by D. R. Perry
"He's reverse point, so he's captain. Must have used his veto to keep me off the team."
"No, Hal."
"There's no other way I didn't make it." His hands balled into fists.
"I'm captain." I sighed. "It's not Dylan's fault."
"You wouldn't." He blinked, eyes wide and edged with impending tears. "You didn't."
"I did. Your health—"
"Fuck my health!" Hal briefly flickered like he'd lost control of his space magic. "This was my shot. The only way I'll leave a mark on this school. Maybe even the world."
"That's not true. Hal, you can still—"
"No." He crossed his arms over his chest. "You know I'm dying. This is the last good spell I'll ever get. You took this from me. You, of all people!"
"I backed her up." Logan stepped between us. "Because she's right."
"You don't know any better."
Logan swayed back, face red as if Hal had slapped him. The air around us grew heavy with moisture. Hal uncrossed his arms and put his dukes up, fists flickering, this time on purpose.
A pop and a rush of drier air blew us all backward as Headmaster Hiram appeared out of nowhere.
"No fighting on campus." The water coalescing around Logan's hands vanished, and Hal's fists stabilized. "Even my grandson must follow the rules. If you insist on settling your differences physically, you may opt for a faculty-mediated duel at an appointed time as per the student handbook."
"That's not needed, Headmaster." Logan hung his head. "I'm sorry, Hal. I don't want to waste our third year as enemies."
"Me too," I said. "I'm sorry."
"Harold?" Hiram raised his eyebrow.
"I'm going to see Ms. Khan." He turned and stalked away but paused and turned his head. "I'll decide about dueling later."
We stood together in mortified silence and watched him go. Once the door closed behind him, the headmaster vanished again. Logan put his arms around me.
You've got an awful lot to think about.
I told him what the voice said.
"Me too, Aliyah." He patted my back. "Maybe together. Can I come with you on Yom Kippur?"
"You're not Jewish." I sniffled.
"Is that not okay?"
"It's okay if you want to." I pulled back and studied his face. "We can bring people. Check with Bubbe first."
"I do." He nodded. "I will."
"Are you all right, Logan? What Hal said—"
"I didn't expect it, and yeah, it hurt. But we hurt him too when he literally trusted us with his life. Can we go to breakfast now?"
We held hands all the way to the cafeteria, in an entirely different mood from the night before. We'd both made a horrible mistake, but we could try to make up for it together.
That opportunity didn't come until after Yom Kippur.
Chapter Eleven
"I can't believe they tried to vote down the town's Bishop's Row tournament!" Dylan slapped a hand on the table, almost overturning my juice.
"Failed, though." Lee sprinkled salt on his eggs.
"Thank the gods." Alex held out a carafe. "Coffee?"
"Um, they never made me do that." Dylan blinked. "Pour tableside, I mean."
"That was under Hector. This is Hiram's school now so you get beverage service." He shrugged.
"I'll have some, thanks." Grace held her cup out.
"So it goes." Alex sighed as he poured.
"Vonnegut rocks," Dorian said.
"You got that reference?" Alex raised an eyebrow while withdrawing the carafe.
"He's my favorite." Dorian grinned.
"Thanks." Grace raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to give your fellow fanboy a refill?"
"If he wants."
"Nah. Breakfast beverage roulette is a rare and special animal." Dorian stood and waggled his empty cup. "I'm hunting it. Come on, Aliyah."
"Um, okay?"
I had no idea why Dorian wanted my company but obliging him couldn't hurt. He elbowed me as we walked toward the section with the cereal, toaster, and drink dispensers.
"So. You and Logan are leaving campus early together?"
"For Yom Kippur."
"He's not Jewish."
"Doesn't matter."
"That's cool." He held his cup under the apple juice dispenser for a moment, then switched to orange. "How are you? With him?"
"Platonic. We talked. When he mentioned Izzy and Lee, it completely changed...well, everything."
"Hmm." Dorian added cranberry juice, sloshed some of his overflowing blended juice down the drain, then added grape.
