A Picnic in Spring

Anetta’s picnic wasn’t going well. She’d been having a nice time — a great time, even — before she completely, utterly embarrassed herself.

But well, she should’ve known that things would go sideways once everyone had cancelled. That hadn’t ever really happened before. They’d always planned their spring picnic around everyone’s obligations. The date had never been set in stone. They always found one that would work for everyone, which they also did that year.

But last night, Mercury had sent a photo of bundled-up Zara to the group chat. Mercury, who never sent anything, mostly relied on Zara to keep him updated because he kept muting every group chat he’d be added to. That Mercury. Anetta wasn’t even surprised when she woke up to a message saying that the two of them would have to skip out on the picnic because Zara was bed-bound.

Then, Merritt cited a family emergency and Andrea had been called in to work, which left—

Only me and you, then, Annie? Want me to pick you up at yours? :D

—only Anetta and Marcel, then. And she was so nervous when it came to Marcel, and she knew it was for no good reason at all. Marcel was easy to get along with, unapologetic and comfortable in social situations like very few people Anetta had met. The way Anetta saw it, some people handled social situations better than others. Marcel was just natural at that.

So they’d gone out together. Not as in— not like a date or anything — she wouldn’t presume. Of course not. But they’d gone out it was going well! She wasn’t stuttering, she wasn’t blushing, she was acting exactly like she had acted a year ago before her stupid, hopeless crush on Marcel had become known to her. If she thought about it, she’d probably liked him for longer, but it was only after she was fully aware of it that she started being dumb around him. She felt uncomfortable, but it wasn’t that he made her uneasy. Her behaviour had surprisingly little to do with him. She made herself feel awkward.

Stupid, see?

And, well, then, she’d been doing so well that she managed to relax. She’d lowered her chances of botching things to nearly non-existent, except stupid things did happen. They were talking, completely relaxed, in a way they had used to talk to each other before she realized how much she liked him. And that was all fine until her hands stopped working at the worst possible moment, naturally. Somehow, she managed to spill everything from her plate onto her dress. She hoped it wouldn’t stain and, even worse, their attempt at cleaning everything up had left them with no napkins. And the dress looked worse. Anetta was still waiting for her cheeks to cool off from that failure.

Be it as it may, Marcel had been a real gentleman, but he hadn’t managed to fix their — her — situation, not even by talking to the people in the park, and he’d told her he’d “Be right back, and you don’t move because your stains are a little unfortunate.” Anetta was never going to live that one down.

And well, Marcel couldn’t have been gone for more than a minute or two when someone approached her.

The first thing Anetta noticed was the woman’s legs. Not because they were toned, or longer than Anetta’s — which they were — but because she wasn’t a Gleamstic. Instead of the translucent material, Anetta was intimately familiar with, women’s clawed legs were covered in pale, decidedly human-colored skin. She wouldn’t have thought anything of the woman if it weren't for that.

“Can I help you?” Anetta asked when the woman kept staring directly at her without saying anything.

“Hm? You?” Her eyes were bright, but the dark sclera dismayed Anetta. “I suppose.” And then: “Where am I?”

“Pardon?” Anetta asked, momentarily surprised by the question.

“Where am I?” The woman asked. “What is this world?” She had wings, much like Anetta’s, but in the warm light of spring noon, Anetta saw something thorny swivel around her. Like a… halo? Maybe? She did not look like an angel — not because of her appearance, though. It was the glean in her eyes that made Anetta uncomfortable. Not shy, awkward uncomfortable like when she was with Marcel, but uncomfortable like she might want to leave.

“Uh… you mean like a park, or the city, or…” Or, what? The world? That was ridiculous!

“You’re strange,” the woman said, and Anetta thought: Well, funny. That’s what I think about you, too.

“What’s going on?” Marcel’s voice interjected from a distance, sparing Anetta from having to answer to any further questions. When she turned around, Marcel was approaching her with a frown on his face, his eyes flitting all over the woman standing in front of Anetta, and oh, she could see it now too — what she through to be a Gleamstic crown were actually dark, solid nubs. Horns, then? And she had a swishing tail, and this halo-like thing still kept spinning behind her and— and, Anetta thought. She had pointy ears! Not a Gleamstic, then.

“This noble one greets a weary traveller!” The woman shouted, way too exaggerated in her words and movements with her hands. Anetta found it funny that she called Marcel a weary traveller because he was a little winded.

“Hey,” Marcel said, “Can we help you, are you alright?”

The woman looked at him — up and down, like she was regarding him. And then, back to Anetta. She nodded.

“We will meet again,” she said, and then— and then she just disappeared. Took off in fog and fragrance, as though she’d never been there at all, if it wasn’t for the sugary scent of molten caramel in the fresh air of the park.

“That was strange,” Marcel said, then sat down. “Here, I bought you a new dress. I’m sorry that you waited, I wanted to buy something baggy so you can just slide it over yours… Look, look.”

Anetta flushed, though not from discomfort or embarrassment. Rather, she was touched by the gesture.

“Oh, Marcel, I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve put you through a hurdle over a wet spot.”

“Let it dry,” Marcel said as her hands clasped the bag. “It’ll still stain, but you’ll just put this new one over and…”

“Thank you,” Anetta said. “How much do I owe you?”

Marcel laughed, honest, like it was something easy and funny.

“Don’t be silly,” he said, “Where’s the drink and the sandwiches?”

Anetta turned around, intent on taking food out of the basket they’d held their food in. When she turned around, the fruit they’d taken out before was still there, but the basket was gone.

“Marcel,” she said, “I think that woman stole our picnic.”