by B. B. Alston
Still, I wish that I could pretend to be something I’m not too. Things would be so much better if nobody knew I was a magician.
Who am I kidding? It’s not like people like me anyway. The Bureau isn’t any different from Jefferson Academy. I’m the outcast here too.
“Is there some terrible threat we don’t know about?” Agent Fiona’s voice comes out of nowhere.
I lift my head to find the Red Lady in front of me. “Huh?”
She smiles. “You’ve been guarding the door all afternoon. Thought maybe ye know something the rest of us don’t.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling embarrassed. “I’m just waiting for this to be over so I can go back to my room.”
Agent Fiona glances over at Dylan, who’s posing for a picture with a pretty Junior Agent girl. “There’s not a name more famous in the supernatural world than Van Helsing.” She sighs. “Ye get used to them getting all the credit. Especially in this department. But dontcha go worrying yourself, those of us who count know who was this morning’s star.”
I give a little smile, and Agent Fiona rubs my shoulder.
“Uh, Amari?” Dylan has come over. He looks awfully fidgety.
“I’ll leave ye two to celebrate,” says Agent Fiona, moving back toward the party. “But Peters, do make sure he remembers who got you two that first place.”
I nod and then frown as I give Dylan my attention. “What do you want?”
He startles at my tone. “Can we maybe talk in the hallway?”
“Why?” I ask. “You don’t want your fancy friends to see you talking to me?”
“Huh? No—” He pauses to let two Junior Agents through the doorway, and then drops his voice to a whisper. “You said you wanted to start investigating together, right?” He flashes me something shiny up his sleeve. “This is the key to the VanQuish office in the Hall of Special Agents.”
Did he really just say he has a key to my brother’s office?
“C’mon,” he adds, waving me into the hallway.
We start toward the main U-shaped hall.
Dylan walks and talks. “I told everybody I was taking you to meet my mom. She’s a Crisis Manager in the Department of Half Truths and Full Cover-Ups. She comes up with the cover stories whenever there’s a major secrecy breach. Remember that really bad hurricane we got last year? That was actually all-out war between the merpeople and the ocean nymphs.” A grin lights up his face. “My mom really does want to meet you, by the way. Big fan of Quinton. It just won’t be today.”
I make sure to keep my voice low when I ask, “How are we supposed to get into the VanQuish office without anybody seeing us?”
“All the Special Agents on duty today were at the party. I counted.” He laughs. “I’ve had Maria’s spare key for months. This is the first chance I’ve had to use it.”
We step into the main hallway. “Just play it cool and nobody will even notice us.”
He’s right. None of the adults seem to care at all where two trainees are headed. We move a little farther up the right side of the U, toward the Great Vault, but take a turn through a skinny doorway we skipped on our tour.
The walls in this hallway are lined with gold trimming. Fancy.
“The Hall of Special Agents,” says Dylan. “There are only ever thirty agents per outpost. They take on only the most dangerous missions.”
I glance around the hall until I see a smooth wooden door with a fancy cursive V etched onto it.
Dylan leads me over to it. “The department left their office intact out of respect.”
I trace the V with my finger. I never would’ve been able to get into Quinton’s office on my own. It feels like I’m so bad at this investigating stuff sometimes. Like I’m letting my brother down. “They’ve already looked in here for clues?”
“It’s the first place they checked,” says Dylan.
“Let’s go inside before anyone sees us.”
Dylan nods and slips the key into the door. I get goosebumps as he pushes it open.
“You first,” he says.
I take a couple deep breaths to calm my nerves. Once I step inside, the lights flicker on by themselves. Only . . .
It’s more like a trophy room than an office. The walls are lined with shelves of photos, awards, medals, and other things. Elsie would love to see this. It’s a VanQuish fan’s dream.
In the center of everything, there’s a really big photo with Quinton and Maria crouching down beside a short elf with a head full of dark leaves and skin like mottled tree bark. “That’s Merlin himself,” says Dylan, trailing me. “He almost never lets anyone take his picture.”
