Nancy Yewbeam
Born 28 September 2006 to Paton Yewbeam and Julia Ingeldew
Power Booster
So. I'm back. The weary traveller has returned from her journey. I make it sound like such a big deal, but I've only come back from uni.
That said, uni wasn't a piece of cake. It's not like I was just any other ordinary (cough cough *boring* cough cough) student. One gossiping teacher knows about our family and suddenly everybody has heard about the incredible Nancy Yewbeam and her amazing talent. Even if he hadn't told them, that kind of thing gets around, especially my so-called talent. I can't really find excuses for asking the lights to be turned off every lesson short of them actually knowing why.
I sometimes... I sometimes wish I was like James. He has it easy. He can actually control his endowment. He flies when he wants to fly, whereas I still dread the tinkle of glass behind me. I know I should 'cherish and be thankful for my gift' and I know he's really upset about where the flight comes from, but do you need to know where it comes from? So he's descended from one or other of the Red King's kids, but so am I, and I don't spend my time obsessing over which one.
Still, uni hasn't been all bad. My roommates eventually understood, and after a while I knew I could walk into a room and the lights would all be off, just in case. Even if that someplace was actually someone's... Well... I can't say I walked into that room unaccompanied much after the frogs. And, I learnt lots about the literature, so I got something out of the three years at Bristol. But still, I know that this still won't be easy. A degree in BA English and Classical Studies won't protect me from anything. If any angry mobs suddenly appear out of nowhere, they won't really care how clever or rich or nice you are. They care that you're different, and they'll care because different has always been wrong to them.
So we have to do what we always do in times like this. The only real option for anyone who has a secret. Hope for an oppurtunity, and in the meantime pray that other people are so rooted in their mundane lives that they don't notice. Not much to ask for anyway. People don't notice this sort of thing. We'll always just be an exaggerated rumour to them. And do you know what? That's worth coming home for.