"Hmm?" I got water because I fasted from Rosh Hashanah to Yom Kippur.
"Our, um, talk on the first day ended kind of abruptly."
"Ah." I grinned and sipped my water as he added a little more apple juice. "I'm still sorting myself out. The plan includes talking to Noah later."
"Good call." Dorian turned his head and met my eyes. "Remember when I said you're not alone if you're asex—"
"Miss Morgenstern." Mrs. Pierce strutted toward us, eyes on me.
"Mrs. Pierce." I resisted the urge to curtsy.
"Happy Yom Kippur." She cradled her teacup in both hands.
"Um."
This holiday isn't happy, and she knows it. Call her bluff.
I didn't.
"Thanks?" I blinked.
Julia hooted and ruffled her feathers while glaring balefully at Logan's mother.
"No." Dorian shook his head. "You don't get to swing your privilege and insult my friend." He put his hands on his hips.
"Excuse me?" She raised her head and looked down her nose at him.
"It's a solemn holiday," he retorted. "Self-reflection time."
"Is this true, Miss Morgenstern?"
"Yes, ma'am."
You gave her an inch. Keep your eye on her, or she'll take a million miles.
"Well, then. May you have a meaningful day." She turned and clicked away on high-heeled shoes, her bouffant bleached blond hairdo not even bobbing as she went.
“Dylan says she reminds him of Margaret Thatcher.” Dorian snorted. "Let's get back."
We went to the table. Grace was gone by then, and Logan sat in her place with only a glass of water in front of him. I blinked, wondering why he'd bothered with fasting.
"When in the High Holy Days, do as the Jewish do." He grinned.
"Okay." I sat beside him.
Lee chewed extra crispy toast and grinned. Dylan followed suit with his third breakfast sandwich. Ember took off, launching from the back of the booth to meet Gale, who'd shown up late again. As they cavorted in midair, Dylan glanced across the table at Dorian, who seemed oblivious.
Although I'd leave after lunch, it seemed like this would be a long day.
I left with Logan as soon as Creatives ended. He said he saw no point in sticking around with glasses of water while everyone else ate lunch and I agreed. Ember soared into the late summer air. I almost ran into the Polaroid cart. Azrael wasn't driving it this time, though.
"Um, hi?" I peered around to look at the person on the bicycle end of the contraption.
"Hello!" Mr. Ambersmith smiled. "Let's capture this moment."
He held up one of the cameras. Before he snapped a picture, Logan held my hand. Fortunately, there was no flash. He hated those.
"On the house." Mr. Ambersmith handed Logan the piece of plastic the camera produced.
"Thanks," I said.
We walked along Essex street as the balmy air developed the picture. Logan peered down at it.
"Wow. That's an amazing smile. Too bad mine looks like cardboard."
I snatched the photo from him and had a look.
"I think it's perfect."
Logan squeezed my hand. We continued quietly but comfortably. Logan went directly to Bubbe’s as I headed upstairs.
All the curtains were drawn inside the house because Noah had shown up the night before. He hung around the kitchen, sipping from a cup of blood, and helping Dad with the baking. As soon as we arrived, Mom
came out of her office and chatted reassuringly with Logan, who was concerned about being dressed appropriately.
"I remember Angie's first time. It was our third year, too," Dad mused as he pressed dough between his fingers.
"Really?" I blinked.
"Oh, come on." Noah rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you didn't know Mom converted?"
I shuffled my feet.
"With a name like Hopewell? Really?"
"Shh," Dad said. "She doesn't talk much about it, but yes, that's what happened."
"After you started dating?" I asked.
"Pretty much." Dad's smile was faint but genuine. "She officially started the process of joining this family after graduation." He shrugged, his smile now in full bloom. "Unofficially, it started the first time she visited."
"So romantic." Noah sprinkled the last of the flour over the lump of dough.
"Last year, you would have rolled your eyes." Dad chuckled.
"Sorry." Noah sighed. "I got better."
"Can we talk?" I nudged my brother.