I follow the shelves around and let my fingers graze a big golden Medal of Honor. Beside it sit two Agent of the Year certificates in shiny silver frames. Farther down the shelf are a pair of shiny purple Sky Sprints in a glass case. The same fancy V is written across the side. There’s a little sign beneath that reads:
DUBOISE AIR VANQUISH:
Limited Edition
“They had their own Sky Sprints?” I ask.
Dylan grins. “I’d have gotten a pair myself but the lines were crazy.”
I laugh.
I step past a few more magazine covers with headlines like “Supernatural Citizens of the Year” and “Ten Most Influential Members of the Supernatural World.”
“They’re a really big deal,” I say.
“They really are,” says Dylan.
“I can’t believe Maria would want to give this up.”
He shrugs. “Being a Special Agent is hard. It has to be a lot of pressure having to protect the whole world. Especially when you get crazy famous and the older agents start to resent you for being promoted to Special Agent ahead of them. I know my sister had a hard time with it.”
“Is that why she wanted to be a trainer?”
“I think she and Quinton were starting to get into arguments.”
I stop and look at Dylan. “They didn’t get along?”
“Something must’ve happened,” says Dylan, shaking his head. “Because one day it was just different between them. It was really weird.”
“No idea why?” I ask.
Dylan shrugs.
That is weird. I look at a giant video game poster of VanQuish and ask, “Didn’t you say this was an office?”
“Say ‘up,’” says Dylan.
“Up?” Lights flicker on above us and my feet lift off the ground, like there’s some invisible elevator carrying me upward. I tilt my head back to find office furniture floating above me. My body doesn’t stop rising until I’m standing right in front of Quinton’s floating desk.
“Whoa,” I say, testing my balance. “A floating office?”
Dylan beams, floating up to my side. “Quinton loved working in a cluttered office. But my sister is the cleanest person you’ll ever meet. She threatened to start chucking stuff into the hallway if he didn’t agree to get the office enchanted for more space.”
“That sounds like Quinton. He’s still got a perfect attendance certificate from the third grade on his bedroom wall.”
I take a look at my brother’s desk. It’s covered by a large stack of folders marked Classified and a sleek silver laptop. The stack is so tall it nearly hides the two picture frames behind it. One is Mama’s high school yearbook photo from forever ago that she gets all embarrassed about when anyone sees it. Me and Quinton would always joke that she looked pretty dope for a cavewoman.
The other photograph is me sitting on a bright red bicycle, with a big ole snaggle-toothed grin. Just seeing it makes me close my eyes and cover my face with my hands. Next thing I know, I’m ugly crying. Like full on bawling. Dylan wraps a shaky arm around my shoulder. I try my hardest to get it together, to stop crying like such a baby in front of him, but I just end up crying harder.
Once I’m finally done, he says, “That picture must mean a lot to you, huh?”
I nod. “It was the first time I realized that Quinton always had my back, no matter wh
at.” Mama and Daddy had just separated, and Daddy had promised me for months that he was going to get me this bright red bike we’d seen in Walmart for my birthday. Mama warned me not to get my hopes up, but I didn’t listen. I knew my daddy would get it for me because he said he would. And daddies didn’t lie to their little girls.
Well, Daddy didn’t even show up for my birthday. When Mama called to ask where he was, they got in this big argument on the phone. At some point Mama must’ve hit the speakerphone by accident because all of a sudden I heard my daddy’s drunken voice say, “She probably ain’t even mine. Tell whoever her real daddy is to get her the stupid bike.”
Mama hung up on him and looked right at me. She started to say, “He didn’t mean it . . .” but I wasn’t hearing it. I ran straight to my room and cried like I’d never cried before. Quinton brought me into his room that night after Mama fell asleep, and we had the first of our thousands of talks lying in the middle of his bedroom floor. He told me he would always have my back. When Christmas came around, my brother didn’t get one present.
But I had a brand-new red bike.
