NaNoWriMo ’11 (Part 3)

Part 1
Part 2

Getting a little harder on the word count. Still doing pretty well.

Kim hugged her father tightly and didn’t let go for as long as she was allowed. She had to move when her mother spread kisses all over his face, because there was no way she was getting in the middle of that. Aremana–Anselm, as her mother insisted on calling him–mostly paced back and forth, throwing his arms up in the air and shouting things that weren’t obscenities but certainly sounded like them. Her mother had quieted him when she showed him that everything was back in its place, and in fact without Kim being around, they would’ve been short on shield and up one Medusa. Kim could feel the staff was unhappy to be taken away from her, but she said nothing. Perhaps Aremana could feel it as well, because he glared at her once it was returned to its crate.

“I’m afraid,” Mrs. Zhi said, allowing her husband to fret over her wound while she spoke, “there is a bigger problem at hand.”

“You both are safe,” her husband said. “No more problems.”

“I’m afraid she’s right,” Aremana interrupted, and man, could he glare. She was surprised his expression didn’t turn her to stone. “Your daughter appears to now be connected to the staff.”

Her parents exchanged a meaningful glance. Kim had no idea what that meaning was, but they appeared to come to a decision.

“Anselm,” her mother said. “You’ve no idea how grateful I am to your patience these past few days, but our daughter has been through quite enough right now.”

“Do you–”

“So we’ll take her home,” she said loudly. “And tomorrow we can decide what needs to be done. For now it’s late, and I am still bleeding quite a bit.”

Aremana sneered as only he did, but he eventually conceded. The three of them piled into the car, and Kim spent the whole ride with her head pressed against the window with her eyes closed. She wasn’t asleep, though she didn’t mind if her parents thought so. Instead, she was focusing on the feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was as if she and the staff were connected by a very thin string that was being pulled further and further apart. She could picture it clearly in its crate in the warehouse. She saw Aremana lean over it, inspecting it without touching it. He was so upset that she’d unraveled the secrets he hadn’t been able to. He did not understand why it called to a child when he was right there. She almost laughed at his frustration. The staff, she realized. The staff almost laughed at his frustration. She wasn’t quite sure why she thought it was her.

—

Sleep was not an easy target that night. At around three in the morning, she pulled open her laptop to see if she could tire herself. She was surprised to see Thomas online. It was early there, though she supposed he might have obligations to the band. For a moment, she wanted to tell him everything. She almost started typing too. For a brief solitary second, she thought she might be able to heap her woes upon her friend’s shoulders so that they may carry them together. He might understand and give advice and tell her it would be alright, it didn’t matter that her soul was now bonded to some sort of creepy magic staff and she’d defeated a Medusa, because she was still her and he would still love her. Her hopes died though in the next moment, when she realized that telling anyone what happened would put her in an insane asylum. In reality, he would probably just ask her what drugs she was using and then knock off to whatever he was up to. Her other friends would react the same way. It was the natural way to react. Everyone else saw magic and just laughed it off as swamp gas or weather balloons.

She still had a text from Mithra as well, waiting for her response. It was easy not to send a message to her friends across the pond, but she would have to face Mithra at some point. She would have to pretend her life was completely and utterly normal and she wasn’t scared and nothing exciting had happened ever, but it would be written all over her face and in the way her hands were shaking and what if something happened? What if the staff just decided to appear in front of her again? What if she was in class or at the mall or doing anything that wasn’t sitting at home? There were much bigger problems than what her friends would think of her. The staff had chosen her, but for what? It whispered to her, but why her? Why not people with actual power, like Aremana or her mother? Anyone there would be a much better candidate, but it had chosen her. It wanted her.

Sleep did not come easy that night.

—

Among the trees, there was light.

It burned her it was so bright. The trees groaned with anticipation, leaning ever so slightly to gather the light and harness it for themselves. It was exactly what she’d been looking for, but it wasn’t here! It was far off, in a place she didn’t know, and she could not arrive there in the trees. She was done searching. She was going to find it.

She dug down deep into the roots, feeling the soft soil compacted overhead. She reached a hand up, and for the first time in a long time it was not part of the tree. She smiled and started to dig.

