1. Elle
852 Words
1
Elle
Age Fifteen
First, homework.
Then, jewel heist.
Oh, yeah.
Rubbing my eyes, I refocus on my computer screen. A final study question appears.
SUN is to BRIGHTNESS as MAGIC is to…
a) casting
b) eternity
c) fading
I click on c) fading. A green check mark appears on screen.
Nailed it. Yay, me!
Not that my final question was super-tough to answer or anything. Everyone’s aware how magic is disappearing from the world. Shifters, fairies, and casters—folks called the Magicorum—are basically an endangered species. I should know. I’m one of them. In my case, my father’s a caster while my mother’s a fairy.
A knock sounds on the door. “Elle, may I come in?” That’s Mom.
“Sure.”
The door swings open; Mom steps inside. She’s willowy and petite with large blue eyes and long blonde hair. My heart sinks. Mom’s shoulder bones jut out against the straps of her yellow sundress. She’s getting more skeleton-like by the day. Meanwhile, I’m a younger and healthier version of her. I can’t help feeling a little guilty about that.
“How are you?” My voice wobbles as I ask the question.
“Better and better.” Mom waves me off. “Is your homework done?”
Once again, Mom veers the conversation away from her illness. In Mom’s mind, if you don’t talk about being sick, then it isn’t happening. And today, like most days, I don’t have the heart to bust up her system. If Mom says she’s better, then I won’t push it. After all, we’ve tried tons of healers. Plus, we live in New York City, home of the best cancer treatment centers ever. Nothing has made a difference.
I plaster on a fake smile. “Almost finished here.”
Mom closes the door behind her. I frown. Closed door chats are never good.
“I wanted to talk alone,” says Mom. “You see, Marchesa’s daughters are the same age as you.” She twists her fingers together at her waistline. “Both Agatha and Ivy love their high school. They’re meeting all sorts of new people.”
In this case, Marchesa refers to my mother’s lifelong frenemy, Lady Marchesa Oakwood. Lately, Marchesa has been sharing supposedly helpful tidbits about her daughters. Sadly, the stories only make Mom feel like she’s failing me. A protective urge runs up my spine. Marchesa’s supposed to run our family store, not load Mom with worry.
“Agatha and Ivy aren’t me.” I tap my chest. “Here’s one girl who likes online stuff.”
“But this is your parents’ office.” Mom frowns. “It’s not a regular classroom.”
“Come on. This is a seriously cool spot.” And I mean it. The office is small with red brick walls. There’s even a great view of Second Avenue.
Mom still looks concerned, so I go on. “Hey, I get the deal.”
There’s no need to explain more.
In this case, the deal is the fact that I’m the warden of all fae magic. It means I’m super-powered, which is certainly nice. But fae aren’t like other Magicorum. While shifters and casters worship their wardens, the fae kill theirs. That’s why I take online classes and generally avoid new people. My full-time job is pretending to be a blah fairy.
Mom’s face brightens. “I’m glad you understand the, uh, deal.”
I raise my pointer finger. “Now I must tell you—”
“If it’s about Marchesa, please don’t say a word. She’s a good friend.”
“Who upsets you all the time.” I raise my hands, palms forward. “Just saying.”
“Marchesa’s heart is in the right place. Don’t forget how her husband, Marshall, ran off right after Agatha was born.”
A nasty part of me thinks, maybe Marshall escaped because Marchesa is a horror show? Or because his daughter just got named Agatha? But I keep that bit to myself.
Mom sighs. “Then Marshall died in Amsterdam.”
Saying it that way, and it doesn’t sound too bad. But in reality? Marshall was a kind of caster called a potion master. He enjoyed poisoning his imagined enemies until, one day, he drank his own toxic brew by mistake. Hard to feel sorry for a guy like that.
“At least we never got on his bad side,” I state.
Mom shoots me a serious look, but it doesn’t last long. “True.” She smiles. “And you’re absolutely fine with online classes?”
“Do you really think I’d keep my yap shut otherwise?”
Mom chuckles. “No, I don’t.”
“Then we’re both good, right?” In my heart, I want everything to be good, not just conversations about online classes. That’s not possible, though.
“We’re better than good,” replies Mom. “We’re great.” She heads for the door and pauses. “Your father and I will work the store this morning.” On reflex, Mom looks to the carpet. Which makes sense, considering how our family store is located on the building’s first floor, right under this office. “Give us a yell if you need anything.”
“I will.”
Long after Mom’s left, I still watch the closed door. With every passing second, a weight of worry settles more deeply into my soul. All members of the Magicorum get pulled into a fairy tale life template. Mine’s Cinderella. So I can’t help but notice some facts.
Fact one. Marchesa has two nasty daughters who are my age.
Fact two. Marchesa also stares at Dad with googly eyes that make me want to puke.
Fact three. Mom has been sick for a really long time.
I’ve seen the Disney movie here. In short order, I’m heading into the not too pleasant phase of the Cinderella tale. This is the part where my parents are gone and I’m stuck with a frenemy stepmother who names her kid Agatha. Other Cinderellas may sing at their window and hope for the best.
Me? I’ve got a plan.
Which leads to the best part of my day: the jewel heist.
- Writer
