by Rebecca Hall
“Give this to the nurse, he can sleep with you or his classmates tonight.” The nurse frowned at them when they came out but said nothing when Mitch handed her the piece of paper.
“Do you want to play Frisbee?” Mitch asked, towing Cullum outside. Cullum’s silence was beginning to bug him but Frisbee used to be one of his favourite games. Cullum nodded.
“Ok.” Mitch breathed a sigh of relief, he’d been half afraid that Cullum wouldn’t answer him, and headed towards the dorms. He thought he still had a Frisbee in his room somewhere. Frisbees and water pistols were the ubiquitous New Zealand Christmas presents and a good way to get the kids out of the house while cooking Christmas Dinner, or they would be if Mitch’s parents were any good at cooking.
Cullum stopped just outside the door. Mitch shrugged and went upstairs, almost bowling into Bates.
“What’s the rush?” Bates asked, steadying him.
“No rush, I’m going to play Frisbee with Cully.”
“Mind if I join?” Bates replied following him up the stairs, “so far I’ve managed to avoid being roped into cleaning.”
“Sure, I just have to find one.” Mitch said, rummaging through a desk drawer full of miscellaneous junk.
“I don’t think we have all year,” Bates said as Mitch chucked a couple of mismatched half Frisbees aside before finding a whole one with a crack down the middle.
“You sure that will fly?”
“Do you want to play or not?” Mitch asked, shoving the drawer closed. Bates muttered something under his breath but refrained from further disparaging comments as they made their way back outside.
“Hey Bates,” Cullum said as they exited the building.
“Him you’ll talk to,” Mitch said spinning the Frisbee on one hand. “Maybe I won’t share after all.” At that moment the wind picked up and whisked the Frisbee away. Bates laughed while Cullum dashed after the fleeing Frisbee.
By the time the Academy bell sounded to summon them all to lunch Mitch’s clothes were covered in grass stains and their three-person game had expanded to include twenty people with no particular teams, rules or objectives. Sven chucked him the Frisbee and they all joined the line for lunch which stretched out through the entry hall. Mitch leaned against the wall, taking advantage of what little shade it offered and hoping that there was ice-cream. Maybe the earthquake had damaged the freezer and the Academy would be trying to exhaust its supplies. The line moved forward and they were able to step into the shade and relative coolness of the foyer. Even with all of the doors and windows open it was just as hot as outside and the morning breeze was long gone.
“Come on Cullum,” Mitch said to his brother, who was still standing outside. “You won’t get anything to eat out there.” Cullum didn’t move. Mitch grabbed his hand but Cullum dug his heels in and sat down.
“Leave him alone Mitchell, can’t you see he’s scared,” Sam said from behind him.
Mitch glared at her, “No one asked for your help.” His ex rolled her soft brown eyes and shook her head, her beaded braids clicking together. Mitch looked away; he didn’t want her back, he wasn’t interested any more.
“Hey Cullum why don’t you go join Gwen and Mindy,” Bates suggested before they could argue any further, “we’ll get you something to eat.”
Cullum got up and ran off to the picnic table that the girls were presiding over while the line crept a little closer to the servery.
“Was that so hard?” Sam asked. Mitch ignored her and grabbed the last two pieces of her favourite bread. This time it was Bates who rolled his eyes as they continued down the salad bar, assembling their sandwiches. At the end there was a chilly-bin full of ice creams. Mitch grabbed three while Bates went to get them some drinks.
Mitch was glad that they were sitting outside, the dining room had been engulfed in chaos. It had only been designed for 200 and now twice that number of people were jostling for space. He felt sorry for the kitchen staff who would have to clean up after them. He found their picnic table and ducked under the shade of the sunbrella, sliding a plate across to Cullum.
“No Belle?” he asked Mindy.
“She’s still suckerfished to Hayley’s side,” Mindy replied.
“Did you see the notice board?” Bates asked, setting down their cups with minimal spillage.
