Freddie's Familiar

Freddie was stood near the front of the queue. Too close to the front for his liking. At the very front, was Russell. He had fat cheeks and small eyes. The skin on that boy’s face always looked like it was trying to run away from his bowling-ball head. Behind Russell was a girl named Anne. She towered over all the other kids in class and had a long neck and nose that were in keeping with her tall frame. Behind Anne, just 3rd in line, was Freddie, standing out like a sore thumb. His hair was bright blonde and curly, with patches beginning its transformation into dusty brown. He was the shortest in his year and really looked the part stood behind Anne. Freddie was a touch on the chubby side, had large crooked teeth and ears that made his head look like a car with its doors open. As far as Freddie was concerned, he hadn’t just lost the genetic lottery, but he hadn’t got a single number right.

All the other kids knew it too. Russell in particular was a keen enthusiast when it came to Freddie’s unfortunate looks. He had often given Freddie a hard time about it throughout Primary School. Now that they’d both started Secondary, Russell wasn’t about to move on in a hurry. Only just that very morning had Russell teased him with the idea of Freddie’s familiar being a Blobfish in a wig. All of his harsh jokes upset Freddie, but this one was especially painful, as Freddie had already had the same thought over breakfast.

“You don’t get Blobfish familiars!” Freddie’s mother had shouted.

Today was a special day. It was the day new first years across the country would at last discover their familiars. Each pupil would stand before a mirror called the reading glass, and in its reflection, they would be shown an animal – their familiar. A familiar was a partner, a best friend. An animal that, if looked after well, would accompany you for the rest of your life. But it was more than that as well. Just as you would look into the mirror, the mirror would look into you. Your familiar, whatever the reading glass would decide, would be a reflection of you – your spirit, your soul.

Freddie’s mother was a bee, and every morning, that bee would be with her as she buzzed about her business; making breakfast, cleaning dishes, washing clothes, shouting at her husband. Mr. Gray, Freddie’s father, was a tortoise. He ate slowly, moved slowly, talked slowly and generally perceived and navigated life slower than everybody else.

“Your mother’s rights, son. You don’t get Blobfish familiars.” He had said, five minutes after the conversation had ended.

Excitement in the class room had reached fever-pitch. Everyone had remembered to bring in their textbook – The Ultimate Guide to Familiars. Despite Russell’s cruel taunts, even Freddie was a little curious to find out his. He just wished he didn’t have to do it in front of his whole year. With a sudden bang, the eager chirps fell silent.

Mrs Walker, a crooked old woman, had marched into the room, bouncing the classroom door off the adjacent wall. With the poise of someone who’d been doing it for years, she silenced the pupils and drew everybody’s undivided attention to her. A vulture flew overhead and perched down on a roost stationed at the teacher’s desk. The bird was tatty and wrinkled, but maintained a sharp gaze over all the children. Mrs Walker was their head of year and one of the most experienced teachers in the school. Shorter than most of them, she prowled up and down the line of first years, eyeing them up with her glasses precariously balanced on the end of her pointy nose.

“Good.” She said devilishly, proud of how she’d whipped them into shape.

“Very important lesson today.” Mrs Walker continued. “On this morning you will learn more about yourself than you will on any other.”

The teacher stood beside the reading glass, tapping it with a pen. She allowed a few uncomfortable moments of silence to pass before she began again.

“Mr Davidson.” She said in a sinister tone.

Russell stepped forwards, showing a faint glimmer of trepidation that Freddie hadn’t seen before. He stopped before Mrs Walker who, with a tilt of the head, directed Russell’s attention towards the reading glass. Slack-jawed and with a dim-witted look in his eyes, Russell made no sound for nearly a minute. Until-

“Yes!” He shouted. “I’m a bulldog!”

Russell bent down, and through all the agitation stirring in the room, Freddie was knocked back a few places in the queue. All his class-mates were leaning to get a better look. Freddie only saw when he walked past, but out of nowhere Russell was carrying a puppy in his arms.

“Miss Cassidy.” Mrs Walker requested.

Anne stepped up next, not making a sound. Just like Russell before her, she too stared into the reading glass. The minute that passed felt like an eternity. Finally, Anne breathed a sigh of relief and trotted to the back of the class – her swan following her, swimming through mid-air.

Next in line were the handful of his peers who’d cut in front of him, not that Freddie minded. Mrs Walker’s vulture on the other hand, definitely did mind. It gave a low and long squawk, sticking its neck out in the direction of the culprits. Mrs Walker’s thick, dark eyebrows crossed down over her eyelids. They were like ancient steel-wool.

“I believe that Mr. Gray should be next. Not you boys.” She said sternly to the three boys who were now at the front. “For trying to cut in line you can take yourselves to the back.”

A satisfied grin blossomed on her face as the other kids laughed at the unfortunates making their way to the back of the classroom. Freddie did not laugh though. He was now face-to-face with Mrs Walker. It was his turn to look into the reading glass.

