As I walked out from the main building of Nation Academy, I made two life changing realizations.
1. It was colder now than this morning. I could use a jacket.
2. My life was completely over.
I tightened my grip on the already opened envelope in my hand. The posh wax seal was cracked to a crumble. This is how teenagers lose their hair early. Stress is a proven killer.
A group of kids sat under the tree a few feet away, sharing their reports and laughing together. They were probably talking about the football game tonight I couldn't care less about. Half had their jerseys on like they'd be tackled any minute.
What did I do to deserve this? There's nothing that separates me from them. I will never have their carefree life, their grades, or their understanding parents, and it's not my fault. I hate them and I envy them.
The stone bench beneath me was wet, and the storm clouds threatened even more rain. That would be the icing on this shit cake.
"How'd you do, Zuzu?" she taunted from behind.
Breathe deep, I reminded myself. Be civil.
"Not as good as you," I answered through gritted teeth.
"I already figured that," she sat next to me on the bench and pretended to inspect her nails. "Did you get a B again? I called it," Azula laughed lightly.
"I don't think you realize what he does when this happens."
"He glares at you for weeks, he gives me presents. What am I missing?"
"You don't understand. It's more than that," I looked away from her.
"Oh yeah, it hurts your feelings. Boo hoo, Zuko," she grabbed her backpack and started walking away from me.
"You don't understand," I muttered to myself.
I grabbed my backpack and walked home after Azula. Leaves crunched under my feet. Every noise was like a siren. Is something wrong with my hearing? Is something wrong with me?
The walk back home was always short, but today it felt like a prolonged blink. I had three hours before facing dad. I could runaway from home and join the circus. It was feasable.
Our house was the biggest on the street by an entire story. It was embarrassing almost to look at the cottage next door and then at our mansion. We have more things, but we're not better people. The door was slightly ajar, one of Azula's bad habits.
My room was at the top of both flights of stairs, with red walls and a spinet piano in the corner. My bed was twice as big as I needed, a leftover of Mom's parenting.
"He needs a big bed because he tosses and turns a lot. Do you want your son to fall off in the middle of the night?"
"Well, one day he might want to learn piano, honey. We should get him a piano. Do you want your son to be uncultured?"
Where would I be if she was still here? Probably not this upset, I'd wager. She wouldn't let Dad do this to me.
I laid back on my bed and closed my eyes. My head pounded. It felt like a hammer behind each eyeball ramming against my skull.
I took off my sweater and let my ponytail down. A few strands came down with it. I'm going bald now.
Sleep wouldn't come. I couldn't fake sickness and lay in bed past dinner. I had to do something. There were music sheets in the corner I could study, books unread on the floor, even an essay or two I could get a start on for the weekend. Nothing would suffice. I couldn't move and I couldn't stay still.
I decided to lay there and try my best to force sleep to come. It didn't.
6:00. Time for dinner, the same as every night. The time for sitting in awkward silence and avoiding eye contact with father.
With my sweater back on and hair retied, I walked down the flights of steps and into the dining room. Azula and Dad had started eating without me.
He didn't notice me come in at all. A stack of papers were scattered in front of them. He read as he ate his chicken and rice.
"Father," Azula said with a smile.
"Yes?" he looked up from the meat he was cutting.
"We recieved our report cards today."
"Splendid," he smiled at her, "I assume your grades were record setting."
She grinned like a Cheshire Cat. "My average was over 100."
"You make me so proud. Every teacher tells me, even my associates tell me, you are a golden child."
"I only wish to become better," she mocked reverance.
"If you become any better, they'll build you a temple."
The two laughed happily. Azula's cheeks were red when she was done.
"And how did Zuko do?" he asked in a dramatically more brusque tone.
My heart beat was in my throat. I swallowed my bite of chicken. This was it. "Father, I-,"
"Tell me, please," he interrupted. All signs of happiness and pride had vanished.
"It's unfair to-,"
"Now," his fist hit the table.
"C," I blurted. "It was a C."
"Azula, my dear, to your room please," he stared forward and did not move.
She smiled lightly and placed her cloth napkin on the table. Her little feet made the steps creak.
Father grabbed his napkin and wiped his lips.
"Do you know why I love candles so much?" He asked, folding his hands in front of him on the table.
"No, father." Where's he going with this?
"Candles, in the darkness, will always help you see. In the light, they don't do much, but should the light go out, a candle will light the path to understanding."
He sounds even crazier than Uncle.
"This is the third time your grades have disappointed me. I am ashamed of you."
