by H. S. Valley
CHAPTER 26
DON’T FORGET YOUR ROOTS
‘Hello Silvia, Sam.’ I look over my left shoulder and the principal – Silvia’s mum – is right there. We have zero chance of hiding any of the wildly incriminating literature spread across the table.
Behind Mrs Sisilia, I see the librarian claim her desk back from the Year 12 and realise we’ve been betrayed. Technically, we’re allowed to look at all the restricted books now we’re seniors, but quite a few of the ones we’ve grabbed are from the special collection they keep for visiting uni students. This is the only library in New Zealand with books about magic, so it gets used a bit by people doing their Masters by correspondence and stuff. I didn’t know the librarian monitored them so closely.
‘Hello, Timoti,’ Mrs Sisilia says. ‘Elliott.’
I look around and Ana and Manaia have disappeared, melting back into the stacks. Good for them, but they could’ve warned us. Though, to be fair, maybe not without drawing attention to themselves.
‘Hello, Mrs Sisilia.’ We utter our greetings with the enthusiasm of the condemned.
Despite all this being about Elliott and I, I think Sam’s probably feeling the worst of it right now, with books about bonding all over the table and his girlfriend having just swiftly disengaged from a hug. Silvia’s mum has never quite let him relax about dating her daughter, even though Silvia’s dad is about ready to adopt him. It’s bloody lucky we aren’t obviously researching marriage, or Silvia might’ve been locked in her room for the rest of the year.
‘It’s been brought to my attention that you’ve been doing some research into ritual magic,’ Mrs Sisilia says, and summons herself a chair from the next table – just extends her arm and it slides swiftly into her waiting hand. She sits down and scoots herself closer. Maybe it’s not meant to be menacing, but the casual use of magic and her disregard for the audible scrape of a heavy wooden chair – in the library –seems like it could be a power move. A reminder of who’s in charge, and of how much effort the same manoeuvre would require from any of us – not to mention we’d need to use both a mea and an incantation. Elliott must be reeling; at least the rest of us are sort of used to having parents do stuff like this. I keep Meggan clutched in one arm and drop the other down, letting my fingers skim over his thigh.
‘It’s important that we don’t hide information from you kids,’ Mrs Sisilia starts. ‘We’re here to teach you about how the world works, as well as your own cultural history, and part of that is where your magic comes from. But it’s also important that you treat that information with respect. You’re at the beginning of your journey into magic, and you don’t have enough control of your abilities yet to be playing with any sort of serious rituals.’ She looks at each of us in turn, then her eyes alight on the stack of occult books Manaia left on the table. She sighs and picks up the top one. ‘Do you understand how magic is not always a power of good?’ she asks.
‘Yes, Miss,’ we respond in chorus, except of course Silvia says ‘yes, Mum’ and sounds even more resigned than we do.
‘Getting too close to some things is dangerous, even for someone of my experience.’ Mrs Sisilia places the book back on the table, open to a drawing of a young woman surrounded by wispy shadows, a burning leaf hovering above her open hands. ‘Magic is not good or bad in and of itself: it depends on you – your focus, your intent.’
I can no longer tell if she’s here as a teacher or a mother – I’ve heard those words so many times at school while learning new incantations and how to do new things. It’s like a teacher’s mantra. You have to focus, you have to mean it. Keep trying. Again. Focus. But … Mrs Sisilia’s not exactly telling us off. And she looks worried. Meggan makes a grizzly sound in my lap.
‘There are other powers that you do not control – that are out of your hands – and they don’t always care about what you want.’ She turns the page and the next picture is of the same young woman, cowering, the shadows closer and darker, flames licking at her arms, her hair.
OK. The metaphor’s a little heavy-handed – don’t play with fire – but point taken. We obviously aren’t looking at anything like that, but there’s no way to explain without telling her what we are looking at. It might be better if she just thinks we’re collectively going through some sort of rebellious teenage edgelord phase.
‘Sorry, Mum,’ Silvia says, and we murmur our humbled agreement.
‘I’m banning you from the library.’
‘What?’ Sam says, then slaps his hand over his mouth. ‘Sorry, Mrs Sisilia.’
