Black Mist: Seedling

5. Intrusion

Ever since Alastair pummeled his father's face, he was angry more often than not, and seeing Sarah and Mason making out all over school certainly didn't help matters. Black mist was now a regular visitor in his life. Maybe the others were right about him. He felt the darkness, had given into it that day he sent his father packing. It was festering inside of him. To say the least, Alastair had struggled with Control the last couple of weeks.

As he walked toward his last class that week, he thought that maybe tiptoeing on the edge of darkness was what made his gift, drawing, more Empathic. The trick was to stay on the right side of the line. He would have to concentrate, focus. He didn't want to become overrun with the pestilent blackness. But maybe releasing the dark heart passed down from his dad onto the pages of his sketchbook would help him with Control.

Alastair wandered pensively into the arts studio and sat at a drawing table with his sketch. Alastair raised his eyes to see Rose looking down at his page, an expression of horror mixed with understanding. He knew that she was experiencing what he had when she played that first day: empathy so strong it overwhelmed. Mrs. Cowdrey had described the effect of Empathic Magic to the arts classes in the past, but he had never felt it as strongly as when Rose played piano. He placed one smudged hand on hers, and she visibly relaxed, hands unfolding, jaws unclenching, eyes softening. He left it there only moments before he took back the hand he needed for his work, and continued the piece based on the mournful music she had played, his lost love, their sorrow. She sat and watched him smooth and break and roughen the lines on the page until class ended.

As he walked out of the studio, he bumped into Maggie.

"Hey," he said. "Where're you coming from?"

"Dropping off some coffee to Whitley." She looked at the page he carried at his side with wide eyes. "Whoa, that is the gloomiest thing I've ever seen."

Alastair shrugged, "It's based on some pretty gloomy stuff."

Maggie shook her head, and Alastair knew she wouldn't understand. She hadn't heard the music, seen the scars, felt the pain. Her parents were a lovely pair of hippies who had turned into successful business executives. They loved their daughters, each other, and everyone else, for that matter. She didn't know what it was to fear her home.

"Are your parents coming on Monday, Al?" Even her question showed she didn't understand. He only had the one parent left, having chased the other off.

"My mom is, I think. You?"

"Of course! All right, see you later," she said as they reached the eleventh floor and went in opposite directions.

Saturday twisted into Sunday, which slid into Monday. It was a rainy Labor Day in New York, hot summer rain that spurted off and on like a broken faucet. The school had been transformed from its usual quiet academic atmosphere to one of celebration, upbeat music coursing through the halls. Huge banners of welcome were strung around the common areas. Some parents of out-of-towners had arrived yesterday, staying in the guest rooms in the faculty apartments.

Alastair was glad to see his mother for parents day, even though he left her just a few weeks ago. She seemed to be doing really well since his dad had gone for good. She looked healthier in every way: her skin was glowing, her hair shiny, her eyes content. She had attended Whitman Academy in her time, so this was really just a chance to spend some time together and for her to hear how he was doing in his classes.

They stood together in the main hall lobby on the first floor amid the crowd of parents finding their kids, teachers greeting parents, and administrators worrying about all of them. Alastair saw Maggie and her "big" sister hugging their parents, whose hippie days were not entirely behind them, if their wardrobe had anything to say about it. Mr. Weintraub was around fifty, balding with a ponytail, and dressed in jeans, a purple paisley button-down shirt and brown leather vest. Mrs. Weintraub had tight curls to her shoulders and wore a yellow and orange sun dress that complimented her cocoa skin.