"Mom wasn't," I whispered.
Father clenched his jaw. Regret set in immediately.
"Will this help you see?" he stood from his chair and grabbed the nearest candlestick.
He brought the candle in front of my face until the heat flushed my cheeks.
"Father, please stop," I looked at him through the flame.
"I will stop when you can see," he snapped. "All I have given you, all you will inherit, and you persist to disgrace me with your stupidity. How can I pass what I have earned to an ungrateful idiot?"
"Dad, please stop!" I pleaded. I fought to keep the tears from streaming down my face.
"Don't you dare call me that," his eyes narrowed.
He took the candlestick and shoved the flame against my left eye, holding my head down to the chair.
The scream I made was inhuman. The agony was unbareable.
"CAN YOU SEE NOW? CAN YOU SEE?"
I pushed the candle away and felt him tip my chair back. My head hit the ground with a crack.
Everything went black.
"He's wak-... gettin- now."
"Get- pain -ller..."
"Poor thing."
I felt a big whoosh of heat going through my body from my wrist. I opened my eyes to see a man in bright blue scrubs injecting something into my hand.
"He's fully awake now," he said to someone behind him.
"Hello? Mr. Zuko?" a kind sounding voice asked.
"What?" I answered, barely registering my surroundings.
"You have just came out of surgery, and I'm glad to say you've done just fine."
"Surgery?" I looked ahead at the woman in a white coat standing at the foot of my bed. The room was stark white. Hospital. It set in. Dad sent me to the hospital.
"For your eye. You went with your friends to the bonfire?" she nodded at me.
"What?" I never go to those stupid football parties.
"The bonfire. Your dad dropped you off here yesterday afternoon. He said you had an accident at the football team's bonfire."
"Right," I answered. That was his cover story. It was well thought out. Those kids drink too much on Fridays to be good witnesses.
"The good news is, we saved 90% of your tissue. You shouldn't have any problems seeing, and everything will be operational," she smiled brightly.
"What's the bad news?" I asked her skeptically.
She chewed her lip, "Well, you're quite scarred. Don't worry, you're still a very handsome boy."
Oh god, what did I do? Why did I let this happen?
"Where's a mirror?" I felt the heat rise in my chest.
"I don't recommend-," she put her hands in front of her.
I jumped out of the bed and yanked out the IV cord. I pushed the nurse in blue scrubs aside gently and opened the door to the bathroom.
A big, puffy red scar covered my entire left eye. Even my ear was mangled.
It's ruined. Everything's ruined. I am absolutely hideous. How will father find pride in me now?
"It will heal more. The bumps will smooth, the lines of the stitches will become less visible. You can wear a patch over it if you like."
"Will it be here forever?" I looked away from my reflection.
"I'm very sorry," she put a hand on my shoulder.
I hung my head and felt on the verge of screaming. The surgeon patted my back gently. She was kind, and I knew that a part of me appreciated that.
"I need a phone," I said finally.
"Of course. He'll take you," she gestured to the nurse.
He smiled at me sympathetically and led me to the desk outside my room. I thanked him quietly and dialed.
"Hello?
"Azula? Where's Dad?" I asked frantically.
"He doesn't want to talk to you," she sighed.
"Ask him how I get home from the hospital then."
"You're in the hospital?" she sounded surprised.
"Did he not tell you what happened?" Anger started to rise in my chest.
"He says that Uncle will pick you up when you're ready. You're gonna live with him now."
"What?" This is a mistake. She's lying again.
"Dad doesn't want to see you. I was right."
I hung up the phone and sat down slowly. He's shut me out. It's even worse than I imagined.
I dialed a second number and slowly raised the reciever to my ear.
"Hello?"
"Uncle Iroh?" I asked nervously.
"Is that you Zuko? Are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine. Did Father talk to you?"
"He did. He wants you to come live with me, have you heard?"
"I thought Azula was lying," I winced, digging my fingers into my ponytail.
"She usually is," he laughed. "When do you want me to pick you up?"
"How soon can you get here?"
"Well, you know it's a long long way to Ba-,"
"Yeah, I know," I cut off his singing, "Will three hours work?"
"Yes, it will. I'll stop by your Father's house to collect your things."
"Thank you," I looked at the white tiled floor.
"See you in a bit," he added happily.
I hung up the phone. He was happy about this. He wanted me to come live with him. He was blind.
I looked around for the nurse and found him in a waiting room watching TV.
"How do I discharge myself?" I asked confidently.
He rolled his eyes. "Come with me."