“No,” Mitch hadn’t been inclined to force his way through the crowd.
“Class is cancelled for the rest of the week and they’re staggering mealtimes to avoid any more of this chaos.”
“Anything else?” Mitch asked, reaching across the table for his glass.
“Yeah, they’ve put the schedule up, you get to call your parents tonight.”
#
Mitch tried to make himself comfortable on the couch and failed. The couch tried to eat him with some success. He glanced at the mirror on the wall but all it revealed was a slightly distorted reflection of the room rimmed in rainbow colours. He grabbed one of the tasselled cushions off the couch and chucked it on the floor. It didn’t make the tidy room feel any more comfortable but it did make the couch a little easier to sit on.
The mirror fuzzed and an image of his mother in her New York apartment appeared. Technically it was his home as well but Mitch hadn’t been there since his brother started school, his parents preferred to fly down and spend Christmas on the beach. At least that was what they said, Mitch thought it was to keep their divorce a secret.
“Bartholomew Mitchell we raised you better than that,” Mum said.
“Yes Mum,” Mitch said, swinging his legs off the couch and sitting up; he had never been able to understand Mum’s concern with the furniture. He was sure the couch hadn’t been this uncomfortable last time. “Is Dad...?”
“He’s at the office, I’m sure he’ll be joining us in a moment.”
“Have you redecorated again?” Mitch had no idea what the apartment was supposed to look like any more but Mum liked redecorating. He had felt as if he was living in one of those ridiculous design magazines growing up.
“Yes.” Mitch waited for her to continue but she didn’t. She must have been really worried about him and Cullum, just not worried enough to come visit. Bates’ parents had been on the first flight over from Oz and Belle and Mindy were in an identical room next door talking to theirs. Gwen had gotten into a shouting match with hers when they had suggested transferring her to the British Academy in Edinburgh where there was a significantly lower chance of earthquakes.
The mirror fuzzed out again and Dad’s cluttered office appeared in the other half. There were books and scrolls everywhere; Dad must have moved a couple of stacks off the ancient desk so that they could see each other. Mum tsked, she had never approved of Dad’s filing system.
“Good to see you again Bartholomew,” Dad said.
“Good to see you too Dad.”
“I don’t see Cully there, is he hiding behind the couch?”
“He’s not seven any more Dad,” Mitch said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Neither of his parents seemed to have a firm grasp on how old their children were, likely because they only saw them for a couple of months every year.
“Where is he?” Mum asked, leaning forward a little. “I heard he was hurt in the Earthquake.”
“He’s fine,” Mitch said quickly, “just a few bruises.”
“Where is he?” Mum repeated, her voice rising.
“He’s asleep.”
Dad frowned, “it’s not even eight over there.”
Mitch winced, of all the times for him to get the time difference right.
“He’s in the infirmary.”
“He what?” Mitch was surprised none of the fancy crystal behind Mum shattered.
“Yesterday was pretty stressful,” Mitch hedged, “and we spent most of today outside. He was pretty tired.”
“Bartholomew Harry Mitchell you tell us what happened right now,” Mum demanded. Oh no, he recognised that tone of voice. He really wished he hadn’t mentioned the infirmary,
he should have known better.
“Cullum was pretty freaked out by the quake,” Mitch said, “he was still inside when it struck.” Both of his parents opened their mouths to ask questions, Mitch ploughed on before they could, hoping to mitigate the damage. “He’s fine now, really, he wasn’t trapped for that long.” Just long enough that he’d started screaming and hyperventilating when they tried to bring him inside for dinner.
“He what?” Dad roared, rising to his feet and slamming his hands down on the desk, causing a miniature book slide. Damn, he really needed to think before he spoke.
“He wasn’t there for that long, An- Hayley got him and Belle and Miss Band out. He just has a few bruises.” Even Hayley hadn’t been able to escape without some bruises.
