And it gave Kimber a serious inferiority complex on top of the normal sibling rivalry. I couldn’t blame her, especially when Ethan seemed to enjoy lording his abilities over her.
“So is it some special language of magic you guys speak when you cast spells?” I asked.
She shook her head. “The words don’t matter. The language thing was just an analogy. People who are really good at magic can even use gestures instead of words. You just have to teach the magic that when you say ‘abracadabra,’ it means you want it to lock the door.”
I nodded sagely, still not sure I really got it, but figuring any further explanation would just make my head hurt. I decided it was high time I asked the question that was eating at me more and more as Kimber explained things. “Can Aunt Grace use magic to find me?”
“If she could, she’d have done it already. Locating spells are hard—finding someone or something that isn’t there is kind of an abstract concept and hard to communicate—so it’s one of those categories you really have to specialize in to be any good at.”
Well that was a relief, at least. “Does Aunt Grace have a specialty?”
Kimber looked kinda grim. “Yeah.”
“Well, what is it?” I prompted.
Kimber sighed. “Attack magic.”
And that blew my temporary relief right out of the water.
• • •
By the time Kimber had finished her extra-strength posset, she was distinctly mellow. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I was mellow myself, but I was a lot more relaxed than I’d been since I’d first set foot in Avalon. I’d never had a real close friend before. Sure, there’d been girls at my various schools who I’d sit with at lunch, or hang with for a while after school. But whenever I started to get close to someone, Mom would insist it was time for us to move again, and I’d be forced to start over at square one at my new school. After a while, getting too close was just more trouble than it was worth.
I was relaxed enough that I decided to ask a question that had been bugging me since I’d first caught sight of Kimber’s apartment. Was it only last night? I felt like I’d been here for years.
“How come your parents let you have your own apartment?” My mom wasn’t the most nurturing mother on the planet, but I had a feeling even she would balk at letting a sixteen-year-old live by herself.
Kimber looked down and away, and I knew I’d asked a sensitive question.
“Sorry,” I said, wishing I could suck my words back. “I’ll stop being so nosy.”
Kimber looked up and forced a smile. “It’s all right. You just hit a nerve, that’s all.”
I made to apologize again, but she cut me off with a gesture. “No, I mean it, it’s okay.” She let out a heavy sigh and seemed to brace herself before she began.
“My mom’s been out of the picture since I was ten,” she said, fidgeting with the ends of her hair while she talked. “She decided she wanted to go back to Faerie, but my dad was born in Avalon and wouldn’t leave. They agreed that Ethan and I would stay with Dad, and it’s been the three of us ever since.
“I’m sure my dad loves me in his own way, but he doesn’t really try to hide that Ethan’s his favorite. Well, Ethan wanted to move into student housing as soon as he graduated high school, and because whatever Ethan wants, Ethan gets, Dad let him.
“Dad and I had a big fight a while later, and I told him I wanted to move out. I told him that since I was in college like Ethan, I should have my own apartment like Ethan.” Her eyes shimmered with tears, and her voice softened until it was little more than a whisper. “He said okay.”
I winced in sympathy. “Your dad must have been pretty dense not to get that he was supposed to say no.”
She laughed and blinked away the tears. “My dad is many things, but dense isn’t one of them. He knew what I wanted—he just didn’t care.” She took a deep breath and straightened her spine. “But it’s not that big a difference anyway. He’s a total workaholic, so he’s never home. I don’t really see him any less now than I did when I lived at home.”
Maybe my mom wasn’t so bad after all. All her embarrassing, neglectful, and downright stupid behavior was caused by alcohol. I knew that somewhere, buried beneath the booze-brain, was a loving mother. Kimber didn’t even have that.
“I think your dad really is dense,” I told Kimber. “He’s got to be if he doesn’t realize how lucky he is to have you.”
Her cheeks pinkened. “Thanks. But you don’t have to try to make me feel better. I’ve … come to terms with it.”
Yeah, right, I thought but didn’t say.
“Do you mind if I ask you something?” Kimber said.
“After all the questions I’ve lobbed your way, it’s gotta be your turn.”
“Why did you run away from home?”
I grimaced. Why did it have to be that question? “Geez, does everyone know I ran away?” I asked, trying to deflect the question. I’d never told anyone that my mom was a drunk—in fact, I’d gone to great lengths to avoid having anyone find out—and I wasn’t about to change that now.
One corner of Kimber’s mouth tipped up. “The fact that you’ve never shown any interest in calling home for help was kind of a giveaway, but I didn’t know for sure until now.”
“Oh.” I looked away from her too-knowing stare. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”