I followed him down the hall and dodged bodies on gurneys and doctors absorbed in folders. The elevator ride was awkward as hell, but it paled in comparison to the looks he gave me. I soon learned that nurses didn't really like it when patients discharged themselves.
"This form basically says that if you die after you leave here you can't sue us."
"But how would I sue you if I died?"
"Don't be a smartass. Just sign the paper."
I signed that paper, and four more. My hand started to cramp. The nurse told me to wait and walked down the hallway again.
I avoided eye contact with the receptionist. She had looked at me once and gasped after.
"Here's everything you came in with," the nurse handed me a lump of clothes. "Good luck with your eye."
"Thanks," I muttered, walking to the bathroom to change out of the ugly gown.
I sat in the waiting room for two hours watching people pass through. Some were crying, but most just sat there staring into space. Everyone looked at me one time, and then turned so they wouldn't see the horror again.
Eventually, a white VW Bug rolled up into the first parking space. A little memory came back to me.
"Mom, why does Uncle Iroh have a girl car?"
"Azula, please, cars don't have genders. If Iroh would like to drive that car there's nothing stopping him."
"Hello, niece and nephew! Do you like my girly car?"
He walked out and looked around the front of the building for me. It was a funny sight, him looking so confused.
He came inside and smiled the moment he saw me. He outstretched his arms and hugged me, giving me no say in the matter.
"Uncle," I acknowledged quietly.
"Oh, Zuko, you've grown so! I've grown too, around the middle," he laughed.
I couldn't find it in me to smile. He was funny, and I wanted to laugh, but I knew that if I started feeling any emotion at all it would turn to sadness. "I missed you," I said honestly.
He looked pleased. "I hoped so. Come get in the car. We've got a long drive."
I walked after him and wondered when he'd gotten so short, or when I'd gotten so tall. The passenger seat was adjusted up too far. My knees were planted into the dash.
Iroh laughed at me, "The adjustment is on the side."
The seat slid back until it hit my suitcase in the backseat. "Thank you for getting my stuff."
"Oh, stop your thanking. You are my nephew and I owe it to you."
"For what?"
"For being alive."
The car went silent. I looked away to hide my embarrassment. Compliments just don't work well with me.
I touched my eye barely and winced at the pain. It was lumpy and warm to the touch. I should have stayed. I can't even sue them if my eye kills me now.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Uncle asked quietly.
"No," I replied. He already knew, he had to have known.
I folded my hands and leaned my head against the window. Uncle hummed softly and tapped his hands against the wheel. I closed my eyes to block him out.
"Wakey wakey, we're here."
I pulled my head off the windowsill and wiped the drool off my chin. The little house we'd parked at was small, but well maintained. An herb garden lined the walls of the house and looked to loop into the backyard.
Uncle had already stepped out of the car and pulled bags out of the trunk. He threw me the key to the house. I barely caught it. Depth perception was weird with one eye swollen.
The house was surprisingly clean. There were an abundance of house plants, one on every table. The kitchen was a sight to behold.
"Uncle, why do you have two refrigerators?" I asked as he walked in.
"The big one is for cheese," he sat my suitcase on the floor.
I went back outside to get the rest of my things and found there was hardly anything packed.
"How much of my stuff did you bring, Uncle?"
"Everything I found. You don't have a lot. I know monks who would be jealous."
The bags were few but heavy. I set them down in the entryway and looked around the room for Uncle.
"Put the kettle on!" he yelled from the room over.
Cooking never set in for me. There was always a maid around to cook our food and clean after us. I fiddled with the stove knobs until the flame set. I filled the kettle and set it carefully.
The fire was startling. Horrifying, almost. I felt my eye twitch involuntarily looking at it.
I looked at my reflection in the smooth black plastic of the microwave. The eye was still red, still swollen. Everyone will ask, what will I say? Even Uncle had looked at it a second too long.
It'll never happen again, I reminded himself. I can prove myself here. I'll find a way to make it back.
"Your room is upstairs and to the right," Uncle said while grabbing mugs from the cabinet. "You still like chamomile?"
"I don't remember." It had been forever. Mom liked to brew it. Tea always tasted the same anyway.
"Chamomile calms the nerves, which I think could help you a good bit right now."
"I'm not nervous," I lied.
He narrowed his eyes at me. "You look like your mother, but you lie like your father."
"It's just unfamiliar. It's normal," I said defensively.
"Tomorrow you will go to school, tomorrow you will unpack everything you brought, and tomorrow I will take you around to see the city. But for now, we drink tea," Iroh smiled.