Cuties or Cooties? PV Mercy King

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@Aislin Darragh
Mentioning @Cassius Hirano

To be completely honest, Mercy was starting to feel a little overwhelmed. The culture shock of going from a completely normal life, where his biggest worry was an upcoming lacrosse game, to having to reassess his definition of “normal” was a lot for any eleven-year-old, especially one who had known a life of nothing but comfortable familiarity. He felt incredibly out of his depth as many of his classmates were apparently accustomed to food simply appearing out of thin air, floating objects, and moving and talking paintings, while he was still struggling to navigate the shifting staircases. Thankfully, the school work was still manageable a week into the term, so he still had some free time to better acclimate to his new surroundings.

On this calm and cheerfully clear Tuesday afternoon, Mercy had immediately bolted to his room after class to change out of those dreadful robes. Robes. He really hated them, although he supposed the sleeves were starting to grow on him a bit, but they really were awfully boring and not flattering whatsoever. Spluttering some half-hearted excuse to Cassius (although he always seemed to know, intuitively, when Mercy needed a little bit of space and breathing room), he changed into much better-fitting clothes, grabbed his lacrosse stick and ball, and tore out of the castle like a bat out of hell.

He hadn’t intended on playing any real lacrosse, against a wall or not, so Mercy hadn’t bothered to put on any athletic clothing. The visual of a smartly dressed child wearing khakis, a textured navy polo, and sneakers so white it hurt to look at them holding a beaten and muddy lacrosse stick was certainly interesting, but the way he flicked the ball into the air and caught it without even looking suggested a certain level of expertise with the equipment, and it was clear that Mercy was using his favorite sport as a way to unwind. As he walked further from the castle, exploring more of the grounds as he kept throwing and catching the lacrosse ball, he let his senses be overtaken by the nature around him, the cool and gentle breeze calming and soothing him.

He halted to a stop, however, when he spotted the girl sitting down in the pile of mud, her back towards the walking path. The lacrosse ball, all but forgotten, thudded to the ground and rolled a few feet away in the direction of the mud-girl, and Mercy hastily stepped forward to scoop the ball up into the net of the stick. Holding the stick vertically now, the way you would a wizard’s staff, he slowly approached the girl with his eyebrows furrowed, as if she were a deer he was attempting not to spook.

Now fully crouching, wincing as his sneakers were slightly more muddied than they were before, he sidled up to her, peering over her shoulder. The butt of his lacrosse stick was now firmly in the dirt as he used it to help him balance, mentally cringing as he felt his sneakers crease in his crouched position. His face twisted into a mask of pure disgust and shock as he observed the wiggling string in her hand, and impulsively, he muttered, “Ew…” Looking at the girl’s face, he quickly tried to school his facial expression into something more akin to neutral curiosity. “Why are you touching that? It could be dangerous,” he said quickly, trying his best to come off as concerned and not judgmental. “It might be cooties,” he added in a hushed tone, eyes darting between the diseased blob and the girl’s face. Oh god, he was talking to a girl. He hadn’t met a new girl in years. His already twisted face paled at the realization, and he gulped audibly. Surely, this would not be awkward at all.

@Mercy King

Aislin jumped a bit. Not because she thought she was doing anything wrong or weird, but because she'd kind of forgotten another person could be here. The grounds of Hogwarts were for a lot more people than the creek behind her house and that was going to take some getting used to. People could just start talking to her, out of nowhere. She spun around so her back wasn't to him anymore, making the amount of dirt she would have to clean off the back of her shorts later worse, and squinted at him. It wasn't that bright, kind of an overcast day, but she was sizing him up as much as she knew how to do at eleven. He had the whitest shoes she'd ever seen, which just seemed kind of silly, and some sort of stick and ball situation that looked vaguely familiar.

The squinting turned into a scrunched up nose when she saw his expression, and she held the worm a little closer to her chest. But then he seemed to relax a bit, and so did she. This was not a worm standoff, he just didn't seem to know that much about them. "They're not dangerous," she told him. "It's just an earthworm. They don't bite or sting or anything, and they're not like parasite worms. They only eat you when you die to decompose your body." She tilted her head to the side, considering this. "Maybe. Mostly they eat dead plants, other bugs and bigger things break down animals."

She could have kept going, but he said something else that caught her attention. Cooties. Aislin had heard that word before, as most kids had. She did not know what it meant whatsoever, only that the whisper the lad took on to mention it, like it was some terrible disease, seemed to be a common theme. "Is that a worm species?" she asked, hesitatingly, and then realized he definitely didn't know any species of worm if he couldn't even recognize an earthworm. Bringing the worm up closer to her face, she decided there was no way people could be so afraid of this. So it wasn't cooties. Probably. She moved it away from her face.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, her mam was reminding her of the basics of meeting new people and being polite. And sitting in the dirt definitely was not that, so she stood up, cradling the worm in one hand and brushing off her shorts with the other in a somewhat futile attempt. "I'm Aislin Darragh." The next step was shaking hands, but her right hand was currently occupied by a wriggling creature and it would be really weird to shake with her left, right? Maybe she should introduce the worm instead. "This is... well, they don't have a name yet. And they're harmless, see?" Instead of merely offering the lad an eye-level peek at how toothless and relaxed this worm was, Aislin held it out, right in his personal space, trying to hand it to him. Because what better way was there for him to see he had nothing to worry about?

