut and tossed the underwear on the counter. He took a deep breath and stared at the bra. He had no idea where to begin. It was like a puzzle designed by the devil. He'd seen it done in movies but it never looked this complicated. With a growl of frustration, he picked it up and held it to his new chest. He sighed, taking another deep breath and started to put it on. It was a struggle, his fingers fumbling with the clasp. It was like trying to solve a Rubik's cube blindfolded. Finally, with a victory cheer that was more of a whimper, he got it on. It fit perfectly, almost as if Cassandra had the bra designed for him.

The panties were surprisingly comfortable, like a second skin. He slipped into the jeans and found that they fit like they were tailored for him, which was weird considering he was pretty sure no one had measured him for them. He pulled the blouse over his head, the fabric whispering against his skin, feeling oddly right. It was like wearing his favorite sweatshirt, only it was a lot more...revealing.

He turned to the mirror. There was a girl there. More so than before. He started toward the door before he remembered he hadn't showered this morning. He groaned. Not that he wanted to see this body naked.

He shook it off. Maybe I can do it later.

He stepped out of the bathroom and Cassandra was beaming. "Wow" she said.

"What?" he asked, looking around, looking at himself. He was afraid he did something wrong.

"You're a little hottie" she said, fake fanning her face with her hand.

He crossed his arms. "Who's fault is that?"

She frowned. "Hey I just provided the tea. All of that" She waved her arms at him. "That's all you, girl"

He didn't like being called "girl" but the compliment, implying that he was pretty, made a warm feeling spread through him.

"Don't call me girl" he grumbled, crossing his arms.

"Newsflash," she said, annoyed. Then she slapped the seat of the chair in front of the vanity. "Your butt. Here."

He grunted and reluctantly did as he was told.

"Don't worry, I won't make you look like a clown" she said, trying to lighten the mood. She sat him down in front of the vanity mirror. He stared at his reflection, this new girl's reflection. He was gone. He'd lost himself to this person his grandmother turned him into.

Emerson sat there, rigid, as Cassandra began to work her magic. He felt the brush glide through his hair, smoothing out the knots he hadn't even noticed. It felt...comforting. Something about the gentle strokes, the smell of mint from her shampoo she used. It was soothing, almost hypnotic.

"So" she began, her voice calm and soothing, "You know how to do makeup, right?"

"Haha" he said, knowing she was messing with him now.

"Then stop squirming and let me do my job" she ordered.

So he did. He sat still as she painted his face. The brushes and makeup made his skin feel weird, but he had to admit, he didn't hate it. It was like watching an artist work on a canvas and for a moment, he felt like he was being painted into someone else's life. Someone prettier, more put-together than he'd ever felt.

"Presentably pretty" she said as she worked. "You have great features. The barely there look works better for you. Pay attention, ok?"

He nodded but he was too lost in the process of being pampered to notice what she was doing.

When she was done, Emerson looked in the mirror and gasped. The face staring back was definitely his but it was...enhanced. The makeup she'd applied highlighted his cheekbones, making them look sharper and more defined. His eyes looked bigger and brighter. His skin had this dewy glow that looked natural and his lips, oh God, his lips. They were fuller, plumper and a soft shade of pink that made him look...kinda kissable.

"Shit" he mumbled.

"Looking good girl" said Cassandra, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze.

He didn't correct her when she called him "girl" this time.

There was no mistaking it. That was a A Girl staring back at him in the mirror.

Emerson felt the weight of his new reality sink in as he stared at the girl he now was. His new life had been thrown at him without warning, without consent. Yet here he was, dressed in a way that highlighted his new body, his new gender. He felt...strange. It was a mix of fear and a weird kind of excitement. He had never felt pretty before. He had never felt feminine. He never wanted to feel feminine but there was no denying the truth sitting in front of him.

To say he was terrified was an understatement.

"Your grandmother is waiting," said Cassandra, looking toward the bedroom door. "She's an impatient person, so let's not keep her."

Emerson nodded dumbly, he didn't have the energy to protest.

"Here before we go" said Cassandra, handing him a pair of ballet flats. "Nothing to crazy right now. I don't want you to break your neck on the stairs."

Like if on rails, he took the shoes and slipped them on his feet. Cassandra's smile was weak but she nodded.

"Ready?" she asked.

He nodded, his throat too tight for words.

Cassandra led him through the grand hallways of the mansion, his new body feeling like an uncomfortable suit. Each step in the ballet flats was tentative, unsure. The house was eerily silent, the only sound their footsteps echoing through the emptiness. It felt like they were tiptoeing through a museum, afraid to disturb the exhibits.

When they reached the study, the heavy oak door was open, revealing the grandiose room filled with books that lined the walls from floor to ceiling. His grandmother, Elizabeth, was standing by the fireplace, her back to them. She was dressed in a velvet blazer and skirt, looking every inch the aristocratic matriarch. As they entered, she turned, her eyes lighting up like it was Christmas morning.

"Oh my dear, you look absolutely divine!" she exclaimed, gliding over to him. Before he could react, she had enveloped him in a tight embrace. He stiffened at first, unsure of how to react to this affection from a woman he barely knew, especially in his new female form. Her arms were firm, and the scent of her perfume, something floral and expensive, filled his nose.

Elizabeth pulled back, her eyes gleaming. "You truly are a vision, just like your mother," she said, taking his hands and holding them out like he was a showpiece. "The resemblance is uncanny. You're going to fit into our world beautifully."

Emerson felt his throat tighten. He didn't know what to say to that. The world of magic and secrets and now...his grandmother was being nice to him. It was all too much to take in. More than that, it all seemed like bullshit.

"What's going on?" he asked, well aware that his new softer tone didn't sound as threatening as it used to. "Why did you do this to me?"

Elizabeth waved it off. "All in time. Come, sit by your grandmother."

She calls herself "grandmother" now? He raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He looked over at Cassandra, she nodded. With reluctance, he allowed his grandmother to lead him over to a chair opposite hers at the little sitting area.

Elizabeth frowned when he flopped into the chair like usual. "I suppose we'll work on that" she said, the edge back to her voice for a moment.

"I don't want to work on anything" he said defiantly. "I just want some damn answers."

His grandmother's fake facade cracked for a moment but she was back to being all smiles again. "Yes, well. I assume Cassandra filled you in on the basics?" She turned to her grand niece, Cassandra nodded. "Good. Then allow me to explain things in far more educated detail". She paused for dramatic effect. "The world you know is only a fraction of what most individuals know or can even fathom. The truth is, Sorcerers and the like have been residing here for much longer than normal human beings. At one time, hundreds of years ago, we used to exist out in the open, peacefully. Such things are long gone now."

He nodded. "Yes, Cassandra explained that to me, more or less".

Elizabeth looked at Cassandra. "Yes, it is rudimentary general education," she said with some vinegar.

"Is that why I'm a girl?" he asked, annoyed at a second history lesson that at the moment he didn't really give a fuck about.

He saw another chip in his grandmother's armor as her eye twitched.

"The fundamentals are important," The older woman continued. "I need you to understand where you came from in hopes of better explaining why I did what needed to be done."

His grandmother made a gesture. Cassandra walked over to a cabinet in the corner. He watched as she unlocked it and removed a large leather bound book. It looked heavy. He saw her strain a bit as she carried it over and placed it on the table.

"This is our legacy" said his grandmother, placing a hand on the book.

"Is it a spellbook?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

His grandmother chuckled. "I would never keep something like that here in the house" She opened the book. "This is our family. The Coles can date their lineage back through time for millennia. We are one of the oldest Sorcerer families in the world."

"How many families are there?" he asked, genuinely interested.

His grandmother smiled. "At one time, hundreds perhaps. Now there are only nine. Six of which currently reside in the United States. We are one the largest and most influential ones on the East Coast."

Wow. So we're a big deal. That explains the size of the house and his grandmother's holier-than-thou attitude.

"With such power and prestige, however, there comes problems" she continued, flipping through the book. She stopped on a picture of a stuffy looking older man. "This is Silas Cole, our ancestor."

"What happened?" he asked, squinting at the man, trying to find a family resemblance but he couldn't.

"What often happens with men" she scoffed. "He got greedy. He angered the wrong person, another Sorcerer to be precise. There was a wager, Silas lost. When it was time to pay his debt, Silas refused."

"What was the debt?" he asked, intrigued now.

"A woman," said his grandmother. "His daughter."

Emerson shook his head. "Who the hell bets a person?"

His grandmother sighed. "It was a different time back then." She flipped the page, showing a young dark haired girl. "Camelia, like the flower. Many men sought her hand but Silas was stingy. He was prideful too. He was so confident in his skill at cards, he did not expect to lose. When he put her up as collateral, he never expected to have to hand her over. In the end when the bet was lost and he had to pay, he refused. He tried to flee with Camelia but they were pursued. When they were finally caught, a curse was implemented. Half our family's power was stolen away and it was declared that no female heir from Silas's bloodline shall ever be born again"

His grandmother sighed. Emerson was confused. He looked from his grandmother to Cassandra and back to his grandmother again.

