Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IT’S NOT ME, IT’S YOU
My hand shakes when I lift it to knock on the ancient-looking wooden door to the magikal department, and I pull away before I touch the surface.
The last thing I need is to be trembling like a leaf when I show up for detention.
I have a sneaking suspicion Magikster Ballin would enjoy my anxiety too much.
Closing my eyes, I breathe slowly, holding my breath before blowing it out. Triangulated breathing is a common centering exercise, and I’ve been doing it for years. After another round, I lift my hand to see if the shakes are gone.
With a final check my shields are in place, I use the black cauldron-shaped knocker to let him know I’m here, then I take a step back and wait.
And wait. I could try the door handle to see if the door is unlocked, but what if waiting is a test of something, and when I open the door, he turns me into a toad as punishment?
Considering I don’t trust Magikster Ballin, I remain standing in the corridor, waiting.
Maybe five or ten minutes later, the sound of a door opening snaps me to attention. The sound of hurried footsteps echoing toward me winds my anxiety levels up again. It doesn’t help that most of the overhead lights are off because it’s Sunday morning.
The being turns the corner, and despite the distance and bad lighting, it’s easy to see from their silhouette it’s not Magikster Ballin.
While the person is still tall, their shape is fit, heavy but not old-man bulky.
The guy walking toward me is wearing a hoodie and jeans.
When he steps out from the shadows, my heart skips a beat, and I suddenly wish it was Magikster Ballin.
The guy’s head stays down when he calls out, “Sorry I’m late.”
My stomach plummets. I’d know that voice anywhere, considering it’s been haunting, or rather, taunting me for the past few days now.
He is the magikal who’s friends with Professor Cane. The same one Professor Cane, not so subtly, threatened me over being injured.
It’s hard to process. I have to spend the whole day with this person, the one who made my brain short-circuit with his purple magik. Even now, I can see the neon strands floating all around him. Interestingly, it matches the purple I used in my shield, not that I’d ever admit that.
He finally looks up from his screen, and I wave. It’s the best I can do as I school my features while also trying to read him. His focus drops back to his phone, his eyebrows scrunching in concentration. Yet by the time he stops in front of the door, he still hasn’t properly looked at me.
Finally, he leans into my space, and I think he’s about to open the door since he has a big, black skeleton key in his hand, but he stops and twists to look at me instead. “Are you going to talk today, or has the cat got your tongue?”
Before I can process his question, he smiles. Not one of those plastic ones that so many of the others here use. No, his is so big and dazzling, all I can do is laugh.
“Wow,” I manage eventually. “I have to say, you lot continually throw me. I never know what I’m getting.”
He doesn’t acknowledge what I say until he’s inside the room, holding the door open for me to enter.
“You lot? Sounds awfully judgmental, new girl.”
“Wait, I’m a girl? You’re almost the only being here who’s seen past the fact I’m a Nom.
” But it’s like someone has opened a bottle of champagne, and everything I’ve been keeping inside bursts out.
“And you want to talk judgmental, yeah, let’s do that, shall we?
Noms don’t fit in; we’re not allowed to even try.
We’re left alone to fend for ourselves, but then are blamed for everything. How’s that for starters?”
His expression is smug. “Not bad. A pretty solid argument, actually. But here’s a thought—maybe you shouldn’t let it define you,” he answers, shutting the door behind him and walking off.
“What an arrogant thing to say, all from someone who has probably never been at the bottom of anything.” As soon as the words pass my lips, I slap my hand over my mouth, stopping myself from saying anything else. If I keep going, this day of detention might be my last day on Earth.
Not that he notices since he’s walked off, leaving me alone.
My face blazes with embarrassment at losing my shit so quickly.
I know taunting those who believe in their power only feeds their ego.
I’m better than that. My parents would give me that look they always did when I went too far, and Mr. Kenney would too.
Not that they need to. If I could gaze in a mirror, I’d see my own disappointment shining brightly.
I take a deep breath, lock my emotions away, and force my brain into an attitude adjustment while I fit my mask back in place.
