Chapter 1-2
1027 Words
When Cloris came to take the kids to sleep, I could finally stand up, stretch my arms, and breathe deeply.
Being loved so much was nice, but it could also be quite suffocating.
"I don't know why you spoil them so much," Marty grumbled.
"It's nice to have a family," I said.
While uncle Azzie, his wife Cloris, and Pops treated me warmly, it couldn't compare with the admiration and adoration my cousins showered me in. For the adults, I was a child. For the kids, I was the big sister, the link between them and their much older parents, the adult they could play with and talk with. My total ineptitude in all matters magical meant that they could also feel good about themselves by teaching me what they knew.
Of course, I always asked questions to Marty or Yllana, my friend, because the kids could be outrageously funny (and wrong) in their explanations. If I based my understanding of the world on what they told me, I would behave like a child.
"While I'm glad you enjoy it so much," Marty said, "the holidays are almost over, and we've only been out twice. Including today. And we're starting classes next week. Maybe if you worked less, you could have more time for both your family and me."
I looked at him, raising my eyebrow. He pretended not to understand, his expectant gaze fixed upon me.
"Erynn needs me," I said, referring to the baby I was taking care of.
My first job when I came into this world was to take care of her at night, so her mother could get some sleep. Spending time with her awakened my magical gift, and I Healed her without even realizing what I was doing. I couldn't quit my job. What would happen to Erynn if I stopped helping her develop her ethereal body? She could burn from inside from excess magical energy. Or worse…
I shuddered, thinking of all the things that could happen to a child with problems in their magic formation.
I read a book recently, a thick, illustrated book with clear, concise, and dry language.
When Marty found me in the library, after Grandpa called him, worried that I didn't respond to calls through my vizor, he had to unbend my fingers one by one, as I gripped to the book with all my strength, as if it was the only thing holding me from madness.
He closed it and placed it on the table and handed me a handkerchief.
"Why did you have to read it?" he asked. "I told you not to read it. Look how upset you are. Now, now, stop —"
I hugged him by the waist and started crying again, all the tears I had inside me pouring into a river. I made a mess of his shirt, and even the magically water-resistant mascara run down, creating a black spot. I don't even want to think how I must have looked.
He put his arms on my shoulders, patting my head gently, as I used his chest as a handkerchief.
"Next time you'll know," he said, taking out his pocket square and drying my face. It was slippery and didn't work very well, because it wasn't supposed to be used for this. But the handkerchief was in such a sorry state, even touching it was disgusting, much less using it on my face. "That I don't tell you not to read something for no reason. It's not like there's anything you can do, Amy."
"But I can," I said, looking up at him, my voice hoarse from all the crying. "I can help. I don't know how — but I might be able to help. And that's why I must."
He tried to tell me it wasn't my responsibility, that it wasn't my duty to do so, but I remained relentless. If I had this gift, then I had to use it. I couldn't live in a world where children were exploding from the inside — and do nothing about it.
"We talked about this," I said.
We had. Not only that time, but many times after that, when he tried to convince me to just live my life — as if I could do something like that.
"It's not that I don't respect your choice," he said. "But Amy… you're barely managing, and we're on holiday. What will you do when we restart classes? I don't want to see you collapse."
"That's my business," I said, shrugging. "I've handled worse before. Maybe I can go back to the distance department. That would add to my time."
"Not really," Marty said. "You can't learn the spells we'll be learning now in the distance department. Only control and magical energy management can be taught this way. For anything more than this, you need to be present. And if you want to learn how to use that skill of yours, you must go to the in-person classes. Besides, not letting your mind rest is not sustainable."
"I'll manage," I repeated what I said before, for the hundredth time.
"Alright," Marty said, for the first time, with a calculating look in his eyes. "But promise me something."
"What?" I would not promise him anything if I didn't know what it was.
"That, when you do collapse, you'll slow down," Marty said. "As soon as you end up in the hospital because of this, that's it. You listen to me and reduce your workload."
I looked at him with suspicion. The proposal was reasonable. Which meant there was something else there.
"And you won't bother me anymore, and you'll let me make my own decisions?" I asked.
"Sure," he said, although, by his frown, I could see he didn't like it much.
"Three months," I said.
"What?" he said, blinking at the non sequitur.
"If I collapse, I listen to you for three months," I had to put a time limit on it. I hoped not to lose this bet, but, if I did, at least it wouldn't mean giving Marty the control over my schedule for life.
"A year," he said.
"Six months," I said. "And no more."
"Deal," he agreed, and extended his hand to me, which I shook.
I smelled a rat. He agreed way too quickly.
But there was nothing I could point at, so I smiled and shook his hand.
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