"You're all Coles, right?" he asked, they both nodded. "Then I don't understand."

His grandmother smiled. She flipped ahead in the book. She stopped on the photo of a man who was dressed like he belonged in the turn of the last century. "This is Joseph Cole. In the early 1900s, he developed a new spell. One that could change a person's gender at will..."

Emerson felt a cold lump form in his throat.

His grandmother flipped a page. "This is Joseph a year after creating the spell". This time it was a picture of a woman, smiling brightly. "The problem still remained though. Even as a woman, no female heirs were born."

Emerson looked up from the book, incredulous. "So that means..."

His grandmother nodded. "At birth we were male. My mother used the spell to make me her daughter when I was six." She turned to Cassandra. "We soon quickly realized that it would be easier to transform the child in infancy."

Infancy? So that's what it was. That's why this all happened.

"So you're saying that because Mom fled and I was born outside the family, I was born a boy?" he asked, putting the pieces together on his own.

That kind of pissed him off. He didn't ask for this. He didn't want to be a girl. They should have left him alone. Sure he'd have no family but he'd still be a guy, blissfully unaware of all this crap.

His grandmother looked at Cassandra then sighed. She closed the book. "No, Emerson" she said softly, placing a hand gently on his. "We did not use a spell to turn you into a woman, we used one to reverse the spell already placed on you."

Wait, what?

"I don't understand," he said, the revelation swirling around him. "I thought you said this Silas guy was cursed, that his descendants were cursed."

His grandmother squeezed his hand. "Yes, Emerson and yet somehow your mother was the exception. You my dear, are the first ever female child born into the Cole bloodline in over three hundred years."

The revelation was like a punch in the gut. The air left his lungs and he felt himself go light headed. It was too much. The whole world was spinning. He didn't know who he was anymore.

"What the fuck" he whispered, his voice barely a murmur.

His grandmother was still holding his hand. "We don't know why your mother used a spell to make you male. I'd like to believe she was just protecting you, hiding you away until the right time. But in Sorcery, nothing is ever certain."

So he was a girl. Then his mother used a spell to make him a boy. Then his grandmother used another spell to turn him back into a girl?

He pulled away, the gestur like a whip snap. This was all fucking bonkers.

"Why?'" he asked, his lip trembling.

Then he started to cry. Someone had their arms around him a moment later. Then he was full on bawling, bearing his head into the chest of whoever was holding him. They let him cry. The pain and sorrow, all pushing to the limit. It was too much. His mother had done this to him, she had messed with his life. He was now some twisted thing. Torn about and put back together again.

Finally a voice cut through his sobs. "It's ok, sweetheart," said his grandmother soothingly. "I'm here now and I promise to put everything right again".

He didn't know how long he'd been crying. It felt like hours. His eyes were red and puffy and his throat was sore.

Cassandra helped him back to his room. He was still pretty shook. Everything was too much to take in. He mopped around in his room for the rest of the day, laying on the bed mostly, clutching the rabbit. Cassandra checked on his from time to time, throughout the day. She brought him lunch then dinner. There were a few times in-between too, where she attempted to explain things like hygiene and toiletries to him but he barely listened.

He wasn't sure when he fell asleep.

When he woke up the next morning, he was disoriented. He was still in the clothes from last night. The smudged makeup was a stark reminder of the revelation he'd been given. He looked around the room. It was still his mother's, now his. The bed felt unfamiliar, the softness of the blankets a stark contrast to the hard reality he was facing. How had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered was crying in the study.

He sat up, letting the covers slide off his body. For a quick moment, he thought maybe all of it had been a dream. Then he looked down and saw the two mounds of flesh there. They were mounds too according to his new bra. He was rocking a pair of Double B's. He wasn't sure if that was big or not but it was big enough.

He grudgingly climbed out of bed and wandered over to the ensuite. He peed quickly before turning to the mirror to see that girl again. He still couldn't quite acknowledge it was his face staring back at him. Startling even more was the fact that it was always meant to be his face. Staring at it now, his thoughts kept drifting to yesterday. He was a born a girl and his mother used magic to change him into a boy? Why? Wasn't that what this family wanted all along? His mother had to have a reason, right?

He leaned closer. She was pretty. No, he was pretty.

He also smelled. He groaned, remembering how he skipped that shower yesterday. He cursed himself for not paying more attention when Cassandra tried to explain what he needed to do in the shower now. He wandered over to the linen cabinet, finding a towel and some new shampoo. He grunted, at least he knew this much.

He stripped slowly, trying not to look at himself. He got the water just right and stepped in. It was definitely something new. His body was super sensitive now, the water hitting him in ways it never did before. He washed with his eyes closed, too afraid and embarrassed to look. He tried his best with his hair but it was too long and there was far too much of it now.

When the shower was finished, he almost wrapped the towel around his waist until he remembered he had something to cover up top now. He redid the towel like the girls from the movies and left the room.

He was no further to his bed when there was a gentle knock on his door then a second later Cassandra came in, carrying a breakfast tray.

He jumped, startled. "We need to get you a bell or something?" he gasped, his heart thumping in his chest.

She smirked. "I see your acidic sense of humor is back."

"If only the rest of it would come back with it" he grunted, dropping onto the corner of the bed.

She frowned. "You didn't dry your hair properly".

He shrugged. "Wasn't sure how".

"Off the bed" she ordered, pointing to the vanity.

He groaned but did as he was told. She retrieved a second towel and dried it properly. Then she got the brush.

"You're gonna have to get into the habit of this every morning" she said as she brushed. "You can't just roll out of bed and into your clothes anymore."

If she only knew. He generally just wore the same clothes from the day before, sometimes he even went without showering. Trying to get a good shower time and then actual hot water was a real hassle in the group home. A lot of the time he ended up showering at the local swimming pool.

"Now clothes" she said after she was done with her task.

"I can dress myself" he grumbled, not wanting to go through yesterday's routine again.

She nodded. "I got you some cute..." She sighed at his glare. "Fine, fine." She held up her hands in retreat. "Your grandmother does want you present at lunch today. There's a few things we need to discuss"

He grumbled but nodded.

"I'll leave you to it then" said Cassandra as she retreated out the door.

He thought about the new clothes that Cassandra bought but they were too haughty for everyday bumming. He knew where to find what he needed but was reluctant to do so. Opening his mother's old dresser, he sighed. He opened the first drawer, he definitely did not want to wear her old underwear. The second had what he needed. He rummaged through it. It was like digging through a treasure trove. The smell of his mother was faint but it was there. He found a comfy tank top and a pair of grey sweatpants.

Perfect.

Dropping the towel, he dressed quickly.

His breakfast was cold and grumbled through it. They were going to have to work out a time schedule for this. He was tired of cold bacon and eggs.

The morning passed in a blur. He didn't know what to do with himself. He was a boy trapped in a girl's body, in a room that didn't feel like his own. It was weird and he felt weird in it. He tried not to touch the stuff that was his mother's, it felt almost like he was invading her privacy even though she wasn't around. But what was his was his, right? So he found himself flipping through the channels, watching some reality TV, trying to distract himself from his thoughts. It worked for a while until he found the fashion channels. That's when he realized how much he had to learn. He knew jack shit about makeup and clothes. He was going to have to get a crash course from Cassandra even though he knew he would hate it.

The grand clock downstairs chimed twelve. Lunchtime. He sighed, setting the TV remote down. He didn't have much of an appetite but he knew better than to ignore his grandmother's orders. He padded out into the hallway, feeling awkward in the fluffy slippers that fit his feet way too well. The mansion was still eerily quiet. He didn't even know if anyone else was in the house other than his grandmother and Cassandra. The thought made him feel even more alone.

He found his grandmother and Cassandra already in the smaller dining room, waiting. There was a modest lunch spread before them. He took his usual seat, noticing his grandmother's eyes follow him. He could see her reading his attire, judging.

"Those are your mother's?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

He smiled and nodded. "No reason to get all dressed up if I'm just bumming around, right?"

His grandmother looked like she was able to say something but changed her mind. Cassandra was holding back a smile.

It took a few moments for his grandmother to respond. "Emerson as you well know, you are enrolled in Hollow Vale Academy starting in the winter semester".

This was actual news to him. "I didn't know actually. I remember you showing me the pamphlet, me telling you No and then we never discussed it again."

His grandmother frowned. "Be that as it may, you are enrolled. Every Cole attends Hollow Vale, its tradition."

"I don't get a say?" he asked, mouth full of sandwich.

"No you do not" His grandmother's words cut like a knife.

Gone was the warm, smiling woman of all hugs and reassurances from yesterday. He knew it was all an act but it stung nonetheless.

"So Winter semester, that's December, right?" he asked, taking another bit of his sandwich.

"January" corrected Cassandra.

His grandmother looked at Cassandra. " I hope you can have her presentable and ladylike by then?"

Emerson burped.

"I can try," Cassandra sighed.

