Chapter 1:
A Fire Guilty of Rage
"Oh, Mother, if I am going to turn out sooo terrible and dishonor this family name," I yelled heading toward the door. "Then maybe," I spat cruelly, forming a fist around my necklace, "then maybe I should give you this!" I ripped off the necklace I so frequently wore around my neck.
"Happy?" I asked, dangerously lowering my voice, "You now have what you want so badly!' I threw it at her feet.
*I remembered when I was five and my great-great-grandmother, whom had been lying on her death bed, had beckoned me over. "Here," she had whispered so as not to rouse my mother as she thrust something into my hand. "Wear this and remember me," she said gently. I had looked down at it. It was a silver chain with a pendant on it of a rare moonstone-opal (upala) heart. Standing guard around the precious gem were about 12 tiny sapphires all sparkling magnificently. The sapphires brought forth a deeper and more captivating blue from the upala. Then I had looked up at my dying ancestor and she had nodded before latching it softly around my neck. A short time later my mother had ushered me out of the room and less than an hour later she emerged, reporting that the generous woman had died.*
"Sohalia Celestia!" my mother whispered in rage. "You march your skinny ass over here and-"
"Rot in Hell, Laramia!" I cut in. If she insisted on using my full name, I'd use her first. "I could care less about that damned necklace," I lied. I would to have liked to scoop up the necklace and replace it around my neck but strength was important now and I had to stand my ground. I grabbed my black cloak, with its sapphire lining, and threw it over my shoulders.
Just before I pulled the hood over my burgundy hair, I saw my mother reach down, scoop up the necklace and look at me with tearful, pained eyes. For a moment I considered walking back toward her, embracing her and putting the necklace back on, just out of sheer pity. My mother looked old now, her blonde hair falling into the eyes that looked as though the clearest sea were caught inside them.
NO! I told myself firmly, placing a hand on the door knob. She wants my pity and I won't give her what she wants. If I were to go to her now, I'd be letting down my guard.
I stepped outside, slamming the door behind me as she failed to stifle a sob.
I hurried briskly down our street and on a way. I was sure that my eyes were burning blue fires. Goodness Father! Why did you have to be gone when I'm in an argument with Mum?! I angrily asked the moon as I glared up at it. I approached a vacant ally and leaned on the brick side of a building and thought of all the times my Dad had been there to vouch for me in the fights. But in all those fights I had not felt bad for Mum... this time I did.
The fire that had kindled with all my rage and came through my eyes slowly diminished down to a small dying campfire.
But why does she hate my friends?! They're perfectly fine! She doesn't see them like I do. My mother had been brought up Catholic (she's a Muggle) and resented tattoos and piercing.
So that's why... It had finally dawned on my. All she sees is Larina's tattoo and Josh's earrings and because she resents those she thinks they're bad people. I was about to begin arguing that thought with another, angrier one as the bonfire restarting.
A pang of guilt overtook me before that though. I, my mother's firstborn, had walked out on her, carelessly throwing a family heirloom at her feet. Anything that was left of that fiery rage died completely and I hated myself. My mother had looked up to my great-great-grandmother and the only thing left of her had been passed onto me. Then I go and rip it off and throw it at her feet before storming off.
My hood started to slip off and I slowly slid down the wall until I was sitting in the alley, head in my hands. I started to cry and couldn't stop as the floodgates tore through me. Like opened faucets, I cried for the pain I had caused my mother.
I was mopping up my eyes with the back of my hand when I heard, and saw, something move toward me down the alley. I pulled up my hood to conceal my identity and gripped my wand.
"Who's there?" I called into the darkness. I heard the swishing of a cloak and said, "I have a wand!"
"No," someone panted. "Don't!"
"Lumos," I muttered and saw none other than Kevin standing there. He was the only other wizard I knew in the neighborhood except my father. He, like I, always wore cloaks. My father had bewitched them to look like normal coats to Muggles.
One hand was clutching his side as he rubbed at a stitch and the other supporting him on the wall. His face looked concerned and he looked up at me with hurt eyes.
"What? What is it?!" I asked, touching his shoulder. His normally super- gelled blond hair fell into his eyes and he shook it away.
"Good, it's you," he said finally having caught his breath. "I've been in five other alleys and until I heard your-"
"I don't care. What's wrong?" I asked.
"Your mom-" I felt a pang of guilt and he continued, "and your sister. Come on!" He grabbed my hand and we started running toward the house. I'd been so angry about the argument and had been reliving it and been caught up in thought that I hadn't realized how far from home I had gotten.
"Tell me," I panted.
"Something happened," he panted back as a strong wind blew. My hood fell back and my cloak flew behind me but I didn't care.
"What happened?" I asked. I could here the fright in my voice.
He looked at me. "What happened to you?"
"Who cares?! What about my family?" We'd just rounded onto my street and I gasped.
