The Sisterhood of Terra and Phee: Part One

      My name is Phee, and I'm a Faerie Peophin. My birth name is Phoebe, technically. Or at least, that's what my sister tells me. I don't remember what I was named, because I barely remember our owner -- our mom. Terra, my Faerie Ruki sister, says she was lovely, talented, and a lot of fun to be around. But I don't remember these things. I remember hearing that she was too busy to care for us anymore. There were too many things to be done. School. Work. Her friends. She just didn't have time to take care of us properly.

      "But don't worry," I remember her saying right beside the desk where she'd sign the papers that said we weren't hers anymore. She was crouching down, holding our hands, one of ours in each of hers. Her eyes were earnest. "You two are so beautiful, you'll be snatched up in no time. You'll hardly spend any time in the Pound at all. I promise."

      Promises, I've found, can be broken. Even the ones you mean.

      But that's not the point. The point is, I've chosen my own name, apart from what my former owner named me. I prefer Phee.

      Not PheePhee the Phatty.

      Not OverPheeder.

      Those names are what the other pets in the pound call me when they know my sister isn't around to defend me. People think of the Pound as this dirty, dingy place where no one wants to go because it's claustrophobic, sad, dismal, and you never get enough to eat.

      But that's not true. It's not dirty. Other pets work here, cleaning. And we do our best to keep the space clean as well. I doubt the Neolodge is any cleaner than the Pound is, though of course it's not like I've ever been. And the food? A lot of it is donations from kind Neopians or from the Money Tree. We even get a little spending Neopoints, if someone has been particularly nice or if ghosts have been particularly generous in their cruel way, popping up and stealing Neopoints from unsuspecting Neopians in order to donate it to the Money Tree. If we have enough saved, we can even go out and about Neopia on certain specified days. We have field trips every so often, and the Pink Uni who runs the Adoption side of things chatters on about how soon we could be coming to these places with our families.

      So, no, we're not dirty. We're not hungry. Any pet in here could tell you that I am especially not so. But we are a little dingy and sad. We all feel a little claustrophobic, because we all have varying amounts of dismal that clings to us and never gives us enough room. Because the Pink Uni, with all her perkiness, cannot summon a family into being for us, much as I'm sure she'd like to try. If anyone could, anyway, it would be her.

      Luckily, I already have some family here in the Pound. When our owner left us, she at least didn't leave us alone and separate. She left us each other.

      And when everyone around me is taunting me and calling me names, when everyone forgets that I have a heart and soul like they do, I can turn around and my sister is there. She's always been there.

      "Phee," she says, "they don't know what they're doing. They don't have family here like we do. We need to be kind to them, not because they're kind to us but because that's what matters. Don't listen about not finding a family. You already have me. And I'll never leave you. Okay, Phee?"

      And she'll hug me when I cry. She'll hug me when I'm shaking with anger, until I'm still and calm again. She'll love me no matter what. And I never have to worry about her calling me names, because to her I'm always going to be exactly who I am.

      Just Phee.

      It's lunch time at the Pound. My favorite time of day, excluding breakfast and lunch. My love for food began when I first realized what food was. A list of ingredients, totally unrelated sometimes, coming together to create the most amazing things. It was teamwork. It was a miracle of science and chemistry. It was like brewing a potion. It was magic.

      "Don't you know there's other pets here, OverPheeder?" an adolescent Spotted Gelert boy who's been here longer than I have shoves past me and causes me to drop the ladle full of mashed potatoes. It splatters all over my plate and tray.

      Food was, in short, everything the Pound was not.

      I clench my fists and breathe, trying to channel Terra. "Bertholomew," I say, using his full name instead of his preferred one - Bert - in an act of defiance, "I believe you were taught manners better than that."

      The key to overcoming wickedness, Terra says, is to meet it with something opposite it. When faced with kindness, wickedness doesn't know what to do.

