Chapter Two
Up until my growth spurt, Aura’s assertiveness had never really affected me. I had never really taken any notice of her, since I had been, on the whole, placid and compliant, just like Sefarina. However, now that I was more fiery and competitive, I stopped allowing Aura to get her own way. I made sure that I challenged her perceived power at any point that I could. Of course she began to hate me, and we got into lots of arguments. I berated her for failing to get into University, and she insulted me for being so ugly, and we would have huge squabbles over the stupidest of things. Sefarina would try to intercede, but she would be unsuccessful, and it was left to Dad to sort things out between us. I felt sorry for him sometimes. He would work all day at the garden centre, and then when he got home, he had to separate his fighting teenage children, who were supposedly old enough to know better. At the time, I did feel bad for him, but my guilt never stopped me from bullying Aura. I hated her. Throughout my entire life she had dictated our family’s every decision and I had had enough. It was my turn to take over and lead the family. Aura wasn’t my mother and she shouldn’t have wanted to be. Our mother had walked out on us when I was only five years old. It had been tough on both of my sisters. Every girl needs her mother. But it didn’t really affect me as much, since I had never really been close to mum, and didn’t spend as much time with her as my sisters had. A dad was enough, and having Aura behave like my mother made it feel like I still had one anyway.
After one huge fight, the one when Aura threw DVD boxes at me, Dad sat us both down and pleaded with us to behave. He was fed up, and we were old enough to act like adults, not little kids, and there was no reason for us to keep going off at one another. He was right, but I wasn’t going to admit it, and neither was Aura. He had decided that we needed to be apart from one another, and since Aura was working at a local restaurant, waitressing, I had to leave for the summer and go and stay with Grandma and Grandpa. I didn’t want to. My friends were here. My sports teams were. Why should I have to leave London for the summer, when Aura was old enough to permanently move out and get a place to herself? Why did Aura always have to get what she wanted, and bend everyone around her to her will? I was frustrated, and very annoyed. I didn’t want to have to miss all of my summer sports, the ones I had been looking forward to for months, just to keep her happy. It wasn’t fair. Dad said that I should have thought about that before I started picking on her. I said that she shouldn’t keep telling me what to do, because she wasn’t my mother. Dad was really sad, and he left the room. Sefarina said that she heard him crying in his bedroom, with the door shut. I felt guilty, and knew I was wrong. I shouldn’t have been so nasty to my sister, even though I thought she deserved it. The worst thing was that I didn’t even know what had compelled me to act so horrible to her in the first place. The growth spurt had not only changed me physically, it had altered my personality. I didn’t like the new person I had become. No wonder Marvin didn’t want to speak to me anymore. If I kept acting like a bully, then no one would want to be my friend. It didn’t make me feel good to lash out at people anyway, so I decided I had to stop doing it. I called Marvin’s house, and luckily for me, he decided to speak to me. I apologised and explained that I had changed, and I didn’t know why. I said that I was going to stop being a horrible person. He was happy that I was never going to act that way again. So was I. After I hung up, I went straight to Dad’s bedroom, and agreed to go to Grandma and Grandpa’s for the summer. He was happy, and asked me to stop fighting with Aura. I said that I would, for him, because I didn’t like to see him upset. He said that I should want to stop arguing with her because she was my sister, and I should love her. I wasn’t so sure about that, but I suppose he was right.
Grandma and Grandpa’s house is in a small town in Derbyshire, called Ashbourne. I don’t like Ashbourne. It’s too small and slow paced, and I think it’s haunted. There is something creepy about it, something I just can’t quite put my finger on. But on the plus side, there are lots of grassy fields and trees, and nearby there are rivers and moors and woods, so I was very happy about that. I could practise sports and explore all day long, and no one would bother me. I was also looking forward to making some new friends. But Grandma had other plans for me: she wanted me to work on their market stall, selling the fruits and vegetables on behalf of their friend, Mr Rouwell, who’s a farmer. At first, I was annoyed, but I couldn’t say no to my Grandma, so of course I did it. The job turned out to be fun: I was outside, I got to meet new people, and I got some money for it too. In the evenings I would end up watching awful programmes on the telly, soaps that Grandma loved and I hated. My grandparents didn’t have the internet; they didn’t even have a computer, so I had to read. Reading is boring and I’m not very good at it, so I was not impressed.
One evening, while I was struggling to get through a very dull and tedious book that was apparently critically acclaimed for young adults, there was knocking at the door, and Grandpa came in. He sat down on the bed next to me, and smiled.
“What are you reading?” he asked, warmly.
“Oh nothing. Just some stupid book that Marvin recommended. There’s no fighting or blood or action or anything exciting. It’s rubbish.”
Grandpa smiled, the loose skin on his kind face crinkling up.
“I have something to give you, now that you have come of age.”
