Chris slammed the kitchen door closed with such force that one of the stained glass panels actually fell out and smashed on the floor.
"CHRIS!" Wyatt yelled from the living room.
"WHAT?" Chris yelled back.
"I don't care how pissed off you are, you better not have broken anything that isn't actually yours!" Wyatt stormed into the kitchen.
"OR WHAT?" Chris yelled, throwing his bag at his older brother. Wyatt arched an eyebrow and deflected it onto the counter with a wave of his hand.
"What is up your ass?" he asked, annoyed. Chris glared at him.
"What's up yours?" he snarled in return. Wyatt slammed a hand down on the counter, making him flinch slightly.
"Watch it, Chris," his older brother said, his voice low. Chris met his eyes for a moment, before looking away, a dull flush rising in his cheeks. Wyatt sighed. "Chris, what's wrong?" he asked. Chris looked up again, and Wyatt thought he was going to tell him, but he shook his head slightly, gave a faint hiss, and brushed past him.
Wyatt watched him go, then gave another sigh and glanced at Chris' bag. He frowned slightly, then stepped up to the counter and flipped the bag over.
"Oh no, please not again," he groaned, eyeing the white envelope sticking out of the front of Chris' bag. He took a deep breath to steady himself, pulled a chair over to the bench, then flicked his fingers at the envelope and TK'd it out of the pocket. His fears were confirmed as he read the line typed across the front: TO PARENT/GUARDIAN.
He grabbed it out of the air and drew a finger along the seal, an inch or so above it. The flap of the envelope slid open, and he pulled the letter out and began to read.
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Dear Parent/Guardian,
It is our duty to inform you that your son, Chris Halliwell, has received an infringement due to disrespectful behaviour towards a teacher and disruptive behaviour during class. The details of this behaviour are listed below.
- Arguing with/shouting at a teacher in front of the rest of the class
- Using inappropriate language in class and to a teacher
- Throwing objects at a teacher
- Destroying school property
- Leaving class/school grounds without permission
Chris has also received a second infringement due to fighting during school time. He, allegedly without provocation, attacked a fellow student and caused an unknown amount of damage to the student.
Unfortunately, it is also our duty to inform you that the amount of infringements Chris has received, including these two, has resulted in his suspension from school for a total of two weeks.
An appointment may be made to negotiate these consequences.
Sincerely,
Mr George Babington Principal
Ms Faye Harding Vice Principal
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Wyatt groaned.
This is just what we need, he thought grimly. He laid the letter down on the bench and read it again, his eyes flicking through the bullshit to get to the details of what Chris had done. He frowned when he got to the "throwing objects at the teacher" part.
He held out his hand, and a red pen came flying through the air into his grip. He wrote "TK" next to the line concerning throwing things, then circled the line above it - "using inappropriate language in class and to a teacher" - and wrote "TP" next to it with a question mark. He then drew an arrow from "leaving class/school grounds without permission" that connected it to the point about "throwing objects at a teacher".
Wyatt read the two points left without a mark ("arguing with/shouting at a teacher in front of the rest of the class" and "destroying school property "), then TK'd a black marker from the windowsill above the sink and circled them both. He connected them with an arc, and wrote "prob. him" next to the arc before replacing the cap on the pen. Then, with a wave of his hand, he sent the letter soaring across the room until it hit the fridge. A magnet unstuck itself from its position and jumped neatly onto the middle of the letter, securing it firmly. The two pens leapt into the air and flew to their respective places.
He got to his feet and walked to the kitchen door. The stained-glass panel was lying on the ground, broken into three. Wyatt frowned. This was the panel he and Chris had made for their mother, Piper, when they were little. It was of a blue, purple, and green triquetra on a yellow background, outlined in black. Chris didn't remember making it (he'd been two, nearly three), but he did. It had taken them forever to get the arcs equal.
But this wasn't what he was frowning about. Sure, he was upset that it had been broken, but it could be fixed in no time. What was strange was the fact that the triquetra itself had been split into three. The centre triangle had been split into three equal pieces, and the blue, purple, and green sections had been split with their respective piece of the centre. It was almost like an omen. Wyatt felt a shiver go up his spine, but he shrugged the feeling off.
"You're a bit late," he told the tile, picking the pieces up and placing them on the kitchen counter. He swallowed hard. "The Power of Three was broken nearly three years ago," he said, a catch in his voice. He set the pieces down, broken edges together, and was about to say a spell to repair them…but didn't. Instead - slowly, as if in a dream - he separated the pieces by an inch, then moved the blue third of the triquetra back in about a half an inch.
