by Juniper King
After the incident with my magic, when I had been crying and pleading with her not to kick me out, she took me into an empty room and I confessed what I’d done. I’d been in a complete panic even though the push had barely even been strong enough to knock the boy back a step.
Leanne calmed me down, told me she would never kick me out, asked me if the magic was something I could control, and when I said it was, she gave me a big hug. “Sweetheart,” she’d said after a moment, “please don’t use magic ever again.” I glanced up at her face, and even as a child, saw the trepidation in her eyes.
At the time I couldn’t quite discern the reason behind her expression, but over time I came to understand. Leanne had understood what having magic would mean for me. She knew things were already more difficult for me than the other children and she didn’t want them to get any worse. She wanted me to blend in as best I could, so I would have a chance at a decent, normal life among humans.
Leanne never treated me any different than the other children and I never again saw that spark of fear in her eyes, only the same love, pride, and occasional exasperation as any other child in her care.
She was the closest thing I had to a mother and I was proud to have her looking out for me. There was a tug at my heart knowing she still cared when she’s seen so many children come and go through her doors. Even though I’d had such a rocky start at life I was doing fine now because of her nurturing. I had a job and my own place —sort of. I had Jess, and Branek, and the kids. I had Leanne who still cared about my well-being after all these years.
“I’m doing just fine,” I said with a smile. She wrapped an arm around my shoulder and gave me a motherly side-hug.
“I’m glad you decided to stop by today, the kids have been missing you lately. They really do love you, you’re like their big sister.”
This bunch of kids had been around longer than some of the others. They had all been together at the orphanage for about a year now.
“I love them too.” And I meant it. Blood-related or not, there was no doubt in my mind that these children were my siblings, my family.
“Well, that’s probably about one hundred, I should go find those little troublemakers,” I joked before beginning my search.
My first stop was the girls’ bedroom.
Eight little beds with old wooden headboards lined the walls, four to each side. Only four were currently in use, their rumpled, hastily tugged sheets a clear indication they had been recently slept in. It was a rule that all the children had to make their beds before breakfast. Though most of the time that just meant throwing the sheets over the pillows and patting down the lumps.
On one of the beds the sheets were pulled over just a little too far, almost brushing against the floor, a socked foot just visible around the edge of the blanket.
Ignoring it for now, I took my time meandering around the room, reminiscing about my own time spent here.
The room was fairly large with a high ceiling and a stream of natural light that poured in from the tall, slightly grimy window. The quilts on some of the beds were beginning to look a little old and worn, but Leanne didn’t have much in the way of extra money to afford fancy new sheets, so as long as these kept the kids warm, that was enough.
I did notice some new dolls scattered around the room, and a few boxes of coloured pencils. I was happy to see even my small donations over the years could keep the children with nice new toys, if nothing else.
I made my way over to the bed closest to the window. The bed that everyone used to pull theirs away from.
I ran my hand along the splintery surface of the headboard. They were faded and worn, but the names were still there, carved into the wood like a chronicle of the orphanage: Lydia, Ruby, Maggie, Jennifer, and more. All names from before and after my time. My heart swelled upon seeing Paige’s name added to the scattered record.
But the name that stood out most was carved with the smallest, hesitating letters; ‘Selina’. My nail caught on the wood as I picked at the ‘i’.
A bittersweet smile tugged at my lips. I always used to spell my name wrong.
Esme was never concerned about my feelings or wellbeing. When I was little more than four years old. she had told me I’d been left on the doorstep with nothing but an oversized jacket for a blanket and a name scrawled on a ripped piece of paper. Funny that someone who had abandoned their child had had the audacity to name them.
I couldn’t be more relieved that that woman was not around to torment these children like she had me.
With a deep breath I spun on my heel. “Well, I guess no one’s in here, suppose I’ll just take a quick nap,” I announced.
I walked to the bed with the sheets pulled over the side and flopped down on top, immediately feigning snoring. Muffled giggles floated up from the floor.
After a moment of pretend sleeping, I flung my head over the side of the bed, lifted the sheets, and shouted, “Boo!” as I grabbed the little socked foot. I was greeted with Stephanie’s shrill little shrieks and giggles.
One down, five to go.
Five down, only one to go.
Most of the kids preferred hiding places inside the old house: behind curtains, or in crawl spaces or cupboards. All places I was well acquainted with.
I tried not to find them too quickly, of course, where would be the fun in that?
There weren’t many hiding places outside since the area was so open, but there was one place I knew I could find Paige. I’d shown her the spot just last summer, in fact.
I had just as much fun playing hide-and-seek as the children did, since I rarely played when I was their age. Well, I suppose that’s not entirely true. I was always the one to hide, only to be ‘forgotten about’. Eventually I learned to find solace in my hiding places.
It would be unfair to say all the kids I grew up with were bad. I had a few friends here and there, ones who didn’t care that I looked ‘weird’, but they’d always be adopted before we could form any kind of deep bond. And I was always the one left behind.
No matter how hard I tried to ignore it, no matter everything Leanne did for me, this place would always hold sad memories for me. I wouldn’t let the same thing happen to these kids.
