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Even though my dad’s house was down the street from Wesson, it was around ten at night when I made it home. Dad’s car was outside, and I had missed curfew. I couldn’t just walk inside. That would have been too brazen.

I had an extraordinary ability that might have made sneaking in more accessible, but it came at a high risk.

Able to turn invisible, I might have walked inside without worry had my ability also allowed me to make my clothes transparent. But I couldn’t. I didn’t feel like stripping naked just to break into a house I lived in. Not to mention, without a perfect handle on my particular skill, there was always a chance of my becoming visible again too quickly. It was easier to try sneaking in through the back door and hoping Dad was already asleep.

Unfortunately, the back door was locked. The back door was never locked without a reason. He was waiting for me.

Walking back around to the front door, I noticed the lights in the living room were on. I put on my best golden child smile and readied myself for what I predicted was on the other side of that blue door.

As expected, Dad was sitting on the living room sofa. Still, in his greasy work clothes from the car garage, he sat in his usual scent of motor oil. With his back facing me, I truly thought I had a chance to sneak into my room without being noticed. That was until he spoke, of course. I had big ears, but my dad could hear a dime drop in the ocean.

“Where were you?” He asked without standing or even turning his head.

The sound of his voice made me freeze. Then his question compelled my legs to move forward, as if I was being summoned deeper into the room by my misdeeds. I stood at his side, and he glanced up at me before returning his gaze to the TV screen.

“Hi, it’s nice to see you too. How was your day? My day was good,” I spoke quickly, attempting to smooth things out before they started.

“Were you with a girl?”

“No, I was with Wes.”

“That’s ok too; just remember to use protection.”

“Dad, he’s my friend, not that.”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he said jokingly.

I couldn't decipher if he was mad or not. It was 10:05, which was only 35 minutes past my curfew. Since I had stayed out much later than that in the past, there was a chance he wouldn’t be as upset as I assumed.

“You’re not mad?” I asked.

“You’re going to do what you do, son. Your mother and I were the same around your age. Just be safe and don’t bring home children before you’re 25.”

“So I don’t have a curfew anymore?” I asked with a slight grin.

“The next time you miss curfew without calling home, don’t expect your phone bill to be paid.”

My grin quickly dissolved. “I’m going to bed,” I said.

“Wait.”

Just as I was about to go, he grabbed my wrist. To my surprise, Dad didn’t say anything about my ripped shirt or the bandages on my hand. My bad luck made injuries less of a surprise in our house, but I never thought I’d see the day he wouldn’t lecture me over them. Had he had enough, or were my constant stitches something we were both numb to?

“There’s something we need to talk about.”

“I don’t need another sex talk, I haven’t gotten in trouble at school in almost a week, and I ...,” I said, trying to assume and avoid anything else my father might have had in mind, but in the end, I was cut off.

“You need to start looking for a summer job,” he said.

“A job,” I exclaimed.

“I let you go without one for so long because of your condition, but it’s time to face the fact that you may never find a cure or a spell to fix you. You can’t let your bad luck be the only thing in your life.”

“It’s not,” I said.

“I don’t want you sitting around the house sulking or wasting away.”

“Dad, I won’t. I already have plans for this summer.”

“Really?” He asked as though the idea of my having a life was a surprise.

“Yes, really. BJ and I are applying for an internship, and Wes wants me to go with him to a festival.”

“An internship? And a Festival?”

I didn’t want to be an intern, and going to a festival that seemed less than human-friendly was less than ideal. Desperate to keep my dad from thinking I was lifeless; I had no choice but to toss the ideas out into the air. If not for my friends, I might have spent my summer watching TV and contemplating my existence as “Danger Rabbit.”

“Yes, Dad. I’m not gonna sulk or lie around the house.”

“I worry, son.”

“I’m fine, I promise.”

I expected yelling or rage, but Dad was giving me worry and fear. There’s nothing worse or quite like the feeling of knowing your parents are afraid of where your life is going. It’s not the same as disappointing them, it’s something else entirely. To be honest, after my transformation, I was alone for a while, and I would sulk and feel sorry for myself. Then I met BJ and Wes. It would have been a lie to say I didn’t feel less than or alone and helpless at times, but having my friends made it a little easier to crawl out of those slumps when they came over me.