"We shall hope so" His grandmother then set an envelope on the table. "I've taken the liberty of making some other arrangements for you. This contains your new ID, passport and a black VISA for expenses".

Cassandra picked up the envelope and walked it over to him. He took it reluctantly.

"New ID?" he asked, tearing it open.

He shook the contents onto the table. He saw a new license, a passport, a new social security card, even a birth certificate he'd never seen before. He looked at his grandmother but she said nothing. He reached down and picked up the ID. It had his picture. Well his new face and she was smiling. How had they done that?

"Emery Cole, Age 16" he read aloud.

Well so much for Emerson Clark. In one quick instant, his old life truly was gone now.

"Emery?" he asked, letting the name roll around in his mouth.

"We have Germanic ancestry, it means powerful," admitted his grandmother with a triumphant smile. "It's also closely associated with your previous name so it should be easier for you to adapt too."

Emerson was a pretty feminine sounding name in its own right. He should know, he used to get beat up a lot as a kid because of it. That is until of course he learned to fight back. The name was indifferent as any other name he supposed but it was the one his mother gave him. It felt kinda sad to let it go.

"Is there something wrong?" asked his grandmother, pretending to be concerned again.

He shook his head. "I just wish you discussed it with me first, that's all."

"There's nothing to discuss" His grandmother's reply was cold and precise. "Some things are handled without a committee. This was one such thing. Your future is very important to me. I am your Guardian now. I want what's best for my granddaughter."

She said it. She called him her "granddaughter". It was like his old life was completely erased now.

He wanted to protest, he wanted to fight it. He wanted no one to forget Emerson. But who would really be forgetting him besides himself? Maybe Mrs. Hill. There were perhaps a few others at the group home too but he didn't really have any friends. There was no one who truly knew him other than to say the "troublemaking orphan kid".

He sighed. "Where do we go from here?"

His grandmother smiled. "Now we teach you how to be Emery Cole."

Emerson gulped. Not sure he liked how that sounded.

His grandmother didn't wait for his response before turning to Cassandra. "We have until January. Make arrangements."

Cassandra nodded. "Yes, ma'am".

There it was. His fate was sealed. There were still so many questions and answers he wanted and needed. He supposed all of that would come in time but right now he was still very confused. He felt whiplashed too, all of this coming on at once and so fast.

Elizabeth cleared her throat and gestured to Cassandra. "Let's begin tomorrow morning" Cassandra nodded, then Elizabeth turned to Emerson. "It's important you portray the proper Hollow Vale girl by the time you start school in January".

All Emerson could do was nod.

The next day started early with a knock on the door. It was Cassandra with a stern look on her face. "Time to get up, Miss Emery" she said, her voice filled with mock sweetness.

It was already beginning. He groaned as he tried to ignore the Interloper. A moment later, Cassandra was pulling the covers off him.

"Emery already?" he grumbled.

"The sooner we start, the easier it will be" Cassandra smacked his butt as he turned away from her. "None of that, get up, get into the shower. Use that new stuff I laid out for you."

He dragged himself out of bed, still groggy from the lack of sleep. He stumbled to the bathroom and found an array of products laid out. He sighed heavily. This was his life now. He'd have to get used to it. He showered quickly, still avoiding looking at his new body. When he got out, there was a fluffy pink bathrobe waiting for him. He put it on and found Cassandra waiting in his room.

"I laid out some clothes," she said, pointing to the bed. "I'll give you twenty minutes to dry off and change, then I'll be back to teach you how to do your hair and makeup."

She left him alone with his thoughts.

He dried off, doing what she told him yesterday. He looked over at the bed, finding the outfit Cassandra had laid out for him. He groaned. Another light, airy top and this time, a skirt. He dreaded looking at it, knowing what it signified. The end of his life as he knew it and the start of something new. He gulped as he picked it up, holding it against his legs.

He reluctantly dressed.

Cassandra returned twenty minutes later, looking him over. "Good, now sit" she ordered, pointing at the chair she had set up by the vanity.

He sighed and did as he was told. She wasted no time, starting on his hair first. She'd picked out some fancy hairbrush and a bottle of hairspray. He watched as she worked her magic, brushing it out into the straight locks from the day before.

"Simple and easy to replicate" she told him as she worked. "Pay attention because you will be doing this tomorrow".

She started on his makeup next. Again another simple look that she told him he'd have to replicate tomorrow as well.

The days turned into weeks quickly. The lessons were relentless. In the mornings and afternoons, Cassandra was a drill sergeant, teaching him everything from how to apply eyeliner to the art of walking in heels. His grandmother took the evenings, instructing him in the finer points of being a lady. Posture, poise, how to sit properly, how to smile at the right moment. It was like they were sculpting him into someone else, chipping away at the Emerson he knew and replacing him with this new creature named Emery.

In-between girl lessons, Cassandra homeschooled him to keep his grades up. He never thought about school but it made sense.

Emerson felt like a marionette, being tugged and pulled into positions that weren't natural to him. His hands trembled as he held the hairbrush, trying to mimic Cassandra's strokes. His feet protested every step in those heels, feeling like he was about to topple over. Yet, there was something oddly satisfying about the way he looked in the mirror after the transformation was complete. It was like looking at a stranger, a stranger who was pretty and put-together. But it wasn't him.

He protested at first, not willing to give in.

A month into the lessons, something started to shift though.

Emerson began to get the hang of things. The way Cassandra's hands moved, the gentle but firm way she instructed him. He found himself looking forward to their time together, a strange sort of friendship forming between them. He'd always been a quick study, it was a survival tactic really, and it served him well here. His hands grew more steady as he applied the makeup. His steps grew more graceful in the heels, though he still had a lot of work to do on that one.

And as he took his steps further and further from his former self, a new one started to emerge.

The lessons with Cassandra grew from basic to advanced. She taught him how to contour, highlight, and even winged eyeliner. He'd watch her in the mirror, her eyes focused on his face, her hands steady and sure. He'd try to copy her movements, sometimes succeeding, mostly failing. But everyday was a little better than the last. The smell of makeup and hairspray started to feel like a second nature to him.

Mid-November brought a coolness to the air, a hint of winter. The leaves outside were all but gone from the trees, and inside the mansion, Emerson felt a shift. He was starting to get the hang of being Emery. It was strange, but when he looked in the mirror now, he saw a girl that looked back at him, not a stranger. Not some girl. It was all just him, no her.

The makeup was easier now. The heels weren't so scary. He could walk down the stairs without holding onto the railing. He could sit and stand with poise. His grandmother was pleased. She had seen the transformation she had hoped for. But it was more than just the outside that had changed. Emerson had started to think of himself differently. She was Emery now. She liked the way that felt on her tongue. She liked the way the clothes fit her, the way the makeup made her look.

She wasn't even sure when the shift happened. One day, he was Emerson. Next, she was Emery.

It was like waking up to a new world, but instead of the world changing, it was him. Her. She had started to feel at ease in the soft fabrics of dresses and the weight of makeup on her face. The smell of hairspray and perfume didn't make her cringe anymore. They were comforting, almost familiar.

Her grandmother noticed the shift too and commented on it at breakfast that morning. "You're really coming along, Emery," she said with a proud smile. "I've never seen such a quick study."

Emery smiled as she ate her breakfast, a far cry from her usual scrambled eggs and bacon. Now it was egg whites and grapefruit. Her grandmother insisted she needed to watch her figure and maintain a healthier sense of being now.

"Thank you, Grandmother," she said, feeling the words roll off her tongue with ease. It was getting easier, calling her that. It didn't feel like a lie anymore.

It was great that her grandmother was finally allowing her to call her "Grandmother" instead of "Elizabeth" like before. Both of them were growing from this shared experience.

After a moment's pause, her grandmother set down her tea cup. "I've given it a lot of thought and I'd like to present you to the family at Thanksgiving. What are your thoughts?"

Emery felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She had only been living as a girl for a few short weeks and now she was expected to meet the whole family? Her stomach churned at the thought. She had so much to learn, so much to practice. But the look in her grandmother's eyes was unyielding. It was clear this was not a suggestion but a command.

"Thanksgiving?" Emery's voice squeaked.

Her grandmother nodded, pleased with herself. "Yes, dear. It's the perfect opportunity to introduce you to everyone. It's a small gathering, just a few close family and some friends."

Cassandra cleared her throat. "Fifty people is hardly small, ma'am".

Emery felt the room spin slightly.

"Fifty people?" she managed to get out, her voice shaky. She had never been one to handle crowds well, especially when she was the center of attention.

Elizabeth gave Cassandra a look before regaining her composure. "A little less but that doesn't matter. What matters is introducing you to our family."

Emery took a deep breath. As much as she wanted to run back to her room, she knew it wouldn't solve anything. She was going to have to meet these people eventually. Thanksgiving was supposed to be a time for family as well. Her grandmother had been preparing her for some of it as well. Their time together wasn't all about teaching her the proper ways of a lady. They talked about family as well. While her mother was a topic they rarely touched upon, Elizabeth had been very forthcoming on the history of the Cole clan. She had even brought out that book from before, going over things in more detail as Emery asked.

