Moon Dancer hated texting, but her feelings about actually talking on the phone went beyond hate into a phantasmagoria of odium. Once, she had called her calculus tutor and instantly froze up, standing silently, staring off into space as the bewildered voice called her name through the tiny speaker. "I know I'm supposed to do something," Moon Dancer had thought, "but what?"

"Yes I butt!" Moon Dancer had barked in response, suddenly realizing she should be speaking but not quite yet realizing what would to say that would not make her sound like an idiot. Soon after, she requested to her parents that she stop seeing that particular tutor. Not even learning calculus was enough fun to make up for that humiliation.

So, texting was uncomfortable, but at least she could plan her words. At times like this, when things were a little more fraught than a calculus lesson, that was especially important.

Her fingers raced across her phone's surface. --Hey. You're just hanging out on the computer right now, right?

She nearly crushed the phone in her hands, but one deep breath later and she was calmer. --Please stop writing like a nightmare. And I knew because you'd never leave the house if it wasn't for me.

He replied, with what she imagined was his geeky smirk: --and youd never leave the house if it wasn't for me. Whats up?

--You're coming on Saturday, right? She paused nervously then followed up with another text. --It's important. I'm really going to be putting myself out there.

She could practically feel the cautious defensiveness exuding from her screen as he composed and sent his response. --why wouldnt i come?

Another pause, another miasma of prickliness. --I thought you said it was fine.

--It is! She wrote frantically, more anxious than she thought she'd be. --I'm totally cool with things. But I thought it might be hard for you.

He did not reply for a full minute, so she followed up. --I know I might be asking something unfair, it would just really help a lot if you came. Another ten seconds of nothing, and she nervously continued. --It's not just for M. I'm trying to really make friends. So they can get to know me. Like you do.

Another minute passed, but she did not know what else to write. Finally, she received a reply: --I'm cool. I'll see you Saturday.

--Thanks. And immediately after sending that text, she actually felt energy and optimism seeping back into her.

It was almost, but not quite, enough to make her enthusiastic about making a playlist for the party. A playlist of.... popular music. She groaned.

Moon Dancer noticed with relief that the bowl of salsa on the table was almost empty. "Don't worry, I got it!" she announced enthusiastically, and she eagerly retreated into the kitchen. Her 'good hostess smile' was starting to hurt, both from strain in her face muscles and from humiliation about how obvious it was to all her guests.

She leaned back against the kitchen wall, pressing her fingers to her forehead. In the back of her head, she reminded herself she was misattributing her arousal: her nervousness and agitation about the party were getting transformed into resentment and anger and distress. This knowledge did not help, but remembering it reminded her that she already had a college-level knowledge of psychology while still in middle school, which allowed a distracting burst of pride.

She sighed and retrieved the extra jar of salsa her parents had very kindly bought. They did not know everything, but they knew this day was important to her, and they showed it with gourmet salsa and organic corn chips.

She forced her mouth into a smile and strode back into the living room. "This one's pretty spicy, hope you girls don't mind," she sang, opening up the jar and placing it next to the bowl of chips. Her feigned extroversion garnered absolutely no response from her guests. She cringed lightly. "What's wrong, is no one having a good time?"

Minuette smiled awkwardly, glancing around at the others. "No, we are," she said. "But... you kinda don't seem like you're having a good time, Moonie."

Moon Dancer considered protesting, but it just felt pointless after the excutiating hour she had just spent trying to party. And Minuette's concern caused a momentary warmth in her chest that was difficult to deny. "...can you really tell?"

"Yeah, but it's totally fine!" Lyra replied, her trademark optimism bursting out like a halo. "We know this sort of thing doesn't come easy for you, but you're totally killing it!" She gestured over at that friend she had made at her new school. "You completely charmed Bon Bon, and she's all crabby!"

Bon Bon's strained smile indicated she had figured out there was no way to argue against Lyra's assertion without proving it correct, but her eyes held a genuine warmth. "Yeah, this was a cool way to meet everyone," she said. "Crystal Prep students can be kind of intimidating from the outside, but this party was really easy."

"Thanks," Moon Dancer replied, nodding mopily. "I'm guess I'm just kind of disappointed that not everyone came."

