Alastair felt like the world was closing in on him--the air seemed to be pressing in on him from all sides. Yet he was numb, his surroundings seeming to recede from his consciousness. It felt as if his brain was soup. Thick soup, pouring from a big spoon.
I should sit down, he thought. He looked around and found he was already sitting. His body, unlike his brain, moved too fast. He decided to test this, to move his hand. His hand was already waggling in front of his eyes. His body was ahead of his brain, and his head was pounding.
Alastair had lost Control. He stumbled through the last several days barely Conscious of his surroundings. There was so much that brought him to this breaking point. Alastair and his mother had continued in their silent battle at home, all because Alastair broke his father's nose in defense of his mom. "Don't take him back, or I'll leave." That was all he had said to anger her. Then there was all the crap that happened at school. Alastair had wallowed in self-pity ever since the death of one of his favorite Magic teachers, Mr. Bennett, back in May. He had witnessed the murder, sort of. Bennett had been stuck in a black choking cloud with some government agent who discharged his gun, killing the young teacher. To say the least, Alastair was traumatized. But it wasn't just that. Jackson, the funny, caring Potions and Poultices teacher had betrayed them all. It turned out that he had been the one to cast that dark mist and, some felt, to cause the death of Bennett. He fled the school before anyone could question him, and Alastair took it personally. One teacher dead, another a traitor.
But worst of all, the girl he loved, Sarah, loved someone else. He had lost her to the bullying jackass Mason. Not that he had ever really had her, not as anything more than friends, anyway. And not that anymore, either. He was miserable, and all of this misery led him straight down a dismal path.
His new friend Keira dragged him swirling into a hazy world of magic and madness. She had introduced him to Amping, which is taking Amplification Potion just for kicks. Amp is used to give practitioners of magic a little boost, but it is highly addictive and dangerous. Alastair never would have used it before, but he was overwhelmed by his grief and anger. The Amp blurred the lines between reality and fantasy for him, and fantasy was so much better. It was all about escapism.
He hadn't seen much of Keira during those first few weeks of summer, but last Thursday, just after Fourth of July, he saw her smoking in front of NYU's Main Building, her usual entourage looming quietly behind her.
"Hey, Ala-stair," she said. "Are you ready to cast with us?"
He did not hesitate a moment. "Yep."
"Nice! You are going to trip. We've still got some Amp, and we're gonna go up to the top of the Empire State Building. Casting up there is like nothing you've ever experienced."
Alastair had only had Amplification twice before this: the first was a small dose before going to the art museum back in December, and the second was in the Sanguine Solution he took afterwards because his arm had been slashed, and he had lost so much blood. Both times, it was as if he could feel the magic tingling in his veins. He had felt floaty and heavy at the same time, as if nothing could be stronger than him while he was drifting off to the clouds. Even though a voice deep inside him protested, Jackson was Amping, look where it got him, the thought of using it again excited him.
"Let's go," he said coolly.
"Go where?" Maggie asked as she rounded the corner. Alastair was supposed to go buy the books for his summer classes at NYU with her.
"No place," Keira said. "See ya, Chipmunk." She ran her arm through Alastair's and pulled him away. Jonathan, Keira's tall quiet friend, gave him a dark look that Alastair interpreted as jealousy. He enjoyed the fact that Keira liked him. But even more, his ego loved that she liked him enough to make another boy jealous.
Each of the last few days, they went someplace new to Amp and cast, their magic running wild and out of Control. Jonathan always passed around the vial of Amplification to everyone. They each drank a good amount from it, far more than Alastair had before, and when he gulped it the first time, it nearly knocked him off his feet. He became immediately dizzy.
"Whoa, slow down there, Charlie Sheen," Keira had steadied him.
"Is it supposed to feel like I'm getting smushed?" he shouted.
"Do you want to get smushed?" Keira asked, stepping closer.
"I don't think so," he shouted again.
"Why are you shouting?" Cesar asked.
"I don't know," he yelled.
"Try casting, even just a bloom," Keira said, sitting him down on a bench.
He lifted his hand, and his usual charcoal mist swirled out and around, glowing darkly like it was lit from within by an obsidian bulb. It twisted into shapes without his bidding. Keira bloomed a dark fiery orange that encircled his.
