The next morning, Marie woke to the smell of pancakes cooking, and Marie idly mused that her mother must have the day off. Her father commuted into Wheeling for work and would already be gone by this time. Her mother, on the other hand, worked part time at a nearby department store about four days a week. The family could have gotten by on just her father's salary, but her mother's supplementary income meant that could afford something nice every now and then. Once upon a time, "something nice" used to mean a summer vacation, but that tradition had ended after Marie's accident. These days, it usually meant going out to the movies, a new toy for Marie's little sister Giselle, or a new outfit for Marie — ordinary things.

Marie went through her morning routine: get dressed, brush hair, brush teeth, report to mother for pills. In the dining room, Marie's mother was just helping Giselle by cutting the little girls pancakes into bite-sized pieces. As soon as the knife was set aside, Giselle dove into her food like she hadn't eaten in weeks. At the picky-eater stage, Giselle had gone to bed hungry the night before rather than eat the deadly poison known as broccoli. "Fank oo," Giselle burbled through syrup-smeared lips. Giselle was a beautiful child who, everyone agreed, would one day break a great many hearts. Her hair fell in perfect curls. Her eyes were the perfect shade of blue. Everything about Giselle's appearance was perfect, except for a slow-to-fade pink scar next to her left eye.

Marie stared at the scar for a moment before heading into the kitchen, and her mother was waiting with a glass of orange juice and three pills. Though she had once detested taking the pills, Marie had grown accustomed to them. Like Giselle and broccoli, it had taken a while for Marie to accept that the things which are good for a person are not always pleasurable. Scowling at the noxious flavor of orange juice after toothpaste, Marie downed her medication.

"You've got your psychiatrist's appointment after school today," Marie's mother reminded.

"What about my tutoring from Mr. Verelli?"

"I'll write you a note; you can't miss your monthly visit."

"Alright."

"Good," her mother praised. "Go eat your breakfast before your sister eats all the syrup."

Marie nodded in acknowledgement of the reality of that threat. When it came to sweets, Giselle was insatiable. Marie went back into the dining room and began eating. While the pills had gotten easier to swallow, the monthly visits with Dr. Spicer had never become less onerous. He was a specialist. Marie's family had moved to West Virginia from New York City just to be closer to him. Well, if Marie were being honest, they would have had to move no matter what. Dr. Spicer was just the excuse that Marie's parents gave to people. Lost to thought, Marie only got half way through her pancakes before her mother came in with packed lunches for the girls.

"The bus is at the end of the block, get your coats!"

Faster than she might have imagined, second period was upon Marie – time to report to the library for her first day of researching the Avatar. The library was fairly quiet. If a class was down here researching, it got to be pretty crazy, but it was just Marie and a couple of helpers, at that moment. Looking things up had come a long way in the last few years, and Marie still remembered being confused about the removal of the card catalog from her elementary school. Marie had never used it, but the librarian there had acted as if a favored pet had died. Everything had been done on a computer as long as Marie could remember. Since coming to the high school, she could even read some whole books on the computer, not that she did. Still, it was nice that she would not have to actually admit to anyone the nature of her research.

Marie went to one of the computer stations in a corner, where nobody could look over her shoulder. She considered turning the monitor even further into the corner, but she realized that such an action would only arouse the suspicions of the librarian. Not entirely sure where to start, the girl simply opened a web browser and typed the word "avatar" into the default search engine. This, of course, produced far too many results, many of which were about the James Cameron movie or about the little pictures that represent people in video games. However, the Wikipedia page seemed like a safe bet. The first thing that Marie noticed was a large banner at the top of the article declaring that the page had been locked due to its controversial nature and the large number of vandalizations that had occurred. Marie blew a long, slow breath across her tightly drawn lips. She could already feel her blood pressure beginning to rise, and she had barely even started. It didn't take long for Marie to realize that it would have been ten times as bad to be seeing the same thing with the rest of her classmates.