A Fire Guilty of Rage
"Oh, Mother, if I am going to turn out sooo terrible and dishonor this family name," I yelled heading toward the door. "Then maybe," I spat cruelly, forming a fist around my necklace, "then maybe I should give you this!" I ripped off the necklace I so frequently wore around my neck.
"Happy?" I asked, dangerously lowering my voice, "You now have what you want so badly!' I threw it at her feet.
*I remembered when I was five and my great-great-grandmother, whom had been lying on her death bed, had beckoned me over. "Here," she had whispered so as not to rouse my mother as she thrust something into my hand. "Wear this and remember me," she said gently. I had looked down at it. It was a silver chain with a pendant on it of a rare moonstone-opal (upala) heart. Standing guard around the precious gem were about 12 tiny sapphires all sparkling magnificently. The sapphires brought forth a deeper and more captivating blue from the upala. Then I had looked up at my dying ancestor and she had nodded before latching it softly around my neck. A short time later my mother had ushered me out of the room and less than an hour later she emerged, reporting that the generous woman had died.*
"Sohalia Celestia!" my mother whispered in rage. "You march your skinny ass over here and-"
"Rot in Hell, Laramia!" I cut in. If she insisted on using my full name, I'd use her first. "I could care less about that damned necklace," I lied. I would to have liked to scoop up the necklace and replace it around my neck but strength was important now and I had to stand my ground. I grabbed my black cloak, with its sapphire lining, and threw it over my shoulders.
Just before I pulled the hood over my burgundy hair, I saw my mother reach down, scoop up the necklace and look at me with tearful, pained eyes. For a moment I considered walking back toward her, embracing her and putting the necklace back on, just out of sheer pity. My mother looked old now, her blonde hair falling into the eyes that looked as though the clearest sea were caught inside them.
NO! I told myself firmly, placing a hand on the door knob. She wants my pity and I won't give her what she wants. If I were to go to her now, I'd be letting down my guard.
I stepped outside, slamming the door behind me as she failed to stifle a sob.
I hurried briskly down our street and on a way. I was sure that my eyes were burning blue fires. Goodness Father! Why did you have to be gone when I'm in an argument with Mum?! I angrily asked the moon as I glared up at it. I approached a vacant ally and leaned on the brick side of a building and thought of all the times my Dad had been there to vouch for me in the fights. But in all those fights I had not felt bad for Mum... this time I did.
The fire that had kindled with all my rage and came through my eyes slowly diminished down to a small dying campfire.
But why does she hate my friends?! They're perfectly fine! She doesn't see them like I do. My mother had been brought up Catholic (she's a Muggle) and resented tattoos and piercing.
So that's why... It had finally dawned on my. All she sees is Larina's tattoo and Josh's earrings and because she resents those she thinks they're bad people. I was about to begin arguing that thought with another, angrier one as the bonfire restarting.
A pang of guilt overtook me before that though. I, my mother's firstborn, had walked out on her, carelessly throwing a family heirloom at her feet. Anything that was left of that fiery rage died completely and I hated myself. My mother had looked up to my great-great-grandmother and the only thing left of her had been passed onto me. Then I go and rip it off and throw it at her feet before storming off.
My hood started to slip off and I slowly slid down the wall until I was sitting in the alley, head in my hands. I started to cry and couldn't stop as the floodgates tore through me. Like opened faucets, I cried for the pain I had caused my mother.
I was mopping up my eyes with the back of my hand when I heard, and saw, something move toward me down the alley. I pulled up my hood to conceal my identity and gripped my wand.
"Who's there?" I called into the darkness. I heard the swishing of a cloak and said, "I have a wand!"
"No," someone panted. "Don't!"
"Lumos," I muttered and saw none other than Kevin standing there. He was the only other wizard I knew in the neighborhood except my father. He, like I, always wore cloaks. My father had bewitched them to look like normal coats to Muggles.
One hand was clutching his side as he rubbed at a stitch and the other supporting him on the wall. His face looked concerned and he looked up at me with hurt eyes.
"What? What is it?!" I asked, touching his shoulder. His normally super- gelled blond hair fell into his eyes and he shook it away.
"Good, it's you," he said finally having caught his breath. "I've been in five other alleys and until I heard your-"
"I don't care. What's wrong?" I asked.
"Your mom-" I felt a pang of guilt and he continued, "and your sister. Come on!" He grabbed my hand and we started running toward the house. I'd been so angry about the argument and had been reliving it and been caught up in thought that I hadn't realized how far from home I had gotten.
"Tell me," I panted.
"Something happened," he panted back as a strong wind blew. My hood fell back and my cloak flew behind me but I didn't care.
"What happened?" I asked. I could here the fright in my voice.
He looked at me. "What happened to you?"
"Who cares?! What about my family?" We'd just rounded onto my street and I gasped.