by A. L. Knorr
"Well, you are running a touch above normal," he observed. "But it's nothing to get too worked up about."
He went about listening to my heart and my lungs, asking me to breathe deeply in and out. The routine was familiar, and helped to calm me. He asked me if I had noticed any changes in weight, how I was sleeping, how I was eating and digesting, and if anything had changed suddenly in my life. I told him I'd spent the summer in Venice and my diet had changed, but that was it. I kept my eyes on the floor while I downplayed my answers. He felt my glands with warm fingertips and inspected my eyes with a light.
"What's the diagnosis, doc?" I finally asked, lightly.
"Well," he said, peering at me from over his glasses. "If your throat isn't actually hurting you, then I'm a bit mystified as to why your voice sounds so scratchy. And the fact that you're running a low-level fever is a sign that your body is fighting something. I'm hesitant to prescribe antibiotics at this stage, though I would consider it if your fever went up. Nothing else seems to be abnormal, although looking down your throat proved to be more difficult than it might be for most."
"Why is that?" I asked, twisting my hair into a rope just to give my hands something to do.
"Well, it's very dark in there. Perhaps you have a narrower esophagus than most. Funny, it’s not something I remember about you," he murmured, pushing his glasses up his nose.
His comment triggered something I'd imagined after my burning—that my insides were now like volcanic rock, black and hard. I didn't think that was actually what I looked like on the inside, but it sort of felt that way.
"I recommend you get plenty of fluids, and plenty of rest. Don't do anything to excite yourself and we'll just keep an eye on that fever, shall we?"
"Okay." I hopped down. "Are we finished?"
Dr. Jacques picked up his clipboard and put a hand on the door handle. "For now. I'll give your mother a call this afternoon and tell her not to fret."
I breathed an enormous sigh of relief. "Thank you."
As I biked home, I mulled the physical over. A trained professional couldn't see anything much different other than small things about me, even a trained professional who had known me since I was born. So why was it that Jack was reacting so strongly to me?
Chapter 4
The smell of fresh-cut grass, popcorn, and hot dogs filled the air as we entered the soccer stadium and found our way to our seats. It was already the second half of the game and my brother’s team had the championship all locked up. The stands were buzzing with students and parents, and The Archers’ supporters were easy to recognize—they were in high spirits. The sounds of whistles and screams filled the air. Spectators had taken to foot pounding on the aluminum stands whenever a goal was scored, which filled the space with a sound of metallic thunder.
Jack refused to sit by me and chose instead to sit on the other side of my parents. It was difficult to enjoy the game with his words and behavior weighing so heavily on my mind. Was it just a coincidence that I had transformed into a fire magus and suddenly my little brother was accusing me of arson? What did he know? And why was he so unwilling to talk to me about it?
"You're going to break those if you don't give it a rest," my mom said, tilting her eyes down to where I was wrapping and unwrapping my headphone cord around my phone. "Something bothering you?"
I sighed. It was so difficult for me to hide anything from my family. Akiko always said I was like an open book and had recommended that I never lie about anything really important.
"No, all good here," I said to my mom as I stuffed the headphone cord into my pocket.
Everyone in the stands leapt to their feet and began screaming and clapping and stomping as RJ's team, the Archers, scored another goal. My dad leaned toward my mom and said, "It's embarrassing. I feel sorry for the other team."
My mom smiled and said over the din, "Life is competition. It's good for them to lose."
"Isn't it important for our own son to have that experience, too?" Dad replied.
Mom tossed her auburn hair. "It's a soccer game, honey. Let's not get too philosophical."
In my periphery, I caught a face off to the right which seemed to be watching me. I turned my head to spot a guy with dirty blond hair and high cheekbones. We made eye contact and I expected him to glance away, but he didn't. I held his gaze. I was never the first to look away in a stare-down with a cute guy. His face broke out in a broad grin. He still didn't look away. My heart beat a little faster. I didn't recognize him from Saltford High, but he couldn't have been that much older than me. He must have been from one of the other high schools in town.
