by D. R. Perry
"Hmm." She yawned. "Soon, I hope. Goodnight, Aliyah."
"Goodnight, Grace."
I closed the blue book and set my pencil down on top of it a minute after Faith, fifteen after Hal, and twenty behind Logan. We sat, glancing at each other as we waited for Dylan and Dorian. The ear cuffs buzzed, which was pretty much the only difference between this day and the last time I'd taken a test. So, the dampening device didn't affect me here as much as it did on the court.
The inside voice didn't chime in about this. Had it spoken up any time I wore the cuffs? No, not that I could remember. Whether it came from mind magic or not, I had no clue. The only information I had about it was what Professor Luciano had said, that he thought it came with being an extramagus, an idea that Dylan's auras supported. We hadn't found anything further, no matter how many books Logan borrowed on interlibrary loan.
"Excellent." Professor Hawkins clapped his hands. "You've all finished ahead of the time allotted. Take a break in Creatives, and I'll see you all for the Lab practical after lunch."
"A round of applause for you, Prof." Dorian applauded back at our teacher, moving his hands in a circle. "This is the best I've felt after a test. Thanks!"
The professor cleared his throat a few times as he went around the room to collect the blue books. A tiny grin played at his lips, and I figured he held back laughter that might have been considered inappropriate. But why?
I turned my head. Mr. Pierce stood in the back of the room by the door with Brand the phoenix on a perch over his head. Both the magus and his familiar wore grim expressions, as though they'd watched a battle to the death instead of teenagers taking a test where everyone finished early and cheered the teacher.
After collecting my things, I stood. Dylan, Dorian, Faith, and Hal were already headed for the door. Logan still sat in his seat, his hand hovering over his pencil as though frozen in time. I strode across the row toward him.
"Come on, let's paint." I picked the pencil up and put it in his hand, making sure not to touch him. He knew the ear cuffs made me sense thoughts and I wanted to give him privacy.
"Um, yeah." He swallowed, then nodded. His shoulders shook but not with cold.
"What's wrong?"
"I can't say it." Logan stood, keeping his back to his father. He slung his backpack on as though it could stop him from shaking. He inhaled, then with a slow and deliberate motion, took my hand. I saw way too much. Including the first time Logan almost died.
The childhood memory flashed between my mind and his in an instant, but its events had helped shape his life since then. Of that I was sure, even if the circumstances were still a reeling blur from my perspective. It'd take time to sort through and piece them together. One thing was clear. Leo Pierce was every bit as horrible as Abe Fairbanks.
Professor Hawkins's voice connected me back to the present. I wasn't sure what he'd said but knew what I had to do.
"We're getting out." I squeezed Logan's hand. Although he still trembled, he nodded.
The entire way through the room and the doorway, he ignored his father and only had eyes for me.
"I'm sorry," he said while sitting in front of a blank canvas.
"Hmm?"
"The, um, hatching." He stared at the still-empty palette in his hand. "It was awful."
"You never spoke of it. If you ever do, I'm here."
"It's easier to express stuff like that without words." He nodded at the canvas. "But scary. Because once you put something on canvas, there's your life for everyone to judge. Even the people who wanted it kept secret."
"Hey." Dylan sat nearby with his guitar. "An awesome guy once told me if your art's amazing, it needs to be heard. Or seen, in your case. Your life is yours to depict. If people don't like their part in it, oh well. They should have treated you better."
"Aliyah?"
"He's right." I handed him the tubes of black and white paint. "Why not do a portrait of that giant cat hero?"
Dylan raised an eyebrow. When neither of us responded, he shrugged and strummed chords. Logan's eyes lit up, and he put paint on the palette, then went to work. I finally removed the ear cuffs and stashed them in the box in my blazer. Then I stayed near the door, watching in case Mr. Pierce tried to audit us in here. He stayed away the entire time.
We had an auditor for the Lab practical too, but it was Andre Gauthier. He kept quiet for the most part, his owl asleep on his shoulder. Their presence didn't disturb any of us. Unlike with the lecture final, the ear cuffs made everything harder for me.
