Yes, scales. Like the kind on a snake. That's my big secret: my entire torso is covered in bright orange scales all the way from my collarbone down past my waist. They haven't reached past my shoulders or down my legs yet, but sooner or later the odds are they will.
That's my big secret. I'm an anthrozil - somebody who, someplace back in their family tree, has a dragon from one of the bunch Merlin turned into humans so they wouldn't go extinct. My Aunt Ashley - also one of us - says that genetically we're all human and all dragon. In English, that means an anthrozil has all the DNA for a human and a dragon. But we're not, we're just... half-breeds.

Now maybe you think it's cool to be a dragon. So did I when the scales first started forming on my chest, which was roughly when I was nine years old. But trust me, it gets old fast. Especially when while everyone else is having a blast, you're stuck wondering which circus you'll work for when your secret outgrows your sleeves.
I was startled out of my annoyance by a knock at the door. "Jeremy?" called Mom. She knows all about my scales, as well as Dad's wings, but she never walks in on me because she knows I tend to be a little paranoid when it comes to privacy. "I just wanted to let you know I've got your old jeans out here."
"Thanks, Mom," I answered as I pulled on my shirt and opened the door. I couldn't tell her how much it hurt to be the way I was. Mom or not, how could she understand?

As I was painting the shed with Dad, I decided to ask him a question. "Dad, does it ever feel... you know, wrong?"
He gave me a confused look. "What do you mean?"
"You know, the... thing," I relied. I couldn't be more specific outside the house, because we have to be discreet about everything.
"Oh," he replied. "Well, maybe once in a while. "But, it is how God made us."
I shrugged. "Yeah, but sometimes I just feel like a freak or something."
He nodded. "I know the feeling. I mean when they first started to grow, I was in a place where that sort of thing was accepted. But having to keep it under wraps..." I could see his backpack wiggle a little, seemingly by itself. "...yeah, it does get a bit unpleasant."
"No, Dad," I shook my head as I dipped my brush in and wiped off the excess paint. "I don't mean physically wrong, I mean... well, there's this pool party at Joe's on Saturday, and I can't go."
Dad nodded. "I know the feeling. I've never been in a pool in my life."
Well leave it to a dad to put it in that kind of perspective. "Yeah, but you didn't go to public school either. Not until college."
He nodded assent. "Well, Jeremy, I don't know why you were born the way you are," he admitted as he gently painted around the door handle. "But I want you to know I'm proud of you for taking it like a man."
I sighed. "Thanks," I muttered. It meant a lot that he was proud of me, but a proud dad can't make you normal enough to fit in.

After we finished painting the shed, I went back to my room and fell onto the bed. Sure, it was too early to go to sleep, but I needed to just relax for a while.
Flat on my back, I gazed around the room. The place was full of my collection: a collection of misfits. From the books, all on inept heroes like The Hobbit, to the posters of outcasts like Nightcrawler. I even had a plush toy of Balto on my shelf - he's the kind of guy I can identify with, half and half just like me. With outcasts and oddballs on every side, my room was the one place I really felt like I could fit in.