—

With only a few hours of sleep in her, Kim was awoken the next morning by her mother. She was told to shower and get dressed and they were going to sort things out down at the gallery. She crawled into the shower and turned it on hot so that her skin turned red beneath it. If her mother was impatient, she would just have to wait. The shower was her safeguard at the moment. It allowed her to be cut off from the world, the sound of water hitting the shower curtain not unlike rain, and she closed her eyes and pretended everything was going to be okay.

Eventually she had to get out. She dressed quickly and stuffed a Poptart in her mouth, and together she and her mother headed out the door. When asked what her father would be doing with his day, her mother just shook her head and said he was taking care of some other things. Kim glanced behind her as they pulled out of the driveway, concerned for what that meant.

At the Collection, only Aremana was there. Kim was pleased that this was a private affair, but she still hated the cold, calculating looks the professor gave her. He sized her up like a specimen, like a lab rat he was waiting to put in the maze and let run around. The staff was still in its crate, almost as if it had never moved. In new light, its whispers had gone, and she no longer felt the overwhelming urge to touch it. It was just a dead piece of wood. It had to be a trick. Kim was no closer to trusting it than she had been last night. It would wait for her to get close and then spring.

“This really isn’t necessary,” her mother was saying, keeping Kim firmly behind her.

“We must figure out why the connection is there,” Aremana said firmly.

In a voice so quiet Kim almost missed it, her mother said, “You know there isn’t always a why.”

There was no further arguing after that. Kim was situated directly in front of the staff, and Aremana held up some kind of large golden magnifying glass, like the kind old detectives would use. In the glass near the rim, small runes had been etched, and they would reflect off different colors in the light. He circled her, like an animal stalking his prey. He trekked once around and once back, holding the glass out towards her. He tsked and hmmed under this breath and repeated the gesture, and then he set it aside and turn his attention to Mrs. Zhi. Kim relaxed a little, but his eyes might still glance her way, his cold watchfulness still upon her. Dread tightened in her stomach, and her knees wobbled beneath her. Her breath stuck in her throat and it was impossible to swallow. She might faint or vomit or explode or something, and that was when the staff began to react.

No one noticed at first, least of all Kim. She’d put her hand against the wall of the crate to steady herself, and that was when she saw that the runes of the staff were glowing slightly. They were purple first, then blue, no, then orange, and then ever color all at once, and she was so entranced by it. It unknotted her stomach and let her breathe again. She stood a little taller, letting out a short soft gasp as her fingers brushed against it once more. It felt so alive, like a person. Like a heartbeat. It promised to take care of her, promised to get rid of all her problems. It was worse than offering power; it offered comfort instead. It wanted to keep her safe because it needed her, needed her to wield it, just take it, just wrap your hand around me and let me do my work.

Kim was pulled back sharply, and she gave a surprised cry. Her mother had her hand wrapped around her collar like she were a dog, and she was yelling something at Aremana. The world was all colors though. Kim could barely understand what was being told to her. Eventually they dragged her away out to the reception area. Hortense was still there, still popping her gum. She said something that made Aremana practice another cold glare on her, and it was the first time Kim had seen someone not back away. Hortense got her a water anyway and sat with her while the adults talked.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” Hortense said.

Kim looked up blearily. She held the small paper cup in her hand but did nothing with it but watch. “What?”

“The whole ‘soul bonded to an artifact of extreme power’ thing.” She smacked her gum noisely between her teeth and blew another bubble with it. “I was thirteen, in Egypt. Got my first boyfriend and also got an eagle that would kill things for me.”

Kim stared at her in horror. These could not be real words coming out of her mouth.

Hortense waved her hand dismissively. “It got sorted out. There’s probably like a support group for these sorts of things.”

It was then that Mrs. Zhi marched out into the reception area, grabbed Kim by the shoulder, and dragged her out without saying a word.

—

“Mum,” Kim said quietly. She still had the cup of water in her hand. She’d managed to drink it, and now she just turned it over. “Prof. Aremana isn’t just your employer, is he?”

The expression on her mother’s face was somewhere between confusion and anger. Her lips were in a thin line, but her eyes were set to contemplation. They slowed at a red light, and she glanced at her daughter.

“Anselm and I are old friends, dear,” she said. “We worked together on an expedition in China.”