"Whoa."
"I know, right," she said, leaning her head against his shoulder.
Cesar waved his hand in Alastair's face now, pulling him from the memories. He chugged more Amp, adding to the many gulps he had already taken today. Alastair felt like he was sinking into a very pleasant abyss, and although part of his Consciousness told him to fight it, he let himself fall. The Amplification potion swept over his body until he felt nothing at all but power and magic.
««•»»
Today was the day. Rose was on a scavenger hunt to find anything she could about her family, her lawyer, and her trust. Rose laid low the first couple of weeks she was back in Avery's house, not wanting to stir up any trouble. She learned last year how short his temper was. And she had the scars to remind her in case she forgot. As if. She stared over her shoulder in the mirror at the three long fat scars that criss-crossed down her back. And that was just for saying something innocent. She hadn't meant to offend him, but alcohol and anger were a bad combination.
She had discovered last year that there was a trust in her name somewhere, money that belonged to her. She was going to find it. Rose made her way down to the empty kitchen to eat breakfast, Avery having gone off to work about an hour ago. She poured the healthy cereal that looked like dog food into a bowl and added sugar, drowning it all with rice milk--Avery didn't drink regular milk because it made him sick. The oat bran squares were actually pretty tasty.
Avery was her guardian and had been since her great aunt died last summer. Not that she had lived with Marie long either. A month and a half, maybe. After her parents died when she was little, she had bounced from placement to placement, institution to institution, landing finally at the Central Youth Recovery Section, or curse as the patients called it, of the California State Mental Hospital. A home for the disturbed. Just like her mother. The doctors diagnosed her with schizophrenia. People who couldn't see the magic thought she was crazy. And that's where Marie found her last year before bringing her out here to New York City.
But even though she had been rescued from the asylum, last school year had still been marked by some of her lowest lows. With Marie dying and Avery beating her with his belt, Rose was overwhelmed. She didn't speak. She couldn't speak. At all. Not to anyone. Well, almost. Rose had confided in one teacher, Bennett. But then he died. And Tommy. She had talked to Tommy. Rose put her hands over her purple face as she thought about Tommy Roarke and his hypnotic smile. And his muscular arms. She had started the year hating him, but by the end, they had a bond: neither one of them had a place to call home, except the school. She was probably going to see him Monday for summer school, which made her burning face twist into a tiny grin.
But the worst moments had been when the strange men had come for her. First, they tried to kidnap her and Alastair, who was probably her favorite person in the world. Those sad blue eyes. Alastair had protected her that day, but his arm was cut to the bone, and he was losing a lot of blood. She had to help him. That's when her arm ripped open, seemingly out of nowhere. When he awoke, he called her a healer. She was an Empathic Healer, which meant that she could take anyone's injury or illness, but she would have to feel the pain herself. From everything Bennett told her, this was extremely rare. And from everything she felt, this was extremely painful.
Then the same strange men tried to take her during the school play in May. The main guy, Grey Eyes, she called him in her mind, had read to her from a file. Her own words. Words she had spoken years ago to some doctor or social worker. That moment had left no doubt in her mind. They had come for her. She got away again, but Bennett died trying to protect her. It broke her already shattered heart to think of Bennett's beautiful wife, crying so hard at the funeral. She was supposed to be Rose's summer school teacher.
It wasn't all bad, though. She had made a couple of friends, like Alastair. And Tommy. They were older, but still. And there was also Ellie, who was arguably the loudest person at Whitman, or at least in their grade. But Rose liked that.
Rose tidied the kitchen and went back upstairs to Avery's office, tiptoeing even though she was alone. Rose searched the office carefully, finding several relevant documents, including her placement agreement, birth certificate, and school records. She made copies on his large 3-in-1 printer. But nowhere could she find information about her trust, which she assumed must contain money that belonged to her.
The clock on the wall chimed 12 with a series of electronic bings. She had been in there too long. Avery might come home for lunch, and if he did, she would be in serious trouble. Scarring kind of trouble. She had been rummaging through Avery's desk and planned to use Object Manipulation to set everything straight afterwards. Except she couldn't. Nothing moved.
What?