The girl forced herself to continue reading. Most of the article included common knowledge. However, there were a few key points that drew her attention. The first was that, so far as anyone knew, no Avatar had been born in the United States, and only one in the Western hemisphere at all. The article elaborated that the general consensus was that this was likely due to the fact that history had not been recorded very carefully in the New World until comparatively recently. The second thing that Marie learned was that, since the Victorian era, there had been renewed interest in the Avatar and bending in general. Specifically, there were quite a few groups that claimed to be the inheritors of secret knowledge regarding the Avatar, and that they practically worshipped the Avatar whenever they could find one.

Marie hastily scrolled passed a section of the article on the Avatar State and came to a section that was totally new information to her. Once upon a time, the Avatar had been responsible for acting as a bridge between humans and spirits. This much Marie knew, but she had always thought that one of the more fanciful elements of the Avatar mythology. However, it seemed that many archeologists took spirits very seriously, and even speculated that the Spirit World might be a real place that people could go to. Notably, there was an unclaimed million dollar bounty for anyone who could definitively prove the existence of spirits or the Spirit World.

The article went on to explain that the last recorded Avatar had been a Japanese man during the Second World War. Having refused to fight for Emperor Hirohito, this Avatar had been imprisoned for several years. After the war, the Avatar had travelled all over his homeland, helping people rebuild. His last act had been to walk into the ruins of Hiroshima, allegedly to put the tormented spirits there to rest. Those who witnessed the act from a safe distance, including several reporters, claimed that the Avatar never entered the city. The new articles from that day contended that upon crossing the city's boundaries, the Avatar had simply disappeared. Two weeks later, the Avatar had shown up miles away at a small hospital. He died not of radiation poisoning but of wounds that doctors had interpreted to have been caused by mauling by a large animal of some sort.

"Spooky," Marie mumbled. Almost immediately, she realized that someone might have heard her. She clapped a hand over her mouth and looked around frantically. However no one had paid any attention to her utterance. Relaxing, she looked at the clock. She'd only spent fifteen minutes thus far. Would that be enough work for Mr. Verelli? Marie knew it would not, but she really did not want to keep reading about the Avatar. Instead, she spent the rest of the period researching the Spirit World.

History was Pyotr's last class before lunch. As such, his mind was often more on food than learning by that point in the day. Having to self-manage his own learning only made the situation worse. Pepperoni pizza was on the menu that day, and the firebender frequently found himself fantasizing about the delicious cured meat that he would soon be consuming. However, the boy did make some progress despite the distraction.

Pyotr's first goal had been to find a definition for the word "genealogy." Well, it was his second goal, if you counted figuring out how to spell the word. His first impression, upon hearing the word was that it would involve rubbing a magic lamp, but Google casually informed him that there was no such thing as "genie-ology" as soon as he had typed it into the search bar.

"Hoo boy… this is going to be harder than I thought," he admitted to himself. He rubbed a hand against his forehead preemptively against the headache that was sure to come. His calloused fingers made a pleasant scratching noise against the stubble on the sides of his head. He would need to shave it again soon in order to maintain his Water Tribe mohawk.

After subsequent searches for the definitions of the words "descent" and "ancestor," Pyotr had cobbled together the understanding that genealogy was the study of family trees. At first, Pyotr was offended. He jumped to the assumption that Mr. Verelli was basically a racist for wanting Pyotr to admit that firebenders were Mexicans. After a moment, though, Pyotr thought about the assignment Mr. Verelli had given to Marie. The teacher, after some negotiation with Pyotr, had picked a topic that would initially be difficult for Marie but would have been good for her. The boy decided to give his teacher the benefit of the doubt.

At first, Pyotr could only find complicated academic articles on the genealogy of benders and a lot of inheritance diagrams highlighting benders within family trees. Ever one to know his own limits, Pyotr raised his hand to summon the librarian, Miss (not Ms!) Huron. Word on the street about Miss Huron was that she had recently turned thirty and was becoming nervous about having not gotten married despite her age. As a result, she dressed like a college student and insisted that students call her "Miss" rather than the more common "Ms."

"Do you need some help?" she asked, once she saw his help.