Kim tried to imagine Professor Aremana digging into the ground, wearing work clothes and dirtying them with soot and soil. He probably couldn’t hold a spade, and he probably complained the whole time. At night she bet he snuck off to drink with the locals, and then she imagined her mother going with him, and that was where that ended.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” her mother continued to say, but her fists were clenched so tightly around the steering wheel her knuckles were turning white. “We’ve decided that for now it’s best to keep you away. From the staff, I mean. The gallery as well, I suppose. We’ll get this all sorted.”

It looked more like she had decided, but Kim didn’t say anything, not for the rest of the trip home.

—

Kim was more or less left to her own devices for the rest of the day and the next. Her parents were trying to give her space, but with the fear and trepidation filling her insides, the silence in the house, and the sullen looks her mother was sporting, the only thing Kim wanted was to leave. She told her mother she was meeting Mithra, and she absconded into the neighborhood, walking the tiny streets and cul-de-sacs. She found the elementary school, closed on weekends, and was greeted by the sight of Mithra and another small, brown girl playing on the swings. Off on the jungle gym was a boy with his own small child. Mithra saw her as she approached and waved, letting the little girl down and gesturing for her to go play with the others.

“Hey!” she said excitedly. It was beginning to get chilly, and she was bundled in a dark blue hoodie. The weather was almost close enough to home for Kim to think of it as normal, but she’d expected it to be colder by now.

“Hey,” Kim replied. “What’re you doing out here?”

She gestured to the children and the boy their own age. “Babysitting. That’s Kris. He lives next door to me. Those are his little sisters.”

“Oh. Sorry, am I interrupting?”

Mithra grimaced. “Not even a little.”

They sat on the swings together, idly kicking their legs. Mithra explained what had been happening Friday night, in that her parents were concerned she wasn’t meeting enough Indian boys. There had been a small get together at her house, where she’d been forced to socialise, not her strongest trait. Luckily she’d known Kris since they’d moved here, and they had gone off in the corner together, which had pleased her parents to no end. There was not a chance anything would come of it, but she liked to give them hope. From there, she asked Kim to explain where she’d been last Friday. Halfheartedly, she’d mumbled something about being sick. She didn’t mention the Medusa or the staff or Professor Aremana or being inspected under a magnifying glass or nearly throwing up three days in a row. That last one probably would’ve helped her case, but she thought if she said a little thing she might say everything.

“Are you coming back tomorrow?” Mithra asked.

She nodded.

“Thank god. We had a lab and we had to pick partners and Taylor Moore picked me because–and I quote–’I thought you Indian kids were supposed to be smart.’”

Kim snorted at this. “He really said that?”

“Yes! I thought I was going to punch him.”

“I wish you had.”

They continued to laugh and joke for a while, and it was enough to make Kim feel normal again. All weekend she’d been trapped in her parents’ world, where adults prodded you with sticks and did things like sense magic and the ilk. With Mithra she could be a teenager again, where the worst she had to worry about was an English paper due next week and if the boy she liked was gay. She’d take that over this any day.

Eventually Kris came over and chatted with them a bit. He held onto the chain of Mithra’s swing and stood close beside her. If Mithra noticed she gave no tell, and eventually they left together, having to herd the kids back home. Kim stayed a while longer, just sitting on the swing and contemplating life. She’d made up her mind to go and message Ashley and Thomas, just to have the comfort of their words. It wouldn’t fix her problems, but it was a comfort, and that’s what she needed at this moment. Her life having lifted momentarily, she returned home to her quiet house.

—

Returning to class did in fact relieve some of the stress, surprisingly. Kim, who’d detested the monotony only a week ago, took comfort in it. She felt normal again. She had friends and she had work and she wrote essays and solved math problems and didn’t do things like explode with fire or summon staffs or fighting monsters. It was good.

Less and less people thought of Kim as the cool foreigner and more and more as Mithra’s kind of dorky girlfriend. It was a lot closer to how she’d been viewed back home, so it didn’t bother her too much. Even as the cold sweeping wind of winter began to permeate the air, they continued to sit outside behind the school at lunch, where no one bothered them and there was quiet. Kim liked the biting cold against her cheeks, though Mithra enjoyed complaining.

