Ignite the Stars
Unbalanced
By: Brenli

Nema took Michael's grumbling for overall moody meanness… until they were in the balancing room, and she got to look at the simple structure. A single column rising from a pool water, tapered to a precarious point upon which a single board rested. Long enough for two younglings, one on each side.

Oh no…

"You'll each stay on that board until it's time for the evening meal." The Jedi Temple instructor folded his arms together. "If either of you should fall into the water before then, what happens, Michael?"

"We do it again tomorrow." He'd definitely done this before. A lot. Enough times for his mental exhaustion to fog around her.

"Do you understand, Nema?"

"I understand…" Had she ever been punished for anything? That just wasn't how things were done on the Gray Pilgrim. There wasn't the space for odd rooms like this one. On the Gray Pilgrim, younglings sorted out their differences with their words, under supervision of an instructor. Sometimes that meant screaming, but at least everyone got the dark feelings out of themselves. How was this supposed to resolve anything?

Michael moved over to one of two small floating platforms, just big enough for one standing person, and recklessly stomped onto it. Water sloshed onto its surface, not quite close enough to reach his brown boots. He looked over his shoulder, and his glare spoke for him. He wanted to get this over with.

This wasn't the best friend she knew…

Sadness swelled inside her, and she turned to give her former instructor another hug. The gray sleeves of his robe wrapped around her. "May the Force be with you, Nema."

"Always…!" Her voice wavered, but even in all her disappointment, she knew it to be true. It was the only thing that kept her steady when she stepped onto the second platform, felt them drift closer to the tapered column before rising into the air.

They hovered, facing each other, at each end of the balanced board. His glare seared like a saber blade… but guilt, she sensed guilt mixed in all his anger.

"Why don't you want me here?"

The anger flared so brightly, it momentarily burned out the guilt. "Just get on the stupid board with me!"

Her body flinched, but the platform stayed steady as they each crouched down to crawl on their respective halves of the balancing board. They scooted, facing apart, and when their backs touched, she thought his cream-colored robe was warm.

The platforms descended, and the punishment began.

Nema's journey had been long. She'd said her goodbyes so many times, over… but waving to her former instructor just once more suddenly had her aching to follow him out the door. This wasn't playing out like how she thought it would. Punishments instead of talking. Peers that were a little too cruel; they had a lot to learn. Her best friend didn't like her…

But she couldn't be afraid. The Force had pulled her here like thread bound to her heart, glowing green like her kyber crystal, and turning blue the closer she came to her destination. She was meant to be here; she knew it, she knew it…!

"What are you doing?"

She hadn't been expecting him to break the silence. The anger and the fragile hurt seemed to sit all around him; and in the quiet she realized she'd always sensed that about him. She just hadn't realized its potency until it was directed at her. "… What do you think I'm doing?"

Michael suddenly bounced on the board.

Nema scrambled, flailed, and clung on tight to the board. It was smooth and hard to grip, and she was sure that was the point. "Stop it! I'm not that good at using the Force; I've never tried to hold this much weight!"

She sensed the disbelief. The surprise… and even the awe. But then he spoke, and it negated the soft gratitude his feelings granted her. "Are you calling me fat?"

"I don't know, are you fat if you weigh more than one book?" She couldn't believe he'd ask that. If he weighed less than a book, he'd have way bigger problems on his hands! He'd need a healer!

"Shut up!" Michael couldn't hide the sputtering of his voice. "Why do you have to come here and make my life harder?"

That's it. "Your life?" Nema turned and glared at him over her shoulder, and the board suddenly teetered every which way. She almost slipped, and in a desperate attempt to regain balance, she laid belly down on her side of the board and wrapped her limbs tightly around it. "I said goodbye to the only home I know! I thought it would be okay because I had you!"

"You can't have people!"

"You're my friend!"

"I'm-!" Michael paused, and she sensed the turmoil like a rip in old Jedi robes. She wanted to stitch it together…

She asked the prevailing question once again. "Why don't you want me here?"