“One more thing,” he said before I walked away.

“Yes?”

“Your mother called; she wants to see you next weekend.”

“Do I have to?”

“You know it’s your decision, but your mother is finally trying.”

When I went to my bedroom and shut the door, my day had finally come to a close.

As usual, I checked the carrot traps I set for Mr. Nickels. Like always, the carrots were gone. Even if I never saw him, it was nice to know my rabbit was still around. Having avoided capture for six years, I was sure Mr. Nickels could have escaped the house, but for some reason, he hung around. I had gotten all my new abilities from him. Hearing, invisibility, and even my luck came from my pet rabbit. If he could do everything I could, and likely more, then why hadn’t Mr. Nickels run off?

It wasn’t summer yet, but I had plans, actual plans. Despite the love I had for my friends and how much I needed them, there was always an uneasy feeling I carried. Maybe I was better off staying home. Maybe I was better off alone. Regardless, after telling Dad about my summer plans, I had no other choice but to do something. That was unless I wanted to get a job.

As I got into bed, I weighed the avenues set by Wes and BJ.

“Good night, Mr. Nickels,” I said before shutting my eyes to sleep.

I could never say for sure, but every night when sleep came to take me, I could swear he jumped up into my bed. I’d feel him crawl up and sit on my chest, or rub against my cheek. Being exhausted, I wouldn’t move or reach to touch him. My eyes would stay shut for as long as I could imagine he was there. But I’d always peek eventually.

If I was lucky, I’d see a glimpse of Mr. Nickels before he’d hop away and everything went dark.

Nothing good could last forever, I guess.

I had one week to help my friends and to save myself from the mundane horrors of a summer job. There was one week to help BJ get the internship or convince Wesson’s parents to let him go to the festival. I had one week to control the future of the next two months of my life.

In any case, BJ was a straight-A student. My grades weren’t too bad. With my rabbit spell, we were sure to at least be considered for the internship. Our problem was the other candidates. Our competition was a complete mystery to us. We were searching for a surefire way to win. If it weren’t for most battle magic being illegal without a permit, BJ’s harmful spells would have been great for submitting. She had an entire book of magic to make things blow up, catch fire, or act oddly.

Monday morning, we had a first-period math class together.

With it being the last week of school, we didn’t have anything left to learn, which made most classes little more than free periods. We sat in the back of the classroom, and BJ worked on writing a new spell in her book.

“I’m glad you’re so interested now, but we can’t sabotage applications,” BJ said.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because it’s immoral, and I want to be accepted by my merits and work ethic.”

“You wouldn’t have to do anything. I’d take care of it.”

“Pitch, no. Besides, I have no idea who the other applicants are.”

To tell the truth, I wanted to help both my friends, but I was more biased towards assisting Wes. I had an obvious traumatic history with spells. Sometimes, all I wanted to do was live my life and forget about magic.

Wesson’s parents weren’t strict, but they were protective. He often got away with more than most. Had the festival been held closer to town, we could have gone with no questions asked. It’s because of the distance we had to travel on our own that we had a challenge.

I was going to help BJ get the internships regardless, but if Wes and I made our plans work out, I was going with him.

“There must be a way to find out,” I said.

“Pitch!” BJ exclaimed.

“Alright, alright, I was joking anyway.”

I was not joking, but BJ was right. I wasn’t the type of person to be that sinister.

“We have to do something to put us over the top,” I said.

“If we had another functional spell, I’m sure we’d be accepted on the spot.”

How she still considered my curse a functional spell was a mystery. Regardless, I suggested, “Maybe we can work with something in your book.”

The rest of our class kept a minimum of two seats between them and us. Between my natural lousy luck and BJ’s radioactive spell book, we were all but shunned when seen together. If nothing else, it gave us plenty of privacy, even when we didn’t want it.

“I told you. All of my spells are too dangerous to submit,” she said.

“Not if we find one and make it seem useful enough to warrant the danger,” I said, thinking myself so clever.

“That’s... that’s not a bad idea, but it’s easier said than done.”

The bell rang.

It was time to head to our next class. Unfortunately, my next period was the gym, so I had to table my conversation with BJ. I did, on the other hand, share gym class with Wes.