We moved around the room individually, taking turns at the benches. They were set up as numbered stations each with an item we'd all seen before during the semester. And no instructions. We had to remember what to do with each of them. I'd studied, but trying to recall my notes only produced a faint buzz as I gazed at the watch glass and dropper bottle. Out of time, I moved to the next station and let Dorian take my place. I shook my head at the graduated cylinder and foiled metal.
Usually, the inside voice would have chimed in by now, at the very least to tell me I was an idiot. But it didn't. The ear cuffs had to be blocking it out. So I tried to imagine what it'd say.
"Do something," I mumbled.
"Shh." Professor Hawkins put his finger over his lips.
Right. Silence was mandatory. I reached out and picked up the cylinder. Then I remembered. We infused the metal before pouring the solution on it. If my mind wasn't working, at least it seemed I could get results with muscle memory. Or magic memory or whatever. I managed to get back to the station that stumped me before the end and do something with it.
My revelation didn't mean I aced the practical. My grade came back as a B minus, lower than usual for Lab. The professor called me to his office before dinner, which is why I knew about it before folks started leaving for break.
"What happened, Aliyah? You've been in the top three for practicals every other time." He cleared his throat. "I'm not the greatest instructor for magipsych lab, so if there are methods I didn't use that help you, please let me know."
"It's not you." I rummaged in my bag and produced the ear cuff box. "It's these."
"Ah." He shook his head. "I'll do some research over break and look for study methods you can try."
"You don't have to, Professor. It's probably a matter of practice. Bishop's Row was harder when I wore them, too. Since I put them on in gym every time, I'm adapting. I should have worn them in Lab every time, too."
"I don't like that idea." He sighed. "I'll look into it anyway if you don't mind. It's better to have more than one plan."
"I just didn't want you to go out of your way, is all."
"It's the least I can do."
I nodded.
As I headed out of his office, I noticed a photograph hanging on the wall. It was Professor Luciano, sitting at the desk that now belonged to Professor Hawkins. A wall of melancholy sound washed against my back, like a wave breaking while wading out of the ocean.
Guilt, shame, grief. Of course. What will you do about it?
"Thanks, Professor." I opened the door. "I can tell you care about all of us."
With that, the tide of his negativity receded.
Faith's parents had already left for Rhode Island to move Temperance into The Academy.
"They said they don't care what I do with myself." She watched the teaspoon make a whirlpool in her morning coffee. "Guess I can finally live the dream of getting pregnant and dropping out."
Hal had a coughing fit. Lee put a hand over his mouth. Dylan's mouth dropped open. Logan's face went beet red. Alex ran his coffee cart into a table.
"Come to wassail at the Ambersmith's," Grace said. "Az asked me to invite everyone. So all of you should. It's on Twelfth Night, which is January fifth." She looked over her shoulder at Alex. "It's a blast."
"Bollocks," Dylan said. "I'll be back from NYC by then, but Piercing Whispers has a gig that night."
"Aww." Grace pouted. "What about the rest of you?"
"I haven't been since grade school. So excited!" I clapped my hands.
"What's wassail?" Logan asked.
"It's where Christmas caroling comes from," Dylan said.
"In January?" Lee blinked.
"They do Yule caroling too, in town," Grace said. "On Twelfth Night, they sing to the trees at their orchards in Danvers first, before coming into town. And there's tons of hot cider."
"I'll try it." Logan nodded.
"What do you think, Hal?" Faith gripped his hand.
"I want you to go even if I can't, Faith. Make videos." He nodded. "I think it'll be ready in time, so you'll probably see me for the in-town part."
"What?" Dorian blinked.
"It's a surprise." Logan smiled. "You'll find out in a few weeks."
"Not me. I'm going home." Dorian glanced at Alex. "Maybe you'll send me a postcard, Xan."
"I can't."
"The post office is down the street."
"No. I mean I can't leave campus to mail it."