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@Aislin Darragh

The girl spoke with what Mercy could only describe as an aggressively Irish lilt, her words floating through the air like a melody. Granted, he didn't know many Irish people in general, so maybe it was par for the course, but it certainly wasn't anything like the Americans he went to school with or the measured British accents he had grown up around. The topic she spoke of, however, was not nearly as lovely as her accent. Worms? Surely not. Worms were much smaller than the alien fetus she held in the palm of her hand. He definitely couldn't prevent the facial expression that contorted his face when she mentioned their diet, balking at the thought of worms eating his rotting corpse at the ripe age of 104. Death was not at the forefront of this particular eleven-year-old's mind. For all he knew, he would live forever.

"A worm species? No, I don't think so," Mercy said cautiously, squinting at the thing she was holding. "But I really don't think that's a worm." He straightened as the girl stood up, not wanting to have to crane his neck up at her while he talked. She didn't seem to be bolting away, thank goodness, but instead introduced herself. Mercy mentally smacked his forehead as he realized, amidst his curiosity and disgust, he had forgotten his manners entirely and had forgotten to even make an introduction. But before he could try and woo the girl back into his good graces, Aislin shoved the cooties in his face.

Mercy stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet and his lacrosse stick in his haste to maintain a safe distance from the disease the girl held. "Harmless?" he managed to squeak out, miraculously finding his balance again. "You call that harmless?" He cleared his throat, trying to hold on to the last bit of composure he could muster in the face of such adversity. "I'm Mercy King. And that thing doesn't need a name, because it's definitely cooties." He pointed at what he could only assume to be the weapon side of the cootie, which was sharper and more pointed than the other end. "See, it's a lot bigger than an earthworm," he insisted. "And angrier. Worms aren't usually that angry." Indeed, the harbinger of cooties seemed to squirm with rage in Aislin's palm, and Mercy hastily stepped back to level his lacrosse stick at it, tucking the ball into his pocket and aiming his weapon in one smooth motion.

"Put it in the pocket and I can throw it into the lake," he said quickly, indicating that Aislin should put the cooties into the mesh of his lacrosse stick. He would likely have to set the mesh on fire later and restring it, but if it meant ridding the world of a great evil, then it was a chore he was more than willing to undertake. "My brother said that cooties can be lethal, especially for boys, and I don't want to take any chances."

@Mercy King

She made a face when he tried to tell her the wriggling cylindrical creature in her hands was not a worm, somewhere between a glare and utter disbelief. "I know what a worm looks like," she insisted with all of the force of someone who had picked out every worm-related book she could find at the library (which was not that many in her small Irish town, admittedly, but how many worm books had the average person read?) and read them all in one whirlwind of a week where she'd found worms especially captivating. This was obviously an earthworm.

Though not in company she could trust to accurately identify or discuss earthworms, anyone could hold one by using the miniscule amount of common sense needed to stop it from wiggling itself out of your hands, so her disappointment when he backed away was visible. Didn't he believe her that they were safe? The lad--Mercy King, as he introduced himself amidst an anti-worm tirade--was treating this all a bit dramatically, she thought. "We could call them Noodles," she muttered, but Mercy kept going. His stick thing brandished, facts presented (though she disagreed on both counts, it seemed perfectly normal-sized and content to her), he still seemed set on it being cooties.

And then he proposed a plan involving the pocket of his stick and an unceremonious lake-dumping of the worm. Mostly Aislin was confused. Noodles didn't need moving, they had a worm friend and a home in nice damp dirt right here, but it was clear Mercy wasn't in the business of saving worms anyway. So he was trying to... kill it? Didn't he know that worms didn't drown like humans did, didn't have the lungs for that? "Worms breathe through their skin," she pointed out, as if that explained anything. Submersion would be bad for Noodles eventually, but moisture was generally helpful to worms and they could still get oxygen from the water.

The answer to Mercy's motives was likely found in a last key detail. "Lethal?" she repeated, half-concerned, half-skeptical. If Mercy was right, if Noodles was cooties or otherwise had cooties, since people always seemed focused on the having of cooties, then his goal was merely to establish a safe distance. She guessed it would make sense why he was so scared, if that was true, and that she should do the same, even though she didn't have the susceptibility to it that boys apparently had. She didn't know enough on the topic of cooties to evaluate whether it was a good goal or a reasonable plan. Aislin still had reservations about handing over Noodles, but in case he was right, she gently set them on the ground behind her, back next to the other worm. Mercy did not know what he was talking about when it came to worms, but she was willing to hear him out for this if it was really that serious. "Tell me everything you know about cooties."

