Hatched Read online

  Look, Mom, I know the two of us still aren’t getting along that well. But Brad loves his “Bibi,” and I think this would be really good for him.

  What do you say?

  Love,

  Delia

  Sunday, June 21

  Sometimes I wish I were an only child!

  Seriously.

  It’s not that I don’t love my sibs.

  Well, in a way.

  If I really, really try…

  Boogers and frog guts,

  A shred and a shard,

  Loving my siblings

  Is pretty darn hard!

  This love thing is a mystery, and the kind of question my teacher, Master Abelard, likes to discuss. Should you have to try to love someone? Shouldn’t it come naturally?

  He can talk about that kind of thing for hours.

  Love or not, natural or not, I can’t take Cyril’s bossiness and Violet’s snippiness any longer.

  It didn’t help that Violet had her pegasus friend Aerilinn over today. The two of them are so snotty when they’re together! (And it is well known that there is nothing snottier than a snotty pegasus!) I wish I had never accepted the feather from Aerilinn’s right wing that Violet gave me on our eighth Hatchday. It truly is a thing of beauty and a fine treasure. But it wasn’t worth what I’ve had to put up with from the two of them ever since.

  What I wish even more is that Mom hadn’t slipped last month and told my brat brother and snip of a sister the true story of our Hatchday.

  Days.

  I know Mom regrets this now that she sees how they use it against me (though she only sees a small part of it). But there’s no taking it back, and ever since it came out, my sibs have been so full of themselves it makes me want to yark up a hair ball.

  Which just shows how annoying Violet and Cyril are, since I hate puking up hair balls. It is impossible to have any sense of dignity while you are doing it! Okay, I know. Cats of all sizes cough up hair balls all the time. But even though I have the body of a lion, having the head of an eagle makes spitting up those wretched, soggy globs of fur truly disgusting. I especially hate it when they get caught on my beak and dangle there like giant juicy boogers!

  Stupid hair balls.

  Oh well. At least I have talons in front and claws in back. That is kind of cool, since it makes me extremely dangerous.

  Yes! That is me! Gerald the Invincible!

  Blarg.

  I am about as invincible as a daisy.

  Anyway, between Violet and Aerilinn teasing me this morning, and that wing whap Cyril landed on the back of my head this afternoon, today was the last straw. I have decided for sure. I am going to run away to the human world.

  Yes, the human world!

  I can just imagine Violet gasping in horror and telling me this will be a violation of the Code of the Griffins. Which is actually true. But how griffinlike is it for them to pick on me the way they do? Don’t they have any sense of family honor?

  I can also imagine Cyril (or, more technically, Cyril-the-Pain) correcting me to point out that a griffin would not “run away,” he would “fly away.” He is so literal-minded that it is useless to make puns at him. For example, if I tried to point out that Fly Away would be a good name for an insect repellent, he would never get it.

  I like making puns. Alas, Master Abelard claims it is a bad habit and not something I should indulge in.

  Well, pun or not, bad habit or not, I am going to fly away!

  Once I am free of my brat brother and snippy sister, and no longer under my parents’ wings (so to speak), I can start developing my own true life.

  If only the idea weren’t so scary!

  But if I don’t do this, I’ll be a griffin wuss forever!

  June 22

  Mrs. Delia Ashango

 

  New York, NY 10023

  Re: Summer Assignment for Bradley

  Dear Mrs. Ashango,

  This is to confirm our conversation regarding summer work for Bradley. First, let me repeat what I told you in our conference: Bradley’s teachers are unanimously in favor of letting him continue at the school, but only under the conditions we have discussed.

  Regarding those conditions: As you know, WIPS prides itself on holding its students to the highest standards. According to test scores from his previous school, Bradley is one of the more gifted students we have had the pleasure to accept in recent years. Alas, he is also one of the most unmotivated. Though he glides through his work, he rarely exerts himself. In this regard, he is a bad influence on his fellow students. We need to see a serious commitment to “Pursuit of Excellence” if Bradley is to return to campus for his sixth-grade year.

  For this reason we have mandated, and you and Bradley have consented, that he will keep a journal this summer. He is to make entries in this journal no less than four days a week, and they must consist of at least three paragraphs of at least three sentences each.

  To avoid having Bradley put this off and then write several entries during the last few days of summer, the journal entries are to be sent to Mr. Delong every Saturday.

  Failure to adhere to this agreement will result in Bradley being unable to return next year.

  We truly do not wish to lose Bradley as a student. However, WIPS has a long waiting list with many applicants. Please do not doubt that dozens of bright young students are eager to take your son’s place in our hallowed halls.

  I hope you will not mistake my tone in this letter. I have endeavored to be firm but polite. If I have failed in that, I apologize.

  Hopefully, and in the spirit of positivity,

  Headmaster, WIPS

  Tuesday, June 23

  I need to talk about my teacher, Master Abelard. Gracious, I could not even keep this diary if not for him! He is the one who taught me how to pluck one of my own feathers (ouch!), dip it into ink, and use it to write upon the page.

