Even and Odd

by Sarah Beth Durst

  “Magic isn’t a disease,” Even said.

  “But it is a natural force,” Mom said. “Before your father and I started the border store, we researched the behavior of magical forces. When we discovered the consequences of using a power stone to manipulate those forces, we halted our research and issued warnings to the Academy of Magic.”

  Consequences, Even thought. She means us.

  “We’ll find a way to fix this,” Mom said, hugging them again. “You two have already done so much, discovering the source of the problem. I will spread the word—there are a number of people I’ve been working with who are also concerned about what’s happening in the borderlands. We’ll contact the Academy and figure out what to do. Don’t worry. For right now, let’s get you some dinner and a nice place to sleep.”

  Even felt so full of relief that she wanted to cry. Mom was here! Mom knew what to do.

  Jeremy cleared his throat, then looked at the sky as if he hadn’t done it.

  “Can our friend come with us?” Odd asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Mom said warmly. “Jeremy, thank you for helping our family. It’s very nice to meet you.”

  One arm around Even and one arm around Odd, Mom led them to a domed building with an array of flowers outside. As they approached, the flowers took flight, and the flock of flower fairies flew to the next building and gathered around the entrance, framing it in an arch of biting blossoms. “I just took the house out of storage,” Mom said. “It’s dusty, but it will do. You may even remember it.”

  Even walked inside and halted as she faced a semicircle of purple Seuss-like trees inside a room that looked strangely familiar. Cobwebs clung to the arches, and thick dust obscured the mosaic floor. She knew without looking, though, that the floor was a scene of waves in an ocean in every color blue imaginable.

  Odd joined her. “What is it?”

  Walking slowly, Even touched the trunk of one of the trees. It shivered beneath her fingers, as if it recognized her, too. “I do remember this place.”

  “This used to be home,” Mom said.

  “Really?” Odd said.

  Yes, really, Even thought, but she couldn’t seem to make herself speak. Memories that she’d forgotten were flashing like photographs in her mind: Eating breakfast around . . . She ran forward and picked up the side of a fallen table, then pushed it back onto its legs. Breakfast around this table. “Whenever Dad made pancakes, he’d shape them like birds . . .”

  “And I’d make them fly up to the trees,” Mom said.

  He’d stopped making them like birds when they’d moved to an ordinary house in Connecticut. Maybe because there weren’t trees inside to fly them to.

  “I didn’t remember that the trees were inside.” She tried to reconstruct her memory. The floor was a mosaic, and the walls were painted blue. She looked at the ceiling and saw a painting of stars, exactly as she expected.

  “Sometimes we stretched hammocks between the trees,” Mom said. “You liked to sleep here, even though you had a perfectly nice bedroom.” She gestured at an archway that had suddenly appeared. A hallway sprouted off it—it hadn’t been there a minute ago. The house was growing around them.

  Odd joined them. “I don’t remember any of this.”

  Mom hugged her shoulders. “You’re a year younger. That can make the difference. It’s why you’ve never thought of this world as home. You don’t remember it that way.”

  “Home has Dad,” Odd said.

  “Indeed it does, sweetie,” Mom said. “It certainly does. And we’re going to get back to him soon. I promise.” She hugged both of them again, and Even and Odd hugged her just as hard. Even breathed in the familiar smell of the soap Mom always used, and she felt, for the first time since meeting Lady Vell, that everything was going to be okay again. Her optimism crept back in.

  Jeremy piped up. “Could we have dinner first? Please?”

  Mom laughed. “Of course. I’ll bring you some. Don’t eat anything in the kitchen. Any food you find has been there so long it’s probably alive now.”

  Even wasn’t sure whether Mom was joking or not.

  Mom asked Jeremy, “Any allergies?”

  “No, ma’am,” he said.

  “Stay here, and no going through any portals to other worlds without me,” Mom told them, and disappeared through the door.

  Even was nearly sure Mom was joking that time.

