Different Closets

School is no place for secrets. People are always searching for gossip to drink up like it’s a livelihood elixir yet nobody ever stops to think that maybe they should just mind their own fucking business.

“What’s with the flannel?” Markus asks as he walks down the hall. He pulls off my beanie and throws it on the ground. “Trying to catch a girl or two?”

“I’m not gay, dragonshit,” I say for the hundredth time. I hold my textbooks to my chest and kneel down to pick up my hat. 

Markus slinks backwards into a classroom, and as he makes finger guns at me, rainbows shoot out from his hands. I slam my locker shut and head the opposite way for my first class.

“Hey, gender-bender,” Emilia sings as I pass her.

I make the mistake of pausing.

Emilia uncorks a vial, dumps the contents into her palm, then blows the dust in my direction. I cough as the powder circles my head, but I can't swat it away in time before the tiny particles start clinging to my face.

“What did you do?” I demand, attempting to wipe away whatever substance is now stuck to my skin.

“Just doing you a favour,” she says. She offers me a small mirror. “You finally look like a girl again.”

I stare at my reflection. I have a full face of make-up. I growl, and start rubbing my cheek, but the colour doesn’t go away. Ugh. Why does the most talented spellcaster in the school have to be a bully?

I huff and run to the bathroom. I glance at the boys’ room for a second before pushing myself into the girls’.  I plop my textbooks next to the sink, clog the drain with a paper towel, and let the tap run until it fills all the way to the top.

“Chyste oblychchya,” I say while my hand hovers over the basin. A flash omits from my fingertips and bounces off the surface of the water like a lightning bolt. I rinse my face, and the make-up washes down the drain. I absorb my powder-free reflection, not feeling much better than a moment ago.

“Hazel help me,” I pray as I shuffle back out into the empty hall. I break into a run, knowing I have only a few minutes until potions. Before I even make it to the end of the corridor, the door to a broom cupboard swings open and I crash right into it.

“Ow!” I cry out as I fall back on my ass. “Watch it!”

“Hello? Is somebody there?”

I raise an eyebrow as one of my classmates cautiously walks out from the other side of the door, both hands outstretched. There’s a bucket on his head.

“Clover? How did you—okay, hang on,” I say. I grab the bucket with both hands and pull it free.

He takes a big breath as soon as the obstruction is gone. “Oh, thank Hazel,” he says. “I owe you one, Sage.”

“Don’t mention it,” I say with a nod. “Who put you in the broom closet?”

“No clue. I heard giggles, then the next thing I know, everything’s dark,” he says lightly.

The way he shrugs it off indicates this has happened before. I wipe away some remaining moisture gathering on my chin, wondering why Clover’s being picked on. There isn’t anything particularly odd about him; good fashion, good grades, good hygiene… he’s just an ordinary mage.

“We should get to class,” I say, then, although Clover is only a few inches shorter than me, my pity flips into protectiveness. “Do you… do you want to sit with me?”

“Sure, just hang on a minute.” He puts away any cleaning supplies that fell out of the broom closet, then leaves it open for the sentient vacuum cleaner so it can take a nap. Clover follows me to the potions room, where we sit at the table with the shittiest cauldron, all the way at the back. 

As Clover and I start gathering ingredients based off the list in our books, I can’t help but sneak glances at the boy every now and then. His cloak’s sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, which is technically against the dress code but most teachers won’t call it out. Our school doesn’t have a uniform; just a mandatory cloak. Magic can be messy, so it’s mostly a safety precaution. 

I can see the deep green shirt Clover’s wearing underneath his unbuttoned cloak, and I recognize the texture from here—it’s been enchanted with a super-stretch charm. That kind of fabric is typical for athletes who move around a lot, but I’ve never seen Clover at a sports event, so that’s a little odd… maybe he’s on a flight team outside of school or something?

“Can you pass me the oak sap?” Clover asks, holding out his hand. With his eyes on the potion recipe, he hasn’t noticed me staring at him. Thank Hazel—that would have been embarrassing.

I pick up a bottle and place it in his palm, but I’m not able to let go.

“Sorry, it’s sticky,” I say, and try to pry my fingers from the glass. “What the heck…”

“Don’t move,” he says, and reaches for a cloth. He pours some water on it and holds it against the warm cauldron to heat it up. Smart thinking; a damp towel should do the trick.

“Aw, guys!” Emilia says to the friends at her table. “The misfits are holding hands.”

“I—we are not!” My hand tries to jolt itself away from Clover, but the sap is too strong.

“At least they get to be closeted together,” Markus whispers. The rest of the group snickers.

I can feel the oxygen leaving my brain.

Wait, did he just say we’re both closeted?

Emilia and Markus go back to their own work, and I grumble under my breath as I wipe down our hands. The stickiness transfers from our fingers to the air between us, turning it thickly uncomfortable as the phrase sinks in.

