Of Fire, of Water, of Wind, and of Earth: Holders-In-Training

Chapter Five

"Mrs. Hemlock's a bitch," Emerald reassures Droplet. "She hates everyone."

"She's more than a just a bitch," I add. "She's, like... The bitch of all bitches in the entire universe!"

"Well that's not true..." Emerald said. "I've had a teacher that's more of a bitch than that."

"Anything to add, James?" I ask him. He's been sitting by us, arms crossed and glowering at nothing in particular. That class really ticked him off. Emerald's face takes on a closed expression and she glares at nothing in particular too.

"I'm not contributing to a conversation Emerald's in." he snaps. Well, that's the end of that! Emerald obviously isn't going to join in a conversation James is in, either. I want to hurt Mr. Garner. It's really quite amusing to listen to Emerald and James bicker. When they start up, my first thought is, Going to make popcorn now! Pause the movie til I get back!

"Lunch is in five minutes. We'd better go." Droplet says.

"We're going to Marcus Fletcher's funeral-thingy-ma-bob, remember?" James says.

"Oh yeah," Droplet and I reply. Emerald says nothing, but grimaces slightly. Only I notice.

So we go. There's nothing to it. It's long and boring and long and boring and long and boring... Did I mention that it's long and boring?

At any time you can get up and go to the back for food and drink, but you have to be careful and make no noise, because then the whole thing stops and you're escorted out of the room. I almost was escorted out of the room but then I said I'm a Holder-to-be or a Holder-in-Training, whichever you prefer, and the man went all polite and sweet and innocently gentle and kind. It was sickening.

It ran a little late, cutting into my next class: Eagle-riding. It's how we learn how to ride and control our eagles, the natural Wind pet and mount, and how to take care of them. But mostly how to ride them.

Our familiars are NOT our rides. They just enhance our magic and make good company. Eagles are frigid and proud, and though Winds love 'em, they do NOT make good company. Don't invite one to a tea party.

I'm ok with being late to this class. It's boring. The Eagle I've been assigned is really old. Next year we'll call our Eagles, the ones we'll have for the rest of our life, and train with them. But for now we use school Eagles. The beat-up and battered school Eagles.

My Eagle is named Majorang, pronounced Ma-jor-ang. You say the j like the sound your dishwasher makes. Sounds Chinese to me.

He's really uptight with me, and only flies in tight circles around the room. He stops after three circles and I have to kick him really hard before he goes up in the air again. He also only listens to the instructor.

Feeding him is even worse. He won't take food from my hand like the other Eagles and he'll only eat or drink from his bowl if I'm on the other side of the room. He also won't go and find a river or catch his own food out in a forest like the other Eagles will do. You have to give him his food or he just won't eat.

And when I'm riding on him, I can't make him change directions. He goes either straight or in a circle widdershins, which I hear is dark magic, unless of course the teacher says otherwise. And he never changes his height: so close to the ceiling I have to bend over his back inside or just above the trees outside. He doesn't land like the other Eagles, either. They go at a slant going forward or going gently spiraling down, but Majorang HAS, just HAS to drop. Without warning, too. One second you'll be flying slowly in circles and the next second you'll be plummeting to the ground, watching the ground rush up to meet you. I hate him.