Unlicensed Babysitter

New Friends, New Problems

Unsurprisingly, I find Emma in the library, her nose in a book. I'm quiet as I approach and Emma doesn't look up. I don't think she knows I've found her yet, and I'm a bit nervous, so I remain just outside the room, watching. Emma's put her hair up in a messy bun, stray strands strewn about her face, and she has her bookmark between her teeth. Her eyes remain in the same spot on the page in front of her and her bookmark is getting more punishment than it deserves. Her anger at her father is clearly nowhere near being over. The news about our entourage probably isn't helping at all.

Scratching the back of my neck, I slowly step into the library, almost expecting a harsh glare and the command to go away. It's my job to monitor Emma all day, every day, but I'd give her space if she needed it.

I clear my throat to make my presence known and Emma's head jerks up. She stares at me, her bookmark held between her teeth. I scuff my foot on the carpet and stick my hands in my pockets. "Uh... What are you reading?"

After a moment, Emma removes the bookmark from her mouth and places it between the pages of her book. "I don't even know," she admits, her tone upset. "I can't concentrate."

I shrug and move to one of the bookcases, resting an elbow on a shelf. "You can talk to Mariam about it. If you want, I mean."

Emma slams her book shut. "I'm not in the mood."

"Clearly," I mumble under my breath. Then, louder, "Well, if you're ever in the mood."

Sighing, Emma stands and moves near me. I step back out of reflex and she frowns at me. "Relax," she says, putting her book in an empty space on the shelf where my elbow was. She stares at me for a moment then looks away. "Where are the new guards?"

"Richard's sending them to us now."

"How do you feel about it?"

I brush my hair off my forehead. "It is what it is. Might as well accept it."

"Yeah. That's easy."

"It's not, I know." I tap the spine of a leather bound book at head height. "I've been monitored for years. It's hard but... You have to find a happy place. Yours is books, right? Stories not your own?"

Emma's cheeks turn a light pink. "You can say that."

"Well, focus on these stories. Enjoy them. Don't let these new guards get in the way." Puckering my lips, I pluck a short, grey book from the shelf, then hold it out to Emma. "Give it a try?"

Eyes on the cover, Emma gently takes hold of the other end of the book, but doesn't take it from my hands. She rubs her thumbs over the slightly raised title and shifts her weight. "What's your happy place?"

I squeeze my end of the book. Emma's fingers are so close to mine, the scent of old pages wafting from their tips. "I..." My face gets warm and I turn my head, hoping I'm not blushing. "Do you remember what I said about magic?"

"All of it."

"That's my happy place." My ears feel hot and I want to shut up, but Emma feels... safe. She might understand. "I like to imagine the big magics, no doubt- the wolf women sprinting under the moon, the witches casting spells and curses- but my favorites are the little magics. The boy in the playground getting the courage to stand up to his bully, the woman having a healthy child, unexpected discoveries. Their stories are my happy place." I smile wistfully, recalling the countless hours I spent playing the world's adventures in my head. "They live happily even when I can't. The world keeps spinning, and I'm okay with that."

Emma's fingers brush mine and I look at her, my hands only twitching instead of pulling away like usual. It's surprising. "You're not happy?" she asks, soft.