Books, Barns, and Songs (Familiar Generations #12)

1. Wire and Words

Wire and Words

Almost ... Almost ... The end of the shining brass wire slid through the loop. She pulled it farther, then wrapped it three times, locking it into place. Claire sat back. The world spun around her and she clutched the sides of the chair for balance.

"Ahem." Mrs. Schouten handed her a damp rag. Claire wiped her hands. A chewy granola bar appeared. "Eat."

Only after she devoured the snack did Claire blink. "Ah, ma'am?" Why was the magic teacher in the art room? And why were there ... seniors ... staring at her? The art teacher, Miss Harrison, stood beside Mrs. Schouten, arms folded.

"You're right, Miss Harrison," Mrs. Schouten said. "I'll have a word with her other magic instructor."

Miss Harrison lowered her arms, then pushed a few hairs back into her headband. "Claire, you used magic in your piece without intending to. I sensed it through my shields. It is also ten minutes after the bell rang for class change."

Her face warmed. "Oh. I'm sorry ma'am," she nodded to Ms. Schouten. "Ma'am. I didn't mean to."

They both smiled, and she relaxed a little inside. "It's part of your magic, Claire," Mrs. Schouten said.

"After you drink the water, clean up your table. I will write a pass to government for you." Miss Harrison turned to check on the other art students. Claire gulped the rest of the water and put her project and tools away in her cubby among the wall boxes.

Pass in hand, she hustled to civics class.

Thanks be, they were just watching the second part of a movie about a judge in Communist China and not really doing much.

She slid in and handed Mr. Wasserman the pass.

He glanced at it, looked up at the ceiling, then pointed toward her desk. She sat small, being invisible.

Mr. Wasserman frowned at Becca and removed her phone from her desk. She grabbed for it. Claire didn't watch. Someone was going to get a detention, and her phone locked up in the office. Again. Becca knew better.

"It's not fair," Becca whined during lunch. "I wasn't even looking at it, just waiting for a message from Brodie."

Claire found a seat well away from Becca, Brodie, and the other sports types.

The band nerds didn't mind her eating at the end of their table, and they tended to be studying, talking music, or grumbling about homework, anyway.

They didn't ask about her family, either, not like Jenn-the-Nosey and her friends.

Claire wrinkled her nose as she studied her tray.

"You get the green beans?" Teddy asked.

"Yeah. It was that or the mystery mush." Which was squash casserole. She got better squash at home.

"They're OK, this time." He went back to munching on his meat patty. She said grace, then nibbled the beans. He was right. For once they weren't so salty her hair curled.

"Hey, Claire, you figure out the English assignment?" Johann leaned around Teddy as he asked.

She finished her mouthful, then said, "I think so. The poem has to be at least twenty lines, more than five words per line, not the analysis. Or you do at least three shorter poems and meet the same minimum."

"Thanks! That makes way more sense than what the sub said." Johann went back to his food, and she attacked the meat patty.

Crash! "Ooooowwwww," came from the ag club's table. Claire stood just enough to see Dakota holding her head, chair tipped over backwards. She sat again.

"And that's why you don't do that," Liz intoned, perfectly mimicking the narrator on the internet cartoon.

The other band kids snickered or rolled their eyes and kept eating.

Mr. Pietersoon had told Dakota four times not to lean her chair back.

She'd probably get a detention along with a scolding by the nurse.

After school, she hurried to the public library.

Father Manfredi had suggested checking the laws of both states to start with, before going to the court house to see if she could get the papers or if Uncle Paul or Dad Jude had to do it.

She sighed as she logged into the computer, after signing all the forms and promising that she wasn't going to buy things or look at "adult sites. "

Which both states should she look at? Her mother still lived in Maryland—maybe.

Uncle Paul said her mother's last few months' letters had come from Connecticut, and the new second phone number was also from there.

So did Maryland or Pennsylvania law fit better?

"Start with the hardest first," she grumbled to herself, and began searching for Maryland adoption and probate-related custody laws.

Forty-five minutes later she quit. It was that or hex the computer, and the machine didn't deserve it. Plus Aunt Lucy and Dad Jude would be mad. She logged out, then tucked her notes into her jacket pocket.

"Did you find what you wanted?" Mrs. Yoder asked as she signed out of the computer room.

"Not exactly, ma'am, but I know where not to look now."