Then I trot after him, promising myself that I can get as pissed off as I want once the day is over and I’m in the safety of my room, not in front of supposedly one of Thale’s most powerful magikals.
It takes a couple of minutes to find him, but he’s left me an obvious trail.
I thought I’d be doing some meaningless task in either the classroom we usually use or the magikal practice room next door—the one I’ve only heard about because it would be a waste for a Nom to join in, considering we’re magikless, according to Magikster Ballin.
I’ve never seen the room and barely pay the cavernous space any regard now, instead, my focus is pulled past it toward the final open door where Emrys is waiting.
“I think it might be safer if we work here today. Magikster Ballin told me how fiery you were,” he says as soon as I get near, stepping through the open doorway so I can see into the massive and abundantly healthy greenhouse.
His teasing is long forgotten as I walk past him and into a dream.
A horticultural haven. The greenhouse we have at the community center is a tiny version compared to this one.
There must be ten, maybe twelve, rows of herbs, vegetables, and fruit trees running nearly a hundred feet away.
I look up at the glass cathedral roof where natural light floods in.
But it’s the smell of the fertile soil and the scent of the petrichor still hanging in the air that steals my focus.
Before it registers, I’m on my knees and digging my fingers into the soil as I succumb to a wave of homesickness that threatens to drown me. Vaguely, I notice movement, as a bucket full of small gardening tools and gloves get dropped next to me.
“Stick to working in this row. The others are full of plants you may not be familiar with. I’ll be in the back. Pick anything ripe, and you can take it to the kitchen once you’re done.”
For some reason, he’s giving me an escape, and I surrender completely.
I miss what I had back home. My parents, our home, all the things we’d collected, our garden, the safety net they provided.
Of course, it’s not just them. The community center, and everyone there, was a huge part of my healing.
It was the place where I found my feet again and saw the proof that life goes on after tragedy.
Working and reminiscing is cathartic, and before I know it, I have weeded the plot and trimmed the dead leaves.
Swapping the buckets and tools for a couple of baskets, I enjoy my time picking fruit and gathering vegetables. The fertility of the hothouse is evident in everything I touch and smell.
I’d love to know how they do it. Is it just the climate and conditions they’ve manifested, or is it because they infuse a touch of their magik? I doubt they’d share their secrets.
After lining up all the produce near the doors, I go looking for him.
A proper introduction would be good, as even though Cane called him Emrys, we’ve never been introduced. It would feel weird to call him by his name. Until then, I’ll stick to he or him.
There’s a soft breeze, and I turn in the direction it came from, expecting to see him, but seconds later, a light mist falls, leaving small crystal droplets on the leaves in front of me.
The droplets change, the water falling heavier, and when there’s a rumble of thunder and a flash of light, I stand in the middle of the greenhouse, watching as storm clouds form under the glass roof.
“Come on, new girl, you can stare in wonder from the safety of the hothouse with me. Unless, of course, you like being wet.”
I turn slowly toward him, wondering if I heard right. The dirty smirk gracing his lips suggests I did.
“Wow, that was smooth. Very impressive,” I say, fluttering my eyelashes and sighing exaggeratedly to match his flirting.
“And don’t forget I’m a powerful magikal too,” he teases in a way that makes me all giddy.
He’s also extremely good-looking, gorgeous in fact, and when he smiles he’s even more attractive. I giggle at his flirting. It would be easy falling for his charm, if I wasn’t so embarrassed.
I take a step toward him at the same time a flash of lightning strikes, immediately making my vision blink white. A rumble of thunder rattles the windows and my bones. I look up because that’s where the danger is, but in doing so, I trip over something and go flying through the air.
Everything happens at once. There’s another blinding spark of light, followed again by a crack of thunder so loud that I’m sure the roof is collapsing.
I screech in panic, expecting pain to hit any moment, but he saves me.
Catching me at the last minute, swinging me up in his arms, and sheltering me from the now-pouring rain.
“New girl, are you falling for me already?”
I peer up, alarmed by the storm raging around us, but also shocked that he caught me. I want to say something witty, but he presses me to his chest as he races through the storm.