My mum had to whip up a special remedy that Wednesday devised last year. It consisted of forget-me-nots, or scorpion grasses as they're sometimes called, and was surprisingly effective in inducing short-term memory loss. She'd also cured Jack's chest with some clear liquid that she had stored in a little vial — though she refused to tell me what it was.
By the time my mum drove him home, all Jack remembered of his afternoon with me was that he tutored me on History. And thanks to my mum's miracle healing vial, there wasn't a trace of a burn scar on his chest. He would not be able to recall the fact I almost burnt him to a crisp. Human barbecue, anyone?
When she got home, my mum proceeded to lecture me on how irresponsible I was.
"I didn't know it would happen!" I exclaimed, before grumbling, "It's not like I can talk to you about the Phoenix."
Instead of wincing as she usually did when I mentioned her lost prized possession, Mum shook her head and narrowed her eyes at me. "You will come to learn this as you get older, but the Phoenix struggles with staying faithful to one lover. You just have to be careful with whom you demonstrate your passion."
"So, like if I was with another supernatural...?" I raised my eyebrows at her.
"It'd probably be safer than being with a non-supernatural person, yes." She nodded, relaxing her face a little to wipe the sides of her weary eyes — where phantom tears had left her skin damp.
Then she left me to my thoughts and went to make dinner, something which she rarely did for me. She was still reluctant to talk to me, but I was deeply grateful that she'd arrived just in time before I murdered Jack.
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Wednesday and Al were both late to school the next morning, and they ditched P.E. so I couldn't tell them about my little incident with Jack. It also meant I had to hang out with Maia Silva; one of my backup friends.
Calling her a backup friend was a little harsh, seeing as I did actually get on with her pretty well. She was kind and smart, the kind of girl you want to be friends with during high school.
As we got changed into our P.E. kit, we caught up on some mindless gossip — none of which was overly exciting or scandalous. I refrained from mentioning hooking up with Jack, as I doubted that I'd be able to talk to her about him without spilling the beans. And me being a mythical and supernatural mix of a Phoenix was a tin of beans that I did not want to be spilt.
Interrupting our gossip session, the P.E. teacher walked in, "Because we've not got enough teachers to cover both the girls' and the boys' respective classes, we're going to be playing Man Hunt with the boys."
The response was split: one half were groans of "why–y?", and the other half were celebratory "we're gonna kick their asses."