As I walked down the porch steps, I caught something in my periphery; a figure leaning against the fence. I did a double take, only to see there was no one there. I stood stock-still, staring at the spot for a moment, still feeling there was something there, but seeing nothing. That same skittery sensation from before crawled its way up my spine. But there was nothing there, no sign of anyone passing by either.
It must have been my imagination again. I shook my head trying to dislodge the creeping feeling. With one last fleeting glance, I turned and followed the grass to the back of the house.
The backyard of the orphanage was much smaller than the front. It had a few trees, all tall with plenty of thick boughs to climb on, much to Leanne’s chagrin, and big leafy bushes that lined the fence.
I knew Paige would be watching me from her little hidey-hole.
“Where are you,” I called in a sing-song voice as I minced around the yard towards the back corner and out of her line of sight.
I hopped over the short fence, cursing my past self for deciding to wear a dress and wedge sandals, and crept along the opposite side, trying to make as little noise as possible. While the bushes on the backyard side of the fence made for a perfect hiding place, from the opposite side the small post and rail fence hid very little.
There she was, crouching with her back to me, still watching for me on the other side.
I crouched down, careful not to attract her attention, reached my hand through the fence and grabbed her foot. “Gotcha!”
With a happy shriek, she leapt out of the bushes with the ease of a small child and darted into the backyard. I, on the other hand, lumbered back over the fence and out of the bushes like a drunken elephant, getting caught on seemingly every branch. I chased her across the grass
to the front of the house where I proceeded to tickle her into submission.
After a few more rousing games of hide-and-seek, with even Leanne joining in for one round, it was almost five o’clock by the time the kids began to slow down.
They all gave me a goodbye hug and I promised I would come by again soon. Paige stayed outside of the group, head down and hair covering her face.
“What’s wrong, Paige?” I crouched down in front of her and gently lifted her chin to look me in the eyes —she looked so sad.
“You never come to visit anymore,” she said with a pout.
She was exaggerating in the way children often do. I’d been to the orphanage just under a month ago, but I understood. I used to come once a week when I had the time. Sometimes multiple times in a week. I pulled her into a hug and gave her a tight squeeze.
“Sorry Paige, I’ve been busy at my job recently. Really boring adult stuff,” I said, trying to coax a smile out of her. The corner of her mouth twitched but she was trying her best to be sad and stern. “I promise I’ll come visit you next weekend. We can spend a whole day together. Maybe even have a sleepover.” I glanced up at Leanne and she nodded her approval
Paige’s big hazel eyes lit up. “Promise?”
“Promise.” I linked my pinky finger with hers.
4
Before returning home for the evening, the necessity of errands nagged at me. This morning my fridge had been downright barren, with nothing but a few wilted vegetables, random condiments, an almost empty carton of milk, and a solitary egg rolling about the top shelf. I’d been working so many shifts lately that most of my meals had been coming from the tavern kitchen.
Strolling through the aisles of the tiny grocery shop, I grabbed everything from fruits and vegetables to biscuits and salty snacks.
Each step sent an ache through my feet. I hadn’t considered chasing after energetic children all afternoon when I’d put the outfit together this morning.
I poked through the disappointing harvest of peaches, still a little too early in the season for them to be thriving. Picking one up, I squeezed it gently. Unimpressed, I put it back and repeated the procedure a few more times.
“Well, so much for peaches, looks like they’re all contaminated,” said a smug female voice behind me.
I sighed through my nose, refusing to even turn around to face her. “Hello, Denise.”
“Hey, Sel.” Her voice was sugar sweet.
A former coworker, Denise and I used to be acquaintances on decent terms, that is, until her scumbag boyfriend (now ex-boyfriend) tried picking me up every time he was in the tavern. Apparently, that had been my fault.
She clicked her tongue. “Well, look at you all dressed up. Got a date with someone else’s boyfriend?”
I exhaled again, trying to keep my frustration contained. “No, Denise.”
“Aw, that’s too bad,” she said with a pout. “I guess people are finally getting tired of the novelty of someone like you.”
I tried to ignore her, picking up another piece of fruit. What crawled up her ass today?
“Nothing to say, half-breed?”
I bristled. ‘Half-breed’. I hated that term. Like I was an inbred mutt.
My attention stayed focused on the peaches. “Better a half-breed than some obnoxious nightmare who goes around town picking fights,” I mumbled.
“Mongrel bitch,” she growled.
Spinning me around by the shoulder, she grabbed my hand and rammed the peach into my chest, bursting the gooey fruit all over the front of my dress. Before I had a chance to react, she shoved her shoulder into me as she stomped passed, knocking the basket out of my hand and spilling my groceries all over the floor. She looked at my food scattered all over the ground and cackled before flipping her long golden hair over her shoulder and marching off.