  The first thing I have to say is that he is brilliant.

  The second thing I have to say is that, unfortunately, he is a gnome.

  It is not that I have anything against gnomes! But because of Master Abelard’s gnomehood I have had to endure endless teasing from Cyril and his friends about “Gerald and his tiny teacher.”

  When, oh when, will people stop judging beings on the basis of size?

  The sibs, of course, didn’t care to have a tutor. They would rather remain ignorant. Which is my inspiration for today’s poem:

  Hobbilty-pobbilty

  Bubbles and soup,

  How did I ever

  End up in this group?

  Alas, Master Abelard says this kind of thing is not true poetry. He calls it “doggerel,” which I guess is not a good thing.

  I must try to do better.

  Despite his criticism of my poems, Master Abelard is the wisest, kindest, and most educated being I have ever met. The problem is that because he is so small, people tend to look down on him. Well, you have to look down to see him, of course, because he is only six inches tall. (Not counting his red hat, which adds another two inches to his height.) What I mean is that people (including my rotten siblings) treat him with scorn because of his size.

  If only they could understand how wise he is!

  For a complete picture, I will add that he dresses in traditional gnome clothing, with a blue coat buckled about the waist, brown trousers, and high leather boots. A short knife is strapped to his belt. He has, of course, a thick white beard that flows about a third of the way down his chest. His eyes are bright blue, and his nose is rounded, as are his cheeks. Beware those blue eyes! When he is angered (and, I will admit, he does have a bit of a temper), they flash in ways that make me want to hide my head under my wing…despite the fact that I am large enough to swallow him in a single gulp!

  He can also be extremely sarcastic when I do or say something foolish.

  Which happens with distressing frequency.

  But usually he is kind
and gentle.

  Oh! I should mention that he is a remarkable artist. Well, I think he is remarkable. He claims that being able to draw is one of the basic disciplines and should be part of the education of all humanoid creatures. (By which he means gnomes, dwarfs, elves, brownies, goblins, and so on…basically anyone with hands. Which I do not have.)

  Despite my lack of fingers, Master Abelard has tried to teach me to draw. Alas, I have no gift in that direction. My drawings stink.

  I should add that despite his temper and his gift of sarcasm, my teacher has been remarkably patient in the matter of my lack of skill on this front.

  Master A, as I sometimes call him, has been working with me for three years now, and my heart is fierce with love for him.

  To be honest (as one should be in one’s diary), I don’t think he would disapprove if I ran away, despite the shame it would bring on my family. Sometimes I even think he is hinting that I should do it! I know he is disgusted by the way Cyril and Violet treat me.

  Blarg. I hate emotions. They make everything so complicated!

  I can’t take this anymore. Tomorrow I am leaving, and that’s final.

  June 23

  Henrik Flutternight

  Dean of Gnomic Studies

  University Enchantica

  North American Division

  Dear Henrik,

  I wanted to let you (and only you!) know that if all goes well I will soon be leaving the Enchanted Realm. I have been watching Gerald closely, and I believe my nudging has worked. I am fairly certain the griffling is finally planning to run away to the human world!

  I will go with him, of course, since that was the point of all the hints and prods I’ve been administering. What I am not sure of yet is whether I will tell him I am planning to come along or simply stow away in that travel sack I made for him last month.

  As you well know, I have solid reasons for going, both academic and personal. And now that things have turned so against me here at the university (by all that is enchanted, I hate academic politics!), this seems a fitting moment for some self-imposed exile.

  If nothing else, it may be wise for me to, so to speak, “get out of town” for a while. But it’s more than that. With luck, this adventure, perilous though it might be, will provide the payoff for nearly two centuries of research…research I have shared with only you ever since it was proclaimed forbidden.

  Did I mention that I hate academic politics? What small minds it takes to declare a topic forbidden! How can we take ourselves seriously as a university if we put things beyond the realm of study?

  Sorry. I know you are already well aware of my feelings on the matter.

  Anyway, I am sending this so that if I do disappear you will not be left wondering what happened to me. As you are my one true friend here, I would not want to do that to you.

  My sole regret in all this is that I truly do wish I were as good and wise as Gerald believes me to be.

  I feel quite guilty about the way I am about to use the griffling.

  Sincerely,

  Abelard

  Memo to All Department Heads:

  Forbidden Topics at the University Enchantica

  Following is the current list of topics considered off-limits for discussions, seminars, research papers, and general scholarship, as per order of PRISS (Prohibited Research and Instruction Security Services).

  Topics are arranged in order of sensitivity, from lowest to highest.

  Also included is a notation of the reason for each topic’s banning.

  1) The origin of unicorns

  (Mythic sensitivity)

  2) The meaning of EXTOOMBIA!

  (Obvious reasons, too delicate to cite. Please, don’t even think about it!)

  3) How the Transcendental Curtain is maintained

  (Security concerns)

  4) Why fairies have wings

  (Cultural sensitivity, secret history)

  5) Whether monkeys can actually fly out of someone’s nether region*

  (Distasteful)

  6) Who put the bop in the bop shoo bop shoo bop?

