Chapter 2
Iawake sometime later to a throat clearing. My mouth is dry and my eyes are itchy. I curse myself for falling asleep again without at least hydrating. Groaning, I lift myself up to see my little brother sitting across from me, sipping tea with a smug smile on his face.
"You look rough," Linden frowns.
"What is wrong with you? Were you just sitting here watching me sleep?" I scoff at him. "Weirdo."
"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you! I thought you were dead until I heard snoring that resembled a cave beast call. You look like you fought in a war last night too, by the way." He cocks an eyebrow at me, half humour, half concern lacing his tone.
"It was a rough day yesterday."
He studies me and takes another slow sip of his tea.
Letting out a long sigh, he runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair.
He knows, of course. Knows all I have to do to keep a roof over our heads, to keep food in the cupboards, medicine in our younger sister's lungs. Keep him in the medical program. Linden has always seen things in black and white, which tends to irritate me because that is the luxury of a younger sibling, isn’t it?
One who doesn’t have to get creative to keep us afloat in our ever crumbling world.
Our house, if you can even call it that, is a tiny two-bedroom shack made of odds and ends we've all helped scavenge over the years.
The cracked windows are all boarded up to seal out the dust that comes in thick clouds now most of the day; rolling through the cities and towns, choking everything in its path.
They say it's because the forests lay barren all throughout the continent. The plants and roots that used to hold down the dirt and dust simply don't anymore, leaving it to be picked up and rolled over in the unrelenting winds.
People fight over which god has forsaken us the most. The four elemental Gods who used to rule our world with love are all but a distant memory, taunting us with their inaction.
Is it Ethra, the god of air who keeps pummelling us with these brutal storms?
Or is Dyea, the one whose magic has vanished so thoroughly that not even a weed can grow, who’s more to blame?
Who have we offended the most? Does it even matter at this point?
Indoor light is by lantern, fireplace, or the skylights we've maintained. Electricity is forbidden, used only in select government establishments. Thick dust particles catch the light streaming in through the roof, and I let out a groan. Something like guilt makes a home in my gut. I failed embarrassingly this morning. I’m going to have to figure out another air filter soon.
Willow really can't be breathing in this many irritants, especially with us stretching out her medication.
"The clouds are bad today, but they should ease up by this afternoon," Linden offers, following my worried line of sight.
I smile at my little brother. Our brilliant little scientist.
This is the case with siblings, isn’t it? One minute you want to throttle them and the next minute you're filled with such intense adoration you could cry.
We've always been opposites, in our brains, and otherwise. I sometimes wonder if people can tell we're siblings; Willow and Linden being much more fair than I am. My father used to joke that we are like a human gradient when sitting in the order of our age.
Willow is a carbon copy of our mother, with her straight white-blonde hair.
Her eyes are technically hazel, as are our whole family’s, but so light they are more aqua with a hint of sunny orange in the center.
She looks so much like our mom that sometimes she’ll do something and my heart will sink into my stomach, stamped with grief.
Linden is the happy medium. His golden locks sit easily in their waves. His eyes, a rich jade on the outside and a warm brown on the inside, are big and round.
I am the darkest, although my skin is still considered fair.
My hair takes on a ruddy light brown. In the years where I saw the most sunshine it would streak brassy blonde, but it’s been some time since that happened.
Now it sits mousy and dull, an overwhelming wavy mop.
Also, unlike my siblings, my eyes are dark.
In year five of school, I got my first boyfriend, and after our first kiss, he told me my eyes reminded him of dirt. Very charming.
All three of us share our mother's upturned nose. It’s most delicate on Willow; giving the distinct impression she's looking down on you even when she's a great deal smaller.
"Where is Willow anyway?" I ask, finally bringing my brain back from my ever-wandering thoughts. "Did she leave for school without saying goodbye?" I peer around the corner, searching for the icy blonde locks and lanky limbs.
"So, about that…" Her head pops up from behind the weathered loveseat Linden's sitting on, and I jump at her sudden appearance.