This was just another step in that direction.

"I've never had a Thanksgiving before" she finally said, forcing a weak smile.

It was enough to appease her grandmother, who smiled back.

"Its settled then" said the older woman, satisfied. "Tomorrow the two of you will go shopping. Emery needs the appropriate outfit plus her wardrobe needs updating at well."

"I'll pencil it in," said Cassandra, acting like the personal assistant she apparently appeared to be.

With that discussion out of the way, her grandmother dismissed her. Emery found herself in a fog. She wasn't sure when she got back to her room but when she dropped onto her bed, she grabbed Mr. Snuggles. Yes, she finally decided to name the stuff rabbit. She had no idea what its real name was but it felt like a Mr. Snuggles to her. She held him close, pressing him under her breasts as she sighed. He'd become somewhat of her comfort "animal" in these trying, new times.

"What is all this?" she asked, turning the rabbit so he was looking her in the face. "Did my mother have these problems, too?"

For a split second, the gem around her neck flickered but she didn't notice.

Instead, she sighed heavily and fell back onto the bed. Her head hit the pillows and she stared at the ceiling in a daze. Originally her mother had had a picture of some teen heartthrob pinned there. He was shirtless and smoldering. It gave her the creeps, so she took it down. Thankfully, her romantic interests hadn't changed with her gender. So regardless of everything else, that was one last thing she had to worry about.

There are a lot of others though.

Chief among them was fitting in. She'd only officially been a girl for about two months. At first, she couldn't even bring herself to think like one. After a lot of time and practice with Cassandra though, she was finally able to get over it. It was not without its problems though. While she had mastered the art of feminine hygiene, makeup and the like, she still couldn't figure out the other stupid little things.

For starters, why did women's clothes have to be so complicated? It was a maze of zippers and buttons and laces. Sometimes she felt like she needed a PhD just to get dressed in the morning. And the underwear? Don't even get her started. They were like tiny little prisons for her bits. It was ridiculous.

And the hair. Oh, the hair. It was like it had a mind of its own. No matter how much time she spent on it, it never looked quite right. It was like it knew she was new to all of this and was rebelling. Every morning she'd stand in front of the mirror, tugging and pulling at it, trying to get it to behave. It was a battle she never seemed to win.

Then there were the tampons. Those little white nightmares. She'd seen girls use them before, but never had to deal with them herself. Now she had to learn the hard way. She'd stare at the box in horror, trying to make sense of the instructions that might as well have been written in hieroglyphs. It was a trial by fire, or in her case, a trial by blood. She was thankful for Cassandra's bluntness, though. No sugarcoating, just straight to the point.

Yes, her monthly Visitor had arrived. Scared the hell out of her too. Gender changing had been one thing but she NEVER expected to have to deal with a period too. When he expressed that annoyance to Cassandra, she got laughed at. "No amount of magic will ever be able to rid women of it" was all her laughing cousin had said on the matter.

A gentle knock on her door brought her from her thoughts. She sat up and sighed. "It's open, Cassie," she said, knowing who it was.

The door opened and Cassandra came in, smiling.

A few weeks ago, Cassandra had asked her to call her "Cassie". Its what everyone in the family called her, outside of Emery's grandmother of course. Emery had felt honored and privileged to finally be let into the fold.

Cassie walked over to the bed, dropping on it in a huff. "That woman is insufferable" she moaned, sighing heavily.

Another thing that had changed in their relationship was Cassie's openness around her now. Before she had acted a bit professional. Sure she was like an older sister but still maintained some distance. Now though---two months later---they were actually like real sisters. It was a weird and new thing for Emery. Cassie had really opened up, throwing out all her feelings and problems.

"I take it she has a plan for our shopping excursion tomorrow?" asked Emery.

Cassie rolled on the bed, propping herself up slightly. "She wants to turn you into a Little Lizzie, you know. She gave me a list of appropriate stores for us to shop in" Cassie held the list up. "I told her a teenage girl doesn't dress like this. We went back and forth. I had your back, girl. I finally got her to relent"

Emery wasn't sure if she should be happy or not. But knowing her grandmother, she supposed it was better than the alternative. She definitely didn't want to walk around like some teenage Conversative Suck Up.

Emery was actually a bit excited to go to the mall. She was also terrified. On one hand, it was the first time she was getting out of the house since coming here. But at the same time, SHE was leaving the house. She wasn't Emerson anymore, she didn't have his "persona" to hide behind anymore. She was Emery. She was going to mall as herself. It was a scary thing to think about. It was an important step though, one she and Cassie had been discussing for weeks now.

The faster that she accepted that Emerson was a mirage, the faster she could become her true self. Whoever that was meant to be.

It took her weeks to even admit she was a girl. A real one. Not one created by a spell. Emerson was the spell, she kept having to remind herself that. Sure it had been her life for the past 15 years but it was never truly real. Cassie had told her to think of it as a mask. They still weren't sure why Emery's mother did it but after they examined her the night she arrived---unbeknownst to Emery---they discovered there was a protection woven into it as well. It was the reason why the doctors and others in the hospital never registered little Emerson being in his mother's room while she was dying. To them, he hadn't been. The spell had made him nearly invisible and forgettable to them.

It was the nature of her mother's magic.

She bit her lip as she thought about it. "Why haven't you guys taught me any magic yet?"

There, she finally said it. It had been the biggest thing on her mind for the last two months. Well, besides the whole gender thing. As soon as she got over that, magic was the only other thing she could think about. They were Sorcerers, right? They were teaching her all this stuff on how to be a girl but no one had mentioned magic once. Not since that first night after she became her true self.

Cassie sighed. She looked around the room, almost as if she expected they were being spied on. Then she leaned in close, speaking in almost a whisper. "Because we can't".

That was not the answer Emery was expecting. "What does that even mean?"

Cassie raised her voice a bit. "Magic is not like you think. Its not waving wands or flashing poofs of smoke. Its complex and dangerous. Years ago, it was up to the family to teach newcomers magic but there as the world advanced, far too many bad things started to happen."

Emery nodded. She supposed that made some kind of sense. "Are you saying...?"

Cassie nodded. "If you're thinking about it then magic probably had something to do with it."

She was thinking something. She was thinking a lot of bad somethings.

"After World War 2, it was decided that families should no longer hand out their magic to those unskilled and untrained to handle it, so the Academies were established" Cassie paused, choosing her words. "There are six major Academies in the world. Two on the East Coast, one on the West. There's two in Europe and one in Asia."

Europe? "Hogwarts!"

Cassie rolled her eyes. "Those damn books have caused us nothing but problems. And that woman...the author...don't even get me started"

"So no Hogwarts then?" asked Emery with a slight frown.

"Pemberton," said Cassie. "That's the famous one. Its in Wales though."

"And Hollow Vale?" she asked, hoping to get some more information outside of the pamphlet.

Cassie smiled. "It's not all that different from a normal prep school actually. It has a regular every day curriculum, there's a sports team and dorms. It's Co-Ed but obviously the boys and girls dormitories are not near one another. The only difference of course is the magic classes."

Now that's what she wanted to hear. "What about those?"

Cassie shook her head. "I'm not allowed to say. We're forbidden to talk about it with Raws"

"Raws? What's that?" Emery asked, more curious than ever.

Cassie smiled. "It just means those who have not learned their craft yet." Cassie raised her hand, seeing the eagerness in Emery's eyes. "Before you ask, I'm an Adept. It just means I've finished my four year course at the school, trained in magic. I can't say anymore though, so all those questions you might have, it has to stop here."

Emery pouted slightly but nodded.

"It's great that you want to know these things," said Cassie, giving her young cousin's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "One day in the future, you and I will be able to talk freely about it. You'll understand the severity of things then. Magic is not a thing to play with or do without consequences."

Consequences? What about his mother? What about what they did to her? She wanted to ask but she knew how Cassie was probably going to answer.

"I'll drop it for now" she said with a disappointed sigh.

"Good girl" said Cassie, patting her knee then in a more cheerful voice. "Now let's pick out a cute outfit for tomorrow!"

Emery rolled her eyes but decided to play along. Letting Cassie go "all girly" on her seemed to make her cousin feel better.

In the end, they settled on a fitted t-shirt, some skinny jeans and a pair of ankle boots with a small heel. It was cute, casual and fresh. It was also something a normal teenage girl should and would wear to the mall.

Normal. She had to keep reminding herself she was "normal" now, given the circumstances.

They spent some time talking after that before Cassie was pulled away by the usual. When she was alone, Emery surfed the web on her new laptop. It was a recent gift, one Cassie was able to convince her grandmother was necessary. Emery wasn't much for web surfing, only doing it briefly on her phone before. She didn't really get social media and she didn't have any friends. Cassie insisted she set up Facebook and Instagram.

Her socials were dead which wasn't a surprise because she had no friends. She found very little interest in the internet truth be told. After twenty minutes of browsing YouTube, she closed the laptop. She went to her mother's old bookshelf and pulled another one of those sappy teen romances that were all the rage a decade or so ago.