"I can handle kneading this for the next fifteen minutes," Dad said.
Noah followed me upstairs but shook his head when I reached for the door to my room. He opened his and waved me inside, where the windows were sun proofed.
"Sorry about that." I sighed.
"Last time we talked in here, this was hot cocoa." He held up his mug of blood, downed the dregs, then set it aside. "The only thing certain in this world is that everything changes. Anyway."
"I'm sorry—" We both said at the same time.
"Jinx. You owe me O negative."
We laughed.
"Seriously." He smirked. "What's up?"
I told him about my conversation with Dorian on the first day back at school.
"So, I did some searches on days off-campus. Do you think I'm asexual, Noah?"
"Maybe." He sighed. "At the end of the day, all you can know is how you feel and what you want."
"Well, I don't want sex. Love? Yes, please."
"Unsurprising." He grinned gently.
"How?"
"The look on your face every time Cadence talks about cute boys. Or Elanor about pretty girls." He took my hand. "Their opinions aren't relevant. Logan's are. What does he want?"
"A relationship. Something like Lee and Izzy, he says." I sighed. "Which made more sense to me than anything else I've seen, but it worries me."
"About?"
"Whether it's love. How do you know?"
"Imagine your life without him in it."
"That's awful."
"Okay, now imagine the world without him. Would you give up the first to stop the second?"
"God, Noah." I closed my eyes, tears running down my cheeks. "That's horrible either way, but I'd do it in a heartbeat."
"You love him, then." He handed me a tissue. "I know this firsthand."
"What about being in love?" I wiped my face. "And his feelings."
"You have to have a serious talk with Logan about that last part. I don't know about the other." He sighed. "For me, love's all tangled up with sex. Maybe you should talk to Bubbe about that."
"Bubbe?" I blinked. "She had Dad. So—"
"She wasn't totally celibate because she wanted a child." He took the tissue and tossed it into the wastebasket by his bed. "When I came out, she said a few things… Talk to her. I mean it."
"Yes, sir." I gave him the weakest salute ever.
"Are you okay now?"
"There's one more thing."
I told him about Hal.
"Oh, no." Noah's eyes widened. "You apologized, though."
"Maybe that's not enough."
"I've gripped grudges enough to know one thing, Aliyah." Noah chuckled but dabbed the corner of his eye. "It's up to the holder to let them go. I pray he finds peace."
"Me, too."
Dad called from downstairs. We headed downstairs and out.
Logan sat between Bubbe and me at the service. At first, I thought he meant to be a buffer. I'd felt more distant from my grandmother since June than at any other time in my life. After the first few minutes, it became clear that this wasn't about her or me. It was for Logan.
He took all his cues from her, nodding and following along like he was on a dance floor instead of inside an unfamiliar temple. Although he clutched a weathered old stenographer's notebook, she must have described everything ahead of time, too.
Mom saw me glance at the notebook.
"I used it," she murmured. "Years ago."
When the Shofar blew, I closed my eyes. In my mind's eye, I saw Filberto Luciano sitting here between Great Uncle Noah and Bubbe in grade school. That scene faded, replaced by what I thought were Noah and me. However, my hair was too short and permed, and Noah wouldn't ever wear acid wash jeans. I realized it was Bubbe again, this time with my grandfather. It was impossible for magi to be psychic, but those visions felt real.
Coincidence is a series of patterns woven by the magic we use. Of course, they are.
When I opened my eyes, Logan was touching my cheek. He wiped away a tear there. When he lowered it, I reached out and twined my fingers with his. I knew immediately that Bubbe and Grandpa went through similar motions decades ago.
On the way out, we walked together behind everyone else.
"You should talk to her after dinner. Bubbe, I mean."
"I will." I squeezed his hand. "What about you?"
"Your mom asked me for my study guides from the first two years."
"Makes sense."
"It does?"
"I bet she thinks they'll help students in the future."
"If that's the case, I'll give her the one from this year, too. Once it's finished."
"You're amazing, Logan Pierce."
He blushed as we got in the car.