Michael growled a bratty boy's growl and shifted about, even as the board swayed and threatened to dump one or both of them. But she sensed it… the guilt, hiding in layers of anger and embarrassment and confusion. He knew he was hurting her and he felt bad about it…

She clung onto the hope of that guilt. "I thought you would be happy to have me here… I am. I don't want to be a galaxy away from you, in a big old ship while you're in this pretty place-"

"You're not real!" He snapped, the board wobbled.

Nema sat up, at the risk of sending herself falling to the water below. "I am too real!"

"No!" He shook his head, and his red hair shook with it and settled as a tousled mess. "You're supposed to be pretend!"

"Why would you want me to be pretend? Why did you think I was pretend? I always knew you were real!"

"Nobody cares you knew I was real!" The dark weight of confused anger made Michael forget himself, moving quick to turn, and suddenly tipping the board too far over on his side. For the smallest of moments, he was in free fall…

Until she grabbed him, hands clinging on tight to his own. Her legs were locked tight around the board, forming a ring that locked against the tapered edge of the column… Painful. Her shins had cracked against the hard and slippery stone of the column, sure to go black and purple with bruises.

"… What are you doing?"

Nema had to blink and sniff the tears back, before she could answer. "Not letting you drop."

She sensed it again. The awe… but wasn't this just, the right thing to do? It wasn't remarkable to do the right thing. It was an average. It was a bare minimum for all. She looked down at him, the blood rushing to her round face, and he looked up at her. She didn't need to sense the sentiment. His face wore it plainly, like in the moments they shared while a galaxy apart from each other.

His boots began flailing fruitlessly, the toes only barely reaching the column. "Just let me drop."

Nema shook her head. "I'm not giving up."

Another shade of emotion made itself distinct from the anger and the guilt… fear. "Let me drop! You look like a stupid lizard!"

"So?" She snapped at him, cheeks puffed out, face round like a moon. "So what if I look stupid?"

Michael swung about and stammered. "… So it's stupid! You know what? That's your whole problem! You think you're so smart, you, you're so great 'cause you can carry us? You're an idiot! You show up here and hug me and now everybody thinks it's funny like you're my girlfriend! And that's your fault! 'Cause you think you can just be whatever and it's okay! But it's not okay! Do you know the Jedi Code? You're an idiot and you should go back to the Outer Rim!"

Nema felt the saber-like burn of his attack like it gouged her open… and she let him go. Cast him away from herself, and she wasn't proud of it.

Michael splashed back to the surface as Nema righted herself in the center of the board. "Hey!"

"Happy?" Nema yelled down at him.

"You…!" Michael slapped at the water. "Now we have to be back here, tomorrow!"

"Well if you hate that so much, maybe don't call me an idiot for just being your friend!" The upset buzzed in her and ached to be released… but she knew that was darkness; she knew that they flirted with a bad path in all their anger. "How dare I be your friend? Not like I haven't been your friend your whole life! You're just afraid to admit it to dumb judgy people!"

"I'm not afraid!"

"Then go tell them now! Your brother and everybody!"

She sensed the scramble like heavy, itching wool that threatened to weigh him back down underwater. "No!" He roared as well as a 7-year-old boy could roar. "They're just gonna say you're my girlfriend! Jedi can't have girlfriends!"

"So what if that's what they say?" Nema yelled so hard that the hurt of it crinkled her eyes shut. "Who cares what they say? It doesn't matter! They don't know our heart!"

"Shut up! Would you just shut up?" Michael flailed in the water, "Why do you even say it that way? Don't say 'heart!'"

Nema's pale hands slapped against the board. "Heart heart heart heart heart!"

"Shut up!"

The sound of a clearing throat severed their argument… she felt childish. True, she was only 7. And she'd been taught to value the qualities of youth, to let the folly of childhood teach her and shape her into the Jedi she could one day become.

But right now, it only felt like it threatened her down a path she never danced with, and never wanted to dance with.

"Seems that you'll both be back here, tomorrow." The instructor called out to them.

"Yeah, seems so." Michael grumbled, splashing and swimming out of the pool. Leaving Nema with her aches and her bruises.