She tried again, and again, nothing. Rose lifted her hand and tried to bloom some lavender mist. Nothing. She could not do magic. With her heart pounding, she scrambled to put everything back as well as she could without the help of magic. It wasn't right, she could feel it, but she hurried out anyway.
««•»»
It was Thursday, and Alastair's first class was Modern Art, and in the afternoon, he had Rock Lyric as Literature, both with Maggie. He had been Amping pretty steadily for a week now, and Art started off slow for him; it included a review of basic art forms and the color wheel. This was all stuff he had learned already. He flipped the book closed in annoyance. He only signed up for this class because was looking forward to learning about the evolution of art in the past two hundred years, and the textbook was beautiful, with glossy, colorful pictures that made him want to paint. He hated when a class started with material that was way too basic.
"Watch where you're going, Weirdo," said that now familiar biting valley girl voice. Keira punched his shoulder playfully. "This class is lame, right?"
"I don't know, it seems--"
"Lame."
"I think it sounds interesting," Maggie said, stepping up on her tiptoes.
"Ok, Chipmunk, no one asked you," Keira said, smirking.
Alastair couldn't help himself. He let out a roaring laugh. Maggie shot him an angry glare, and he shrugged as if to say, "What do you expect?"
"Thanks for getting that stuff the other day, by the way." Keira ran her fingers down his chest, and his heart thudded with excitement. "Where are you off to now?"
"I have another class in twenty minutes," he gestured toward the elevator.
Keira raised her eyebrows and blew a bubble in her gum. "Skip it," she said as the bubble popped loudly. "Come hang. We're gonna go casting."
"Alastair, we should go to class," Maggie said quietly.
"We shnood go to cna-ass," Keira taunted.
"You graduated three years ago, right? Hard to tell when you act like a four-year-old. Al?"
"Sorry, Maggs. I'll see you tomorrow." He glanced back over his shoulder, shouting, "Can I get the notes from you tomorrow?"
Keira and her friends laughed acidly, and Maggie shook her head.
"You really are some sort of nerd, aren't you?" Keira grinned.
Alastair raised his eyebrows. "I thought you knew who I was," he challenged her. "I'm the kid who bloomed black." He felt sort of stupid saying that, as if being dark was a good thing. He just wanted to seem cool.
"Shut the front door!"
He nodded, stretching to his full height as they walked, and letting the tiniest bloom of charcoal mist escape.
"Awww. It's baby black," Keira cooed. "You are clearly hardcore. Watch out, you guys."
Cesar put up his hands in mock surrender.
Alastair laughed, "Yeah, I'm super evil."
Alastair glanced back over his shoulder as he and Keira walked away arm-in-arm. Maggie's angry face left him feeling a little guilty. But just a little.
««•»»
For the next three days, Rose spent her time when Avery was home hidden away in her bare room, reading next year's textbooks. At night when he was out, she usually would sit downstairs and watch TV. But Avery had stumbled home in various stages of intoxication most of the nights that Rose had stayed in his house, so she usually hid back upstairs before it got too late. Sunday night was no different. He knocked at her door for twenty minutes before slumping to the ground.
"Why don't cha be a good girl and come clean up me mess. My mess. I'm a mess," he slurred, his fingers gripping the underside of the door. "Lonely, sad, ol' mess."
She hunched on her bed with the blankets up to her face, praying he wouldn't remember that there was no lock on the door.
Rose stepped over him to get to summer school early Monday morning, careful not to wake him. But she was troubled. She had returned to Avery's house, and now she couldn't do magic. She thought maybe fear caused her abilities to go away. But no, she reasoned with herself, I've been afraid a lot, and this has never happened. It was just one more question that needed to be answered.
She walked the half-dozen blocks toward Greenwich Prep, with a slight detour. She stared down at the torn slip of paper Alastair had given her before the end of school last year. He really did live just down the street from the school. His apartment was above a deli and a dry cleaner. The front door to the building stood slightly open, so she jogged up the stairs to the third floor. 3A. There it was. Rose flushed, her cheeks growing hot as she realized his windows looked down on the street. She turned and ran back down the poorly lit stairwell feeling like a stalker.
After just a few minutes of walking, Rose entered the red-brick school where she would spend her summer. She was taking 10th grade English in advance, so she wouldn't have to be in Mr. Grant's class again. He had given her such a hard time about not talking last year.
