Before I tell you my story I should make it clear that I am a swarm of bees. Just as human beings are made of organs which are themselves made of cells, I am made of bee-parts which are made of bees. The bees have their own anatomy but that’s not important right now.

Now that’s out of the way, this story begins on a Friday morning: the day of the Winter Funderland Dance. As soon as my alarm went off I flew out of bed, both with excitement and because I am a swarm of bees. I considered wearing my nice dance clothes to school, but then I realized that would be like the least cool thing I could do. So I put on my second-coolest pair of jeans (having worn my coolest pair on Thursday), grabbed a quick dab of honey from the kitchen, and buzzed a quick goodbye to Mom and Dad. My parents are wasps, if you were wondering.

I usually take the bus to school, even though it’s faster to fly. It’s just a social thing, I guess — like, I don’t need people thinking I’m too weird to ride the bus just because I’m an humanoid hivemind. Sure, freshman year there were a bunch of older kids who would swat at me, but I’m a junior now and people seem to be over it. Besides, taking the bus means I get to see Robin every morning.

Oh Robin. Her family moved into the treehouse across the street last summer and she immediately moved into my heart (well, central-bee-dispatch-system). I was very excited when I found out she was going into junior year as well, but was totally crushed when we didn’t have a single class together. Fortunately her younger brother needed a math tutor and it just so happened he could count on a certain neighbor.

Because I’m good at counting. Because I’m a collective intelligence. Of bees, specifically.

Anyway, I played it cool on those tutoring visits and eventually we started having regular conversations on the morning bus ride. At some point I realized that she too could fly to school if she wanted. That’s why yesterday I had the nerve to ask her to the winter dance. I’ve been buzzing ever since.

Robin wasn’t on the bus that Friday, though. I tried not to think about it — I knew she would sometimes fly her brother to school. Still, my best friend Larry could tell I was freaking out. He had his epi-pen at the ready in case one of my nerves got out of hand, literally.

My day at school was super boring; I could barely pay attention at all. Calculus was no problem, of course, and even US History was covering a topic I knew everything about: the rise of anthropomorphized animal-based creatures as sentient beings and citizens. My parents taught me about that stuff as a child, which is a real thing that happened and not just an example of something that exists in this world to justify a premise. English class was all about postmodernism but I zoned out and don’t remember any of that.

The team tried to convince our coach to cancel baseball practice because of the dance, but he made us run an extra lap instead. I missed so many easy catches while wondering what Robin was going to wear that night. Our school dress code required all students to cover at least 60% of their bodies, even though a supreme court ruling had made this basically unenforceable. So, yeah, good chance I would get to see her breast.

Robin and I had agreed to meet at the dance because neither of us could drive and our friends didn’t really know each other. After not seeing her all day, though, I couldn’t resist making a quick trip across the street to get her opinion on which tie I should wear (the red one, obviously). So I knocked on her door and her dad answered. Her dad loves me, by the way. Math tutor, remember?
She’s going to the dance with you? he asked. Apparently she hadn’t told them, so that’s interesting. Yes, I explained, I hope that was fine by them. He said yes, yes it was, but he hadn’t thought she would be interested in a… boy who was good at math. Just that, it’s not what he imagined, but it’s totally fine and everything. I tried to dodge this awkwardness with some “we are good friends” explanation and he seemed relieved. Anyway, she had already gone to Mary Giraffe’s house to get ready for the dance. I know what you’re thinking, but Mary is a human who just happens to have a long neck.

So I got dressed for Winter Funderland, trying not to think about that encounter. Larry and Horace (who is a giraffe) picked me up super late, so I pollinated the backseat of Larry’s car which is grosser than I think Larry understands. We had to park several blocks away and jog to the venue: the county ice rink. I never saw the appeal of skating, myself, but even non-bipeds seemed excited by how on-theme it was.

The last chorus of “My Humps” was coming to a close as I adjusted the tie around my bee-neck and hovered onto the rink, searching for Robin. A slow jam started to play and I spotted Dave Eagleman sidling up to a lovely lovely set of red tail feathers. My heart sank (CBDS, whatever). Maybe her dad was right, maybe she would be better off with a bird of a feather. I was about to swarm out of there when I felt a tap on shoulder: Robin! I looked back and realized Jane Blue had died her feathers, again.

Robin put a wing around me and we started to dance. I apologized for being late and she jokingly scolded me. You know what they say about the early bird, she chirped, which was funny but pretty fucked up when you think about it.

We danced romantically, we danced ironically, we mocked the Winter Funderland king and queen announcements (a penguin and a swan, of course). Eventually the night wound down and we found ourselves alone, together, outside. Robin gave a shiver, so I put my jacket around her and accelerated my friction-bees. I looked deep into her black eyes and she stared longingly into my buzzing face-mass. A moment of silence was suspended in the night air, then we leaned towards each other and her beak met my feeler-bees.

The kiss was sweet, playful, everything I had dreamed of. Our hearts aflutter, I knew this would last at least two mating seasons. Then she bit down, killing a few of my bees, and she swallowed with a giggle. I was shocked at first, but then I thought: she’s a bird and I’m a swarm of bees. And I’m into it.