Page 137 of That’s My Orc, Tusk Off

“They have flowers on their backs!” a boy shouted.

“That’s right. The flowers change colors based on how they’re feeling and what season it is.” She glanced at me.

“Rue’s flowers are usually light pink,” I said. “Fern’s are typically medium purple. But today they’re brighter than we’ve recorded before.”

“Why?” a girl asked.

“Because they’re happy,” Willa said.

“How do you know?”

“Watch them.”

The children went quiet, studying the two creatures.

Rue shifted her weight. Fern’s flowers brightened, the deep lavender taking on hints of pink at the edges.

“Did you see that?” Willa asked.

Heads nodded.

“They’re aware of each other,” I said. “When one moves, the other responds. When they’re separated, Fern’s flowers turn pale, and she stops eating. Rue becomes restless.”

“So they’re friends?” a boy asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Some animals—and people—make sense together. Like you with your best friend, or maybe your mom and dad with each other.”

Willa smiled.

A girl raised her hand. I’d already been told that this meant she wanted to speak.

“Yes?” I said.

“Do they love each other?”

I could share documentation about every creature living here at the rescue. But this child wasn’t asking for documentation. She wanted emotions. The feeling she had for a sibling or a parent. A friend.

“Yes,” I said. “They love each other.”

“How do you know?” another child asked.

“Because they choose to be together,” Willa said. “Even when they could be apart. That’s what love is.”

“Like I love Willa,” I said.

I’d spent my life hiding what I felt. Documenting my feelings instead of telling the person who needed to hear them. Filing away anything that couldn’t be evaluated to be examined later. Holding it against the standard my parents had set for me.

Not anymore.

Erika Collins watched us with a soft expression on her face.

The program continued. We moved through stations, talking about driftwhisps, grumbletoads, and fizzlings—with Nix escaping twice. Each stop built on the last, the curriculum showing the children everything we’d designed.

By the time the buses loaded up to leave, the parents and teacher couldn’t stop smiling.

“This was everything I’d hoped for,” she said. “More than I’d hoped for. I’d like to make this recurring, with a fall session and a spring session. Can we schedule a planning meeting in the next few weeks?”

“We can,” I said. I’d be there, because I’d decided.