  They found chairs and arranged them around the table. Even pulled a tattered curtain off a window and used it to dust the tabletop, flying the rag by magic. Jeremy shook off his satchel and pushed it into a corner where it wouldn’t be in the way.

  “Do you think she’s mad at us for coming here?” Even asked Odd quietly.

  “She’s relieved she found us,” Odd said. “That will last until we’re fed. Then she’ll be mad. Or worried. Or both. Or maybe she won’t. It’s not like I’ve been in this situation before.”

  “Mom probably hasn’t been either.” But she was here! And she’d fix everything.

  Even liked the idea of dumping all their problems into Mom’s lap. Mom had been coming to the magic world for years, ever since they left it, and she was an expert in magical forces in general and the power stone in particular. She had to know a way to stop Lady Vell and restore the magic to the border. Mom had even said she knew people who could help. And she’d mentioned contacting the Academy.

  Mom returned with several platters of food, as well as a bucket of oats. She levitated the bucket next to her and let it settle in front of Jeremy. He thanked her and then plunged his face into it. She put two plates with what looked like chicken and a pile of wilted spinach in front of Even and Odd. “You eat the greens,” Mom said. “No argument.”

  Even poked at the vegetables with a fork. She probably would have loved them if she were still a skunk. She remembered she hadn’t told Mom that part yet. Might as well, while she’s still feeling relived, not mad. “I got stuck as a skunk. When the gateway closed, I wasn’t able to work magic, even though it was an even day.”

  “Is your magic working normally now?”

  Concentrating, Even pictured herself as a skunk. She felt her body shrink, fur fluff all over her, and a tail sprout from her behind. Finishing, she examined herself. It felt surprisingly normal to be a skunk again. Plus, that was the fastest transformation she’d ever done. Focusing, she imagined herself as human and shifted back. “All fine.”

  “Nice job,” Mom said.

  “FYI,” Odd said, “we might have to air out the house when we get home. And the store. When”—she hesitated, as if afraid to ask—“do you think we’ll be able to go home?” She held her breath as she waited for the answer.

  “I’m working on it,” Mom promised. “I’ve asked my colleagues to join us here—that was my original reason for bringing this house out of storage. We’ll use it as a meeting place. Once we have all our facts in order, we’ll reach out to the Academy of Magic for direction on how to handle Lady Vell. But I don’t want you two to worry about it. You’ve done enough. Knowing that Lady Vell and the power stone are responsible . . . This changes everything.”

  She’s not mad, Even thought. And then she thought, Am I? “There was something upsetting that happened. We heard a story. About us. About our magic.”

  Odd kicked her on the shin. “Now?”

  “Yes, now. It’s relevant. Lady Vell knew about it too. In fact, everyone seems to know about it except for us. Mom, did your and Dad’s experiments cause us to share magic?”

  Mom sat down heavily. She looked, for a moment, lost. It wasn’t an expression that Even had ever seen on her face before. Mom was always in control. She was the one who knew everyone’s schedules, who made sure everyone ate and had clean clothes, who made sure the shop opened on time and had all the supplies it needed. She took care of all of them, even Dad. Who takes care of her? Even wondered. But she set that question aside to think about later. Right now, Mom owed them some answers.

  “You
said we were born this way. But we weren’t, were we?”

  “You weren’t,” Mom said. She turned her attention to the table, as if the words were easier to say while not looking at her daughters. Plates, cups, and utensils floated out of a cabinet and set themselves down.

  “I knew it!” Odd cried. “I was never meant to have magic. That’s why it’s always felt so weird and why I’ve always been so bad at it.”

  “You’re bad at it because you don’t practice,” Mom said.

  “That’s what I tell her,” Even said.

  “And it is your magic,” Mom said to Odd, looking over at her. “Even was born without magic. But you, Odd, were born with it.”

  Even felt her mouth drop open. It’s not my magic? I’m not magical? But . . . it had always felt so right. She was the sister who loved magic, the one who dreamed of a future with magic. She was the one who planned on becoming a wizard and being a hero of Firoth . . . How could it not be her magic?