“We’re going to find them, okay?” says Dylan. “We just have to keep believing.”
I nod and try to smile. “I do believe that.”
Dylan takes a seat at Quinton’s computer and mashes the power button. I crouch next to him. “Cross your fingers.”
I do, but all that appears onscreen is:
Please Enter Password
The words keep flashing.
“Could you use your tech magic?” I ask.
“On a computer this advanced?” He shakes his head. “It would take me at least an hour. We don’t have that much time.”
I bite my lip. What are the odds Quinton uses his email password for more than just his email? “Scoot over. I want to try something.”
Dylan slides over to give me some space, but he stops me before I can type anything. “Just so you know, these computers are highly classified. If you put in the wrong password even once, it’ll alert security. So . . . no pressure.”
I swallow. “Sure, no pressure.”
“Just be sure this is your best guess,” he says. “You got this.”
It’s my only guess. I type out Amari-Amazing, one nervous keypress at a time. All that’s left is to hit Enter.
My finger hovers above the key.
Dylan leans over and presses it for me.
I shut my eyes and hold my breath, preparing for the worst.
“We’re in!” says Dylan. “You did it.”
Relief washes over me. Quinton’s schedule appears on the screen. He must’ve left it open all this time.
Schedule: Quinton Peters
November 18
12 p.m.: Contact KH
11 p.m.: Meeting with Horus
Dylan gasps. “That’s the day Maria and Quinton went missing.”
I pace fast circles around the elevator on the ride down to the youth dormitories. Dylan wanted me to come back to the victory party with him but I have to let Elsie know what we found. Maybe she’ll know what KH means. Could it be someone’s initials, maybe? If so, maybe they’ll have an idea about where my brother is. Or at least what he was working on.
The second entry was a lot easier to figure out. Horus has to be Director Horus from the Department of Good Fortunes and Bad Omens. Unfortunately, he’s not due back from the Wandering Isles until Monday. It feels like a lifetime from now.
I want to know what his meeting with Quinton was about. He might’ve been the last person to see my brother before he disappeared.
I’m still pacing when the elevator opens up to the youth dormitories. The sight of so many kids packed into the hallway raises my eyebrows.
Bertha’s nowhere to be found either. It’s not until I start to make my way through the crowd that I realize that all eyes are on me, staring. A few kids nudge one another, whispering.
I’m used to getting weird looks, but this is on another level. What’s going on?
The farther down the hall I get, the more it happens. People start to step aside, making a path for me to my room.
“Do you think she’s seen it?” a girl whispers.
When I finally turn the last corner to my room, Lara and a few of her friends are huddled next to a couple adult agents. The girl looks scared.
I get there at the same time Bertha steps out of my room. Agent Magnus is right behind her and he looks furious. Bertha keeps shaking her head.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
They turn to look at me. Bertha winces.
Magnus points over my shoulder. “Turn around and go back to the elevators. You don’t need to see this.”
“See what?” I step forward.
Bertha tries to shut the door, but she isn’t fast enough. Painted over my bed is a Black girl with two X’s for eyes and a stake in her heart. NO MAGICIANS ALLOWED is written just below it.
My stomach turns. I ball my fists and storm over to Lara. “You did this?”
“It wasn’t me,” she says quickly.
“Liar!” I scream.
I go to shove her, but Lara twists and pushes me down instead. My back hits the floor so hard it knocks the air out of my chest and I start coughing.
Lara glares down at me. “If I had done that, you can be sure I would claim it. Face it, nobody wants you here. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”
Someone shouts, “No magicians allowed!” Then a few more join in. Soon the hall echoes with the chant. Everywhere I look, kids shout at me. Does it even matter who put that message on my wall if they all agree with it?
I’ve never felt so small.
Magnus stretches out his arms, his hands transforming into solid metal. With one booming clap, the hall falls quiet. “Next person who says a word gets a one-way ticket outta the Bureau and ya ain’t comin’ back. Think I can’t do it? Try me and find out!”
