A Fishy End

Chapter 25

"Supper!" Lydia yelled up the stairs. She sat at the table and waited as Zoey came pelting down.

Zoey grabbed her plate of food and turned to go back up.

"Stop," Lydia commanded. "Sit and eat."

"But Mom," Zoey protested, "I'm in the middle of something."

"It can wait. We need to talk."

"Fine," Zoey muttered and sat at the table. She began to pick at her food.

This was part of why Lydia wanted Zoey to eat in the kitchen. Zoey had been picking at her food lately, and more often than not ate very little.

"What do we need to talk about?"

"Summer is more than half over," Lydia said. "And we haven't discussed school. When do classes start? What are you taking?"

"I'm not going back."

"Zoey!" Lydia barked. "Not going back?"

"I'm not," she said, defiant. "Not after what happened."

Lydia sighed. "I know it was terrible. But you can't just lock yourself in your room for the rest of your life."

"I'm not going to." She rose and headed for the stairs.

"Zoey," Lydia began.

"I'm coming back," Zoey grumbled and ran up the stairs. She came back moments later with a stack of papers. "I haven't been hiding," she groused. "Just so you know. I've been preparing. Learning."

"Learning what?"

"How to make sure it never happens again."

"You've been learning self-defense?"

Zoey made a face. "I'm not big or strong enough. But there is more than one way to defend yourself."

"What are you talking about?"

"The occult," she said. "And I'm going back to school. Just not there. It's too big, too many people." She handed a pamphlet over for Lydia to look at.

"Miskatonic? Never heard of it. Where is it?"

"Massachusetts," Zoey said. "It's a small school. Old school too. Been around for a long time."

"What will you study?"

Zoey reached over and opened the pamphlet. "Look, Mom. Cryptozoology, ancient languages and cultures, occult studies, medieval philosophy. All things I'm fascinated with."

"And when you get done with school, what sort of career will you have?"

Zoey snorted. "Some question from the hippy with a yoga studio."

"Hey, I'm not saying you should live for money. I'm saying what sort of life are you choosing for yourself?"

"Can you ever see me in a corporate job?"

"No, but I am curious what sort of job you see yourself doing, that's all."

"Working for some library somewhere, translating ancient manuscripts, maybe."

Lydia chuckled. "Yeah, that sounds like you. Miskatonic?" she turned the pamphlet over. "Go Squids?"

"Their mascot. It's a coastal school, I guess."

"What about . . ." She thought about how to word her question. "The whole transgender thing. Will they be okay with it?"

Zoey snorted. She slid another paper off the stack. "I asked. Believe me after this spring, I asked."

The paper looked to be parchment, old-fashioned and handmade. The typography was bold and thick.

Dear Miss Scott,

We received your question about LGBT acceptance at Miskatonic University. I have to admit I found this humorous in light of our university's unique history.

We've always encouraged students to explore many ideas and interests, including those that aren't typically "socially acceptable." "The love that dare not speak its name" has walked the halls of Miskatonic since time immemorial. Granted, the larger social acceptance of gay and lesbian people has made it somewhat less of a "dark impulse," but Miskatonic remains supportive of its many gay and lesbian students past and present.

As to your specific questions about our policy concerning transgender students, I can only say that body modification has long been part of the student culture here at Miskatonic. That one would put such powers to a rather pedestrian use, well, all I can say is, to each his own.

You might, over the course of your career at Miskatonic, find that gill slits in your throat, webbed appendages, bat wings, or a tentacle or two to be more practical than genital alterations, but we most certainly would not stand in your way in this regard. The spells, incantations, and potions would require only slight alterations to attain your desire. Given your previous academic success, I would think a second or third year of study would suffice in this regards.

If you have no further questions, I would repeat my early statements regarding your application. I can clearly see a future for you here at Miskatonic and would happily accept your application.

Yours sincerely,

Alstair Cormac,

Dean of Students

Miskatonic University

Lydia set the letter down. She wasn't quite sure what to make of the last bit, some crude attempt at humor perhaps. Still they didn't seem upset or concerned about Zoey being transgender. And who knew? . . . Maybe it would be good for Zoey to start at a new school. Besides, Zoey was right—these were topics she'd always been obsessed about. Why not study them?

"Okay, fine," Lydia conceded. "I'm sorry I doubted you. I just worry. I'm your mother, after all." She reached out and brushed her daughter's hair.

Zoey rolled her eyes but let her do it. "I'm an adult, Mom. I can take care of myself."

"So what have you been studying up there all summer?"

"Persian. I want to be able to read the Necronomicon in the original."

"Isn't that an evil text or something?" Lydia asked.

Zoey huffed out a breath. "Mom, you've been reading too many seventies new-age books. The Necronomicon is an ancient spiritual text, nothing more. Good or evil is what you do with it."