No longer returning to the gallery helped as well. Mithra gave her rides home when she didn’t have practice, but Kim didn’t mind walking. The weather was kind and it allowed her to clear her head. Every day she returned home to find her father working in his study and her mother still at the gallery. Until she returned, Kim would curl up in her bed and surf the Internet. Any moment reprieved from distraction left her to wallow in her own thoughts, which she hated to do. Even though she could no longer see the staff when she closed the eyes, but there were thoughts buried in her mind, wrapped in multi-colored fire. She didn’t know what they meant or why they were there, but letting them brim to the surface was terrifying to her.

It was one of these moment later in the week when she was hitting refresh on her computer over and over. No one was responding to her, and there was no work for her to do. She laid back, closing her eyes for a brief moment, and that was when she felt it. The fire emerged in her mind, and she caught images she couldn’t quite see and heard words she could understand, and she shook her head and stood, trying to find something to do. When she looked down at her hands, she saw little multicolored sparks spiking out of her skin. Panic overtook her, but she breathed slowly, moving to the bathroom. In the mirror she could see the sparks all over her body, and quickly she ran her fingers under the water. Of course it didn’t do anything, but she scrubbed at the skin, gritting her teeth in frustration. Tears pricked at her eyes as she grabbed a washcloth and forced it under the water and pressed it against her skin, over her face, over her arms, over her collarbone. The cloth dropped away and she pressed her nails into her skin, trying to claw the fire away. Nothing was working. It wasn’t going away.

Without warning, it exploded in the back of her mind. She felt as if she were caught in an explosion, and she hit the wall behind her, slumping down to the floor. It was angry, upset, lonely. She cried for it, the emptiness filling her chest and the anger in her stomach and she thought she might vomit it all up. Her heart thudded in her ears and she went limp with the loneliness. It needed her, just her, no one else, and she was leaving it. She had left it alone and all it wanted was to be wielded and she was his wielder and they should be together and she should reach for him and she would wield him and they would be the same.

It released her in that same moment, and she collapsed forward, her cheek pressed against the linoleum of the bathroom tile. She stumbled up, grabbing onto the sink for support. The sparks had left her skin. It seems it had only intended to leave her a message. She shut off the water and looked to wear she’d clawed at her own arm. The bandages were under the sink, and she returned to her bed, curled up, and called Mithra.

—

This night was warmer than it had been, but Mithra still bundled up in a few layers. She couldn’t stand the cold, even after living here all her life. Those summers they’d gone to see family in India were ruining her ability to acclimate.

She’d been surprised when Kim had called her and asked her to meet. It wasn’t that she wasn’t used to her dramatics at this point–she could drop into a soliloquy over lunch meat–but she’d sounded near tears. Sneaking out of her house was hardly a bother, as long as she returned before her parents checked up on her. The trip to the elementary school was only a few blocks, and once again she found her friend sitting on the swings, moving idly back and forth. She called out in greeting, joining her on the swing beside her. Kim’s face was wet with tears that she pushed away with the sleeve of her sweater, her normally cheery demeanor crushed, even as she attempted a smile.

“What’s wrong?” Mithra asked.

Kim sniffled loudly. God, this was stupid, she thought. The staff just blew up her brain to tell her it was lonely, and the first person she should’ve called was her mother. There was something different, though, in the way her mother looked at her now, as if she were a bomb she were waiting to go off. She needed someone to understand, to still talk to her and be her friend. There was no way she could get the words out. She stuttered along a while, trying to avoid the subject, but Mithra was steadfast.

“Really,” her friend said, wrapping her hand around hers. “Tell me.”

The words caught in her throat, but she swallowed and started again, from the easiest terms. “Something happened.”

Mithra waited expectantly.

“It was, um, remember when I was sick?” That had felt so long ago. “When I missed that day of school? I didn’t–god,” she moaned, pressing her face into her hands. “Sorry, sorry. It’s not easy to say.” She shook her head and tried once more. “Okay. Remember the gallery where my mom works?”

Mithra nodded.