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@Aislin Darragh

The glare that Aislin leveled at him could rival one of his mother's patented Knock it off stares, and Mercy shrank away from her instinctively. His ignorance might have stretched a mile wide, but his sense of self-preservation still, thankfully, remained intact. He had no idea what was in the water in Ireland, but this girl had a glare that could probably carve into him like laser-beams if he wasn't careful. Yet a small part of him still doubted her words, despite her insistence and confident (if not a bit arrogant) tone. A small inkling of doubt began to creep into his mind, and he wondered if he was too far down this poorly-paved path to turn back now.

Aislin proceeded to give the writhing weapon in her palm a name, of all things, but Mercy plowed on with all the grace and inability-to-see-the-bigger-picture of a bull in cramped china shop. His diatribe was effectively halted, however, when Aislin finally decided to take him seriously. The mention of a possible fatality at her hands seemed to finally knock some sense into her as the gravity of the situation he faced sank in.

"Okay... cooties," he said slowly, eyeing Noodles's gentle descent to his natural habitat. Perhaps he would have to refrain from ever stepping outside again. It would do wonders to protect him from skin cancer, but he would have to find some other hobby to prevent him from going stir-crazy in the castle. "Well, my brother said that scientists tried to create some sort of biological tracking device back in the 90s. Girls have some sort of natural shield against them, I think from their hair, but if the cooties slime absorbs into my skin, it'll trigger spontaneous obliteration because it'll blow up my youth gene." Mercy shudded melodramatically at the thought of his perfect skin instantly wrinkling, the idea so horrifying that he had to take a moment to collect himself.

"Anyway, it won't kill me instantly, but it'll immediately turn my internal biological clock to 85. I'll get creaky joints, listen to the weather forecast, lose all my hand-eye coordination, be deaf, and worst of all..." Mercy gulped loudly, eyes darting from side to side as he double-checked that no one else was around to hear the most terrible symptom of them all. To doubly ensure secrecy, he leaned in closer to Aislin. "Worst of all, I'll lose all my hair. I'll go bald!" Although he had tried to make it sound intimidating, Mercy's words sputted out as a pitiful yelp-turned-sob, and he had to quickly turn away and shut his eyes to prevent any tears from rolling down his cheek.

"So you see," he sighed. "We have to eradicate them. For the good of all the boys at Hogwarts. Theory, that's my brother, he told me that this is super common knowledge... but I'm thinking of making a pamphlet, since it seems like no one else knows about them but me."

@Mercy King

Aislin considered herself a fairly smart witch. A scientist in training, above all. But she didn't know everything (which she could admit, like any good future scientist!), and moments like this sort of hit her in the face with that. Worms she might know a lot about, but cooties? She really, really didn't know about cooties.

Brothers, scientists, tracking devices. The light, squishy weight of Noodles in her hands had been kind of reassuring, and she missed it now that it was gone. She glanced down at Noodles and company -- maybe they could be Sauce, since they went together? -- and checked that they were still fine. Noodles and Sauce were just laying there, wiggling a little bit in the dirt, all good. Wait, what had Mercy just said? Natural hair shields and youth genes? While he flailed about in apparent horror, Aislin attempted to replay the last couple of things he had said. She pulled her ponytail in front of her eyes for inspection. It didn't look like a shield. There could be itty-bitty shields, too small for her to see, on the cell level. As much as she liked biology, she didn't know very much about genetics, so maybe there was a youth gene vulnerable to cooties, but wouldn't she have heard of it? It could be more of a Muggle science thing and magic had some way of defending against it.

Instantly turning 85 would be bad, she guessed. It would also be pretty cool, though, right? Speeding through aging? You couldn't even see yourself growing because it was so slow, but rapid shrinking and hair loss would be pretty noticeable. Maybe someone had seen it and saved it in a... what was it called? Video? She'd have to ask Christine if she had anything like that. "You might look good bald," Aislin pointed out, trying to make him feel better. He was actually really upset about this. Terrified? It still seemed a little ridiculous to her, Noodles and Sauce were little and didn't do much but inch around blindly eating dirt, but cooties did sound serious.

Aislin could be a good listener (not actually true, she had caught about half of that and noticed a dragon-shaped cloud instead). She could at least be open to new perspectives. That being said, she was also skeptical and not very swayed by emotions, even if she was concerned about Mercy now. "I think maybe there's a potion for cooties? Because I've never heard of that happening to anyone." It was partially an attempt at more reassurance. He looked like he needed it. "An' I know there's a potion for hair growth, my mam brewed it before. Probably something for creaky joints, too." The point was, "So they're not actually lethal."

In other words: she wasn't letting him displace Noodles and Sauce from their earthy home and chuck them in the lake. Worms were still important decomposers, and if nature wanted to turn the occasional kid into an old man, that must be good for the ecosystem.