"Why must you two always scare me? How long have you been..." I pause. "Wait, why aren’t you in school, isn’t it late?" I eye her suspiciously.
Willow is pale and thin. I suppress a grimace at the dark circles under her wide eyes, a result of her poor oxygen intake. I’ve seen her paler and thinner, so I try to be thankful she’s not in worse shape.
"It’s not my fault you sleep like the dead. I'm just taking a little break from school, for like a week…. as requested.... by my teachers?"
I take an exhausted breath and huff out through my nose. "Explain," I demand.
"Maple, honestly, it's not a big deal. It’s just a week off. I’m not saying I got suspended, but um... I did get suspended... again."
Willow peers at me like she’s unsure of how I’m going to react, and honestly, it's fair.
The line between sibling and parental figure is forever swaying, and it confuses even me sometimes.
I know it's not consistent, and that Willow will probably become some sort of criminal because of it, but we’re all just making this up as we go.
Sometimes my instinct is to come down on her like a regular parent would, and then other times, I want to high-five her. It is confusing.
"More details," I demand again, as Linden comes around the corner with my cup of tea. I scowl at him despite the nice gesture. He scurries away, avoiding the conflict we all know is coming. Big baby.
Willow jumps over the couch and becomes the version of herself we all love the most; passionate, animated and bright.
"Ok, well we got assigned history papers and of course I get assigned to do the very oversold ridiculous story about the old king and queen and how their boring-as-fuck love story was basically the downfall of our society."
I interrupt her, "Language, Willow, come on."
She ignores me completely and continues.
"We’ve all heard it a million times: the fall of the kingdom, how the king pushes magic and technology to their limits and the Gods take away their gifts, abandoning us as punishment, the war, how the Council saved the day so on and so forth blah blah blah…
" She's rolling her eyes like she’s even bored relaying this part.
"But you know what? This was a research project, and I refuse to leave out parts of the story!
I did a little more of a thorough job than maybe I needed to.
And while I was reading it, that snot nose Sica from my class started arguing with me. .."
My body tenses at her open dismissal of our government's history. It's dangerous. But I let her continue.
"Anyway, long story short, I put a lot of effort into this assignment. I mean historians could probably use this report––and then the teacher tries to correct me!"
She lets out a slow breath now, her long rant taking it out of her.
Her momentary breathlessness distracts me for a second.
Worry calcifies in my chest as I watch my little sister take hard breaths from simply talking too much.
I wait, counting in my head between breaths until they turn even, and then I finally register what she’s said.
Suddenly I know exactly where this story is going and my stomach sinks. Honestly, I would have just preferred she had punched someone.
"Willow… tell me you didn’t argue about history in class again. Tell me you were not spewing dad’s old fables in front of people who could report you." I glare at my sister, anger and fear mixing together as tears prick the backs of my eyes.
Willow shrinks, gaping at me. "Umm, well… I did call my teacher an empty-headed git for arguing a fact that is literally common knowledge. We know the king did not steal magic. He didn’t have any, he wasn’t a wielder.
I wasn’t, like, arguing any of dad's really far out there ideals or anything, it's just… "
She stops talking as I hold my hand up to silence her.
I lean forward now, so she has no choice but to meet my eyes.
"Willow, our lives are hard enough as it is. We are barely hanging on. Do you not get it? If something happens, I can’t afford to bail you out.
I can’t even afford to homeschool you. If someone charges our household with something, even something as simple as this, we are done.
They could take you away from me, or worse. "
I bark out the last words, and Willow’s once-animated face falls.
I feel instantly guilty. Sometimes I forget that Willow is still very much a kid; a kid with one dead and one missing parent. I soften my next words a little as I move beside her.
"We'll figure this out. But I need you to be more careful. I need you to be smarter about this stuff. It’s not safe... For any of us. I can’t lose you or Linden.
" My hands cup her face. She looks on the verge of bawling as reality settles in for her.
"I wouldn’t survive it. I love you lunatics far too much. "