Minuette shrugged. "I invited that quiet girl from class... you know, the purple one? But I didn't really expect her to show up."

"Yeah," Twinkleshine added. "Almost everyone came! The only one that's missing is Weeping Willow, and... um." She trailed off at Moon Dancer's miserable expression.

Moon Dancer sighed, working out in her head how much her emotions would let her say. "I... was going to do something today. Kind of make an announcement." She grinned at them nervously. "Um. But I think I'm too scared. He was supposed to be here to help."

"That's super lame, but are you really surprised?" Lemon Hearts asked hesitantly. "Everyone knows he's crushing on you."

"I know!" Moon Dancer snapped. "I mean, whatever, he has a crush on his friend. It happens. I get it. But..." She felt annoyance beginning to take its place at the front of her emotions. "Oh, but his feelings are so deep and so important, he just can't bring himself to think about anyone else. He's too sensitive and emotional."

She vaguely noticed her glasses were getting tear-smudged, so she removed them and set them down next to the salsa. "I don't know why I ever trusted him. He always does this. He's..." Her pants pocket suddenly buzzed, stopping her short.

She froze, then slowly reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She poked the button and glanced at the screen, briefly speechless. "And, he just this very second texted me," she said.

"'I'm sorry.'" Moon Dancer felt her jaw tensing and her chest beginning to burn. "That's it. Just 'I'm sorry.'" She looked up at her friends, a sarcastic grin splattered on her face. "Hey, he's sorry, everyone."

"I'm just going to be open with my feelings," Moon Dancer sneered. "Like you do with your best friend you've known since you were three. Right?" She gripped her phone with tense, white hands. "Am I angry or sad?"

"Yes," Moon Dancer confirmed. "Correct. Both." She closed her eyes. Anger was winning.

She looked back down at her phone, furiously typing. --Whenever it's important, you let me down. Every time. I was stupid for not learning that you always will. You're just a selfish weakling, and I can't deal with it anymore. She sent it without letting herself think another thought.

Then she had another thought, and she looked back down and typed: --Don't ever talk to me again.

The tears were fully flowing now. She dropped her phone on the table and suddenly whirled on her friends. "Hey, who cares anymore, so guess what!" she announced, spreading her arms wide. "I'm a lesbian! I'm a big, ugly lesbian! Hooray for me."

She vapidly noticed Minuette, an expression of concern and confusion on her face along with everyone else. (Concern and confusion and pity, not pride and happiness and curiosity.) "This is so stupid," Moon Dancer mumbled.

Twinkleshine came first, then quickly everyone else followed, even Bon Bon. They embraced her like a dog's thundershirt. "This isn't how I wanted this to go," Moon Dancer murmured. "I shouldn't have..."

"Yeah, you should have," Lyra interrupted. She pulled back, pressing her hands against Moon Dancer's shoulders and looking her in the eyes with an uncharacteristically serious expression. "You're not alone. Okay? Don't you dare give up on everybody because of one jerk."

When it was over, they sat huddled on the floor, munching on corn chips Bon Bon had snatched from the table. "Were you guys really not surprised?" Moon Dancer asked. "I mean, about... the gay thing."

"I don't think I knew," Twinkleshine answered, shrugging. "But to be honest, you throwing a party in the first place was so unexpected, I wouldn't have been surprised by anything."

"That was kind of the idea," Moon Dancer said, shyly scratching her cheek. "Weeping was the one who told me to do it."

She sighed, more gloomy than mournful. "He really is my best friend. He was the only one who knew before you girls." She munched on a corn chip thoughtfully. "Am I wrong? I know, it sucks to get your hopes up about a crush..." she looked down at her lap to keep from accidentally glancing into a familiar pair of blue eyes... "but you deal with it, right? Especially if you talk with the person, and you say it's okay. Is this just my bad social skills?"

"No, you're right," Lemon Hearts answered. "He was so clearly, like, savoring the angst of his 'unrequited hopeless love.'"

Minuette gave one of her dazzling grins. "Okay, so group pledge, everyone? Our friend Moon Dancer has a little bit of a problem shutting herself off in her little antisocial shell."