  “That can’t be,” Odd said, echoing Even’s thoughts as if she could read them. “Even’s the one who loves magic! Not me.”

  “We were studying the power stone,” Mom explained. “It was supposed to siphon magic from the earth itself and then share it, split between your father and me. Instead it siphoned magic from Odd, and it shared her magic between you two. We’d never even seen that as a possibility. We’d never imagined our work would touch either of you.”

  “Even could have taken it all,” Odd said.

  “You don’t mean that,” Mom said. “It’s a part of you. You have magic. Just like you have your eyes and your smile.”

  But it’s not supposed to be part of me, Even thought.

  Concentrating, she lifted her fork into the air with her magic. She added the other utensils. They danced above the table. How could this magic not be hers? It felt like hers. But . . . it wasn’t supposed to be? It was all Odd’s?

  “After the accident, we couldn’t face continuing with our experiments, knowing that they could impact you,” Mom said. “That was why we moved across the border and started over. Our failure . . . We wanted to give all of us a fresh start and new opportunities.”

  Even let the utensils fall lightly down on the table, like leaves from a tree. “You mean you didn’t want to risk me accidentally stealing anything else from my sister.”

  “You didn’t steal my magic,” Odd said. “You did steal my favorite sweatshirt and spill ketchup on it. But this . . . you didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Odd is right,” Mom said. She looked anxious, as if she expected Even and Odd to yell at her instead of the other way around. She’d never looked so uncertain. “Your father and I are to blame. And we are to blame for the way you found out. We should have told you.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Even realized the room looked blurry because there were tears in her eyes. She wiped them away, refusing to cry. I’m not magical. Not really. She’d always defined herself as the sister who loved magic. It was her thing, the way that animals were Odd’s thing. But now . . . Who am I if I’m not magical?

  “At first we worried about how you’d react,” Mom said. “But then we thought there was no reason for you to know. It can’t be changed. You are who you are. I’m sorry that you found out from someone else. We should have told you. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” Odd said automatically. “I mean . . . well, I’m just glad you’re here.”

  Even didn’t feel “fine.” Her thoughts were swirling. But Mom looked so anxious that she echoed Odd. “I’m glad you’re here too.”

  “When the gateways closed, I feared I wouldn’t ever see you again,” Mom said. “Now that we’re together and now that you’ve discovered the cause of the problem, I know anything’s possible.” She hugged them both tight.

  “You think we’ll find a way home?” Odd asked.

  “I know we will,” Mom said. “But first, eat and rest. You’re welcome to stay the night as well, Jeremy. I’ll send word to your family so they won’t worry.”

  He lifted his head out of his bucket long enough to thank her again.

  Mom’s here, Even thought. It’s all going to be okay.

  But a little part of her wondered if she was ever going to feel okay again.

  16

  “Wait,” Mom said the next morning.

  “Wait,” she said in the afternoon.

  “Wait,” she said, every time Even or Odd asked if there was a plan or news or any progress with the Lady Vell situation at all.

  In the meantime, new arrivals kept knocking on the door, and the house magically expanded. More rooms with more purple Seuss trees inside them budded off the main room. Even recognized some of the new magical beings, or at least knew of them—a centaur who said he was Frank’s brother; Mr. Fratelli’s daughter, and two of his cousins—but there were several more she hadn’t heard of, whose homes had been displaced or who had family members stranded in the mundane world. The new arrivals brought their own food, and the table stretched longer. More hammocks were strung between more trees. As each visitor appeared, they met with Mom, conferring behind a closed door in a makeshift conference room. She seemed to know all of them.

  And while the grownups met and talked and planned in hushed whispers, Even, Odd, and Jeremy waited. They watched the magic mirror and saw the rabbit reporter outside New City, highlighting the refugees fleeing the border regions.

  At first, Even felt relief. The grownups were taking care of it. She’d done everything she could. But as the hours wore on, Even wished she was in the room where the discussions were happening. Sure, she hadn’t won her junior medallion yet and was far from being ready for a hero’s quest—she didn’t even have magic today. Still, though, maybe there was some way she could help.