“If he just has a few bruises then why is he in the infirmary?” Dad asked.
“He, ah, he’s fine really.” Why couldn’t they just drop it?
“Out with it Mitchell,” Mum said.
“I followed the blood bond and there was rubble everywhere and... at dinner they were talking about PTSD and claustrophobia and... are you crying Mum?” Mitch forced himself to stop blabbling. God he was in for it now. Why couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut?
“I’m sure you did everything you could,” Mum said with a weak smile. “That’s all we can ask of you isn’t it Archibald?”
“Yes, of course,” Dad said, resuming his seat. “I’m sure Cully will be fine, just a little scare that’s all.”
“Archibald! Cullum could be scarred for life!”
“Now, now Minerva, the Academy will provide him with the best possible care.”
Mum dabbed at her eyes with a tissue while Dad busied himself rearranging the mess on his desk.
“What about you baby, are you alright?”
“I’m fine Mum,” Mitch said, glad that no one else could hear her call him that. “I just... I thought...” he finally managed to regain control of his mouth and stopped before he could say it. One family member in hysterics was enough for the day.
“Well it’s all over now and everyone is alright,” Mum said.
“Yes, I trust you thanked this Hayley.”
“Um...”
“Bartholomew, we raised you better than that.”
“Yes Mum.”
“Tell her that we would like to thank her as well, I’m sure you can arrange a suitable time for us to speak with her.”
“Yes Mum, I will.”
A soft chime announced that their time was almost up and Mitch barely suppressed a sigh of relief. The time allotted to individual calls was even more heavily restricted than usual right now.
“Well, take care honey and look after your brother.”
“Yes Mum.”
“Give him my love.” She waved and vanished. The picture of Dad’s office expanded to full the entire mirror.
“I may be able to get down there in a couple of weeks,” Dad said, “keep Cully out of collapsing buildings until then.”
“Yes Dad.”
“Good boy,” the mirror fuzzed out and Dad was replaced by his own distorted reflection. Mitch wanted to sink into the couch and bury his head under the cushions but the next person would be waiting. He climbed to his feet and left, maybe he would be able to visit Cullum.
AFTERSHOCK
Mitch eyed the imposing building in front of him with a certain amount of trepidation. It had been just as imposing the first time he saw it when he was five and his parents were explaining that he would be living here from now on. It was imposing for entirely different reasons now.
“Is it really safe to go in?” Mitch asked Mr McCalis. The bright yellow permission slip he had been given had said that it was and had gone on to list all of the things he couldn’t do while inside; like running, jumping and whistling loudly. The primary dormitories had been condemned and were scheduled for demolition tomorrow, today was his last and only chance to retrieve his brother’s possessions.
“Yes,” Mr McCalis was interrupted by the sound of shattering glass and falling masonry. The primary classrooms had been condemned as well and were being enthusiastically demolished by the carefully supervised year twelves. It was a good chance for them to practice some of the more destructive branches of magic and engage in the wholesale demolition of school property. Destroying school property probably wasn’t as much fun when you had permission, he told himself. Given his speciality in self-manipulation and his limitations with long range magic he wouldn’t have been able to do much anyway.
“The structure is being maintained by magic,” Mr McCalis continued when silence returned, “you’ll be able to sense it once you enter. However, I would recommend completing your errand quickly, we still have three classes to send through,” the students who were old enough to pack up their own belongings without being silly, “and the magic supporting the building is both taxing and highly specialised.”
Knowing that he was about to enter a collapsing building held up by magic didn’t help much; it just confirmed that the building was collapsing. He was glad that they had decided to send him instead of letting Cullum in with the rest of his class. He took a deep breath and stepped inside. As Mr McCalis had said, he sensed the magic holding it up as soon as he passed through the door. Mitch gulped; he hadn’t sensed it at all from outside suggesting a degree of precision that was staggering – made even more so by the fact that the only person in sight was Mr McCalis.