She read until the evening when it was time for her school lessons.

Back when she was still Emerson, she had hated school but always did really well. It was easy to study when there were no friends or other distractions to occupy her time. Now, sitting in the grand library with Elizabeth, she felt that same solitary focus. Her grandmother was a strict and demanding tutor, pushing her to excel in subjects she had once coasted through. The difference was that now, she had a purpose. She wasn't just biding her time waiting for the bell to ring; she was preparing for Hollow Vale Academy, the place where she would learn not just about the world, but about her own history and the secrets of her family's magic.

The next morning, Emery woke up earlier than usual, her heart racing. The anticipation of leaving the mansion's confines for the first time in months was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. Getting ready took a bit longer than usual. She had to get used to doing her makeup and hair in a way that didn't scream "Newbie!" She wanted to look natural, like she had been a girl her whole life. She had practiced the night before, trying out different looks in the mirror, but she still felt like she was playing dress-up.

She at least felt semi-normal after putting on the clothes she and Cassie picked yesterday.

They got into the car, a sleek black sedan that her grandmother had had waiting for them. The drive to the mall was a bit awkward. Emery hadn't really talked to anyone outside of the mansion for a while now. She wasn't sure she remembered how to hold a conversation that didn't revolve around her transformation. Which of course she couldn't tell anyone.

The moment they stepped out of the car, she felt eyes on her. It was like everyone knew she was different. That she was a boy in a girl's body. She felt like a fraud and it made her want to crawl out of her skin.

Cassie gave her a sympathetic look. "They're not staring at you for the reasons you think they are" She mused.

Emery took a deep breath and nodded. She had to keep telling herself that she was a girl now. That she was normal. That she wasn't an imposter.

As they walked through the mall, the lights seemed too bright, the noises too loud. She had been in public before but it was always as Emerson. Now, she felt like every person they passed was looking at her, judging her.

"Why are they staring?" she asked Cassie in a low voice.

Cassie smirked. "Because you're a little hottie!"

Yep, because that was going to make things better.

She felt more self-conscious now and noticed that a lot of people looking at her were in fact boys.

Great.

She folded her arms, rubbing them as if she felt a chill. The idea of being the object of desire made her uncomfortable. It also made her regret all the times she might have stared at girls when she was Emerson.

Cassie squeezed her shoulder. "This can't be easy. I'd like to say I can sympathize but I can't. I can only imagine what you must be going through right now."

"You have no idea" she admitted, rubbing her arms still.

"I know what helps me" said Cassie cheerfully.

"What's that?" asked Emery hopeful.

"Retail therapy!" gushed her overenthusiastic cousin.

Emery sighed and rolled her eyes. "I walked into that one, didn't I?"

Cassie giggled and pulled a sleek black card from her purse. Then she held it out for Emery. "This is for you. I'm not sure the credit limit but your grandmother informed me its substantial. She told me to tell you to get what you need"

Emery was floored. That was a black card, an actual black card. Most normal people only hear about such things. To actually look upon one was amazing but to be handed one so nonchalant like this, she didn't know what to do. With trembling hands, she reached and took the card from Cassie's hands.

She could almost feel the power oozing from it.

Cassie rolled her eyes. "Its just a credit card."

Emery shook her head. "That's like saying Taj Mahal is just a tomb."

Cassie laughed. "You'll be fine. Its like a rite of passage."

Emery snorted. "You say that like I'll be doing this by myself."

"You are" smirked Cassie. "You my baby bird are going off into this wild crazy world. You are going to browse, you are going to haggle but most importantly, you are going to shop until you can't shop anymore!"

"What? I can't do this by myself!"

Cassie shook her head. "Emi" she said, using the nickname she'd developed for her just a couple of weeks ago. "You spent hours yesterday arguing with me about this and that. You have a keen eye for what you like. I can't help you shop for yourself. You've got this. Fly baby bird!"

Emery bit her lip. "More like plummet to the ground"

"Then fall with style!" said Cassie, smacking her on the butt. "And when you're done, meet me at the food court in a few hours. Tata!"

Cassie gave her a little finger wave then disappeared.

Emery was now truly alone. In a sea of strangers, she felt like she was drowning. She clutched the credit card in her hand like it was her last lifeline. She had never felt so naked before. But she took a deep breath and steeled herself. She had done much harder things than this. Much weirder things, she reminded herself with a tiny smile.

The first few stores were easy. Just window shopping. She didn't even go in. She just stared at the clothes and imagined herself in them. It was like watching a movie. But she knew she had to go in eventually. She couldn't just spend hours looking at clothes without buying anything. That was just sad. So she picked a random store. It had cute clothes in the window. It was a bit more "girly" than what she was used to but she figured she'd give it a shot.

It was strange really. She'd been in this mall dozens of times before but would have never once thought about stepping foot in a store like this one.

The second she walked through the door, she felt like she'd entered a teenage girl's explosive diary. Pinks, purples, and glitters scattered everywhere like the aftermath of a glitter bomb. The walls were lined with racks of clothes that screamed "Pick Me! Pick Me!" The store was called Sparkle, that should have told her something.

A young, peppy salesgirl with a bubblegum smile and a name tag that said "Jenna" practically bounced up to her. "Hi! Can I help you find anything?"

Jenna was one of those girls who clearly drank sugar every morning and slept on a bed of fluffy bunnies at night.

"I'm just browsing" she said, hoping it was enough to get rid of the girl.

It wasn't.

"Don't be silly, a girl who looks like you, she is NEVER browsing" said Jenna, practically bouncing.

What kind of girl did she look like?

Emery couldn't help but wonder as Jenna dragged her through the store. The clothes were so... frilly. And pink. And sparkly. It was like the universe had vomited a unicorn. She hated all of it but couldn't seem to say "No".

Jenna was like a tornado in a tutu. "Oh, this would look amazing on you!" She'd grab an armful of clothes and thrust them at Emery. "You've got to try this on!"

Emery felt overwhelmed. "But I don't need---"

"Trust me!" Jenna's eyes gleamed. "You're going to love these!"

Emery's protests were met with a wall of pink, glittering enthusiasm. She felt like a leaf caught in a whirlwind of sequins and lace. With a resigned sigh, she allowed herself to be dragged from rack to rack, the smell of new clothes and perfume assaulting her nose. Every item that Jenna suggested was more ostentatious than the last. She picked out a series of dresses that seemed to have been designed for a toddler's tea party, except with more cleavage and shorter skirts.

"But I'm not sure if---" Emery began, eyeing a particularly garish pink number with a tutu that seemed to have a life of its own.

Jenna waved her off with a giggle.

It went on like this for about thirty minutes. In the end, Emery bought a couple of sparkling pink tops and a skirt that barely covered her butt. Jenna was beaming when she rang her up. Emery wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere. When she was leaving the store, she considered going straight to the nearest garbage can and depositing her purchases. She stopped herself though. Who knows, maybe she could wear them for Halloween next year.

She sighed. After that, she felt like she needed a whole body cleanse. She looked around, her eyes falling on Hot Topic. She reached into her back pocket, taking out the gift card from her birthday that seemed like a lifetime ago. In some respects it was. The last time she in this mall, in that store, she'd been a boy. Smiling, she realized just how different shopping at Hot Topic might be now that she was a girl.

Retail therapy, she silently told herself as she made her way toward the store.

Hot Topic was like stepping into the embrace of an edgy fairy godmother. The walls were lined with a dark array of band t-shirts and gothic-inspired accessories that whispered to the rebels and the misfits of the world. The air was thick with the scent of incense and the faint echo of alternative rock that seemed to resonate from every corner. It was a stark contrast to the sugary sweetness of the store she'd just escaped from.

It felt different seeing it through a girl's perspective. Almost like she was given a pass to look at the goth clothes that as Emerson would have been awkward and weird.

Inside the store, she felt more at home. The darker colors, the edgier clothes, it all resonated with the part of her that was still a little bit Emerson. She didn't need a peppy salesgirl to tell her what looked good. She knew exactly what she liked. The first thing she picked up was a black leather jacket. It was a bit much, but it was something she could see herself wearing to the academy. It was a declaration of independence amidst the sea of plaid skirts and starch white blouses that were likely in her future.

Speaking of skirts, those black mini ones were actually really cool.

She started to browse through a rack, looking for one in her size. That's when she noticed there was someone standing next to her:

"That would look good on you" said the voice a girl. "You have the legs for it"

Emery jumped slightly, not realizing there had been someone that close. She turned and found herself staring at a girl that a splash of goth and punk.

Her hair was a vivid shade of purple, a color that looked like it had been plucked straight out of a dark, magical realm. It fell in thick, choppy layers around her shoulders, framing a face that was a canvas of smoky makeup and piercings. Her eyes, lined with thick black liner, were the color of storm clouds, and she had a smirk that suggested she knew something that no one else did.

