Thoroughly Mopey Millie

 (I have to admit that I don't actually remember exactly when I wrote this story. Unfortunately when I got a new PC in 2020 and transferred all my files over, for some reason, all of my Word documents obtained the date they were brought to the new PC as their "Created On" date, so I have no reliable way to definitively date any pre-2020 stuff besides my memory, blog posts, and in the case of stuff that got into the Neopian Times, the year in which it was published in the NT. But I'm reasonably certain I wrote this shortly after Return to Lynwood in 2017, so I'm going with that unless I find evidence to the contrary.)

As I worked on Return to Lynwood, I had so much fun writing the Browning family that I really wanted to do more with them. Millie was a grey Ogrin out of sheer happenstance - I'd randomly selected the species and colour of all the family members as neither trait would be important to the plot - but I found I wanted to explore more of what being grey (and mature for one's age) might mean for a tween dealing with increasing social complexity among her peers.

In canon, grey Neopets are generally depicted as rather depressed and morose, but I wanted to try a different take on grey-ness--Millie's personality suggests that grey Neopets are just quieter, more thoughtful, and less emotive than the norm. Her levelheaded demeanor helps to balance out her rambunctious younger brothers, at any rate.

Also, I was a lot like Millie when I was her age; I was quiet, bookish, reserved, and on a totally different wavelength than the other preteen girls around me who always seemed to be screaming about something. I wanted to write a story validating quiet, brainy kids, and help them see that the things the other kids currently don't understand about them are actually strengths that they'll be respected for someday. (Just don't expect to be respected for anything until college. Adolescence is an absolutely insane time for everybody. Just grit your teeth and get through it.)

To be honest, this got rejected from the Neopian Times and I never bothered to re-submit it; I suspect it got rejected because the general plotline isn't all that unique (main character feels like an oddball in her peer group and then wins acceptance). But I'm still fond of the story, I think it has important things to say, and I just really enjoy writing the Brownings as a cute little Edwardian family living somewhat normal lives in the midst of ghosts and curses.

(Also, Frances and Eldritch the Gremble show up in future stories, so I thought it important to include their debut in the corpus. Grembles are kind of a running joke in my Neopets work for some reason.)

Millicent Browning was not going to boarding school.

“Absolutely not,” Mother had assured her the first morning of summer holiday, after Millie had been promoted from primary school, as the family sat at breakfast. “They’re horrid places full of cliques and gossip and mean-spirited pranks. I wouldn’t wish one on any of my children, even if we could afford it.” Mother was a beautiful red Kougra lady who seemed to have a natural grace about her. She also wore a necklace of fangs given to her by the Werelupes, for helping them on an adventure. Truly she was not a woman to be trifled with.

“I want to go to boarding school!” Simon said, just to be contrary. The white Skeith was three years younger than Millie and seemed to thoroughly enjoy being contrary.

“Me too!” said their youngest brother Alfred, a yellow Moehog who had no idea what they were talking about but wanted to contribute to the conversation.

 Father, a barrel-chested orange Kau from the countryside of the northern Haunted Woods, laughed as he put a plate of sizzling potatoes on the table. “If there are pranks there,” he said, “then I’m sure you’ll fit right in!” He winked at Mother, who grinned but gave the boys a warning glare with her golden eyes. They had been playing an awful lot of pranks lately.

Millie dipped a finger of toast into her egg yolk and swirled it around thoughtfully. “I’m not so sure I’d like boarding school anyhow,” she said. “I don’t like the idea of being sent away for most of the year.” It came out quiet, but Millie never really raised her voice, because she was a grey Ogrin.

From his seat at the end of the table, Grandfather harrumphed. “Neither do I,” the tall blue Grarrl said. “I’d miss my Millie too much.”

“I’d miss you too, Grandfather,” Millie said with a smile. Grandfather Fitchet had once been a rich merchant who’d travelled Neopia and returned with all sorts of treasures, such as the Shenkuuvian cane he walked with. He told the most marvelous stories. Millie and her brothers adored him.

At any rate, it was settled. Summer turned into autumn, the Haunted Woods went from cool to colder and its leaves blazed with colour, and Millie stepped into Barrowmere Secondary School for the first time.

It was larger than her primary school, bustling with children she’d never seen before. Many of them looked older than her and she felt intimidated. Being the oldest child in her family, she was not used to feeling small and she didn’t like it.

“Chin up,” her mother would say during times like these. “A true lady always keeps her composure, even when others are losing theirs.”

So Millie jutted out her chin, smoothed out her skirts, and went to her first class, maths. She recognised a few students from her primary school, but the rest of the children were new to her. Barrowmere was a decently-sized town by Haunted Woods standards, so this did not surprise her.

What did surprise her was the whispering. A Techo leaned over to an Eyrie, both staring at her, and Millie caught the word “grey”. Other students similarly turned to their neighbors.

Millie gave them a confused look. From the way Mother had spoken about her experiences at Lynwood School for Girls, she made it sound as though gossip was extinct everywhere else. Clearly this was not the case.

“Why are you grey?” a giggly yellow Aisha asked as Millie sat next to her.