Most magicians could handle long distance magic but it tended to come at the price of precision, especially if what they were doing was big. Their teachers were clearly a lot better than he had been giving them credit for. The carpet had once been blue and slightly worn, now it was hidden under a layer of dust, and mud near the bathrooms. He started up the stairs. He almost wished that they would creak under his weight or something. A good ominous creak would be far more reassuring than the silence. Even a little creak would be nice. They had always creaked before. He reached the top of the stairs with no creaking and started up the next flight; his brother’s room was 215. The stairs up to the second floor didn’t creak either. Whoever was holding the building up was doing a really good job.
Feeling a little more confident Mitch made his way along to Cullum’s room. He had to right the bookshelf and step over the scattered books to get in but other than that it didn’t look too bad. Unlike him, Cullum actually believed in drawers and while none of them were closed properly it looked as if most of Cullum’s clothes were still neatly folded. Mitch started shoving everything into a large bag, grabbing whatever was closest. The drawers under the bed were first, and then Cullum’s pyjamas though they could use a good washing. He even retrieved Wallace the Walrus from the blankets though Cullum insisted that he didn’t sleep with it any more. He shoved the worn Walrus into the bag and started on the wardrobe, not caring if he wrinkled the clothing.
He was almost done when the aftershock hit. The building rocked alarmingly but stayed in one piece. Then the magic maintaining it flickered and vanished. Mitch dived under the desk as debris began to fall from the ceiling and the air filled with alarming creaks and groans followed by a long rumble that had to be the staircase collapsing. Mitch gulped and winced as part of the ceiling crashed down onto the desk. He was tempted to stay huddled under it when the shaking stopped but he knew that he had to get out quickly.
There were a few more bits of ceiling scattered across the floor but other than that the room looked unchanged. Mitch zipped the bag shut; it was what he had come here for after all. He hesitated and then picked it up and carried it to the window. Most of the glass was gone and he was able to push the rest free without much trouble. He heaved the bag out, even if the stairs were still standing he didn’t want to try going down them with the extra weight. There wasn’t anything breakable in the bag anyway, nothing fragile had survived the quake.
As he had feared the staircase was gone. He ignored his rising panic and backtracked. There was a fire-escape at the other end of the corridor
and another at the opposite end of the building. At least, there had been a fire-escape at the end of the corridor. Inanely he wondered if it had been destroyed on Monday or if the latest quake had gotten it as well. There’s still the other fire-escape he told himself. Maybe. He was tempted to sprint the length of the building and only just remembered in time that running wasn’t allowed. Even if it was, he didn’t think the fire escape was still there and there was another way out.
He returned to Cullum’s room and removed the last of the glass from the window frame. It was big enough for him to fit but that still left a two storey drop. That was survivable, it was only five or six metres, seven max. He specialised in self-manipulation. He could strengthen his muscles, bones and reflexes, jump out of the window and land on his feet without a scratch. He had been taught how to do all of that, self-manipulation involved a lot of physical training, but never all at once.
He eased his way out of the window, a difficult feat when you were determined not to look down. Mitch had never thought he had a problem with heights but that was before he found himself jumping out a second storey window. He could do this, strengthen his legs to absorb the shock of landing, roll when he hit the ground and carefully refrain from landing on his head. He took one last glance at the reassuringly solid-looking floor on the other side of the wall and jumped. He hit the ground, rolled and lay there panting, waiting for the pain. It didn’t come. He sat up and inspected himself, no obvious injuries to anything other than his clothes which were now covered in grass stains. He got up and grabbed Cullum’s bag, he’d have to tell Mr McCalis that the stairs had collapsed and he was never going into a collapsing building again.
#
There was an elephant pounding on his bedroom door. Mitch groped across his desk until his hand closed on a tin pencil case that someone have given him for a birthday and hurled it across the room. It bounced off the door and spilt open, scattering pens across the floor.
