Skurdulka the Cryptid (a nonbinary scary story)

Part 13: Change

"No, you've gotta put it in the freezer. Otherwise it won't make layers!" Ash groaned, watching yet another Great British Baking Show contestant bested by choux pastry.

I wasn't even half-watching. Sighing quietly, I looked towards the window of Ash's room. Orange sunset rays slipped through the spaces between the drapes. I had gone to Skurdulka's house everyday after school for two weeks that felt like two years. This was the first day of not going. It felt like abandoning a friend.

"What did I tell you?" Ash put on a haughty British accent. "No ber-loody lamination, Gary! What a mess. You call that choux pastry?" Ash paused. "Hey. You with me over there?"

Shaking out of my trance, I looked back. "Sorry. What?"

Ash leveled his gaze on me. He knew exactly what I was thinking. "Look. We're both better off. I know you liked them, but, let's face it, Skurdulka's got problems."

I frowned. He was right, of course. But. "It's just... I've never met anyone else like me, you know?"

"What are you talking about? I'm like you."

"You know what I mean. It was like they really got it. For the first time, I didn't wonder if I was making it all up."

Ash shook his head. "Making what up?"

I rolled over on my back, looking up at the stick-on stars over the bed. "This. Me. All of it. 'Transtrender.'" I sighed, closing my eyes. "It was like they... I mean... I wasn't alone anymore."

Ash propped up on an elbow to study me. "You feel alone when you're with me?"

"No." I looked at him sidelong. "Just, imagine you were the only transguy in the universe. Or, at least, that's how it felt. Like, even with me, wouldn't you just feel, like—weird?"

Ash nodded slowly. "But you're not the only non-binary in the universe. What about all the people you follow? All your friends online?"

"Yeah, I know. I just..." I sighed. "I dunno. I know Skurdulka's got problems. But I still wanted to be friends."

"They're probably messed up from being in that house, alone, for five hundred years or whatever. That would mess anybody up."

"Exactly. I feel bad—leaving them."

"You did everything you could. More than you probably should've. You can't make somebody change."

"I know." I stared up at the fake stars a bit longer, hearing something about butter layers in the background from Ash's computer. I looked over at him again. "Did you talk to Stevie today?"

"No." Ash traced the star pattern in the comforter. "He still wants to be friends but..." He shook his head. "I don't even wanna look at him. Maybe that makes me a jerk. I don't know. But how can you be friends with somebody who will always think that you're something you're not?"

"I dunno. I'm not sure you can. But maybe he won't always think that."

Ash's lips twisted. "Can't make somebody change." Scrunching up the star pattern, he flopped over on the bed. "It just makes me so mad." He mumbled through the mattress.

Frowning, I rubbed his back. "I'm sorry."

"Kids! Dinner!"

Rising back to his elbows, Ash shut the laptop and stood up. Pulling myself out of bed on the other side, I paused at the window. The paved street and streetlamps below ran off into the gathering dark, towards the orange glow of the setting sun, painting the scraggly treeline black. Skurdulka was out there somewhere in the darkening woods—as a person? A dog? A bird? Who could know? But, whatever they were, wherever, they were alone.