Clover looks at me.

I look at him.

He scratches his ear.

I fold my arms.

“So… we’re both…” he lowers his voice. “We’re both… wolves?”

My lips twist into a smile. I like that code name.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I say. “How long have you known?”

He gives a short laugh, as if that’s an odd thing to ask. “I mean, I was born this way, but I didn’t realize what was going on until I was… seven, maybe?”

“Seven?! Wow, I didn’t figure it out until last year.”

He blinks a few times. “How did you go so long without knowing?”

“I have no idea. It’s so obvious in hindsight.”

“Your parents never told you?”

“Why the hell would they know?”

“Ah.” Clover nods and sits back on his chair. “You’re a transformer.”

I don't like that code name as much.

“So, if it doesn’t run in your family, you must be pretty lonely,” Clover says.

I'm not sure what he means by that, so I just shrug. Yeah, I am pretty lonely most of the time.

He gives me a sympathetic smile, then moves his eyes across the room, as if checking who could be listening.

“Since you’re new and all, I’m guessing you don’t know about the local gatherings, so… want to be my date this weekend? Like, as friends, obviously.”

I nod. “Sure, okay.”

“Cool,” he says with a smile. “I’ll swing by at eight.”

… 

On Sunday, Clover appears at my doorstep wearing a pair of loose pants and a vest with no shirt underneath. I begin to wonder where we’re going based on that alone. I almost ask, but I don’t want to seem any more ignorant than I already am.

“Come on,” he says, nodding towards the road. “How fast are you?”

“Huh?”

“How fast are you?”

I fail to see the relevance. Is “fast” another code word I’m supposed to know? Or is his question literal?

“Um… not that fast?” I finally say. “I mean, hand me a speed potion and I can run like the wind, but…”

Clover clicks his tongue as I follow him to the sidewalk “You don’t get out much, do you?”

I frown, unable to hide my self-consciousness. I don't like not being in the loop. “Not really.”

“Well,” Clover says, his confidence apparent. “That’s about to change. It’s not far; how about you set the pace? I’ll keep up and give directions.”

“O-okay.”

He waits there, staring at me. What does he want, exactly? For me to run? Why can’t we just rent a pair of brooms, or have someone zap us over there… is this a queer custom that I don’t know about?

Clover points me in one direction, so I swallow my distaste for exercise and start jogging. I’m exhausted after a single block, but my new friend hasn’t even broken a sweat. I keep my breathing quiet so he doesn’t realize how uncomfortable I am. Either I’m really out of shape or this binder is way too tight.

The houses we pass by gradually get more and more expensive. They go from ordinary townhomes modelled off the ones in the mortal world, to fancy, castle-like mansions that belong in fairy tales. That’s the dream; to look as enchanting as the magic we practice.

“We almost there?” I huff as we turn yet another corner.

Clover raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, just at the end of this road.”

I expect him to slow down and point me into a house, but we just keep going. We run through a gateway that leads into the forest.

“Whoa, wait,” I say, coming to a halt. “The woods are dangerous after dark.”

“Pfft,” he says. He waves his arms like I’m joking. “Funny thing for a wolf to say.”

He takes my hand and leads me into the grassy area. I’ve been here so many times—it’s where I learned to forage for spell ingredients—but never at night.

“Why are we out in the woods?” I ask.

“Why do you think? It’s the only place we won’t get caught.”

I tilt my head, certain there are other places to have a party—like in someone’s basement, perhaps? That ought to be safer than a forest housing hungry flower fields.

“Hey, everyone!” Clover calls as we join a group of people, all dressed in loose clothing or workout gear. There are firefly lanterns hanging from branches, illuminating the group as they mingle inside a circle of tall pines.

The conversations turn into hushed whispers, and they eventually fade as Clover drags me into the center of attention before I can protest.

“I’d like you to meet Sage,” Clover says. “We found each other at school.”

I see a few people my age, and they wave warmly at me. I recognize a couple from my homeroom, and they look just as shocked to see me as I am to see them. 

“Do you want to introduce yourself?” Clover asks me.

I shrug. “Not much else to say.”

“Alright.” His smile broadens as he turns to the adults gathered to one side. “What’s the route for tonight?”

Route? Are we running again? Hazel take the wheel—I can barely feel my feet as it is.

“Down to the creek and up the stream,” an older gentleman says. “Since we’re all here, let’s get moving.”

Everyone goes to a lantern and gives it a tap. The fireflies inside flutter out, and within minutes, there’s no light left in the ring of trees.

“I didn’t sign up to be in a midnight run club,” I mutter as feet shuffle about. As the forest goes eerily quiet, I scrunch up a handful of my stomach fat to calm my panicking gut. My deep breaths stifle themselves to match the stillness. The only thing I can hear is the buzz of nocturnal bugs and the reassuring hoots of our town’s three guardian owls. 