"Hmm." Grace stirred her coffee. "You know some people, just saying."
"No." Alex shook his head. "No magical sneaking hijinks. I'm only allowed to walk Dorian to the train. Or else."
Nobody knew what to say to that. After a moment, he remembered the cart and pushed it back through the cafeteria to finish his work.
I went upstairs to pack, and Logan to fetch his already prepared bags. We made it down to the lobby, where everyone else in third year waited. The familiars huddled together in a cuddle pile on a bench, all aware of what came next—a brief parting of ways for many of us.
Kitty was heading out to Portland, where she had a college interview. Eston would meet her before New Year's after seeing his great-grandmother in New Hampshire. Hailey and Bailey would leave the next morning on a train to New York City, traveling at the same time as Dylan and his mom, who'd go sightseeing and take in a Broadway show. Lee was staying at the Mendez’s. Grace would visit the Ambersmith's extended family in Haverhill. Only Hal and Faith would remain on campus.
We turned on Washington Street toward the train station. The temperature was cold enough to nip our noses although the puddles still splashed in response to several sets of booted feet. I watched Alex and Dorian walk together, hands down between them but not touching.
"Are you sure you don't need me to stick around?" Logan asked. "To finish the project, I mean. My parents have shows in Vegas through New Year's so that's not stopping me."
"If so, I'll get a message out." Hal grinned. "I think we've got it."
Hal and Faith said goodbye at the top of the stairs. He looked worse than worn out, dim somehow, although not unkempt. Faith gave him her arm as they walked away. The rest of us descended behind Alex and Dorian.
"Slow down. You're not on the track." Grace elbowed me. "I think they want a little space."
"Oh, sorry." I hung back. "Are they—"
"Dating?" She raised an eyebrow. "No. I asked yesterday."
"Uh, that wasn't what I meant."
"What then?"
"Are they okay? They both look weighed down."
"I don't know."
At the bottom of the stairs, I jogged to catch up with them. Dylan and Grace bolted after me. Even Logan tried to keep up. Up on the platform, I realized I'd caught them mid-argument.
"So fight back." Dorian's eyes reminded me of icicles in March, almost liquid.
"You don't understand. I can't. Like, I freeze up." He shook his head, mouth a thin flat line.
"I totally get it. Cowardly ice man here, remember? You can do this. I believe in you."
"Maybe I shouldn't." He glanced at Grace and me, Logan and Dylan. "Maybe I deserve what I'm getting, after what I've done."
"Or what you've always gotten from her is the reason you screwed up." Grace crossed her arms over her chest. "Going against the grain is hard, but it's important."
"I don't know your story, DuBois." Alex sighed. "Probably should have asked instead of writing you off. Sorry."
"Hey, that's a step." She nodded. "Keep going."
"I'm trying, but she pulls me back every time."
Dorian put a hand on his shoulder.
The train squealed to a halt, brakes and engine hissing out plumes of steam. We waited it out and said goodbye. Dorian stopped in the doorway.
"Get on, Xan." He held out his hand.
"What?"
"I've got enough cash to get you a ticket on board. Come with me."
"I've got nothing with me. No clothes."
"I have three entire closets."
"But your parents—"
"Always ask when I'll bring friends over, already."
"She'll think I ran away." He hung his head.
"Run toward a welcome, then." Dorian smiled.
He stood, hands opening and closing, shoulders trembling.
"Go. It worked for me."
Alex looked at Logan like he'd just walked out of the Under.
The conductor called for all passengers to board.
Dorian stepped sideways, making room in the doorway, and beckoned.
And just like that, Alex Onassis escaped for the holidays.
Chapter Nineteen
Only Hope For Me
Logan
The morning of the Ambersmith's annual wassail, I sat up, still awash in the worst of my nightmares. Doris headbutted my side, then went behind me and leaped up to my shoulder where she perched, purring in my ear. She always knew when it was worst and never left me alone in those times. I sobbed, head in my hands, because of how lucky I felt to have found her.
"Was it him again?" I heard in her purr. "On the mountain?"