"That's good. Better than spending time on a wild goose chase."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you." That's what Dad Jude would say.

What Mr. Shoim would say— Did he chase wild geese?

Probably not something she wanted to know, given some of the things he'd brought home or talked about.

Now she understood why Dad Jude sighed a lot and looked wary whenever his Familiar opened his beak.

Once outside the library, she checked her phone. No messages. That was very good. She settled the backpack better and walked to St. Boniface, crunching and kicking through fallen leaves as she passed the park. Confession lasted until five, and Dad Jude would meet her there.

Boink. What was that?

Boink. A second, weaker pop of unshielded magic pinged off her defenses.

She glanced around, saw no one, and kept moving.

Whatever it was didn't hit again. Probably someone messed up and got stung, like the last time Kyle didn't follow directions in chemistry class.

One-N-Jen said that he'd said he was going to make colored goop.

Instead he made a stinky mess and got four days of after-school detention.

And an F on the lab, to go with the detention.

Claire stopped, looked both ways, and backed up to give Mr. Hoekstra's pickup and trailer more room. He was way too close to the—

Skrreethump scraaaaaape. The stop sign fell over, then dragged a little. She didn't move until he got past the corner and down the road. Then she crossed the street. "What a maroon," she grumbled, trotting the rest of the way to church.

She walked quietly down the steps to the Immaculate Conception chapel and confessional.

Dad Jude and Mr. Shoim knelt or perched well away from the old-fashioned wooden confessional.

She left her stuff in the hall, genuflected, and crept into the quiet, shielded space.

The door to the booth stood open, so she eased in and closed it.

"Yes, my child?"

"Bless me, father, for I have sinned. It has been two weeks since my last confession. I have had uncharitable thoughts about my mother ..."

"... and meditate on the virtue of charity. In the name of Christ, your sins are forgiven, Arise, and go, and sin no more."

"Amen." She crossed herself, left the booth, and slid into a pew away from the door.

She prayed part of her penance, then meditated on the sins of pride and unforgiving natures.

At last she tucked her Rosary away, stood, and genuflected again.

Off to the side she saw Mr. Wegner, the sorcerer-lawyer.

He looked deep in prayer, and very sad. Dad Jude's voice came from outside the door.

She slipped out of the chapel, being almost as quiet as he was.

"I have not heard, ma'am, but wholesale is different from retail."

"Hmpf. I'll ask the manager, then. Whole wheat flour should not be out of stock." Mrs. Voigt stalked away. Dad Jude had his hand up in front of Mr. Shoim's beak. Oh dear.

"Do not," he warned his Familiar.

"I wasn't," came the usual protest. Claire pulled on her backpack, head down so her guardian wouldn't see her eye-roll. The Familiar was soooo predictable.

"Ready?"

"Yes, sir." She followed them up the steps and out of the church.

He'd brought the old car, Aunt Martha's sedan.

Mr. Shoim started to spread his wings, so Dad Jude stretched his arm out to the side.

Three big flaps and the northern harrier launched, a brown-black shadow as he climbed into the hazy fall sky.

"How was school?" Dad Jude's medium-deep voice made her feel safe, somehow, the opposite of her mother's shriek.

"It was OK, sir. " Once in the car and belted in, she said. "Government class was the rest of the movie about the judge in Communist China. I got a B on the English quiz, and Dakota leaned her chair back too far at lunch and fell over. It bled a little."

He shook his head. "Someone always does that, tip over backward being foolish." HOOOOONK! A large red pickup blasted through the intersection ahead of them. "As I was saying." He'd bared his teeth. She heard a siren and grinned. Someone forgot about the not-a-surprise waiting around the corner.

Once they got to the house, he said, "I was told you got lost in a work today." He didn't sound mad.

"Yes, sir. I was finishing the hard part of the jewelry project, and was really concentrating. I used magic and didn't realize it, didn't hear the bells, either." She took off her shoes and hung up her jacket. She'd get her notes out of the pocket later.

"Please be more careful, or at least thicken your shields and set a timer, Claire. Some people think it is fun to surprise magic workers when we are in the middle of a spell."

He sounded hard, and she gulped. "Yes, sir. I'll talk to Miss Harrison about using a timer."

"Thank you." The hardness faded and he drooped, sort of. "Change clothes, and help me with the last of the green beans, please. The boys and Gertie are with Aunt Lucy and will eat at their grandparents' house."