“Okay. There’s all these artifacts in there and I was just wandering around on my own and I guess I saw–I don’t know what happened, but there was like this instant connection and I went for it, it all happened so fast, and now I’ve got this like–it’s in my head, these weird thoughts, and then–oh!–my mom practically died. Now it’s there all the time and Hortense says the same thing happened to her, but my parents are treating me so strangely and it just sort of comes at me when I least expect it, like tonight, I thought I was on fire! And I just need to talk about it with someone, okay, so please don’t think I’m a crazy person.”

Mithra stared at her, surprised she managed all that in one breath. “Wow,” she said.

“Yeah.” Kim bit her lip. “Wow.”

“So, hold on. I didn’t get all that. Hortense is your girlfriend?”

Kim sat straight up and had to grab onto the chains of the swing to not fall back. “What?”

“That’s, um.” Mithra squinted, trying to recount the tale. “You said she went through the same thing.”

“I’m not–I didn’t–”

“It’s okay though, really.” She smiled widely. “I’m just glad I have someone to talk about it with.”

“…What?”

“Is that why you didn’t come to school then? Your parents found out and they flipped?”

Kim waved her hands wildly. “That is not what I said.”

“Oh. I thought–”

“No, sorry, I–” She breathed out and shut her eyes. “Oh my god, I’m an idiot.”

Mithra shook her head. “Maybe I didn’t quite catch all of it. So you’re not gay then?”

“No!”

She recoiled a bit, wrapping her hands around the swing. “Oh. Sorry.”

The disappointment in her eyes was crushing. Kim stared at her. “Are you?”

“Hm?”

“You said you were glad. Is that because you are?”

“Um.” Mithra glanced at her and attempted a smile. “Yeah. I guess. It’s not something I’ve ever done in practice.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

They sat, silently swinging. This was not where Kim had pictured this conversation going.

“I mean,” she said. “It’s not bad. I didn’t mean to sound so offended. It’s just–it’s not that. It’s something else.”

“What is it?” Mithra asked.

“I–The gallery isn’t just for artifacts and stuff. It’s–the stuff they have–all of it’s–it’s magic. It’s all super powerful stuff and you’re not supposed to touch any of it but I, you know, did, so now I’m magically connected to this super old staff and I think it’s a dude living inside of it.”

There. Done. She’d told someone. She’d never done that before. Mithra’s reaction was about what she expected. Her eyes were wide, her jaw slack, and she gave the distinct impression she was staring at a crazy person.

“You’re sure,” Mithra said slowly, “you’re not just gay.”

She nodded.

“Wow.”

They stared at each other for a long time.

“And you’re not,” Mithra continued, “on any medication?”

“I’m not a crazy person.”

“No, I believe you, it’s just that you sound a little like a crazy person.”

“But I’m not.”

She held up her hands. “Kim, magic isn’t real.”

She glared at her. “It is. I’ve seen it. I see it every day of my life.”

“Okay, but how? Where? You’re confused–”

Kim stood up and marched a few feet in front of her. She’d known it would come to this. There was no way Mithra was going to believe her just on her word. She held out her arm, closed her eyes, and thought very, very hard. It was there, untouched in its crate. No one was at the gallery now, and it sat in the darkness, waiting for her. The invisible thread that held them had seemed so weak lately, but now it was strong and it tightened around both of them, and all she had to do was pull. In a flash of light it appeared in her hand, this time without knocking her back or filling her head with fire. She laughed as she grabbed it, accomplishment rising up in her chest. She hadn’t been sure if she could do it, but here she was.

And there was Mithra, staring at her. She was aware that the multicolored fire flickered over her skin and the light had not completely dissipated. Once it did, she walked over to her friend’s side and held out the staff.

“It’s real,” she said.

“You–” Mithra’s gaze flitted between her and the staff. “You really just did that.”

“Yes. I did.”

“But–but how?! Where did it come from?!”

“It’s kept in the gallery.” Kim grimaced as she thought about it. “I’m not sure if i can put it back.”

Mithra nearly fell off the swing. “Oh my god. Oh my god, Kim, did you really just do magic?”

“Yes.”

“I–I have to go.”

“Wait, Mithra!”

But it was too late. She’d gathered up her things and sprinted away. Kim didn’t blame her. This whole thing had been a stupid idea. And now she’d lost her only friend.

The staff disagreed.

Part 4

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