I nodded, then told her the entire story for what had to be the thousandth time.
No decent parent puts small children in a territorial animal's nest. My father wasn't decent in any way. He was a stunning performer and a brilliant marketer, an iron-fisted trainer, and a demanding instructor. Decency only got in the way of talent, he said.
He barked orders at us from a much safer position, yards away, with a rock wall to his back as we sat in a feather-bedecked circle beside a clutch of ash-smeared eggs the size of my head. He expected both Elanor and me to bond with the phoenixes that were about to hatch right there in the nest. She'd used fire several months earlier, but my magic hadn't even come in yet.
When my sister picked up one of the eggs, it blazed. The one I tried stayed cool under my hand. Nothing happened after touching two more, so Father shooed me away. I followed his orders as obediently as the animals he commanded. Because I'd been able to understand them ages before I started talking, which was later than normal. I knew what happened behind the scenes, things my parents never mentioned. Not long after that, I saw it firsthand. So, I started back toward him, shuffling my clumsy feet over loose rocks and sloping terrain. I fell on my backside in stone and scree when something cracked behind me.
Elanor's eyes went wide as the shell burst into a million flaming pieces. Father ordered her to banish every one, but she wasn't strong enough. The nest she sat in caught fire and my big sister cowered in fear, clutching a tiny featherless and ashen hatchling in her arms. That's when it happened. My water came in like a tidal wave, although I'd never seen the ocean. It doused the entire nest. I cried because I might have harmed the eggs to save Elanor.
She hurried out of the nest and ran toward me. I tried to follow although my feet never moved well without a beat to guide them. Father grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me so hard my head snapped back and forth. He lifted me, too. Held me in the air at the side of that treacherous drop.
"That wasn't even the worst part, Doris."
She rubbed her head against my cheek, absorbing my tears into her glossy silver coat.
"It's what he said afterward." She meowed.
"Yeah." My voice hardened, imitating his. "Give me one reason not to toss you like garbage, retard."
Back on the mountain, I couldn't get a word out. Both the baby phoenix and Elanor shriek
ed at the top of their lungs, almost matching in volume and pitch. I understood the bird better than my sister. Both cried out for help.
It came on velveted paws.
An enormous black and white feline, larger than a tiger but not one on account of its scaled hindquarters, leaped down from the ridge above us. It roared, startling my father back from the edge.
I shook, unable to conclude the story because sometimes the dream had me landing on solid ground as it actually happened, sprawled with Elanor, watching our father flee.
In the dream last night, I went over the side, screaming at the rocks below as the mysterious hybrid cat-dragon tried in vain to catch me.
Doris didn't press again. I mumbled words of love and thanks while scratching behind her left ear where she always seemed to itch.
"We should go upstairs for breakfast soon," I muttered although my stomach felt like a washing machine. "And yeah, I'll wash up first."
The spare room had a tiny bathroom, with a shower I thankfully fit in. Once I was decent, I opened the door that separated my room at Bubbe's from the animals on the other side. Finally, I smiled at the din of their combined voices, comforting in a way that a room full of people talking wasn't. People mystified me, for the most part. They pushed in too much with their voices and bodies. It was different with magical creatures. I could listen to them all day long, stand in crowds of them for hours.
Nobody in my family, not even Elanor, understood that about me. I'd tried explaining, maybe a hundred times. That I felt out of place almost constantly, homesick while sitting at home. Until I wound up here, where the critters came for healing.
Bubbe got it. She couldn't hear them as I could, but she'd devoted her life to their care. Even the ones actively dying.
No wonder Aliyah wanted to be like her. I did too, which is why I paced up and down the hall, stopping at each Dutch door to say good morning to all the patients and boarders. I found Aliyah's grandmother in the room closest to the waiting room entrance, checking on a karkinos, her underside berried with a clutch of eggs. They weren't exactly like a regular crab's. Instead of thousands, the eggs numbered only ten. The mothers carried the baby crabs on their backs after hatching, too.