Millie tilted her head. What an odd question. “I was born this way,” she said. It was not unusual for Neopets to be born paint brush colours. True, grey Neopets were rather uncommon, but she did not think it was anything to cause a fuss about.

“You just look so depressed,” the Aisha said. “You should smile more often! Are you sad?”

Millie blinked. She had never equated not smiling with not being happy. She was happy with her life. She was just also rather serious and thoughtful, which meant that she was not one of those girls who flounced around with a dimpled smile all day. “Not particularly,” she said.

“You are sad!” the Quiggle in back of her decided. “Why?”

“I’m not sad,” Millie said, remaining calm but getting rather frustrated inside. She tried to remind herself that boarding school was probably worse than this. At least no one had dipped the end of her braid in ink… yet.

The Aisha stuck out a paw. “What’s your name?” she asked. “I’m Frances Hay.”

“Millicent Browning,” Millie said, shaking her paw. “Millie for short.”

Frances grinned and said, “Millie, huh… Mopey Millie, that’s what I’ll call you! Thoroughly Mopey Millie!”

The other students laughed. “Thoroughly Mopey Millie!” someone else chanted, and then the rest of them joined in.

Millie shrunk down in her seat, suddenly realising how different she was from everyone else. Fortunately, the teacher arrived soon after and distracted everyone with fractions.

***

“I shouldn’t like to go back tomorrow,” Millie announced at supper.

“Oh, that’s too bad!” Simon said through a bite of roast. “I had a jolly good time at school today!”

“And by that you mean you got into a row,” Mother said. “Please pass the gravy.” Simon did, and she poured it on her roast and potatoes.

“I want to get into a row!” Alfred squeaked.

Father patted him on the head. “How about when you’re a little older,” he said.

“Darling, don’t encourage them,” Mother said. She turned to Millie. “And why shouldn’t you like to go back tomorrow, dear?”

“They’ve—they’ve started calling me names,” Millie said. “Well, just one name, but I don’t like it.”

“What is it?” Grandfather asked.

Millie frowned and said, “’Thoroughly Mopey Millie’. Because I’m grey.”

“Just give them a stout thrashing!” Simon suggested helpfully.

“Now, now,” Father said. “Girls don’t work that way.”

“Am I mopey?” Millie asked.

Mother shook her head. “Of course not. I’m sorry they’re giving you trouble at school, but don’t listen to them. If we all lived our lives according to what other Neopets thought of us—why, just think what state Neopia would be in!”

“But please do listen to your parents, at least,” Grandfather said.

Millie chuckled. She didn’t out-and-out laugh, because she was grey. But when things were funny, she managed a chuckle, and her family understood that she was greatly amused. “I’ll try,” she said. “I mean, I’ll try not to listen to my schoolmates. I always do try to listen to my parents.”

“And I’ve made us a plum pudding for dessert!” Father said. “Millie, would you like to help me serve it?”

“Of course,” Millie said, standing up from her chair. She was excited as a grey Neopet could be, because plum pudding was one of her favourite desserts.

For the next few days, Millie tried not to listen. But it was hard, because her schoolmates seemed intent on getting her to listen to them. They would purposely cross her path just to call her “Mopey Millie”, and Frances and her friends had even made up a song that they would sing every time they saw the Ogrin. Millie still didn’t understand why schoolchildren could derive so much amusement from something so stupid.

Perhaps the worst part was when they tried to get her to be more like them. “Smile more, Millie!” someone would say, or “Millie, why don’t you ever join any clubs?” or “Millie, didn’t you think that was funny? Do lighten up, you’re just like an old woman!”

That last one particularly annoyed her, because even if she wanted to express her amusement more boisterously, most of the things the other students joked about were not that funny to begin with, and Millie prided herself on her honesty.

One evening, while Mother and Father were putting her brothers to bed, Millie wandered downstairs to the parlor and sat on the sofa in a huff. Well, it was more of a long sigh, because she was grey. She stared at the pretty patterns in the Qasalan rug covering the floorboards.

“What’s troubling you, dear?” Grandfather asked, looking up from his book as he read in his high-backed chair by the fire.

“I’m tired of being Mopey Millie,” she said. “No one seems to like me this way.”

Grandfather looked at her for a long moment. “It’s difficult to be tired of being something you’re not,” he said, closing the book on his lap. “And you, my dear, are not mopey. I have known mopey Neopets and they drive me mad. So I can definitively say you are not mopey.”

Millie managed half a smile up at him as she said, “But my schoolmates say—“

“Children say things they don’t understand all the time,” Grandfather said. “You’ve seen how Alfred will echo anything Simon says just to feel like he belongs. You are no ordinary child, so I’m not surprised other children exasperate you the way they do.”

Millie clasped her hands. “Yes, but what do I do about it?”

“Well, certainly don’t get into a row,” Grandfather said with a rumbling chuckle. “My advice to you is to be yourself, no matter what. Your schoolmates could stand to learn a lot from you. Perhaps some of them will be able to open their eyes and see that. You’re calm, thoughtful, and wise for your age, and those traits are more valuable than you realise right now. Stay the course, dearest, and chin up.” His green eyes twinkled. “It’s always worth it to be true to yourself.”