Throughout the rest of the soccer match, he and I played the eye contact game. I'd catch him looking at me, and he'd catch me looking at him, until finally we both started laughing at the obvious. He couldn't have made it clearer that he was interested, and I couldn't have made it clearer that I was open to his interest.
A memory of the first time I'd met Dante rose to mind, and I frowned. I'd been so taken with him, and he had proven to be a jerk. It was a lesson I had needed to learn, and I could admit that now. Cute boys were great, I was all about them, but maybe I wouldn't be so eager to rush headlong into dating without weighing the guy a little more carefully.
The game wrapped up just as the sun was going down, with a score of six to two. We shuffled out of the stadium along with the crowd and stood in the parking lot to wait for RJ so we could congratulate him before he left to celebrate with his team. I stepped into the ladies’ washroom, telling my family I'd be along in a minute.
As I came out of the washroom, the blond guy was standing near the white brick walls, clearly waiting for me. My face flushed as soon as I saw him. It was easy to be brave and hold eye contact with someone when you're stuck in the middle of a crowd, but when you come face-to-face, things get a little more awkward.
He was even cuter close up, with a broad mouth and naturally red lips. He gave me that same grin, and propped a shoulder against the wall.
"My guess is that you've got a boyfriend in the game," he said, cocking an eyebrow. "Please tell me I'm wrong."
"A brother, not a boyfriend," I said, smiling.
"A protective brother?" He made a show of glancing around with fake nervousness.
I laughed. "Why? Do you have wicked intentions?"
"If taking a gorgeous redhead out for a coffee is wicked—" He put his hands up, "then guilty as charged."
My tummy warmed with pleasure, and I hated myself for being so vulnerable to flattery. "Why don't we start with, ‘Hi, my name is Saxony.’"
"Gage," he replied. “Pleased to meet you. I hope I wasn't creeping you out by staring. That wasn't my intention, there's just—" His eyelids lowered as he murmured, "something so attractive about you."
This guy was laying it on thick. I cleared my throat. "Do you have a friend in the game?"
“Several." He cocked his head to the side. "My guess is you're a senior at Saltford High? Half of the Archers are from that school. I'm friends with Danny Fair and Jordan Bell."
"Oh yeah? Jordan was in my Poli-Sci class last year." I relaxed as I identified the links between us. I didn't know them well, but Danny and Jordan were on RJ's soccer team. "You must be in your last year, too?"
He shook his head. "I graduated this past year. I'm going to do some traveling this year."
"I just got back from spending the summer in Italy. I highly recommend it."
He took a step closer. "Really? I'd like to hear more about that. When can I take you out?"
I opened my mouth to respond when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Jack was there, with his now customary black look. "Mom and Dad are looking for you," he said flatly.
"I better not keep you," Gage said. "Maybe I could be lucky enough to get your number?"
"Oh, you'll want to steer clear of this one," Jack said while examining his fingernails. "It's for your own good. No one likes to date a liar."
And with that, my little brother
spun around and stalked away.
"Jack," I cried, horrified. I turned back to Gage, my face flushed with heat. "I'm sorry, I don't know what's gotten into him. Ever since I got back from Venice, he's been acting weird."
"It's okay, I have a brother, too. I know what it's like." He shifted from one foot to the other and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "So, do I have an answer?"
"Coffee would be nice," I said retrieving my phone from my bag.
We exchanged numbers and he flashed me that breathtaking grin. "Awesome. I'll give you a call later. Nice to meet you, Saxony." He turned and walked away, and I watched him for a few seconds, admiring his confident stride.
I frowned as Jack's words came back to me. I scanned the parking lot for my parents, who were standing by our van along with RJ and Jack, celebrating the Archers’ victory. I didn't want to ruin this moment for RJ, but I felt like I'd been slapped.
I stared at Jack until he finally looked at me. I beckoned to him to meet me on the grass behind all the cars.