  In the late afternoon, when Mom emerged, Even asked, “Mom, what can I do?”

  “Even, look around,” Mom said. “Everyone’s busy. I know you’re bored and worried you’ll miss your level-five exam, but—”

  Even hadn’t thought about her exam in ages, though Mom was right: she was definitely going to miss it. She was surprised that the thought didn’t upset her more. A few days ago, she would have said that passing the exam was the most important thing in her life. But now . . . “I mean, how can I help? Please, Mom, I know I’m not a wizard, but there has to be something useful I can do.”

  Softening, Mom kissed her on her forehead. “You’re sweet to offer, but we’re doing all we can. We’ve sent a full explanation of the Lady Vell situation to the Academy of Magic. Given the seriousness of all that’s going on, they should expedite our petition to be granted a quest to handle the matter. With luck, our family will be reunited at home tomorrow, and all will be back to normal. But for now, I just need you to look after yourself and your sister while I help the new arrivals settle in. We have two more coming shortly.”

  Feeling even more useless, Even retreated to her bedroom—or at least the room she thought she remembered sharing with her sister. After all this time, it didn’t feel like it was hers.

  “You okay?” Odd asked her.

  “Just worrying,” Even said.

  “Hey, that’s my job.”

  Dredging up a smile, Even was about to reply when Jeremy raced into their room. “Can I stash this here?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he tossed his head, and the pink satchel sailed off and landed on Odd’s bed. If it had been an even day, Even would have caught it with magic, but as it was, it thumped onto the downy mattress and sank between the pillows.

  “What’s wrong?” Odd asked.

  “I don’t want my cards and stuff confiscated,” he said. “They can’t take it if they can’t find it. Consider it yours. I officially gift it to you, even the soda, though I already drank one of the cans so there are only five in there. You’ll have to share one if you want to split them equally.”

  “Your parents are here?” Even guessed.

  “Your mother invited them,” Jeremy confirmed. “Apparently, they�
�ve been chatting by magic mirror ever since your mom first contacted them to tell them I was here with you.” His nostrils flared.

  “Do you think you’re in trouble?” Odd asked.

  “It’ll be a miracle if I’m not.”

  Even had expected their mom to be furious with them, but she hadn’t been at all. Just relieved they were okay. Maybe Jeremy would be wrong about how his parents would react too.

  Leaving the satchel on the bed, she trailed after Odd as she followed Jeremy out to the main room, where Jeremy’s parents waited. His mother and father were bathed in the late afternoon light that streamed in through the many skylights in the ceiling. Their horns reflected the warm glow.

  “You, son, are hereby confined to Unicorn Hill for the next three months,” Starry Delight said with the air and finality of a celestial judge.

  Jeremy hung his head low, his horn dipping toward the floor.

  “But you should also know we’re proud of you,” his father, Effervescent Spring, said in his deep, musical voice.

  Jeremy raised his head.

  “You have been helping those in need of help,” Starry said. “Caring for those beyond yourself. Truthfully, we weren’t certain you were capable of that kind of empathy—you’ve rarely shown it to your own kind—and this is a relief to see. You’re still being punished for disobedience, but that’s only for a specific infraction.”

  “You’re here to bring me home?” Jeremy asked.

  “Not yet,” Spring said. “We are here to help. So many have been affected. There have been more and more reports up and down the border. You started something, Jeremy, with your magic-mirror broadcast. People have been coming forward and sharing their stories.”

  “Has it made any difference?” Even asked. “Is anyone doing anything about Lady Vell?”

  Mom entered the room, and Even noticed how tired she looked, as if she hadn’t slept since yesterday. Maybe she hasn’t, Even thought. She knew Mom had been working hard to figure out the problem with the border even before she’d found them. But despite the exhaustion etched on her face, Mom was smiling. “Starry Delight,” Mom greeted Jeremy’s parents, “Effervescent Spring. Lovely to meet you in person. I’m afraid we’re still waiting for the Academy of Magic.”