“Thank you, Grandfather,” Millie said. “I’ll certainly try.” Regardless of what everyone at school thought of her, she was glad her family understood her.

Grandfather folded his claws. “Now, then, have I ever told you about the time I travelled to Lutari Island? The natives put on a grand feast to welcome my trading party, and I learned about how they create magical talismans with special beads…”

Millie draped herself over one arm of the sofa and smiled as she listened to Grandfather’s tales.

***

“Thoroughly Mopey Millie!” Frances sang for the fiftieth time during lunch hour. The children were sat outside, as it was a cool and blustery day but not raining, and Millie was trying in vain to enjoy her sandwich. I’m not mopey, she thought to herself, also for the fiftieth time. I’m not, I’m not, I’m—

Suddenly someone shrieked. Millie bolted to her feet, because in the Haunted Woods if someone shrieks there is always a good reason to. “What is it?” she asked.

“Eugh, get it away!” her Techo classmate said, pointing to something on a table.

“It stole my biscuits!” someone else said.

Now Millie was curious, despite knowing how bad it was to be curious in the Haunted Woods. She packaged up her lunch and moved through the crowd of children to see what had gotten everyone so upset.

“What an ugly pest!” Frances wailed, pointing at the perpetrator. It was a scared little Gremble, its yellow eyes wide and the brown fur on its body bristling. A gust of wind blew its frazzled mane of black hair about its head.

Millie did not see quite what the problem was. Yes, Grembles were rather odd-looking, but that was no reason to hate them. It was as silly as making fun of someone for being grey. Her heart went out to the vilified Petpet.

“Come here, little fellow,” she said, creeping toward it while holding out one of her own biscuits. “It’ll be all right. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

“Oh, Mopey Millie, do be careful!” Frances moaned, clinging to another terrified girl. “Eek—it moved!”

Millie politely refrained from rolling her eyes. The Gremble stared hungrily at the biscuit and made noises like the crackling of dried hay. Slowly, carefully, Millie put the biscuit on the table, and waited.

“Just grab the stupid thing!” a boy said, but Millie ignored him.

The Gremble edged toward the biscuit. It bent down, and from between the seams of its facial covering emerged a pair of toothy jaws that took hold of the dessert.

Millie scooped up both Gremble and biscuit in both hands and walked swiftly to the schoolyard wall. It writhed in her grip, but not too much. “I’m just trying to help you,” she said to it in a low voice. “I’ll be done soon. Almost there, that’s a good chap.”

Reaching up, she put the Gremble on top of the wall and took a step back. The creature watched her for a moment, then jumped down the other side of the wall, biscuit in tow, to the street beyond.

Brushing off her hands on her skirt, Millie returned to a silent audience.

“Mopey Millie, that was incredible!” Frances said. “However did you do that?”

Millie smiled. “A true lady keeps her composure even when others are losing theirs,” she said.

“Hoorah for Mopey Millie!” someone else said, and the other children joined in the cheer.

“Although I do wish you would stop calling me that,” Millie said. “I’m not mopey. I’m just serious.”

“Oh—I’m dreadfully sorry,” Frances said. “It was my fault. I come up with nicknames for everybody, you see, and ‘Mopey Millie’ just had such a nice ring to it… I’ll tell you what, why don’t you come up with a silly nickname for me? Then we’ll be even!”

Millie blinked. She was not expecting this. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“It’s all in good fun,” Frances said. “At any rate, I’ll tell you if it hurts my feelings.”

“All right,” Millie said. She thought for a moment, although thinking proved quite a bit more difficult when she was put on the spot like this. But then an idea came to her and she smiled again. “How about ‘Flouncy Franny’?”

Frances’s eyes grew wide for a moment—then she laughed, her earstalks bobbing. “I love it! Marvelous!”

And from then on Mopey Millie and Flouncy Franny were friends.

The day went better after that. Children still called Millie mopey, but they meant it good-naturedly now. No one sang that stupid song. And no one told her to smile more.

That afternoon, Millie and Frances came out of the school building chatting about having lunch at each other’s houses one of these Saturdays, and were already making plans for the fun they would have during winter holiday.

“Oh—there’s my big brother!” Frances said, waving to a teenage Blumaroo with his group of friends. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mopey Millie!”

“See you tomorrow, Flouncy Franny,” Millie said with a wave.

Outside the school gates, movement caught her eye. There was the Gremble from earlier, hunched under a bush, chewing on a bit of old newspaper.

Millie couldn’t leave it like that. “Here, little fellow,” she said, crouching down and holding out her hands. “I know a place where you can eat bacon and eggs for breakfast every day and roast at least two nights a week. Would you come with me?”

The Gremble paused. Letting go of the newspaper, it trudged over to Millie and sniffed her hands. Then it allowed her to pick it up.

Millie smiled wider than she ever had before as she cradled it in her hands, shielding it from the brisk autumn wind. Grandfather was right.

The End