And then there’s howling. They start off soft and melodic, but the gentle a-woos soon grow gruff and strong. It sounds like I’m surrounded by wolves. Like, actual wolves. The howling is soon replaced with grunts and growls, and the number of footsteps doubles.

“Hey, Clover? I don’t think this is really my scene.”

I take a few paces back, but I bump into something. I'd like to think it’s a tree, but it’s… fuzzy.

“Svitlo,” I whisper, holding my hands out. A small ball of light appears between them. The glowing sphere starts to rise, so my gaze follows it up, until I lock eyes with a werewolf.

“Oh my fucking Hazel,” I breathe as the wolf pants against my forehead.

The wolf morphs back into human form. It’s just Clover, thank goodness.

“What’s wrong, Sage?” he asks. I feel the rest of the wolves prance away for their run. “Why didn’t you transform?”

A million thoughts rush through my head. The code names, the running—I should have known.

“I think… I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

Panic flashes across Clover’s face. “Meaning…?”

"I am in a closet," I say, massaging my temples. "Just not that kind of closet."

Clover’s eyes widen. “You’re not a werewolf?”

“No! If it wasn’t evident by my lack of athletic abilities, I’m really not built to run.”

“Heh, yeah, that should have been a dead giveaway,” he says, his claws retracting as he rubs the back of his neck. “So… if you’re not a werewolf… what exactly did you mean by ‘you’re in the closet?’”

“Uh. You know what? Never mind. I’m just gonna go home.”

“No, no. Not by yourself! Let me walk you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Walk? You promise?”

He nods.

“Okay,” I say. “Sure, walk me home.”

And so he does. We stroll in silence for a bit, and listen to the howls coming from the woods. I didn’t know my town had this many werewolves—but I guess that’s the point. Witches aren’t the most accepting people, so when someone is even the slightest bit different from the norm, things can get ugly. For a place that prides itself on being better than the mortal world, it seems just a little too similar.

“Hey, um,” Clover starts. “You won’t go telling anyone about this, will you?”

I shake my head sharply. “Of course not. It’s not my secret to tell.”

“Thanks.”

“Have you told anyone else? At school, I mean.”

“Well, I haven’t told anyone, but I think some people are catching on. For whatever reason, Emilia and Markus are hot on my tail. Pun intended.”

“That really sucks,” I say as he hugs his arms around himself. For the first time all term, his mouth relaxes into something other than a smile. “And I’m sorry you missed your run tonight. You didn’t have to come with me.”

“Eh, least I could do. I did drag you all the way out to the forest.”

“That wasn’t your fault! You thought I was a wolf.”

Clover laughs. “Yeah. I blame the terminology.”

He doesn’t ask, but there’s an itchy feeling in my gut like I need to tell him. He’ll probably figure it out soon enough, anyway. There’s only so many things “closeted” can mean.

“I’m trans,” I blurt out. I think I hear Clover’s mouth open, but I don’t turn to check. I’ve never said that out loud before—my heart is rushing faster than it was during my unexpected jog earlier. 

“Oh,” Clover says. “Cool.”

His casual tone is unexpected, but my comfort returns. “Not as cool as being a werewolf.”

“True, true,” he says, tapping his chin. He then drops his playful tone. “What pronouns should I use for you?”

I shrug. “Whatever you want.”

“No, no, no. It’s whatever you want.”

“Well, um… I’ve been playing around with ze/zir.”

He nods, then we go back to silence. To my surprise, I’m not at all bothered at the fact he knows my secret, and by the time we make it to my house, we’re both smiling again. I offer for Clover to come inside for a snack, but he’d rather join the rest of the wolves for the remainder of the night.

“You sure?” I ask. “They’d be like ten kilometers away by now.”

He smirks. “I bet you a luck potion and a half I can catch up to them.”

“Ooh, you’re on.”

With a wink, he gives his hands a shake, preparing to sprint off.

“Wait, Clover,” I say quickly. I scrunch up the front of my tee shirt. “I’m not… I’m not exactly ready to come out at school yet, so do you think you can still call me she/her around other people?”

“Ew, no—I’ll just use your name.” He gives the side of my arm a reassuring pat, and a warm sense of acceptance bounces through my chest. “We might be in different closets, but we’re in this together.” 

“Right,” I say, wiping the glittering sweat off my forehead. It’s a good thing I never tried out for any sports teams at school; I’m going to melt into the gravel as soon as Clover’s out of sight. 

My new friend waves brightly while passing all the floating mailboxes on the street, keeping his speed within the range of a human mage. He runs backwards for a few paces as he shouts a promise to sit with me during potions tomorrow. I give him a thumbs up before slinking inside, looking forward to spending class with Clover instead of ignoring bullies alone.

We’re in this together.