“What’s going on, Seth?” Miss Minnick always called me by my last name in front of the other students, but called me by my first name in private. She was a nice lady, a good teacher, and an awesome mentor.

“I’m April’s Fool,” I said. “In fact, she’s probably looking for me right —“

“Oh, pffft. That girl needs to be put in her place.” Miss Minnick collected the blue-books stacked on her desks. She was the only teacher who still used blue-books for our exams in this age of tablets and smart-devices.

“I don’t think I’m the one to do it, Miss Minnick.”

Eighteen-year-old Nicholas Hammerstein is at the cusp of finishing high school in his hometown of Los Alamos, NM. He has a seemingly ideal life and is blessed with loving parents, a cute baby sister, and great friends. Nicholas is a gifted student and martial artist who has dreams of leaving for college at the end of his senior year. But, living in a world of Emergent humans, he will soon find his life turned upside down as his life and the fate of a kingdom hang in the balance. His future and theirs will be determined by how he navigates the drastic changes in his body and the magical and superpowered Mergent population he joins.

Joey settles in to life as Jo, starts new ventures, and learns to blush.

“Come on,” Rylee said to her hair, which paid no mind to her, as she ran a brush down the right side of her head. Ever since she’d started presenting herself as a woman, she’d found that hair was the biggest battle; the way it framed her face was essential for maintaining the illusion, and today it just wasn’t falling right.

Chapter Three

I made it to my Advanced Placement United States History class just as the tardy bell rang. Miss Minnick, my teacher, followed me with her eyes as she hovered above her cushion at the front of the room. Miss Minnick was an infernal, and she had tiny demon horns above her eyebrows, and a wispy angular tail. Her class always smelled faintly of brimstone.

"What do we say about being on time to class, children?"

I winced.

The class recited: "To be early is to be on time. To be on time is to be late. To be late is to write an essay!"

Ellen Carpenter woke first. She always did on a work day, and almost always on weekends, too. After enough time, some habits just stick with you. The pattern had become a routine - throw on a dressing gown, step into slippers and pad down the stairs to make a pot of tea and some breakfast for both of them, sit quietly listening to complaints about work colleagues she had never met, make a packed lunch and a flask of coffee, then a quick kiss, a “have a nice day”, and she was on her own again.

Chapter Two

The popular girls all gave squeals of laughter as I dropped to my hands and knees in front of April. I heard groans from the rest of the students, and dimly heard Jeff say; "Aw, dude! Don't do it man!"

I refused to let myself feel humiliated. This was April's twisted sense of payback. I was protecting Mitzy from her rage and possible magical repercussions. April was a powerful witch and when in a fury, Witches had been known to wreak havoc on those less powerful. If I could become her target, even for one day, it could spare lives.

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 44 Spring, Broadband, and Natural Justice

Since being a toddler, Violet had heard many conversations concerning war, it was something regularly discussed by Bearthwaite men, a number of who had served in the armed forces, and she had taken it all in, for to her the Bearthwaite view made perfect sense. Much of what she’d heard over and over again could be summarised in short pithy sentences. ‘Wars are caused by idiots who have the principles that ordinary blokes don’t give a toss about, but end up dying for anyway.’ ‘The number of armed conflicts a nation gets involved in is a measure of the incompetence and stupidity of its leaders because in the end all conflicts are settled around the negotiating table. It doesn’t actually require that much intelligence to have the negotiations before the conflict.’ ‘A squaddie I knew a long time ago who’d been in the mob for twenty-odd years once telt me that a battle that doesn’t happen is one won by the lads on both sides.’