“Ah, there you are Mr. Gray.” She said.

Freddie hated being called by his surname. It was boring, and as far as Freddie was concerned, grey was the only colour in existence that didn’t have any colour about it. Tentatively, he walked up to the reading glass where he saw his whole body reflected back. For a while, he wondered if the grizzly visage of his scarecrow hair and rodent teeth would ever change. But after what seemed like hours had passed by, Freddie saw his reflection melt away into a paste. All form and figure had gone. Freddie could only see a pulsating, dark plasma. Suddenly, as though being slowly constructed out of clay, the paste began to take shape.

Freddie was looking at something tall and wide. It had multiple arms and legs and a very shaggy head of hair. At the top, numerous green blotches were attached to some of its limbs and had settled into the shape of tear-drops. It was something he recognised. Freddie turned to Mrs Walker – his face a picture of confusion.

“Well?” Barked Mrs Walker. “What do you see?”

Freddie looked down at his book. He turned page after page, searching desperately for his familiar. From cute cat to terrifying tarantula, sleepy sloth to stoic stallion, he couldn’t find what he saw anywhere.

“I’m... a pear tree." He whimpered.

The whole class began to laugh.

“You can’t be a pear-tree!” She scoffed. “No familiar has ever been a tree before. Let me have a look.”

She barged Freddie out the way and squinted her eyes as though she were trying to look at one of those accursed computer screens. Her jaw dropped. This was unprecedented. A new familiar. And such a bizarre one at that. On the floor in front of them, Freddie had noticed some small brown pebbles that looked like rabbit droppings. Mrs Walker, who noticed it too, scooped them up and forced them into Freddie’s ungrateful hands. Those were his seeds.

Freddie had thought nothing could be worse than being Freddie Gray. Turned out he was wrong. Being a pear-tree was much worse. Where some kids had gone home having fun and laughing with their hyenas, Freddie had spent his evening burying his familiar in his garden. Where some kids had bought hoops and balls to teach tricks to their seals, Freddie had bought a watering can and a trowel. Some kids actually got to spend time with their familiars. Familiars that had personalities, like kangaroos, hamsters and snakes. Freddie’s pear-tree did nothing. Could do nothing. Nothing but grow, if he were lucky.

Freddie would have much preferred Nichole’s familiar. She was a girl in his English class who’d unfortunately discovered she was a cow. It had eaten some of her homework and apparently defecated at an alarming rate. But Freddie would have gladly swapped places. Freddie was even jealous of Grant, who’d been given an ant by the reading glass. But even that ant had a certain charm about it. Freddie would watch it during his maths lessons, as it carried Grant’s pencils and rubbers around his desk for him.

The school year dragged by. The pear tree had somehow managed to grow as high as his waist very quickly in the garden, despite Freddie’s best efforts to ignore it. At Halloween, some of the other kids, including Russell, had come by Freddie’s house to trick-or-treat. But when Freddie’s father had taken too long to answer the door, they elected to trick. Russell and his bulldog Dennis, snuck into the garden and tried to deface Freddie’s tree. His mother’s bee had spotted them and soon enough the woman herself had charged outside to defend her son’s familiar.

In the panic, Russell had tried to escape by hopping over the tree. But just as he had jumped, the tree seemed to grow just that little bit taller. Freddie had found Russell rolling around in his garden, clutching the area between his legs with both hands. Oddly enough, the tree bore no scars. Russell had used a pencil and some spare change to try to write his name in the bark. He’d even commanded Dennis to tear off a branch as a souvenir. None of it, however, had worked. The pear tree stood strong.

After that night, Freddie never forgot to water his tree again. Russell had got into big trouble by trying to harm another person’s familiar. Through all his detentions, he barely had any time left to pick on Freddie. Over Winter, Freddie was concerned that the stronger winds and colder weather might harm his familiar, but again, the pear tree stood strong. And something strange was beginning to happen around school.

Although Jimmy had loved his iguana at first, he had never got used to feeding it live insects. Just before Christmas he spilled one of his insect boxes by accident. Within a week, crickets were the dominant species in his household. His whole family had to spend New Year's in a hostel, while their house was being fumigated. And Katherine’s parrot was really starting to bother her too. It kept repeating things she was saying that she didn’t want her parents to hear. It was the parrot's fault they found out about her boyfriend when it had said ‘no tongue’ at the dinner table.

Freddie on the other hand didn’t have any of those problems. In fact, the more he watered it and the more it grew, the stronger he felt. By exam time, he was more confident than he had ever been. Russel hadn't bothered him in months and his pear tree hadn’t eaten his revision like Nichole’s cow had done. And once the year was over, Freddie spent many a Summer’s night surrounding his tree with more flowers and decorations.

Being a pear tree wasn’t so bad after all, he felt. He was one of a kind and for now that was better than being something familiar.