At dinner, Logan tried a little of everything, which surprised me. He'd always been a picky eater at school. That trait followed him to a degree because he made a face after sampling the whitefish salad and only took second helpings of challah and noodle kugel. Noah beamed.
"If you ever want me to make that for you, let me know." He jerked a thumb at the half-empty casserole dish, then refilled his cup with blood from the refrigerator. "Vicarious eating isn't the same, but I'll take it."
"Thanks, Noah."
The rest of us practically pigged out. The fast before Yom Kippur was the longest one we observed. Eventually, we all sat back and patted full bellies. After coffee, Bubbe headed downstairs. I waved to Logan as he got his notes out for Mom, then I followed my grandmother.
"Bissel." She turned, standing in the hall to face me.
"Bubbe." I sighed. "Can we talk?"
"I need to make my rounds, but yes." She raised an eyebrow. "Is this a topic for working or teatime?"
"Maybe both."
"Then start with the part you can manage while we work."
Love or fear. Choose wisely.
"How did you know you loved Grandpa?"
"I'm a serious person by nature, like you, Aliyah. I spent a lot of time worrying. He let me share my burdens. That's how it started."
"So it wasn't right when you met, like how Dad tells it?"
"That only happens in movies and to people like your father, who lean into the physical side of things." She chuckled while refilling a water dish for a sleeping fox. "My first meeting with Morris was a little awkward."
"How?"
"He told me he liked my shirt. Which was covered with fewmets at the time."
I put my hand over my mouth to stifle my giggle until we reached the next room, where a wood owl roosted. He was awake, of course.
"Hoo?"
"Just me." Bubbe grinned at the bird, then swept the pellet it had regurgitated into the dustbin.
This time, we laughed together, but she put a finger to her lips as we approached the final overnight guest. A puffin nested in a box on the floor, beak under her wing.
"Wait." I blinked. "That bird looks familiar."
; "Oona's with one of the trustees. He thinks she strained a leg."
"He mentioned that while auditing our lab yesterday." I sighed. "He was nice, but I forget his name."
"Justin Glen from New Hampshire, a family friend of your classmate Eston." Bubbe refilled the small plastic temporary pool with water. "That's his familiar."
"Are all three of them—"
"Shh." She led me back into the hallway. "Yes, the fox and the owl are companions to trustees as well."
"They're all injured?"
"Not that I could tell. Only Oona. But their magi wanted them seen as a matter of routine."
As Bubbe led me toward the kitchen, I checked the doors. The owl's name was Smokey, and the fox was called Zephyr. I'd have to ask around at school, find out more about their magi. Logan would help. I gasped.
Burden sharing, table for two.
Bubbe set the kettle on the stove while I got mugs and tea out of the cupboard. Once we sat with cups steaming in front of us, I drew a deep breath, inhaling the herbal aromas.
"I'll go first," Bubbe said. "I'm sorry for trying to make the choice about your testing for you."
"Why?" I stared at her hands, how only the fingertips touched the ceramic. "You were as adamant as, well, adamantine."
"They called me that in high school." She sighed. "Shiny, but hard-headed. And hearted."
"How?" I blinked. "You're a caregiver."
"It's no easy thing to be, especially for animals, who can't speak for themselves. I choose for them, most of the time. Sometimes, that means wearing armor around my heart. Like I tried doing with you last fall and this summer, although you were willing and able to tell me what you wanted and needed for yourself."
"Wow. I thought you'd been angry with me all this time for going to Rockport behind your back."
"I was, but only for a moment and unfairly." She reached across the table. "Can you forgive me?"
"This isn't what I expected." I took her hands. "Yes."
"Thank you."
"I'm afraid, Bubbe." I looked down at our hands, joined together in the middle of the table. "Of the test."
"That's natural."
"Not normal?"
"Nothing about the way extramagi get treated is normal. Who's your witness?"
"Logan."
"Good." She nodded. "I wonder why you chose him."
"He offered the moment he found out about it." I glanced up at her face. "I realized he would have been my first choice anyway."