"Yeah. I'm having trouble doing some research on the internet."

The librarian tiptoed from the checkout desk over to Pyotr's station. After a quick glance at the arcane diagrams on the boy's screen, Miss Huron inquired, "What are you trying to find?"

Pyotr explained, "I'm supposed to research 'the genealogy of benders,' but all that gets me is this weird science stuff. None of it is in plain English."

For a moment, it looked as if Miss Huron was going to chastise Pyotr, but then her face soften as she recognized him. "You're Pyotr, right?"

"Yeah, that's right. Why does it matter?"

"Well, I was going to say that you probably shouldn't be researching bending at school, but I don't think your parents would mind."

That sentence had so many things wrong with it that Pyotr didn't even know where to start. He realized that Mat would have made a huge scene over the callous bigotry in that sentence, but Pyotr also knew that Miss Huron was not intentionally being unkind, unlike Mr. Edgar. Miss Huron was certainly right that some parents would have raised a riot if they knew their children were reading about Benders. Even under Mr. Verelli's benevolent observation, there was a great deal of censorship on the subject within the school's walls.

"So, are you going to help me?"

Miss Huron look startled for a moment. "Oh, I'm sorry. Of course I will help you. If you want plain English answers, try a plain English question. For example, try asking 'where are there lots of benders'"

"What does geography have to do with family trees?" Pyotr pondered.

"Well, the family tree you'd probably be drawing for an assignment is only a very small part of a much bigger family tree for all humanity. A lot of people don't like to admit it, but everyone is related if you go back far enough." The librarian looked around conspiratorially, to make sure no other students were listening to this contraband information. She lowered her voice a bit. "You get differences between people because mountains, rivers and…"

"...all sorts of geography stuff gets in the way?" Pyotr speculated.

"That's right. So geography and genealogy are closely related, if you look at a family tree that's big enough."

"That's actually really helpful," Pyotr admitted, to his own surprise. "Thanks."

Before walking away, Miss Huron smiled and told Pyotr to let her know if he needed any other help. Pyotr returned to his research, following the librarian's advice. He was quickly rewarded with a world map that was color-coded based on the most common type of bender in the region. To his surprise, Mexico was not the only red area. Certainly, all of Central and parts of South America were home to firebenders. However, most of Africa and India were also apparently firebending hotspots.

"Ha. Hotspots." Pyotr chuckled at his own joke. He'd have to save that one for later.

Wednesdays provided a nice change of pace to the daily grind within the high school. Instead of the study hall period called Academic Advisement that students usually had to endure, students got to attend the club of their choice. Marie had wanted to join a club that would let her fade into the woodwork as much as possible. Something too nerdy, like chess club, would have made her a target for bullying. Something performance based, like photography, would have made her stand out in a different way. Book club was the perfect balance. Sure, she had to express an opinion on whatever the book of the week was, but she could usually get away with just saying that she liked it, and nobody would question her.

Unfortunately, she didn't really like the current book. It was one of those supernatural romance novels that had become so popular lately, especially the ones with movie tie-ins. In this particular series, the protagonist was in love with bloodbender. To be honest, Marie was surprised that the club's advisor had allowed the book, but it seemed as if the teacher was totally unaware of the content. That may have been due to the large number of euphemisms that thinly veiled the romantic interest's true nature from anyone who failed to read between the lines. The girls in the book club, and nearly all the members of the club were girls, giggled mischievously at the perceived naughtiness with which they were getting away.

"I wish he'd come and 'choreograph' a dance with me at the prom," suggested one girl, lustily. A chorus of appreciative mmhmm's echoed that sentiment.

After about ten minutes of such commentary, Marie, like the two boys in the club were getting pretty tired of the conversation. At her limit, Marie inadvertently blurted, "None of you would actually date him if he went here."

A handful of girls simultaneously responded, "Yes, I would!"

One of the boys agreed. "Your parents would totally freak out if they knew. You'd never do it."

A senior girl argued, "That's what makes him so attractive."