Rose paused at the door to Mrs. Bennett's classroom, reluctant to see her. She took a deep breath and stepped across the threshold. Mrs. Bennett sat at her desk with her head in her hands, her fingers clawed through her long black hair. The sound of the door clicking behind Rose caused her to stir.
"Tommy, did you--" she looked up to find Rose. Her face was red and stained with mascara-tears. "Oh, Rose," she scuttled over to her.
Mrs. Bennett wrapped Rose in a tight awkward hug. Rose was six inches taller than her, and the teacher just wrapped her arms low around Rose's waist. It must have looked like Rose was the adult, and she the child. Her grief was soul-shattering. Rose patted her back, wanting to take away that pain. But she couldn't.
"James was so fond of you, Rose," she sniffled, pulling away.
Rose offered a half smile and a slight nod, tears threatening her eyes. She wished she had the words to tell Mrs. Bennett how fond she had been of him too.
The door swung open, and Tommy stepped in carrying a stack of heavy-looking boxes, his forearms rippling with muscles. He glanced from Rose to Bennett and walked quickly to the back of the room. Rose wasn't sure exactly what it was about, but there was an odd expression on his face. An uncomfortable expression. He began unloading books onto the shelves at the back, and Rose, wanting to be out of the awkward moment, joined him.
"Want some help?" she whispered.
The smile and sideways glance he offered were enough to make even a nun swoon. "Sure. How you been, Cali?"
Rose shrugged in answer, grabbing a bunch of books. "Okay." She'd been pretty freaked out, not having magic, but she wasn't going to tell him that.
««•»»
Alastair managed to avoid his mother for the next few weeks because she worked those convenient double shifts, but it was not so easy to escape Maggie, who was waiting outside his apartment building one morning.
She put her hands on her hips as he stepped outside. She snapped, "Are you coming to class today?"
He squinted in the sunlight and shook his head.
"What is going on with you, Alastair?"
"Nothing, Maggs. I'm fine. I'll go to class next week."
"Next week it'll be almost over."
It was almost the end of July already. Man, time had flown.
Maggie shook her head as she reached her tiny hand up to his face. Alastair frowned at her. She smacked him open hand across the cheek. Hard. "I cannot believe you, Al. You're Amping. How can you do that to your mother? Hell, to yourself?"
He rubbed his reddened cheek. "I'm not!"
"You're Amped right now. I can see it in your eyes. I can smell the tartness on your breath. What the hell are you thinking? Never mind, you clearly aren't. At least not with the head on your shoulders."
"What does that mean?"
Maggie threw her hands up in frustration. "It means you've traded your friends, family, and future for a piece of tail," she shouted, storming off.
Alastair shrugged. He and Keira hadn't even kissed. Maggie just didn't get it. He felt powerful. He felt supernatural. He was beyond the everyday world. Class didn't matter. What she thought of him didn't matter. All that mattered was numbing the anger he felt when he wasn't on Amplification. He knew it was only a mask, that the pain still festered underneath, but on Amp, he just didn't care.
He took the train up to 14th street, where he met up with Keira, Jonathan, and Cesar. The four of them rode out to Brooklyn together, lazily leaning against each other as the train swayed across the bridge. They were on a mission to find the ingredients necessary to make Amp, their supply of which was quickly running out. Out of which their supply was quickly running? Alastair shook his head as the train pulled to a stop. They wandered through the industrial neighborhood, with Cesar guiding them.
"Are you sure this is the right place?" Keira smacked.
"Why don't you ever trust me," Cesar asked. "I never steer you wrong."
"Except that one time," Jonathan snorted.
As everyone else burst into raucous laughter, Alastair felt out of place. He wanted to know what happened that one time, but instead of asking, he just tapped his fingers against his thumb. Dark mist started swirling out of his hands.
"Yeah, this is it," Keira affirmed as they walked through the now-opened door.
It was some sort of warehouse, filled with boxes and crates. Way over on the far side, there were huge metal vats, three stories tall. The quiet was odd, Alastair thought. Where were the workers? It was a weekday. Wasn't it? Wasn't it?
Alastair mostly watched as the others gathered bottles of chemicals they would need for the potion from the crates. He didn't belong there. He knew it, deep down underneath all the Amp. But he didn't leave.