Coach Par, the usual gym teacher, was missing. Due to someone throwing a weight bench in the previous class period, we had Ms. Harper as a substitute. Any other sub might have let us play dodgeball. Ms. Harper went through the trouble of setting up a 5 part obstacle course outside on the football team’s practice field. She even had a whistle she seemed to enjoy using a little too much.

I always hated gym class because other kids cheated. However, I never had anything against Fae with natural abilities.

Wes was a satyr, which made him naturally faster and more durable than most people. The kids who used magic to make their bodies light as air during running or gave themselves iron strength during deadlifts pissed me off. Almost everyone had some sort of spell they used to make class easier, everyone but Danger Rabbit. Wes, being the best friend I ever could have asked for, ran the obstacle course beside me. It was embarrassing how easy everything was for him, especially when he purposely slowed himself down so I’d keep up, but the sentiment wasn’t lost.

“You don’t have to wait,” I said through half-breaths.

“It’s a few more laps, dude,” Wes said as he ran the course without losing breath, which made me appear to be the weaker of us two.

I was the weaker of us two.

“Have I ever told you how much I hate having fur?” I said, pushing through strides.

Having fur, even in breathable workout clothes, was torture in the summer heat. Not to mention, I didn’t wear shoes because of my rabbit's feet, so I had to deal with the wet, bumpy, and frequently uncomfortable terrain.

“You should ditch your pants. Let everything breathe,” Wes said as we finally finished the fourth lap of ten that we needed to complete to be done.

I was struggling to keep my feet moving, and there were kids literally flying by. Ms. Harper stood on the sidelines, blowing her whistle, but at no point did she regulate anything. Eventually, it became clear she was more focused on making music with her blow tool than keeping track of us, so Wes and I snuck away.

“How aren’t you out of breath or something?” I said.

My voice was quick and slurred while I fit words through stammering breaths. Wes and I went under the bleachers to escape the last half of class. Under the shade of metal seats, I leaned against a support beam to catch my breath.

I had no idea, but my being able to keep up with Wes without the use of magic was a noteworthy feat. Sure, he might have slowed himself down for my sake, but I held my own next to him while everyone else needed spells to get through the first three laps.

“So, I asked my dad if I could go to the festival yesterday,” he told me.

“What did he say?”

“He doesn’t care.”

“That’s great,” I said as I stood up and dried sweat from my forehead.

Being honest with myself, an internship would have been like a job. Going to the festival with Wes seemed like the better option. I wanted to be a good friend, but going to STR was a better summer plan than blowing myself up trying to write spells for eight weeks.

“Yeah, but my mom doesn’t want me to go,” he said.

“Shit!”

“She doesn’t think I’ll be safe spending weeks across the country with you.”

So the problem his parents had wasn’t with the festival. It was me. I wasn’t surprised.

“I should be worried about spending that long with you,” I laughed.

Joking was the best way to move past it. What else could I do?

“Pitch, you gotta admit you have the worst luck,” he said, clearly withholding the intent of hurting my feelings.

But I took some offense, despite my knowledge of it being true.

“Whatever,” I said.

“It’s all good, though. She said I could go with you if we find someone else to go with us.”

“Someone else like who?”

“Someone safe, someone responsible, someone who doesn’t have a history of being hit by cars or attacked by swarms of bugs.”

“Someone like BJ?” I suggested.

“Fuck, no! Anyone but her dude,” he answered so quickly I thought he might knock me over with his words.

“BJ is good people,” I argued lightly.

“BJ is a stuck-up rich kid. I don’t get why you like her, anyway. Her parents are magicians ... and you hate magic.”

“She doesn’t care that I’m so unlucky,” I joked.

“I don’t care that you’re unlucky. She tolerates it because she’s using you,” he said, as if worried.

“How is she using me?”

“Doesn’t she make you help her with her wild magic?”

“I do that because I want to help, because she’s my friend, just like you are.”

“Sure, dude, but we need to find someone straight-laced to take with us on our trip,” he said as we peeked through the bleachers, checking to see if the class was over yet.

“I’m sure we can find,” I said before I was cut off by what I saw flying in our direction.

Before I could utter another word, someone using flying magic shot through the bleachers, punching a kid-sized hole in the metal seats. And, of course, they crashed right into me. Somehow the stands didn’t fall, and Wes was completely untouched, but I was knocked out.