“I—I missed you,” Meghan said. She blushed. “I just can’t believe you’re here.”
Sean grinned. “I know,” he said. “It’s okay. Let’s grab that sofa and table in the corner so we can talk. Who’s your friend?” Sean pointed to Alex, who had been inching away to give the two some privacy.
“Oh!” Meghan said. “I’m sorry—Alex, do you remember my brother, Sean?”
Alex held out his hand awkwardly. “Hey, Sean.”
Sean gave him a quizzical look and shook his hand. “I remember you—you were in our quadrant,” he said. “You’re one of the twins, aren’t you? You boys used to come to the Commons with your father to get your milk rations from us. Where’s your brother?” Sean looked over his shoulder and around the room quickly.
Alex opened his mouth, but no sound came out. The expression on his face was enough to make Meghan want to hurriedly change the subject, but it was too late.
“Oh,” Sean said. His eyes narrowed. “Well. That’s just rotten cruel to separate you. I’m sorry, Alex. Was he Necessary, then, like your folks?”
“He …” Alex gulped.
“Aaron was a Wanted,” Meghan said. “Let’s go sit.”
Alex trailed along, feeling a little numb. He’d mostly forgotten about Aaron in the busyness of the day, but now the hurt of being Unwanted slammed into his ribs again. “It’s not Aaron’s fault,” he said almost automatically as he slid on the cushioned sofa next to Meghan.
Sean’s eyes were still narrowed. He looked like he could spit needles if he wanted to. “Of course not,” he said gruffly. “Nobody blames him. Plus, I know it’s probably still a weird concept for you, but we’re the lucky ones.”
“He’s probably pretty sad tonight,” Alex mused. “Well. As sad as he can be, in Quill.”
Sean and Meghan nodded thoughtfully. “It seems so different already,” Meghan said. “Like, once you know it’s okay to—you know—feel something, all the feelings get stronger.”
“That’s the truth,” Sean said. “But better to get stronger than to disappear into the Great Lake of Boiling Oil, I always say.” He laughed. “So. Have you found your way around the tubes yet?”
“Alex has,” Meghan said. “I stayed in my room and blew into one of the instruments. It was called ‘oboe.’” She couldn’t help but grin.
“Hey, listen to you already. It’s ‘played’ an instrument. You played an oboe, just as you play all instruments, whether they have a reed or strings or keys or a bow.” Sean flipped Meghan’s ponytail and grinned. “Wow. You really grew up, kid.”
“So did you. You’re like a man.”
“I’m eighteen now. Marcus asked me to think about teaching a class now that I’m through with my training and warrior classes.”
“What, um—,” Alex said, “what exactly do you study here?”
“Oh, all sorts of things. Art, theater, music, and the magic that goes along with them …” Sean trailed off when he noticed their puzzled looks. “Clearly, I’m getting ahead of things. It’s funny—I sort of forgot how little I knew when I got here.” He shook his head, lost in thought. “Anyway, Alex, what were your infractions?”
“I put a stick in the dirt and moved it around, and it made a—it looked like a—like a house. And other things. A tree.”
“Oh, excellent. You’re an artist, most likely. Did you find any pencils, sketch pads, paintbrushes—stuff like that—in your room?”
“Um …” All the words were foreign to Alex.
“Long, thin sticks. Some of them have a sharp point; others have stiff hair on one end.” Sean watched Alex’s face until it lit up again. “Those are pencils and paintbrushes. You take them in your hand and …” He clapped his hand to his forehead and laughed. “Let’s make this easier.” Sean pulled a tiny bit of paper from his pocket and tapped it with his finger on the table, and a small sketch pad and pencil appeared in its place.
“Wow!” Meghan and Alex both said at once.
“Watch this,” Sean said. He quickly sketched a simple meadow scene with a large tree and a fence.
“How’d you do that?” Alex watched the scene appear on the paper as Sean moved the pencil around.
“Getting the sketch pad and pencil here? That was magic. Drawing the picture—that’s called art. Drawing. Sketching. There are lots of different words for it. And that wasn’t magic at all. That was creative talent. You have it in you already, you know. Give it a try.”
Alex held the pencil in his left fist, just like he’d done with the stick all those years ago. Sean pulled it out of his hand and showed him how to hold it properly. “Does it feel best in your left hand, Alex?”
“Um …” Alex switched the pencil to his right hand, scowled, and then switched it back. “Yeah. The left hand feels good to me.” He concentrated and pressed the point to the paper.
“Not too hard or—” Sean laughed when the point snapped and flew across the table. “Or it’ll break,” he finished. He pinched the pencil tip, and it grew a new perfect point; then he handed it back to Alex.
Meghan watched, enthralled. “Will we get to learn magic too?” she said, inspecting the tip of the pencil. It made no sense to her at all. And she absolutely loved it.