All hope drains out of me, and I look over to see Elliott staring, stiff and expressionless, at the tabletop.
‘It’s for your own good,’ she says, and stands up. ‘And also so I can sleep at night. Put your books back, I’ll wait for you.’
She’ll wait for us – as in, she’ll keep a bloody close eye on us and make sure we don’t sneak out with anything. Shit. Elliott picks up the pile of occult books and I follow him into the stacks. I can’t help feeling we would’ve got away with this if Silvia wasn’t here or her mother wasn’t quite so protective of her.
‘Hey.’
He looks utterly defeated. ‘What are we going to do now, Tim?’ he whispers.
‘We’ll think of something.’ I take a couple of books off his pile and put them away. ‘It could be worse.’
We’re lucky, honestly, that her visit wasn’t to do with either of our other transgressions: the fact we’re involved in the chain of room-swapping that’s violated the school’s gender-separation policy, or, worse, the fact we were very recently out all night, well past curfew, drinking illegally (and ill-advisedly) and ignoring everything we’ve ever learnt about stranger danger. It almost serves us right that one of those strangers decided to punish us with matrimony.
‘Let’s go get a tea,’ he says, sliding the last book home.
‘Yeah, sure.’ I stay where I am, just looking at him, wondering what’s going through his head.
Is he horrified? Disgusted? Is he secretly holding it against me? Is he worried we’re not going to find anyone to help us without getting in more trouble? Is he really worried about what his mum will say? Does he regret coming anywhere near me? He looks upset. Really upset, actually, and I’m … not being very supportive, probably.
Up until now, I’ve been focusing on how it affects me if he doesn’t want me in his life like this. I haven’t thought about him or his needs. How he might still want me in his life in some other way. I haven’t been a good friend to him, basically, and that’s not OK, even if he might end up breaking my heart. That won’t be his fault. My heart’s not meant to have anything to do with this.
I tuck a still-grouchy Meggan against my side and hold out the other arm to him. He looks at me, unsure – maybe he thinks I’m going to try to kiss him in public or something – so I keep my head down and step in and hug him until he hugs me back. He feels tense.
‘We can still be friends,’ I say, and I don’t know if it helps exactly, but he lets out a breath and pulls me closer and it’s all OK for a moment.
‘Are you boys done?’
We break apart and Mrs Sisilia is standing at the end of the aisle, her face not quite neutral. My heart starts to pound, even though hugging someone isn’t particularly incriminating.
‘Yeah,’ I say, and she steps out of sight.
Just like that, I’ve made it worse. Elliott doesn’t say anything the whole time it takes to gather our things off the table and be escorted out of the library. Mrs Sisilia leaves us at an intersection as she heads for the admin wing, and we slope away from her in silence with Silvia and Sam leading the way. Halfway to the dining hall, Elliott slips his hand into mine and gives it a brief squeeze before letting our fingers slide apart. My heart beats hard again, a mixture of surprise and sadness and who knows what else.
CHAPTER 27
NEXT TO YOU
Manaia and Ana catch up with us at the double doors of the dining hall and Silvia upd
ates them on what just happened. They offer to keep researching for us, since they didn’t get caught, and promise to be discreet so we don’t lose the library completely.
Except … The school library isn’t every resource we have. I might not be able to talk to Mum, and Dad obviously isn’t here, but I still have access to his rooms and his books – we just need to read them all. There are hundreds. Might only take a year. There are nine of us though, if Nikau, Hana and Matt can help after indoor netball. I try to do the maths in my head.
I’m distracted enough that I forget not to push up the cuffs of my hoodie when I’m next to the servery, making tea. It’s too late when I realise Elliott has rolled his sleeves up as well, and I’ve transferred Meggan to my right side. Our left hands are visible, right next to each other, and Carol is right there, topping up a plate of biscuits. She’s known me since I was ten and probably thinks nothing of commenting that we’re both wearing what look like wedding rings, and don’t we make a cute little family, and why wasn’t she invited to the wedding?