      Bert's face goes red, either from embarrassment or from anger, I'm not sure which. "Whatever!" he snaps, and stomps away to sit with his friends, who all turn to sneer at me.

      "Their loneliness has to go somewhere," Terra says, startling me and almost causing me to knock my tray over, which would have been a huge mess. And even worse, a huge waste of food. "You just happen to be nearby."

      "Yeah, well, there's a lot of pets nearby," I mutter. "Why me?"

      "Why not you?" Terra answers calmly and without malice.

      I take a deep breath through my mouth and let it out slowly through my nose by way of response.

      It's one of her sayings. Don't ask 'why me?' Ask, 'why not me?' Because, honestly, none of us is invincible. Things are going to be tough for every pet at some point or another. At first, this didn't help me at all. Until she confessed one night that she used to think 'why me?' a lot, too. When it became obvious that no one was coming for us. When she realized she needed to take care of me instead of being taken care of herself. She says it almost made her a dark form of herself, and she wanted to push me away because it got so bad. That is, until she decided to turn it around and instead ask, 'why not me?' and 'what can I learn'?

      "Maybe," I remember her saying, after I asked if she was still upset, "I was the best one for the job. Someone out there knew that, and allowed me to be here with you. That's not a curse. That's the best thing I could ask for."

      Thinking like this -- 'why not me?' and 'what can I learn'? -- helps me to not feel so much like a victim, but instead like part of the 'everyone' -- part of the group. Making yourself into a martyr, Terra says, is the fastest way to become one, even in the best of circumstances. I don't know where she got all of this. Maybe it came from reading so much. Her spending Neopoints almost always go directly to books written by authors with names hard to pronounce. Maybe it came from being the oldest sibling in a tough situation. Maybe it just came from being her, which was practically magic in and of itself.

      I sit my tray down at our table, which is shared by a practically genius Speckled Acara and a quiet Green Zafara who nearly almost has her tail wrapped around her waist, as if life is moving far too fast and she needs a seatbelt.

      "How's everyone?" Terra asks.

      "Okay, all things considered." Lana -- the Acara -- twirls her fork in a pile of something resembling spaghetti.

      "And by 'all things,' you mean...?" I ask, leaving the question open-ended for her to fill in.

      "I just read this book that explains the probability of Grundo relocation, should their current primary homes at the Space Station and Kreludor ever become unsuitable. And it doesn't look too promising, given various factors."

      I blink and frown. "And this is a worry because Dr. Sloth recently came back, or what?" I say sarcastically. "Better get to training!"

      Tricia -- the Zafara -- nearly chokes on a laugh.

      Lana heaves a beleaguered sigh. "Not at the current moment, no. But everyone knows that a current moment isn't a future moment, and the best way to be prepared for a future moment is to study its probabilities and weigh the pros and cons of the outcome."

      I send a glance to Terra. "This habit she has," I point my fork, "is unsustainable. Tell her this is unsustainable."

      "She's not crazy," Terra says, stealing a bite of mashed potatoes from my plate. "Preparation is important."

      "For things that might ever happen, sure," I say. "Like, I don't know, having tacos on a Thursday instead of a Tuesday. Or getting lost on a trip to Neopia Central."

      Terra gives a shrug. "Who knows," she says. "Maybe one day something unexpected will happen. And then where will we all be? Asking Lana for help, that's where." She ducks her head slightly and grins, not wanting Lana to know she's poking a bit of fun.

      "Well," I say, "I may as well get ready for Neopia as we know it to end, then, to avoid the embarrassment of relying on Lana. She might get a big head."

      "I think it's too late for that," Tricia says, so quietly that it's almost a meek comment instead of a playfully insulting one. Everyone at the table has to go completely silent to hear it. When we do, we all burst into laughter. Even Lana. Because even Lana knows it's true.

      But she was right, after all. And so was I. I should have gotten ready for Neopia as I knew it to end. Because, in a way, it was. It had already started, and I didn't even know it.

      To be continued...