It was too late to stop this runaway train now, so Marie decided that she might as well take ownership of her blunder. "Would you date Pyotr?"

"The firebender?" one girl asked.

"Aren't you dating him?" clarified another.

"No, he's dating that tomboy metalbender Mat" suggested a third.

"I thought she was into girls?" rebutted the second girl.

The gossip quickly spiraled out of control to the point where the teacher had to intervene, chastising, "We're here to talk about that book not about benders." The club all put on their best fake guilty faces. As soon as the teacher returned to her desk, the girls began snickering at having, once again, gotten away with discussing a taboo topic in the form of the book.

Once the club period ended, Mat headed from the auditorium where drama club met to the library. This activity would be a walk in the park. Mat didn't really care to show it very often, but she was a pretty smart cookie. Mat had it all figured out; she would become a machinist and get to do all the metal bending that she wanted to do all day long. Maybe, once she had saved enough, Mat would go to college and become a mechanical engineer. Then she could go to work for BMW or one of the other precision engineering companies that would pay top dollar for a skilled metalbender. She'd make more money than any ten of the bigots from this high school. That'd show them.

Earlier in the year, the freshman English classes had come down to the library to do their first essay of the year. They'd had to do a five paragraph summary of an article that they got off a special database on the library computers. Mat figured that Mr. Verelli was looking for something like that. Consequently, when she arrived at the library, she went directly to Miss Huron to be logged into the database. The librarian was pleasantly surprised that anyone would use it for extracurricular work, let alone someone with such a rough-and-tumble reputation as Mat.

"You must be working on the same project as Pyotr was," Miss Huron speculated.

"What makes you say that?" Mat queried through suddenly, suspiciously narrowed eyes.

"He's a bender researching bending on his own time. You're a bender doing research on your own time on the same day."

"I didn't say that I was researching bending," Mat rebutted with dangerous coolness.

"You don't have to be embarrassed about it," the librarian attempted to comfort.

"I'm not embarrassed, but you should mind your own business. Don't lump all us benders together like that."

This ruffled Miss Huron's proverbial feathers. "What happens in this library is my business. If you want me to log you into the journal database, you need to be respectful."

"Pot meet kettle. Whatever, I don't need help from you. I'll figure something out." Mat curtly turned away from the librarian's desk and went over to a computer. The girl stared blankly at the screen for several moments, willing herself to bottle up the anger. She slowed her breathing and tried to cool the flush that had come to her face. It was bad enough when students were bigoted, but now an adult had been just as bad. With Mr. Edgar, she could mostly let it roll off of her back because he couldn't really do anything. However, Miss Huron had totally ruined all of Mat's plans. Mathilda briefly considered the possibility that it was Mat's quickness to jump that had really brought down disaster, but Mat rejected the thought as weak. It didn't take long for Mat to reassert the stony, implacable façade of an earthbender.

This, of course, still left Mat with the problem of her research. The stymied metalbender briefly considered plagiarizing a report from the internet, but she knew that Mr. Verelli was far too canny to fall for such tactics. Still hoping for a shortcut, Mat searched YouTube for videos about segregation. She was quickly rewarded with an educational documentary that looked promising. She inserted some headphones into the computer and spent the rest of the period watching it. To Mat's surprise, bending was barely mentioned at all. Instead, it talked mostly about the racial segregation of schools in the Forties and Fifties. With respect to bending, the documentary did mention that benders, statistically more likely to be minorities, were often concentrated in such schools. Ironically, it was the alleged danger of high concentrations of benders that galvanized the minds of the general public, empowering the civil rights movement leading up to the landmark Brown v. Board of Education that ended segregation of schools. While the most egalitarian ideals had begun the quest to end segregated schools, Mat realized that it was the race-transcendent fear of benders that had proved to be the great equalizer. Even the part of Mat that was still Mathilda lamented this revelation.

At the end of the day, Marie was just leaving Mr. Verelli's classroom as Pyotr and Mat arrived. She flashed them an apologetic smile, simply saying "I'll see you tomorrow."