Anger bubbled beneath my skin, fingernails biting into my clenched fist as I watched her mince away. I couldn’t help myself. I reached out with my mind, the familiar yet nerve-wracking sensation of telekinetic magic resonating though my body, and latched on to a bottle of juice on one of the shelves in front of her. The large glass bottle toppled off the shelf and shattered on the ground right in front of her overpriced shoes. She slipped and flailed before collapsing to the ground in a heap. Her shriek echoed through the small shop, drawing the attention of an attendant and the few other patrons.
The young shop attendant hurried over with a mop, apologizing profusely. Denise began loudly berating him in front of everyone, calling him an idiot and blaming him entirely for the mishap. The poor boy couldn’t have been older than sixteen and looked on the verge of tears under her verbal assault, his knuckles turning white around the handle of the mop.
Regret surged over me like a tidal wave.
I made a move to save the boy from her onslaught when a hand fell on my shoulder. I startled to a stop and a brown-haired man strode passed me towards the uproar. Even though I only saw him from behind, I would have recognized this guy anywhere. It was the man from the tavern last night, the satyr’s friend, still surrounded by that same aura I couldn’t quite figure out.
Denise’s attention flipped over to him as he approached and the feral snarl on her face melted away in a blink, replaced by something she must have thought was flirtatious.
“Now, here’s a proper gentleman, seeing a lady in need and coming over to help her.” She extended a limp hand like a damsel who couldn’t possibly help herself up.
I couldn’t see his expression, but he extended a hand and helped Denise to her feet. She feigned slipping again so she could fall further into his arms.
Something about her shameless spectacle had my blood back up to boiling. I pulled my eyes away from the disgusting display, knelt on the floor, and began picking up my fallen groceries, roughly shoving them back into my basket.
The man spoke loud enough for me to hear from a few feet away. “Thank the gods, I thought I was going to go deaf.”
My ears perked up.
“Excuse me?” Denise’s voice showed polite confusion, as if she misheard.
“Your wailing is more irritating than a banshee.” He enunciated each word.
My attention was drawn up from the groceries on the floor, now completely enthralled in their conversation.
She pushed herself out of his arms. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“I think that question is better directed at yourself. Harassing and assaulting a young woman, berating a child for your own clumsiness.”
Her face twisted into a snarl. “You—”
The man grabbed her wrist as she moved to slap him across his face.
The colour suddenly drained from her face, mouth going slack and eyes wide. “You… you’re a freak too, just like her!” She broke free from his grip and hurried towards the exit, almost slipping again as she went.
The brunet man said something quietly to the shop attendant, who nodded and rushed off, before striding over to me. He knelt down and, one by one, helped me put my items back in my basket.
The tips of my ears were on fire. I refused to look up from the floor tiles, but I could feel the weight of all the eyes in the store staring at us on the floor.
Why did he have to cause an even bigger scene? And why would he be helping me? A guy wouldn’t help a random woman unconditionally, especially not a jerk like him. No doubt he was expecting a ‘thank you’ from me later; this was just his opening to make himself look gallant and considerate. But why me when Denise was ready to drop her panties for him?
“Are you alright?” His voice pulled me out of my thoughts and my gaze drifted up to his. Those beautiful, vivid green eyes stared down at me —sharp and penetrating. His dark hair, just long enough to fall in front of his eyes, was perfectly styled to appear he’d just rolled out of bed. I bet it had taken him hours to achieve that look of nonchalance.
I managed to pull my gaze away from his and stared at the floor. “Mm-hmm.” I answered noncommittally.
/> “Really?” His soft voice drew my stare back up to his. “Because you don’t seem okay.”
My jaw tightened, heat rising in my cheeks. “Why did she call you a freak?” I probed, redirecting the conversation.
“Who knows,” he replied nonplussed.
“She looked terrified.”
He shrugged, “I guess under all that obnoxiousness she has a weak constitution.”
My eyes narrowed. What was he hiding? It couldn’t have been the aura, she would have seen that right away. It wasn’t until she tried to strike him and looked into his eyes.
The shop attendant hurried back and handed a damp cloth to the still nameless man in front of me, who then handed it over to me. I felt even more embarrassed as I grabbed the cloth from him, perhaps with a little more force than was necessary, and dabbed at my dress.
He stood up and reached out a hand to help me to my feet. I ignored his hand and pushed myself up. The corner of his mouth tugged up in a smirk, his hand slipping into his pocket.
“Can I buy you a coffee?”
“No.”
He blinked, eyes wide. “Well, that was awfully abrupt. You don’t want to take even a second to consider it?”
“Look, I appreciate your helping me, but I’m not interested in going out with you.” Or doing anything else with you.
“Are you always this cynical when someone asks you out? I’m not interested in picking you up if that’s what you’re worried about.”
My brow furrowed at his obvious lie. “Seriously? After how you acted yesterday? You must think I’m a fool. Why else would you ask me out?”
“Because you seem upset. I thought you might want to talk to someone—vent a little,” he responded as if the answer was glaringly obvious.
“Why would you care if I’m upset? You don’t know me.”
His eyebrow climbed up his forehead. “I’m beginning to think the reason that woman assaulted you had nothing to do with your background, just your lovely personality,” he joked, no doubt trying to come off as charming and facetious.