Her wardrobe was a rebellious symphony of black and more black. The only splash of color was the crimson lipstick that matched her nails. She wore a studded leather jacket over a tight black t-shirt with the logo of a band that Emery had never heard of. Her skinny jeans were ripped in all the right places, revealing fishnet stockings underneath. The boots on her feet looked like they could have been used in a punk rock battle royale. They were combat-style, with chunky silver buckles and a platform that added an extra few inches to her height.

"I'm Ophelia" the girl said, almost in a purr. "And you are..." She paused, licking her lips. "Very interesting."

"Emery" she said, caught up in the moment. "I'm not that interesting. Just a girl out shopping."

Ophelia laughed. "We both know that's not true" She looked at the big bag Emery was holding. "You lose a bet?"

Emery rolled her eyes. "More like my sanity" She sighed. "I figured Halloween then I realized it might appease my grandmother too."

"So pink is...?" asked Ophelia, eying the bag still.

"Almost went into the trash" admitted Emery with a laugh.

Ophelia grinned, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Your secret's safe with me" she said, leaning in slightly. "But if you want to escape that hell, I've got you."

Emery couldn't help but feel a jolt of excitement at the idea of having a confidante. "What do you mean?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Ophelia pulled one of the skirts from the rack. It was still black but very short. "This would look killer on you!"

Emery felt her heart flutter. The way Ophelia moved, talked, everything about her was so...different. It was like looking into a mirror at the person she always wanted to be. Someone who didn't conform to anyone else's standards. Someone who didn't need anyone's approval.

Ophelia held up the black skirt, her eyes never leaving Emery's. "You've got the look of someone who doesn't take the easy path." She said. "I can tell you're not going to be one of those 'Oh my, I can't possibly wear that!' kind of girls."

Emery felt a blush creep up her cheeks. She had to admit, the skirt was pretty badass. "I'm not really sure what I'm looking for." She confessed, still feeling a little shy around this stranger who seemed to see right through her.

"None of us do" Ophelia said slyly, reaching around Emery to take a packet of fishnet stockings off the wall. "But I can help".

Emery found herself strangely drawn to and mesmerized by this girl she'd only met minutes ago. It was as if Ophelia had a gravitational pull, drawing her in with every word she spoke and every item of clothing she touched. They moved through the store together, Ophelia picking out pieces that were a stark contrast to the frilly pink monstrosities that Jenna had chosen. The clothes she picked out were dark, edgy, and just the right amount of rebellious. It was like Ophelia had peered into her soul and plucked out the style that truly reflected her inner self.

Ophelia led her to the accessories section, her eyes scanning over the racks of necklaces, chokers, and bracelets. She picked out a few pieces that she deemed "absolutely essential" for a first-day look at Hollow Vale Academy. A studded choker that was the perfect blend of tough and feminine. A leather cuff that had tiny metal spikes. And a set of earrings that looked like they could double as a weapon. Emery felt like she was being outfitted for battle instead of school. But in a way, she was. She was fighting for her identity in a world that was suddenly so foreign to her.

When Ophelia handed her the earrings, Emery shook her head. "I don't have pierced ears."

Ophelia winked. "We'll fix that in a sec." She took her to the accessory wall and pointed to a pair of dainty, black hoops. "These will do. They're edgy without being too loud. Plus, they're easy to take out when you need to play the part of the good little girl for the family gathering."

Emery bought everything she and Ophelia picked together. She finished off her gift card and put the rest of it on her grandmother's black card.

From there, Ophelia led her to a salon where Emery got her ears pierced. It was all pretty quick and sudden.

When they were leaving the salon, Ophelia surprised her. "So what does a cute little Sorceress like you do for fun?"

Emery stopped dead in her tracks. "What?" she asked, the color draining from her face.

This was bad, this was really bad. The one thing Cassie and her grandmother told her over the months, more than once, was NOT to let anyone know she was a Sorceress. It was rule #1 and this random girl not only knew but said it aloud.

Ophelia giggled. "Relax, girl, you look like someone punched your tit"

"I don't know what you're talking about" she said, trying to recover.

Ophelia raised an eyebrow. "Its pulsing off of you. All that power. You're like a drum. Thump, thump, thump. Its really cute."

Emery wasn't sure what to do, what to say.

"You go to Hollow Vale?" asked Ophelia, like it was the most normal question in the world.

Emery sighed. "Not yet. I'm starting in January."

Ophelia gave her a look. "You just found out then?" Emery nodded. "That's rough. I've known about me my whole life."

Emery wasn't the least bit surprised. Of course another Sorceress would be able to spot her. She was kind of shocked that she'd run into another one in the mall. It was almost as if...it clicked. That's why Ophelia had approached her in the first place.

"Were you stalking me?" asked Emery, feeling a bit disturbed.

Ophelia laughed. "Nope. Walked into the store. Felt you pounding off the walls like that. It was intense. Brightest, loudest bop I've ever felt. I'm surprised your family didn't tell you about it. Its not good you know. Pulsing like that, there are some unsavory types out there who could take advantage."

Shit.

Why hadn't her grandmother or Cassie told her?

"Is it that dangerous?" she asked, looking around, expecting to get jumped at any moment.

Ophelia shook her head. "Only to those who can sense it. Not a lot of us can. I think only my family...maybe a few others."

Emery was so lost and confused. "Your family?"

Ophelia gave her a look. "Boy, they didn't teach you anything."

Emery shook her head. "My cousin told me it was forbidden."

Ophelia scoffed. "Sounds like an old family thing. What's your clan?"

Emery bit her lip. Clan? Oh. "Its Cole."

Ophelia paused for a second. For a moment, Emery saw the color drain from her face. The girl looked a bit surprised and scared. But only for a second. "No shit" she chuckled.

"Is that bad?" asked Emery, in response to Ophelia's reaction.

Ophelia shook her head. "Give me your phone real quick?"

Emery pulled in from her pocket and handed it over, after unlocking it of course. Ophelia typed a few seconds and handed it back.

"I put my number in there" she said, biting her lip. "If you want to talk or hang or..."

Emery was a bit surprised. She'd never gotten a girl's number back when she was Emerson.

Ophelia turned and looked off into the distance for a moment. "Shit. I've gotta go. I'll call you later though."

Then just like she arrived, Ophelia was off.

Emery was stunned.

Did she make a friend? Or did she scare her off?

Shit.

She stood there for a few seconds, not sure what to do. She was still holding her phone, the screen looking up at her. She blinked, saw the clock. She still had some time to shop but she didn't feel like it anymore. At least not alone. She sighed and decided to meet up with Cassie like planned.

As she walked to the food court, she felt a strange mix of excitement and anxiety. The mall lights flickered above her, casting a yellowish glow over the sea of faces that blurred by as she rushed. Her heart was racing like it was trying to escape her chest, the beat of it echoing in her ears like a drumline. What would Cassie think? Would she be upset that she didn't find something to wear to the family gathering?

Emery spotted Cassie at a table in the far corner, her dark hair standing out against the neon lights of the fast food joints. She had a knowing smile on her face as she sipped from a large soda.

"Well, well, look at you," Cassie teased, gesturing to the pink bag. "Did you decide to become a cheerleader?"

Emery frowned as she dropped into a chair opposite of her cousin.. "It was the least I could do to escape that place?"

"And the Hot Topic ones?" Cassie eyed the other two bags Emery was carrying.

Emery shrugged. "More my style, probably less my grandmother's".

Cassie nodded. "I take it there's no dress in either of those bags then?"

Emery sighed and shook her head. "I have no idea how to shop apparently."

Cassie smiled. "Let's eat. Then I'll take you to a few places that should fit your style while appease your grandmother as well."

'Yes please" Emery admitted as her stomach grumbled.

They found a local fast food place, something her grandmother never would approve of. Emery picked at her burger while Cassie devoured a salad. They talked about nothing and everything. It was the kind of conversation that felt like a warm blanket on a cold night. Familiar, comforting, and just what she needed. The whole time though, Ophelia's words were pushing at her, making her question the secrets.

She almost asked Cassie but at the same time, she didn't want her to know.

Lunch was quick. Afterward, Cassie took her dress shopping.

They ventured into a high-end boutique, the kind that smelled of wealth and exclusivity. It was a stark contrast to the stores she saw before. The walls were lined with clothes that whispered "You can't afford me" in a seductive tone. The lighting was perfect, bouncing off the chrome fixtures and the gleaming glass of the display cases. The music was a soft symphony of strings that seemed to coax the customers into buying more.

Cassie led her to a rack in the back. It had a few dresses on it, all looking like they'd been plucked from a fairy tale. "Here," she said, holding out a dress that was a deep blue, almost black. "This is it."

Emery took the dress from her and held it up to her body. It was a lace-up tank skater dress, the kind that looked both sweet and edgy. The skirt was short but not too short, and the laces on the bodice gave it just the right amount of sass. It was perfect. It was like Cassie had read her mind.