Moon Dancer felt a blush and a smile coming to her face unbidden. "I'm not that bad..." she muttered.

"No interrupting!" Minuette snapped, letting out a giggle. She cast her gaze around the group. "So, if Weeping isn't going to be around anymore, it's up to us. Can we do it?? Can we keep Moon Dancer from turning into an old hermit cat lady??"

"Yeah!" they cheered, Moon Dancer included. She felt silly, and that was a silly thing to do.

"Aaaagh!" Moon Dancer covered her face with her hands and rocked back and forth. "Too fast! Not ready!" She spread her fingers and peeked out. "Actually maybe just one or two?" She giggled. "Or three?" She covered her face back up. "But the three cutest."

"That's my little baby gay!" Lyra hooted. They all laughed. Moon Dancer finally relaxed.

Weeping Willow lay flat on his back, squeezing his eyes shut. He heard Fluttershy's lilting voice, "Ready?" He gave a thumbs up.

The door opened, rasping slightly against the cement floor, and then they were upon him. "Aack," he grunted, as they trampled all over him and shoved themselves against his body. "They're killing me..."

"I'm fine," he answered. "But... one of them is on my face. How do I get it off my face?"

Fluttershy giggled again, sounding less unsure about it this time. "I don't think so. She's actually one of the sweetest of them all."

Weeping hesitantly, slowly sat himself up, and he indeed felt the cat spring lightly away. He carefully opened his eyes to see all the cats milling around. Two were jamming their faces into his legs. One was already curled up on his ankles. "Okay," he said. "I think this is fine. I can deal with this."

He gently reached out to pet one, but it twisted and slammed its cheek into his extended hand. "I don't have, like, a big phobia about them or anything," he said. "They just make me nervous. My family's always had dogs. Cats are... weird. I don't know what they're gonna do."

"Dogs are very different, but cats are just as darling," Fluttershy said. She stepped into the small pen and reached down to help him to his feet. Then she actually turned and addressed the cats like they were little people, and they actually all lined up to listen to her. "Thank you all so much for your help. When Weeping is comfortable, he'll be helping me take care of you during the afternoons, too!" She raised a slight eyebrow at one of them. "He will smell like dogs, but not any more than I do. He is not secretly a giant dog." She nodded and smiled as if a contention had been resolved. "All right, now go play!" Weeping had to admit this display would be terribly creepy if it were not so adorable.

And it was adorable. She gave him a shy smile and they left the playpen, walking back to the main room of the animal shelter. He probably did have a crush on her. It would have been very hard not to. She relaxed him, she kept him from getting angry.

He got angry a lot. Just that morning, he had snapped at his mother for suggesting he eat some cottage cheese. "I'm not a goat, mom!" he had said.

But, as he watched Fluttershy's long hair waving slightly in the air behind her as she walked, he realized he hated not being angry, too. It felt dangerous. He patted the side of his pants, feeling the phone in his pocket, and he grew less tense (which also made him more tense, which also made him more calm). He had reached the point where he did not even have to turn on the phone to look at the text messages he had saved all those years ago. He knew what they meant about him. You're just a selfish weakling.

They reached the main room, and Fluttershy walked to her bookbag, removed her phone, and looked at it. She frowned in that distinctive way: worried but excited but comfortable.

"Oh!" She looked up from her phone, then cast her gaze to the floor, blushing. "Yes. They, um. Want to go swimming tomorrow."

Not for the first time, he wondered if he was cursed; if, as an infant, his parents had angered some old witch, who doomed their son to only have crushes on lesbians for the entire rest of his life. But despite his comfortable burst of self-pity, his heart broke for poor Fluttershy, so anxious and upset. He owed her for her kindness; he really did have to help.

He grunted, the contempt for her friend-group rising again. Of course, he had an advantage; he had seen something similar play out in real time. But they were all just totally oblivious, and it made him mad.

And. She liked them. If she were able to look his way, he could make her so happy, but she was just trapped forever pining for them. She needed a hero; someone to rescue her.

"I wouldn't know," he replied stoically. "I tried having friends once, but it didn't work out."