No one says a word.
“Amari!” Elsie appears out of the crowd and takes my hand. “Come on. We’re leaving.”
I can’t get out of there fast enough.
21
“YOU CAN DROP ME OFF AT MY APARTMENT,” I TELL Maxwell, the driver of the town car Elsie’s guardian sent for her. He was supposed to take her straight home but she told him to just ride around for a bit while I cooled off. He was even nice enough to go and get my things from the dorm room.
I decide not to text Mama that I’ll be coming home. She’ll just have a million questions and wonder if I’m all right.
Thing is, I’m not all right. That ugly painting above my bed was just so cruel. Those X’s over the eyes and the stake in the heart. . . . I feel like I could throw up. Do they hate magicians enough to really want to hurt me?
I lay my head against the car window. Is there anywhere that I belong?
Moreau’s voice echoes in my head. Join us, Amari. Join your fellow magicians.
“I know you’re sad right now,” says Elsie, “but not everyone is against you. I’m not.”
I don’t answer. I keep staring out the backseat window. It’s started to rain.
Realizing I’m being rude, that she’s not who I’m mad at, I open my mouth to apologize but Elsie cuts me off.
“I know,” she says. “You don’t have to say it.”
I nod and close my eyes. I can still hear that chant in my ears. Still see those faces looking at me with hate just because I’m different. For being something I didn’t even choose to be. “I don’t know if I can go back.”
“But . . . your brother,” says Elsie, scooting closer to me on the back seat. “You can’t let them make you give up. They want you feeling ashamed of what you are. They want you so scared you’ll quit.”
“I don’t care,” I say. “I’ll just have to find another way.”
“You can’t quit and keep your memories. You’d go back to being the person you were before you knew about the supernatural world.”
I think about the clues Dylan and I found on Quint
on’s computer. I’d lose them if my memories were taken. But then, I’d also lose the memory of people hating me.
“You’re being a coward,” says Elsie.
I whirl to face her and she flinches.
But then she lifts her chin. “Quinton would fight for you if the situation was reversed. You know he would.”
“Quinton was my brother, not yours,” I snap. “You don’t know anything.”
“I may not know him like you do,” she says. “But I know I’m right.”
I don’t have a comeback for that. Because deep down I do know she’s right.
“This is my neighborhood,” I say as we pull up to a red light. Elsie presses her face up to the window and I wonder what she’s thinking. Outside, Mr. Jenson is fussing at a group of boys hanging outside his shop. They’re all wearing black bandannas. They just laugh at the old man. As soon as we stop, though, all eyes turn to us.
“Don’t stare.” I pull Elsie away from the window.
“Do you know those kids?” asks Elsie.
“Nah,” I say. “They’re just being nosy ’cause we’re in a nice car. Probably wondering what it’s doing out here.”
I glance over Elsie’s shoulder to be sure and realize I’m wrong. “Actually, I do know one of them. See that tall, skinny boy off to the side? His name is Jayden. He used to come to Quinton’s tutoring program. Now he’s running the streets with the Wood Boyz.”
“Wood Boyz?”
“It’s a gang. If Quinton were around, he’d be so disappointed. He really cares about Jayden.” I think about our talk at the bus stop. I hope he doesn’t get himself in trouble fooling around with those guys.
“Sounds like you care too,” Elsie says.
“I guess I just know how easy it is to fall into that life when you’re struggling. A lot of them really have it rough, you know?” Everyone wants to feel like they belong somewhere.
“Maybe you could do something,” says Elsie.
“I’m not Quinton. He just had a way with people.” I shake my head. “The best thing I can do is get my brother back here. He’d know what to do.”
It’s not much longer before we get to my apartment. As we pull into the parking lot, I start to feel nervous about Elsie seeing where I live. If Elsie’s guardian is rich enough to send a driver, then I’m sure her life outside the Bureau is a lot closer to Lara’s than my own. What if she thinks less of me for not having all the things she does?