He glanced around the kitchen, and the letter from Chris' - and his former - school caught his eye. He frowned, then looked upward, towards Chris' room. He paused, then orbed up to the hall outside his brother's room. Through the heavy wooden door he could hear something that sounded suspiciously like Good Charlotte. He rapped gently on the door with his knuckles.
"Chris?" he called, his voice soft. Even though the music was loud, he knew his brother could hear him, but the door stayed closed. He knocked a little louder, then TP'd to his brother : Chris? :
For half a minute, he stood outside, waiting patiently, then he heard the lock give a muted click. He looked down and saw the doorknob turn, then the door creaked open. He walked inside.
Chris' room wasn't as neat as it usually was, with half his wardrobe, his MD/CD collection and all his books all over the floor and bed, but Wyatt knew that before dinner it would be back to its former glory and fully-deserving its reputation as the cleanest room in the house. Chris had inherited the "neat-freak" gene from Piper; Wyatt had inherited the "un-neat" gene from Leo.
Chris was sitting in the only clean patch of the bed with his headphones hanging round his neck, Good Charlotte's "Lifestyles of The Rich and The Famous" booming out at such an amazing volume Wyatt was surprised his younger brother hadn't gone deaf.
"Pissed off?" Wyatt asked as he pushed Chris' leather jacket off the bed so he could sit beside his brother. Chris nodded mutely. Wyatt watched him closely. "What happened?"
: Don'twannatalk'boutit, : Chris' thoughts flicked out at him. Wyatt sighed.
"What subject was it, then?"
: DON'TWANNATALK'BOUTIT! : Chris' thoughts slammed into his mind so hard that Wyatt gasped in pain. For a few minutes, all he could see was stars, then his vision slowly began to clear. He swallowed hard. This sort of thing happened all the time, so he had gotten used to it. All he had to do was wait out the insta-migraine.
Chris had had a great control of his tele-powers, once. But then, their mom had died, their lives had all gone to hell, and so had Chris' fine degree of control. Ever since, Chris' emotions had become wild and unpredictable, and so had his powers.
"Chris, you gotta get a hold of your self," he finally managed to say.
: I…know : Chris' voice, barely more than a whisper, echoed in his mind. Wyatt glanced at him. Chris was staring straight ahead, his face full of pain. He was breathing in short, irregular gasps. Wyatt slid an arm around his brother's shoulders.
"Breathe, okay? Just breathe…" After a few minutes, Chris began to breathe normally. Wyatt gave him a tight hug, then pulled back. "Jesus, kid, you really know how to scare someone, you know that?" Chris nodded slowly. "Is this what happened at school? You lost control?" He nodded again. Wyatt took a deep breath.
"I'm figuring you got upset about something your teacher said about witches - I'm assuming this was in RES, by the way - and started yelling that they didn't know what they were talking about, then your TP got out of hand, and what you were thinking about them got projected. Then your TK got out of control, too, and some of your stuff started flying around. Then…"
"Then I ripped up the RES textbook," Chris mumbled, his voice hoarse. Wyatt nodded.
"And after that, you realised what you were doing with the TK, and you…left?"
Chris nodded. "I didn't want to hurt anybody, Wy!" he said desperately. "I mean, my pencil case had already almost hit the old cow twice, and I was getting even angrier, and some of my stuff was starting to go in other directions, not just at that…that…" he stopped, lost for words. Wyatt nodded. Chris glanced at him.
"I've gotta suspension, haven't I?" he asked shakily. Wyatt gave him a reassuring look.
"Don't worry, Dad'll understand. He won't get angry or anything…I mean, he didn't that time I got suspended…"
"That was different, you didn't let your powers get the best of you, you just wagged school 'cause a demon showed up and threatened to kill your friends." Chris interjected. Wyatt shrugged.
"So? You had a good reason, that cow was insulting our heritage. Don't worry about it." Wyatt shot him a grin, adding, "And you'll get two weeks off school…"
Chris gave him a reluctant grin. "Now that will be good…except that I have to do an essay for Con." Wyatt stared at him. "What?" Chris asked defensively. "I like the guy."
"You are weird, Chris…" Wyatt said, shaking his head slightly.
"They say siblings have the greatest influence on a person," Chris shot back with a smirk, "So you'll have a lot to answer if it ever goes to court…" They both laughed.
"Chris, Wyatt?" A faint voice called from floor below, and a sound like a chorus of bells and voices rang in their ears. Chris jumped to his feet.
"Dad's home," he said, running to the door and out. Wyatt got slowly to his feet, a faint grin on his face, and followed.