I frowned, then politely smiled. I didn’t like getting presents from my grandparents. They never gave me anything that I actually wanted. Socks and jumpers and diaries are certainly useful, but no one wants those sorts of presents, not even the most boring adults.
Grandpa got up and left the room, then quickly re-entered holding a small, shiny, silver, pocket sized book, and handed it to me.
“Thank you,” I responded, continuing to smile, even though I didn’t think it was going to be anything remotely interesting.
“That book is very special. It’s very important. You need to read it as quickly as possible, and then we need to have a serious conversation.”
I froze in horror, almost throwing the book out of my hand. Was this book going to be about sex? Was I going to be forced to have ‘the talk’ with my seventy year old Grandpa?! I was mortified beyond belief, just picturing how Grandpa was going to explain sex organs and bodily functions, and was then going to talk, in graphic detail, about what he and Grandma got up to. My face reddened, and I quickly pushed the book back into his hands.
“I think I’m a little old for this,” I uttered, struggling not to imagine all of the disturbing details contained within the small book. Grandpa shoved the book back into my palms, and closed them around it, firmly.
“This book is everything to you, Niyol. It won’t take long to read, but it is imperative that you do.”
I continued to stare at him in shock. I couldn’t do this, I just couldn’t.
“I’ve already learnt about sex at school,” I blurted out, trying my hardest to speak as quietly as possible, in case Grandma overheard, and came bursting in. Grandpa laughed loudly, his head rolling back, allowing the deep chuckle to escape through his thick lips.
“Sex!” he screamed out, embarrassing me further, “No, no, no! Not at all! This is a history book! It has nothing to do with that!”
Although I was extremely relieved, I was very disturbed that I had just heard my Grandpa say the word sex, as if everyone over a certain age was somehow immune to it.
“Thank goodness!” I spluttered joyfully, “For a moment there I thought… you know…”
He grinned, and then we both burst into hysterics.
“What would I do without my Triplets?” he sighed tenderly. Grandpa always called my sisters and I his ‘Triplets’ even though, as I explained to him several times, we were not in fact triplets. “But there are three of you,” he would say, “And all three of you are my grandchildren, so that makes you my Triplets.” I liked it when he called us that. Even though it wasn’t factually accurate. It was special, and it somehow made me
feel like he loved me.
“Fine, I’ll read it,” I replied, “and then we can discuss it.”
“Excellent,” he replied, standing up and walking towards the door. “I can’t wait to know what you think!” and with that, he left.
I looked down at the silver book. It was strange. I had never seen a book like this before. On the front was a weird symbol: four straight lines that curled up at the end, like a trumpet inside a trumpet, with a shorter fifth curly line poking out in the middle. It looked like a depiction of a puff of air, or a gust of wind. Over the top of this was the title of the book: Elementals: Ventus. I didn’t know what Ventus meant, but it sounded like a word from an ancient language. There was nothing else on the book cover, and the spine and the back were completely blank, my face reflected in their shimmering surfaces. Immediately, I tried to open the book, but the hard-backed front cover wouldn’t budge.
For a second, I thought it might be a practical joke. One time, Marvin had received an after school detention from the maths teacher, Mrs Cunningham, for talking through her lesson. As revenge he and I and all of our other friends broke into her classroom at lunchtime and glued all the pages of the maths textbooks together, so that no one could open them. The next lesson, after lunch, was Maths, and when no one could open the books, she was furious, and blamed Marvin. Of course, it didn’t help that he had hardened glue all over his fingers and clothes... He was nearly expelled for it, since he had supposedly damaged school property. But because he had never done anything bad like that before, he was just suspended for a few days. He told the headmaster that he hadn’t had any help doing it, so the rest of us got away with it. I still think that it is the funniest thing I have ever done.
But Grandpa would not give me a book and tell me to read it if that wasn’t what he wanted me to do. He was a funny guy, but he wouldn’t play pranks on his only grandson. I spent several minutes trying to open it, thinking there was a hidden button or a secret latch, but I couldn’t find anything. I could see the pages, firmly squashed together, so I knew it had to be a book, and it was meant to be read.
And then I realised something. The weird symbol on the front looked like wind. The word ‘Ventus’ is almost exactly the same as the word ‘vent’. I knew from English class that loads of English words come from other older languages, so it made sense that ‘Ventus’ might mean ‘air’, or ‘wind’, especially since the picture, and the colour of the book, all matched this idea. So I had a theory, which seemed so stupid, mainly because I didn’t believe in magic or any of that mumbo-jumbo, but I thought I would try it. I didn’t want to have to get a knife and scratch the book; it looked too old to ruin, and it wasn’t mine to damage. So I went with my gut, my instinct, inhaled deeply, and blew onto the cover of the book, slowly and gently. And instantly, as soon as my breath hit the front of the book, it suddenly ‘unlocked’ itself, and flipped open. The barren title page stared back at me. Intrigued and excited, I turned the page, and began reading.
Ventus Page 2