She hated that she knew the kind of dress it was almost instantly. It was all Cassie's fault. For the last couple of months, her cousin had been meticulous about drilling fashion into her head. "You'll need it" was all Cassie told her when she complained. Now she was like an encyclopedia of teen finery. What's worse, she did actually like the dress. It was cute and airy and it was her color too.

They bought the dress without her trying it on---they were that confident.

"You want to do more shopping?" asked her cousin, filled with that vigor that Emery had never seen.

Emery sighed. "I think I just want to go home."

Home. That was a word she never thought she'd say. She had a home now. It made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Cassie smiled. "Home it is then."

They left the mall. The ride home was quiet. Emery was still contemplating all the truths that Ophelia dropped on her without even blinking. The girl was wild and had no filter. Just thinking about her made Emery blush.

When they arrived at the mansion, Elizabeth was waiting for them in the foyer. She stared at Emery's bags but didn't say anything about them.

"The dress?" she asked, eying the only bag that mattered to her---the one from the boutique.

Emery obediently reached into the bag and gently pulled it out. She held it up so her grandmother could see.

Elizabeth smiled warmly. "Good girl" she said with a nod and left it at that.

Emery was glad she approved.

She was dismissed and carried her bags to her room. She tossed them near her dresser. Then sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her phone. It took her a long time but she finally got up the courage and texted Ophelia:

"Hey".

A few seconds later she got a reply: "Hey. You survive the mall?"

"Barely" Emery texted back. "Had to get a dress. Was more scared of my grandmother's reaction."

It took a few minutes before Ophelia replied: "She's a scary woman."

Emery was surprised. "You know her?" she texted back.

Ophelia's reply was quick. "We all do."

Well that wasn't ominous or anything.

Emery's life went back to normal after that. The mall her only highlight to it all. That and meeting Ophelia of course. The two of them obviously didn't meet again in person but they texted for hours every day. Emery even set up a facebook page just so they could keep in touch that way too. Ophelia was her only friend on there though. She didn't really know how else to socialize. Talking to Ophelia though, it was so different. While Cassie was sisterly and a good listener, Ophelia was like a wild fire. They joked, they laughed, they even flirted a bit. It was fun and free and nothing like her life with her grandmother.

It also made her regret her life as Emerson a bit. All her life up to this point, she'd been ignoring things like this. It was a shame. She couldn't help but wonder about the 'What Ifs' and where things would of and could have gone.

Then Thanksgiving finally arrived.

Elizabeth had gone all out, turning the mansion into a gleaming bastion of opulence and tradition. The air was thick with the scent of roasting turkey and freshly baked pies. Emery felt like a stranger in her own home, her stomach doing flips as she watched the staff bustle about, setting tables and arranging flowers with a precision that seemed almost supernatural.

The caterers whispered in hushed tones as they laid out silverware that shone like the stars she used to wish upon from her window at the group home. Housekeepers flitted through the corridors, ensuring not a single speck of dust marred the grandeur. The security team, stern-faced and impeccably dressed, patrolled the grounds with an air of quiet authority that made her feel both safe and suffocated.

Emery watched it all with fascination.

The stylist, a sharp-eyed woman named Madison, had arrived early in the morning. She swept into the mansion like a tornado, bringing with her a suitcase full of makeup, hair tools, and clothes that looked like they could walk the runways of Milan. She had a no-nonsense attitude that Emery found oddly comforting. Madison didn't ask questions or tiptoe around the elephant in the room. She treated her like any other client, which was something she hadn't felt in a very long time.

Madison's touch was gentle as she curled and teased Emery's hair into a style that was both elegant and youthful. Emery stared at herself in the mirror, watching as her reflection transformed into something she never thought she'd see. It was like watching a painting come to life. The makeup was subtle but enhanced her features, making her look less like the awkward teenager she felt and more like the confident young woman she was supposed to be.

The dress was the pièce de résistance. It hugged her curves in all the right places, making her feel both feminine and powerful. The deep blue color brought out her eyes, which now had a smoky look to them thanks to Madison's skilled hand with the eye shadow. The shoes were a pair of black stilettos that made her feel like she could conquer the world, or at least not trip over her own feet. The accessories were simple yet effective. A choker that matched the earrings she bought with Ophelia's help and a small clutch that held her phone and a bit of cash.

Staring in the mirror, she found herself saying, "I look like a princess".

Madison smiled. "No sweetie, you're a Cole. A princess would kill to be you"

Emery rolled her eyes but couldn't help but feel a bit proud. It was the first time she didn't feel like she was pretending. It was weird to think that maybe, just maybe, she could pull this off.

The guests started arriving shortly after she left her room. They filed in through the large double doors, a procession of wealth and power dressed in their designer best. The foyer was a flurry of hushed greetings and air kisses, a symphony of respectful nods and veiled curiosity. Elizabeth, her grandmother, held court at the center of it all. She was the sun and they were the planets, orbiting around her, drawn by her gravitational pull.

It was still daunting to her to think that there was going to be fifty people attending the dinner. She was a bundle of nerves.

Then the middle aged couple entered. The woman looked like a more mature version of her mother, with the same sharp nose and high cheekbones, her dark hair piled elegantly on her head like a crown. The silver dress she wore shimmered under the chandeliers, and the sight of her made Emery's heart swell with a mix of bitterness and memory. Her husband was a stark contrast, tall and broad, with slick blonde hair and a charcoal suit that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe combined. They were the picture of wealth and power, and the two teen girls who followed them were miniature replicas, one in a short purple dress that highlighted her legs, and the other in a sweet powder blue number that made her look like a doll.

The girls---the one in the purple a bit older than her sister---greeted Elizabeth with curtseys.

Elizabeth turned, spotted Emery on the landing and very gently waved her down.

Emery bit her lip and took a deep breath.

Here we go.

She descended the stairs slowly. Eyes were watching her. The new couple stared as she approached. They looked surprised, especially the woman. Her stare was calculating. The girls were watching too, especially the older one. As Emery got closer, she realized she'd seen this girl before. It was back when she was still Emerson, at the mall food court. It almost made her stumble. She was the snotty blonde with her friends, the one who sneered and looked down at her.

What the hell was going on here?

When Emery finally reached her grandmother, Elizabeth instinctively wrapped her arm around Emery's waist. The gesture did not go unnoticed by all around them. The woman who looked a bit like her mother stared, her eyes narrowing.

"Clarice, Edwin" Elizabeth said brightly. "Allow me to introduce Emery, Eleanor's delightful daughter."

All background chatter stopped instantly. Anyone and everyone close by turned and stared. Emery felt like she wanted to crawl into a hole and die. The room was so quiet that if a pin dropped, it probably would have sounded like a bomb.

"Mother..." the woman called Clarice said. She stared at Emery, looking for words. "You can't...I mean that's..."

Elizabeth held up her hand, silencing her older daughter. "I assure you it is quite possible. I have spent her lifetime searching and was finally able to bring her home to her family."

Clarice---Emery realized was the aunt that Elizabeth had mentioned---stared. She smiled but it was clearly fake. "Well this is certainly a surprise."

Her husband looked like he was about to say something but his younger daughter beat him to it. She was bright and friendly. "I'm Abigail" she said sweetly and surprised Emery by hugging her. "Its so nice to meet you."

The hug was warm and gentle.

Her sister on the other hand, just stared. A moment later, she realized her grandmother was staring, waiting. "I'm Allegra" she said in a tone that was both annoyance and envious. "Nice to meet you too."

Emery forced a smile. "Hi," she replied, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. She'd never had family before, not like this. It was all so overwhelming.

A moment later, another middle-aged couple arrived. This time, the man had the dark hair and his wife was auburn. They had three girls with them, one a teenager, the other two barely ten, twins it looked like. Elizabeth introduced them to Emery as her uncle Frederick, his wife Melissa and their three daughters---Claire, Josie and Tara.

The man with the dark hair, Uncle Frederick, took her hand and kissed it gently. His touch was cool and firm, his eyes holding a glint of something she couldn't quite place.

His wife, Aunt Melissa, offered a warm smile, her auburn hair framing a face that was both kind and sharp. "Welcome to the family, dear," she said, her voice as smooth as honey.

Emery nodded, trying to keep her smile from slipping. "Thank you," she murmured, feeling the weight of their collective gazes.

Allegra and Claire shared a glance, one that spoke volumes.

The twins---Josie and Tara---were shy. They hid behind their father, staring at her.

Elizabeth was all smiles when she spoke again. "Shall we retire to the sun room. There is some time before dinner, I don't believe in having family discussions where others can hear".

"I agree" said Clarice, still staring at Emery.

Emery could easily tell, she and her aunt were not going to be friends. She held her breath but forced a smile. Her grandmother gently took her hand and lead the way to the sun room. The rest of the family slowly followed.

The moment they were all inside, Clarice turned to her mother, her voice tight with tension. "Mother, what is the meaning of this? How can she be Eleanor's child?"

Elizabeth's smile never wavered. "I assure you, Clarice, it's no joke. Emery is indeed your sister's daughter."