At first he shook his head, and I put my palms together in a pleading gesture. He rolled his eyes and ambled toward the grass. I stalked in his direction, my jaw set.
Chapter 5
"You have to talk to me, Jack," I said, my voice serious. "Why would you humiliate me like that?"
"You've already humiliated yourself," he answered, crossing long skinny arms over his chest. Shaking his head, he said, "If Mom and Dad knew… What happened to you in Venice?"
My stomach dropped into my bowels. "What makes you think something happened to me in Venice?" Why was my voice so squeaky?
"Because, I don't recognize you as my sister anymore," he said. "You used to have such a good heart, always helping people." His face was a mask of disgust. "Now you hurt people."
"I'm not hurting anybody, Jack," I said, incredulous. "I wouldn't—"
"You already have. I'm going to give you a day to fess up to Mom and Dad before I go to them myself."
"Jack." I took a calming breath. "You have absolutely no proof that I had anything to do with those fires. I have done nothing since I got home but sleep and eat pancakes and turkey. I have absolutely no reason, no motive whatsoever, to go running around town setting fire to things."
"No," he admitted. "I don't have any actual proof. But I know it was you all the same."
My fists clenched. "Do you have any idea what it feels like to be falsely accused? Especially by someone who knows you, who has grown up alongside you?"
My voice hardened. We stared each other down. He narrowed his eyes, not giving me any quarter.
"Saxony! Jack!" Dad called across the parking lot. "Come and say congratulations to RJ before he heads off."
"One day," Jack warned, and turned away.
I followed him, my insides writhing. I felt mute in the presence of such injustice. The width and breadth of it hit me like an anvil to the chest.
We reached the rest of our family, clustered around the van. I arranged my face into an expression of happiness and pride, for RJ's sake.
"Awesome job, bro," I said.
"Thanks, Sax," he said, grinning. His hair was freshly washed and curly, his clothing already damp with sweat.
"You going to get into all kinds of trouble tonight?" I teased.
"I certainly hope not," said Mom. "They're going to celebrate their win like fine upstanding young citizens and be home in bed by one, right, sweetie?" She gave my brother a saccharine smile.
RJ puffed his cheeks out with an exhale, like her ask was a steep one. I noticed he didn't directly answer her, though. Instead, he gave me a curious look. "Hey, is your friend Georjayna back in town yet?"
My eyebrows shot up. RJ had never shown interest in any of my friends before. "I think so, but her mom's been sick lately, so I haven't seen her yet." A sly smile crossed my face. "Why?"
RJ shrugged and gave a sheepish grin. Even I could admit, when he smiled, my older brother was charming enough to stop a striking clock.
"She's cute." He grabbed a baseball cap from his bag in the back of the open van and placed it over his damp curls.
I grimaced. Noooo, I didn’t want to know about my brother thinking about my friend like that.
"Gotta go, my man." RJ put out a fist to Jack and bumped his knuckles. "Don't strain on her." With these words, RJ tilted his head slightly in my direction.
I couldn't have been more surprised if RJ had started levitating. Even my oblivious older brother had noticed that Jack was clashing with me. I watched Jack's reaction to this request. His expression became stone cold at the suggestion of giving me a break.
"Come on, Jack." RJ sighed. "You bland out when you don't punch back."
My dad looked at my mom. "Do you have any idea what's going on here?"
She shook her head, bemused.
"They'll sort it out," said RJ. "Thanks for coming to my game, guys. Catch you later." He took off toward a crowd of his teammates loitering near the stadium entrance.
"Who will sort what out?" asked Dad.
Jack refused to meet my gaze. We piled into the van and headed for home just as the sky transformed from bright blue to gunmetal gray.
On the way home, my gaze traveled up to the distant hilltop community of Bella Vista, where my friend Georjayna lived. I pulled out my phone and pounded out a text.
Me: Hey Georjie, how’s your mom doing? Everything okay?