  (Indicates disturbing obsession with the human world)

  7) The creation of centaurs

  (Pointless speculation, trigger issues)

  8) Wood elves versus high elves

  (Political issues, cultural sensitivity, potential eruption of warfare)

  9) Dragon digestive systems

  (Obvious safety concerns)

  10) The Lost City of Batavia

  (Security concerns, cultural sensitivity, political pressure, heresy)

  Please remind your staff that these topics are not to be discussed or taught! To do so is to risk termination of position, dismissal from the university, and possible banishment.

  Egbert Waffle, Gremlin

  Dean of Discipline and Enforcement

  * “Nether region” means “butt.” I had to ask Master A, so I figured I should explain it here. You’re welcome.—G.O.

  Wednesday, June 24

  Despite my vow to leave today, I am still here. For the entire day I did nothing but dither about going, which is embarrassing, since dithering is ungriffinlike.

  I suppose running away to the human world will also be ungriffinlike. On the other hand, it would be incredibly bold, which is very griffinlike.

  Part of me is starting to love the idea of fleeing to the human world. In fact, in my heart I wonder if the boldness of defying the Code and entering that forbidden place might be the thing that could finally undo the stain of my Hatchday and earn my father’s respect.

  Festering pestering

  Dithers and doubt,

  I hate that my father

  Wonders what I’m about!

  Wow. That one was kind of painful to write.

  Ah well, Master A has often told me an artist has to suffer. He says teachers often suffer, too, and that this is true for him when he reads my poetry.

  That feels harsh, but I appreciate the high standards he sets for me.

  As regards suffering, I suppose I would suffer greatly if I ran away. So perhaps it would be good for my writing to do this.

  On the other wing, when I think of the rules I would break and the dangers I would encounter, the idea terrifies me. (Very UNgriffinlike.)

  On the other other wing (was there ever a three-winged griffin?), what if I could find a really amazing treasure in the human world? I must find one in less than three weeks or suffer Unendurable Shame.

  I am starting to panic about the matter. I do not like shame, and Unendurable Shame would be…well, unendurable!

  The thing is, until now my treasures have all been given to me. I have no idea how to go about obtaining one on my own!

  I cannot fault Master A for not teaching me this. It is entirely a griffin thing and should have come from my family.

  Truly our educational system leaves much to be desired.

  Well, it’s silly to worry about the treasure thing. If I run away, it’s not with the thought that I’ll be coming back! The whole point of running away is to be gone!

  From A Field Guide to Griffins

  By Percival Rendslash, Keeper of the Griffin Registry

  It is an essential aspect of griffins that they are guardians of treasure. For this reason it is expected that every griffin will, as he or she matures, gather and maintain a personal hoard. It has long been proven that fidelity to this task is crucial to the growth and development of a griffling’s character.

  However, the griffling does not have to do this on his or her own. By tradition, on the first nine anniversaries of a griffin’s hatching, specific relatives are expected to bring the youngster an item to add to his or her hoard. Families usually have an established order to these gifts. In almost all cases the first-year treasure comes from the griffling’s parents, the second hoard-gift from the mother of the mother, and the third from the father of the father.

  After that the order of gifting varies from aerie to aerie but is strictly adhered to
within the aerie.

  This all changes on the Tenth Hatchday, when it is expected that a young griffin will have acquired a new treasure by him- or herself and will display it to the community at the Hatchday celebration. Upon doing so, he or she becomes a “griffer”—the stage between child and full-fledged adult.

  Failure to obtain this “growing up” treasure is seen as a sign that the griffling is not fit to join the Greater Aerie. The shame is great and creates a permanent blot on the family reputation.

  Thursday, June 25

  Still here.

  Too depressed for poetry.

  From the Journal of Bradley Ashango

  (Summer Assignment)

  6/26 (Fri.)

  This is my summer journal. This is the first entry. I will try to do a good job.

  Tomorrow I go to my grandmother’s house. She lives in the country. I bet she will have cookies.

  I hope my mother will be all right without me. She might eat too much. I hope she does not get fat.

  (3 paragraphs, 3 sentences each.)

  From Brad’s Real Journal

  6/26

  Holy flying pizza sticks! It seriously makes me laugh to think I have to keep that silly journal for school.

  “Three paragraphs of three sentences each.”

  I’ve been sentenced to sentences!

  This isn’t an assignment; it’s an insult to my intelligence. I’ve carried a pocket journal for two years now, ever since Dad…well, ever since. Some days I write pages, not paragraphs!

  So I will send Mr. Delong my short journal and keep the long version for myself. And that’s de long and de short of it!

  HEH. Sometimes I amuse myself so much I could burst!

  Anyway, here are the thoughts I’m thinking right now: First off, I love my new smartphone, even though I suspect that it was a guilt gift because Mom is feeling bad about shipping me off to the Catskills for the summer.