She blinked at him, sympathy and surprise bleeding onto her face. "Oh, my!" she exclaimed. "But... but everybody needs friends. How do you spend your time?"

He kept his face stony, though it was difficult. "I go to work. Hang out on the computer. Volunteer here." Her concern was causing problems again; the bad thoughts were coming back. His feelings for her were a terrible monster; they roared fearsomely in his head and he fought to keep them at bay. "It's fine." If they won, he would become a bad person again; he would hurt her like he hurts all his friends. "Friends just aren't for me."

She strode up to him, eyes huge and watery, and she touched his hand so gently, he barely felt it. "But are you sure?" she asked sincerely and sweetly.

"I guess I had a best friend once," he muttered. "But it's too late, I broke things." He frowned, the bitterness tasting sweet as it filled him up. "She probably always looked down on me, anyway."

"Oh..." Fluttershy's expression held Renaissance-level sadness and sympathy. "My friends... they're not perfect, but I am so grateful I have them."

And as he fought to hold back his looming feelings for Fluttershy, his jealously of her friends blindsided him, and together they just overran his entire psyche. She was so beautiful, and her friends so blatantly didn't deserve her attention. He reminded himself of the text messages,sitting there on his phone, of don't ever talk to me again, and he was surprised to realize he had no emotional reaction at all.

Her mouth fell open. "But you're a boy," she said, and then her eyes flew open in terror. "I mean..." she said, then she just fell silent.

"Yeah, I'm a boy," he said with strange, manic confidence. "So do you want to go out?"

She grimaced, but it settled into a soft smile. "Yes," she said. "I'd like that very much."

Later, as he walked home, he almost wished he had friends he could tell about the situation he had gotten himself into. That was another bad thought.

"What did you do this time?" Moon Dancer would say, refusing to look up from the scientific journal she would be reading.

"I really messed up," he would reply. "I made a pass at Fluttershy. We're going to go on a date."

That would be enough to warrant a glower over the top edge of the journal. "You're going on a date with the girl you're trying to get to come out as a lesbian." And he wouldn't say anything, and then she would just roll her eyes and sigh.

He realized something. "I've always had these bad thoughts inside me," he imagined saying. "Bitter or selfish or creepy thoughts. Monsters." He sniffed pensively. "And for one second I stopped worrying about them. I stopped worrying I'm going to be a bad person." He sniffed again. "And it was the first time I can remember that I've gotten what I want."

Weeping Willow arrived home, and the very instant he saw the brown package sitting on the front doorstep, he knew what it was.

He scooped up the package and went inside, greeted by his family's two dogs. Moby, his favorite dog, jumped and sneezed in glee. Flannery, his other favorite dog, wagged and did a figure-eight through his legs.

He ran up to his room, dropped his backpack on the floor, and placed the package reverently on his desk. It felt strange, but he supposed that was not a surprise.

He slowly opened it, not sure what to expect. Not being sure what to expect was the right decision, because there were a teapot and an oak leaf inside, and those were about the weirdest things it could have been.

This teapot should do the job you asked me about. I also included a little bonus item just for fun.

One more thing. The teapot alone should help you with your problem, but there's something else you can do with it. Something bigger. If you want to make an impact, the power is right there in your hands. Think about it.--AD

P.S. One problem, though. You'll need a... power source. I only know of one thing with enough magic to suffice, but how you get your hands on it is up to you. See below.

Weeping picked up the teapot and turned it over in his hands. It was strangely warm; it was the kind of heat he had felt when he saw Fluttershy go off with her red-haired friend that one time. Prickles and needles.

Imaginary Moon Dancer leaned over his shoulder. "You should do it," she said. "Show those girls."

He knew it was really his own thoughts, but there was some kind of odd glow to her hair, and he felt hostility and sourness and spite bleeding out from his brain and seeping all the way down to his toes. "Show them that you aren't beneath them," she continued. "It's what you want, isn't it? And now you're a man who gets what he wants."

He felt himself nodding. "Oh, and make sure I'm there," she said, her voice beginning to sound like his own but also beginning to sound like ravens screeching. "The real me. So I can see what you've grown into."

It Turns Out They're Windmills

by J Carp

Particle Man