Georjie: Hey! Thanks for checking in. She’ll be fine. Funny, but her illness has actually brought us closer together.
I smiled, and typed, I think they call that a silver lining. That’s awesome, Georjie.
Georjie: Yeah, it is. We’re not best chums or anything, but things are definitely better. I’ll tell you more when we’re all together.
Me: Can’t wait.
As we entered the foyer to our house, my phone chirped again. I dug it out of my bag and was pleasantly surprised to find a text from Raf.
Buongiorno, Bella. How are things going with your family? Care to talk?
My heart melted with appreciation. I needed a sympathetic ear, and one who understood my situation. That left only Elda, or Raf. Elda was busy raising her family and fixing her marriage. Raf's text felt like a godsend.
I sprinted up the steps to my bedroom, closed the door, and dialed him. I took several gulps of water from my water bottle as the long dashes of an overseas call sounded off in my ear.
"That was fast," answered Raf in his rich Italian accent. "I guess that's a yes. Lucky me. How was your flight home? How are you?"
To my brief horror, my lower lip wobbled. I sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly through pursed lips. A sympathetic ear always brought emotions rushing to the forefront. I could go along pretending everything was okay for a long time, but if someone asked 'Hey are you okay?' in a sincerely concerned tone, I had to fight not to fall to pieces. I sat on my bed and pulled my feet up. "My mom is convinced I have the plague," I said with a laugh.
"Because of your voice?"
"Yeah, she thinks I'm sick. I knew she would." I scooted backward so my back was against the wall and crossed my legs out in front of me. "I had an appointment with my doctor,"
"Oh Dio, could he tell?"
"Nope. I was sweating bullets, but he just said that my esophagus seemed narrower than usual and I have a slight fever. Nothing more."
Raf gave an audible sigh of relief. "Any pain?"
"None, thank goodness." I said. "My days of constant agony appear to be over." My lips twisted in a wry smile. "I still haven't gotten to the point where I'm thanking Dante. I don't think I ever will."
Raf laughed. "What's bothering you, then?"
I smiled. Raf was so astute. At least I didn't have to hide my real self with him. "Somebody has been lighting fires in Saltford," I said, "and my little brother is convinced that it's me."
There was a pause. Then, "But he doesn't know, right? So, why would he think that?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out," I answere
d. "He has no proof, and yet he's fully convinced that I'm guilty. As if I have any interest in starting random fires in my own home town, or anywhere for that matter." My face heated with indignation.
Raf was quiet for a moment and then said, "How did he react to you when you first got home?"
"Not good—it was fishy from the start." I remembered the strange transformation on Jack's face as he came down the stairs. "It's like he knows something happened to me, but I don't know why he's linking it to the fires. Don't you find that colossally weird?"
Raf took a breath. "You know, I have an aunt that can sense things about people. If I'm feeling upset for some reason and she's around, she can pick up on my emotion, even if I'm trying to hide it. There is a word for it, but I can't think of what it would be in English."
"Are you suggesting that Jack is like that?" I thought about this. "My little brother has always been sensitive, but not in a psychic way."
"An empath," said Raf. "That's what it's called. Maybe you should just confront him, ask him if he can sense something strange that he never noticed before you went to Venice."
"I feel like I've already done that, but he won't answer me. Not directly, anyway." Feeling like a conversation hog, I added, "But, enough about me—how are you?"
Raf laughed. "My life is not nearly as interesting as yours, Saxony. I make glass plates and bowls, I hang out with my friends, I sleep, I repeat."
"Have you seen Dante?"
"Not even his shadow. But that's normal for me."
"And Federica?"
"She's around, but it's like she's afraid of everything now. It's kind of sad."
I frowned. Federica needed to get away from the Barberini family, at least for a time. But it wasn't my business.
"So, are you going to talk to your brother?" Raf asked.
"I'll try," I promised.
"Do you trust your family, Saxony?"
Surprise at this question lifted my brows. "Yes, of course I do."