I manage to laugh it off and promise that when I find a wife, Carol will be the one making our cake so of course she’ll be invited. I’m shitting myself on the inside, though. The last thing we need is people hearing her and looking too hard at us while we’re still trying to figure out how to fix everything. Pretending to be straight might be a step too far, but she seems to buy it.
‘Nice save,’ Elliott says under his breath as we walk away, but he rolls his cuffs back down the second we’re seated so it hurts anyway.
As we drink our tea, I bring up Dad’s collection of books and Sam and Elliott nod, clearly having been thinking the same thing. We go to leave just as Matt, Nikau and Hana arrive, and Ana and Manaia offer to stay behind to fill them in before they go back to the library. It’s weird letting Manaia help with something so personal, but I was right – her and Ana are a formidable team. Without them, we wouldn’t have a spreadsheet cataloguing all the world’s cultures and their different bonding traditions, key features and ‘symptoms’. Though, honestly, finding out that some of those symptoms are certain death has been less than helpful.
The corridors of the staff wing aren’t exactly deserted, and we pass a couple of teachers on the way to my dad’s rooms, so it’s lucky we’re mostly staff kids and they’re used to seeing us around here. It takes some creative manoeuvring to slip into Dad’s rooms without being seen, but we manage it, and I lock the door behind us just in case. We really can’t afford to be asked questions about what we’re doing in his abandoned apartment.
‘Your dad really did leave everything behind,’ Sam says once we’re safely inside, and drifts over to the bookshelf with Leda in his arms. ‘Lucky for us.’
Silvia and I make more tea while Sam and Elliott sort four piles of books onto the coffee table, one for each of us.
‘Silvia, we’re giving you everything to do with the romantic stuff,’ Sam says. ‘Tim, you have myths and symbolism, I have magical theory in relation to the body, and Elliott’s offered to deal with the poetry section.’
‘Poetry?’
‘Yes, an ancient, far-reaching and deeply metaphorical look at societal customs,’ Sam says, and we all cringe except for Elliott, who picks up a book and wriggles back onto the couch with Meggan.
‘Cultures say more about themselves in their art than anyone can hope to learn from just science,’ Elliott says.
I can’t decide if it’s pretentious or sexy, and that’s too much to unpack, so I put down the tea and pick up Magical Symbology: from Inca to India and sit next to Elliott on the couch. We only have an hour and a bit before lunch and we need to use it. I get through the whole volume without finding anything and start on Myths and Magic, looking for mentions of consummation, annulment, divorce, and any tips or tricks on finding out if you’re actually married in the first place. Silvia has stretched out on the floor and Sam is sitting cross-legged at the coffee table making notes. Elliott has curled up in the corner of the couch, completely engrossed in whatever he’s reading.
‘You’re not wearing your glasses,’ I say, and he looks up.
‘The light here is OK, and I’m not tired yet.’ He smiles. ‘Do you miss them?’
‘Yes, absolutely. You look hideous without them.’
‘Tim, if you think that’s true, maybe you need glasses,’ Silvia pipes up from the floor.
Elliott cracks up laughing, his tight posture breaking apart so his limbs loosen and drift towards me. His hand settles on the couch, just touching my thigh, and his legs stretch out to nudge against my shins. I flick a glance at Sam and he’s smiling at my expense but not looking, and even Silvia has gone back to her book. I want to reach out and hold Elliott’s hand and I think I probably could, but it’s one more thing I shouldn’t get used to.
I do it anyway. It feels like as big a deal as anything else because there are other people right here and we aren’t hiding anymore. We spend the next half-hour with our fingers threaded together, awkwardly reading with one hand and not quite managing to look at one another.
We leave late for lunch to avoid being seen too often in the staff wing, and come back early for the same reason, filled rolls tucked in our pockets. Our piles of books are left waiting on the coffee table as we sit down in our places to eat. Elliott, apparently having reached a level of comfort I have not, stretches out his legs and settles them in my lap before taking a large bite of his roll. Too far. Neither Silvia nor Sam seem to notice, but I give him a look anyway.
‘What?’ he says, like I’m being needlessly fussy. ‘I’m tired and this is comfortable.’ He shifts slightly so his calf is touching me somewhere it shouldn’t be in polite company. ‘Besides, we’re married now, darling; you have to indulge me.’