Mat was clearly displeased. "Of all the nerve…we're here for her sake."

"Cut her some slack, Mat," Pyotr placated. "She's got to go the doctor."

"Oh."

"Besides, you're not here for her," the boy reminded, "You're here so that you can put bigots in their place."

As they entered Mr. Verelli's room, Mat snorted derisively. "Turns out everybody is a bigot."

This caught Mr. Verelli's attention. "Would you care to clarify that sweeping generalization, Miss Kohl?"

The metalbender plopped down into one of the waiting chairs. "Yeah, I'll clarify." She leaned back and put her feet up on a nearby desk, silently daring the teacher to object. "I looked up segregation, just like you said. You said you didn't want your classroom to be just for benders. Except segregated schools were about race not bending."

"Well," the teacher admitted, "certainly that was the original issue."

"Except it wasn't at all!" Mat growled. She turned to her friend. "Do you know how they ended racial segregation in schools, Pete?" Before the confused boy could answer, Mat continued, "Well, I'll tell you. The African Americans basically went crying to the Supreme Court about how unfair it was that the minority schools had too many benders, which made them dangerous."

The room remained deathly still for several moments as everyone digested Mat's statement. The boy wrestled with it, and the man had to bite his tongue in order to let his students come to their own understanding. Finally, Pyotr broke the silence.

"Is that true, Mr. Verelli?"

The teacher nodded sadly. "It's a piece of the truth, though not all of it."

"So what is all of it?" challenged the girl.

"That's what you need to figure out, Miss Kohl."

The girl snorted. "You're just as bad as the rest of the teachers here."

Mr. Verelli looked a little disappointed, but said nothing else. In contrast, Pyotr was prickled by Mat's accusation.

"No he's not."

"Why isn't he?"

"Because he knew that not all firebenders are Mexican. I didn't even know that."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Mat asked, somewhat disarmed.

"Because Mr. Verelli picked a topic that I actually need to learn about," Pyotr argued. This caused the teacher to smile proudly. Pyotr suggested, "I bet he did for you too."

Mat thought about that for a little bit. "So why does Marie need to learn about the Avatar?"

Pyotr and Mr. Verelli exchanged significant glances.

"You should probably ask Marie that," recommended Pyotr.

Marie sat alone in one of Dr. Spicer's examination rooms. Originally, one of her parents would join her; but, after six months, Dr. Spicer had advised that Marie might not be as forthcoming about problems in the presence of her parents. So, Marie sat alone. She idly rubbed at the sore spot on her elbow where the nurse had drawn the monthly blood test. After the shorter-than-it-seemed eternity of waiting, there was a knock at the door.

"Good afternoon, Marie," Dr. Spicer greeted.

"Hi," she responded mechanically.

"Any changes?" he queried as he flipped through her charts.

"Every couple of days I itch like crazy for no good reason."

"Mmm," the doctor acknowledged. "That's not an uncommon side effect, especially given as long as you've been taking that. Try getting some lotion with oatmeal in it. That's supposed to help a lot."

"Ok."

"Anything else?"

"No, but I really hate my night time medicine. I don't sleep so much as pass out. I can't remember the last time I had a dream."

"That's the point. The part of the brain that dreams is what caused your hallucinations. You were dreaming while you were awake, in a sense." Dr. Spicer thought for a few moments before adding, "It's a good thing you aren't having any dreams. You are already at a dangerously high dose. If you built a tolerance, we might have to try something more drastic. At this point, the only alternatives are experimental medicines, which might not work, or surgery."

Marie had heard about that kind of surgery. She swallowed reflexively at the doctor's threat.

"Well," the doctor said, looking up from the charts. "It's been almost a year since you've had an episode of any sort. I think we've finally hit on the right combination of anti-psychotics, anti-epileptics and tranquilizers for you."

Marie didn't respond, she just looked at her feet.

"If you make it another month, the court is likely to allow you to stop taking the bending suppressants. No more itching!"

Marie looked up, a mixture of relief and horror on her face. She wasn't sure how she felt about that possibility.