Clarice's eyes narrowed as she studied Emery from head to toe, her gaze lingering on her face. "How can you be certain?" she demanded, her voice tight with skepticism.

Elizabeth's smile grew a bit more rigid. "We've performed the necessary tests, my dear," she said calmly. "There's no doubt."

Tests? Emery wasn't aware of this but it made sense.

Her grandmother took a seat, patting the couch next to her for Emery to sit. She felt like a pawn in a game she didn't know the rules to. Clarice remained standing, glaring at the both of them.

"Mother, why wasn't I told about her? Why bring her into our lives now?" Clarice's voice was cold and sharp.

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed, a hint of steel in her voice. "Your sister and I had our differences, but she entrusted me with her greatest secret. Now that Emery is here, it's time she accepts her birthright and heritage."

"You mean to send her to Hollow Vale?" asked Clarice incredulous. "That's ridiculous. She's an Outsider. She knows nothing!"

Elizabeth remained calm. "Its already done. She starts in January."

"This is ridiculous!" she snapped then turned to her brother. "Freddie say something. Mother has gone mad!"

Fredrick, Emery's uncle, was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. "Clarice," he said, his voice a warning. "Mother doesn't make mistakes."

Clarice shot him a glare that could have frozen the sun. "Since when do you take her side?"

Frederick leaned forward. "Look at this girl" he said, gently pointing to Emery. "She looks just like Ellie. You're a fool if you say you can't see it. There's no doubt, she's our niece, our family."

Clarice opened her mouth to argue but her mother raised a hand. "This is not the place or the time for this, Clarice. Your sister is dead. Your daughters are here to get to know their cousin."

Allegra was playing with her phone and didn't look up from it. Abigail looked at Emery and was beaming. The twins sitting with their mother, still shy.

Elizabeth stood up, taking full command of the room again. "We shall continue this discussion later. Right now, we have guests who are waiting." She turned to her daughter. "You will not embarrassment me any further tonight, is that understood?"

Clarice lowered her head. "Yes mother".

The group exited the sun room and moved to the dining area. The room was massive, with a table that could easily seat fifty. It was set with fine china, gleaming silverware, and crystal glasses that sparkled like diamonds in the soft candle light. The walls were lined with portraits of ancestors, all staring down with stern expressions that seemed to judge her. It was intimidating and awe inspiring all at the same time.

Elizabeth took her place at the head of the table, her posture regal and unyielding. Clarice and her family sat to one side, her husband and daughters looking less than thrilled. On the other side sat Uncle Frederick, Aunt Melissa, and their daughters. The twins stared at her with wide eyes, full of curiosity. It was like sitting in a family portrait where she didn't know who to smile at.

Emery was led to a seat next to her aunt's family. She sat down next to Abigail and noticed that Cassie was sitting on her other side. She looked around the table, at the faces of people who were complete strangers, feeling like the odd one out in her blue dress. The whispers had stopped the moment Elizabeth took charge, but she could feel the weight of their gazes on her.

"This must be all scary and new" said Abigail, reaching over and gently squeezing Emery's hand. "You get used to it."

Emery glanced over at her. "Thanks," she murmured, feeling a bit more at ease with the genuine warmth from her younger cousin.

"You ok?" asked Cassie from the other side. "Clarice is glaring at you."

Emery didn't look, she didn't have too. Clarice had been glaring at her from the moment they met.

Abigail scoffed. "Mother is being dramatic. She probably thinks Emery is going to steal Allie's spot."

"Her spot?" asked Emery, confused.

Cassie tried shaking her head at Abigail but Abigail either didn't see or didn't care.

"Her position" said Abigail. "As grandmother's heir. Allie has been a shoe-in for it for years now. As the oldest granddaughter, it was a given. That was until you. Your mother was always grandmother's favorite after all."

Cassie sighed, defeated. "That's not something to discuss here" she warned, Abigail looked sheepish.

It did make Emery wonder though. Was that the reason her grandmother sought her out? Was that why she was really here? She looked down the table toward her grandmother. She saw Clarice and Allegra both fawning over her, laughing at her jokes, practically clinging to her every word. They were sucking up to the woman.

So this is what it all truly was about?

Emery's thoughts swirled around her head as she tried to keep her smile in place. She felt like she was drowning in a sea of unspoken expectations and jealously. She'd never wanted to be anyone's heir, she just wanted to be herself.

Dinner was a blur of fancy food she couldn't pronounce and awkward small talk with relatives she'd never met. She'd never felt so out of place in her life. The only thing keeping her afloat was the occasional wink from Cassie and the constant conversation with Abigail.

After dessert was served and cleared away, the party shifted into the grand ballroom. The room was lit by hundreds of candles that cast dancing shadows across the gleaming parquet floor and the walls adorned with velvet drapes that whispered secrets of the past. The air was thick with the scent of vanilla and beeswax.

Emery felt the weight of her grandmother's hand on her back, guiding her through the throng of guests. Each person they encountered offered a polite nod or a curt smile, but the tension was palpable. It was like being in a room full of vipers dressed in silk. Some were friendly, others were not. She felt like a trophy being presented to the world, a prize that some were eager to claim and others were eager to tear down.

When the music started, the room swelled with the sound of a string quartet playing a classical tune that made her feel like she was in a Jane Austen novel. The older couples paired off, leaving the younger generation to mill about awkwardly. That was when she saw him, a boy with hair the color of spun gold and eyes like sapphires that seemed to pierce right through her soul. He approached with the confidence of someone who knew exactly who he was and what he wanted.

"Emery," he said with a smile that was both charming and slightly predatory. "I've heard so much about you. I'm Crispin Warren."

Great. Just what she needed.

She forced a smile. Guys like him always made her feel uncomfortable. "Hey" she said, hoping it was enough to deter him.

But Crispin was persistent. He held out his hand. "Would you like to dance?"

She sighed but gently took his hand. Lots of eyes were on them and as much as she wanted to tell him to 'fuck off", this was all pageantry and poise. To deny him would probably reflect badly on her grandmother and family. So she sucked it up and let him lead her to the floor to dance.

"I'm not very good" she said, only just barely learned to dance last week.

"Don't worry," Crispin said with a smirk. "I'll lead."

That smile made her shudder. She sucked it up though and did her part. She had to admit, he was a very good dancer. He tried to engage her in idle conversation and she played her part, answering where she could but avoiding the obvious questions about her past. After they were done, other boys and young men came forward asking for the same. She reluctantly obliged them. Her grandmother was always watching and smiling, nodding with each new partner.

When she got a moment to herself, her phone dinged.

She pulled it out of her clutch, lighting up when she saw it was a text from Ophelia.

"How's the party?"

"Dreadful" she texted back with a puke face emoji.

"You find Prince Charming yet?"

"No just some frog called Crispin" she texted.

Ophelia replied a few seconds later. "He's a creep. Stay away from him."

"Trust me, I know slime when I see it."

"Just be careful" Ophelia texted back.

"Always" she replied then put her phone away.

The rest of the night was a whirlwind of introductions. She met Cassie's parents. They were friendly, though a bit distant. The same could be said for her great aunts and uncles, who all looked at her with a mix of curiosity and something she couldn't quite place. Maybe it was pity? Maybe it was the same disbelief that Clarice had. She'd never felt so exposed in all her life.

Abigail, however, was a delight. Her youthful exuberance was a beacon of light in the sea of tension. They talked about everything from school to movies, and even touched on magic, though not her own situation. It was a reprieve from the weight of her new identity.

As the night was winding down, she stood with her grandmother to see their guests off.

When it came time to say goodbye to Aunt Clarice and her family, it was varied reactions. Abigail gave her a big hug and made her promise to text. Emery happily agreed. Her aunt said nothing just gave her a curt nod before leaving. Her husband did the same. When it was time to say goodbye to Allegra, she surprised Emery with a hug as well.

It was all a ruse though.

Allegra put her lips close to Emery's ear when she spoke: "If you think you're going to steal my spot, you have another thing coming, bitch"

A threat.

How original.

Emery didn't react, just smiled. When they pulled out of their fake hug, she didn't hesitate to respond:

"I look forward to all our fun times in the future" she said, her voice even and controlled but she was certain she got her point across.

Her cousin glared then stomped away.

Next to her, her grandmother sighed. "That girl is a problem."

Emery nodded. "She wants the world."

Her grandmother smiled, patting her on the shoulder. "Its not hers to have."

"You're saying its mine?" she asked, wondering if her grandmother finally revealed her hand after all these months.

"If you want it" said the older woman before she turned and left Emery standing there alone.

Emery stood still for awhile, contemplating things. She couldn't help but wonder if she could even compete with Allegra. Or the others she was bound to encounter at school. Did she even want to compete?

Was this truly what she wanted?

She sighed.

Guess I'm about to find out, she thought.

To Be Continued....

Author’s note: As I’m sure all of you know, comments are life blood to an author. I’m not begging or demanding, but I certainly would appreciate anything you have to say (or ask). It doesn’t have to be long and involved, just give me your reaction to the story. Thanks in advance...EOF