"Hey!" A voice shouted above them. Alastair hadn't even noticed the catwalk and office that hovered about twenty feet over their heads. Jonathan was way in the back, and as he ran forward, he stuffed some papers into his back pocket. That was weird, since they were there to get potion ingredients.
Keira shoved a bunch of vials into Jonathan's chest as he caught up, and grabbed Alastair by the hand. They ran through the maze of warehouses, until Cesar finally led them back to the train. As they boarded the car, Alastair looked back over his shoulder. There was no one. Somehow, Cesar had successfully dodged their pursuers. Alastair leaned his head back against the window and started to laugh. Low and slow, at first. Then as the others joined in, they became a pack of hysterical hyenas.
««•»»
Rose was glad that the first few weeks of summer school passed quickly--no magic, but no damage either. Avery had left her alone. And each day at school, Tommy worked in the classroom, running errands and grading papers. Each day, Rose caught him watching her. Each day, as class ended he asked her to go play music.
Thursday was no different. "Come on, Cali. We played so well before."
She shook her head no. Again.
Tommy looked hurt as he asked, "Why?"
She had no choice but to tell him. It was either that or have him bug her all summer. "I can't do magic," she stated simply, and walked away again. What else was there to say? He wanted her to play, but she didn't think she could without magic, and what's more, she didn't want to.
The next afternoon, Rose left class quickly, heading for the stairs. She pushed open the door at the bottom to find Tommy waiting for her.
"Elevator's faster," he said smugly with his arms folded.
She rolled her eyes and brushed past him.
He scurried along next to her. "Can I buy you lunch? I have an idea about why you can't practice. Magic," he leaned close, murmuring the last word quietly against her ear, like playing telephone.
That made her stop. She studied his face with a scowl. She nodded slowly, "Okay."
When they got out to the street, he gestured left and right. "We could go to the Original Famous Ray's on 7th, but I prefer the one on 9th." Rose shrugged, indifferent.
At the cramped pizzeria, Rose stared in amazement at the choices. Pizza back in California meant chain delivery stores, pepperoni and grease. These pizzas were huge, thin, and beautiful.
"What'll it be," asked the guy behind the counter.
Rose pointed at a pizza covered in brightly colored vegetables. It was mostly bell peppers of various shades, but there was also spinach, broccoli and onion.
"Seriously?" Tommy asked. "You really are Californian. One of those, and two pepperoni."
The cashier asked, "You guys want drinks?"
"I'll take a large coke, and she'll have a large diet coke with a shot of cherry coke."
Rose blushed as she flicked her eyes up to Tommy's face. He knew her a little too well.
"Go get that table, Cali," he gestured with his elbow, his hands full of plates and cups.
As they sat down, he pulled a bundle of folded pages from his back pocket and set them on the table.
The pizza was like a Saturday afternoon nap. It was fresh and fulfilling, but it left her just a little sleepy. It had the perfect balance of dough, sauce, and cheese.
"So," Tommy said with a mouthful of pizza. He was already on his second piece. "I think somebody is spikin' your food, and maybe your drinks too, with Binding Potion."
Rose set her pizza down and stared at him.
"When did you figure out you couldn't do magic?"
She shook her head and shrugged although she knew the exact moment.
"It had to be after you left school, right? So, how many days after you got home until you couldn't cast?"
"Three," she said, barely above a whisper.
"You live with a practitioner?"
Rose nodded, squirming in her chair. She did not like the realization that was worming into her brain.
"Any idea why they would wanna restrict your magic?"
Rose's vision blurred as she stared at his half-eaten pizza. The buzz of people around her seemed muffled. "No," she shook her head, moving her eyes down to her own plate.
Tommy tapped the pages on the table. "I copied some pages out of my potions textbook, all about Binding." He slid the pages toward her. "Eat. Eat now, 'cause you can't eat at home anymore."
She nodded resolutely, and took another bite of pizza, which had lost its flavor, all her senses dulled by fear. As she finished, Tommy went to the counter and ordered two more slices of pizza to go. He refilled her drink, then walked Rose home. He handed her the small box of food.
"See you Monday," he squeezed her shoulders with his large hands, as if trying to brace her.
She nodded. She hoped so.