‘I don’t,’ I say, and wish he’d stop calling me that, or that I could stop loving it. I push him off my lap and go boil the kettle.
After three hours we’ve got through eleven more books, another round of tea, and his legs are back in my lap. My phone beeps and I pick it up, happy for something else to think about.
‘Who is it?’ Elliott asks, and purposely flexes his calves against my crotch.
‘Ana,’ I say, and open the message. ‘Apparently Nikau has something. They want us to meet them by the library, since we won’t be able to talk at dinner.’
‘You should go alone, it’s less suspicious. We’ll meet you in the dining hall,’ Silvia says. ‘We can talk about it after we’ve eaten.’
‘I think we should stop now anyway; my ability to focus is gone,’ Sam says.
I nod. I’m tired of sitting here; my brain hurts and my self-control is slowly diminishing. It’s definitely too soon for Elliott and I to make out in front of my friends, but that hasn’t stopped me from thinking about kissing him for the last hour. We leave our mugs by the sink and our books stacked on the table. I check the coast is clear and we slip into the hall. We stop in the main corridor with the dining hall down to the left and the library to the right.
‘I hope Nikau’s found something good,’ Silvia says. ‘We obviously haven’t found anything, and I’ve almost finished my pile.’
‘We only did the bookshelf, though,’ Elliott points out. ‘We haven’t even started on the bedroom.’
Sam frowns. ‘The bedroom?’
‘Yeah, there’s, like, eight boxes of books in there.’
Silvia looks smug and I cringe inwardly. ‘In the bedroom?’ she says. ‘Interesting. I don’t remember you going in there.’
Elliott realises what he’s done and looks at me for a second, apologetic, before enthusiastically blushing at the floor.
We agree to return to Dad’s rooms tomorrow, after all the staff have retreated behind closed doors to watch Netflix or knit or whatever they do after dinner. We can’t risk anyone getting pissy about us spending too much time in their wing.
I head for the library – and hopefully some new information – looking back once to see Elliott looking over his shoulder, his ch
eeks still pink, his arms wrapped around our egg-daughter.
I’m still thinking about kissing him.
CHAPTER 28
VICIOUS TRADITIONS
I’ve calmed down a bit by the time I see Elliott again, and dinner is almost normal, despite the new information revolving in my head. Nikau keeps looking at me like he’s sorry he didn’t have better news, and I can tell Ana is frustrated by the need to eat dinner rather than test out her theory immediately.
My mother waylays me after dessert. It seems Mrs Sisilia had a sneaky mum-to-mum conversation with her, and it takes me twenty minutes to convince her I’m not joining a cult or practising bad magic, and that Elliott hasn’t ‘led me astray’. I mean, he has, but not in the way Mum’s thinking. By the time she releases me, everyone is gone and I walk back to the dorms by myself.
Elliott’s in bed when I get back to our room, despite the early hour, with Meggan burbling peacefully beside him. He’s wearing his glasses again, reading the novel we’re meant to be analysing for Pacific Arts and Literature, which I’ll also have to read sometime soon if I want any NCEA English credits this year. It’s not necessary for police college, but it’d be nice to prove I have some communication skills. My personal life only offers evidence to the contrary.
‘Before you distract me,’ he says, ‘Leda had a sadly fatal little accident, and Silvia is devastated and we aren’t to mention it in front of her, ever. Sam’s ruling. They went to bed early.’
Oh no. ‘What happened?’
‘We aren’t allowed to talk about that either. Best not to even think about it. What did the others have to share?’ he asks, sliding an old receipt in to mark his page. ‘Leda’s demise put an end to any and all conversation.’
‘Nothing good,’ I say, and all I can do is look at him because I don’t want to talk and be responsible for disappointing him.
I miss the times when I could kiss him and forget everything as he pulled me under. Now I have no choice but to acknowledge every single one of my feelings, including the fact that I want him, desperately, and I might never get to have him again. It’s been two days but it feels like forever since I could even touch him without the dreaded weight of our own doom hanging over us.