Will rears back. “Your what?”
I feel myself weaken, but I need to be honest with him. Will’s been so good to me, and I’ve hidden so much in return. There have got to be pieces of truth I can tell him without putting his life in danger. “Probably ex, considering I’m here and he’s . . . where he is, but . . .” Viper tight, pain constricts my breathing. “I needed to hear his voice yesterday.”
What a way to celebrate my twentieth birthday.
I stand up and pace the room. Then I go on to tell Will that I drove across town to find a payphone and that all I heard was the one word, twice, and it broke me. I don’t tell him why Jonah and I aren’t together, other than to say things were complicated (which is truly an understatement) and that us being apart was for the best all around, since he deserved better than me.
“You love him.”
Another understatement. I nod, chewing on the inside of my lip.
“Does he know where you are?”
I shake my head. I’ve drawn blood.
Will’s quiet for a long moment. “Did he physically hurt you?”
“OH MY GODS, WILL! NO!”
I try not to smack my forehead, realizing my slip of tongue. Gods, I’m a mess.
He tugs my hands until I sit next to him on his couch. Then he folds me in his arms until I’m surrounded by his safety and warmth. It feels really good, being held like this. Like he really is my brother, and he loves me, and wants to protect me. I haven’t been held by anyone in a long time. I want to cry, want to rail about the injustices of it all, of how Fate sucks and how I hate it, but in the end, I take the remote control Will hands me and turn on the television. We watch the hockey game he taped last night in silence, his arms around me, my heart aching.
When I was younger, and resentful, and scared of what I am, I used to fantasize about running away. I imagined hundreds of places to go to, and of who I’d become once arriving. But I always believed it was done in vain, because I’d never be allowed to escape being a Creator.
And yet, here I am. Gone from everything I know.
It’s so cold out here that parts of me are numb. Rather than being bothered by this sensation, I revel in it. Numb is good. When I’m numb, I’m not in agony. And the pain that follows numbness—the kind of prickling hotness from being too cold—is preferable to the kind I live with on a daily basis.
Kellan was right after all. All those times he tried to literally break his bones, go into shock so he could escape our Connection—I thought he was crazy. But he was right. Anything is better than the pain that an unfulfilled Connection can wreak upon a Magical’s soul. Even still, I can’t believe I was desperate enough to try to break the bonds I have with him or Jonah.
I’ve borrowed Will’s truck and driven as far as I can get outside of Anchorage until all I see is dark skies and stars and cold. This is part of the beauty of Alaska; so much of it is still wild, still free and untouched by human and Magical hands. I like this area, like how it makes me feel. I’ve been constantly chasing the Northern Lights; sometimes I thought if I could see them just once, it’d be a sign.
I’m finally rewarded, nearly half a year after moving to Alaska. The Aurora Borealis is streaked across the sky tonight, yellow and green ribbons that dance across my vision. They’re so unbelievably dazzling that when I lay back in the snow, arms and legs out in angel formation, my breath is wicked away. Ice crystals cling to the fringe of hair sticking out from underneath my beanie cap and to the nape of my scarfless neck.
I am small.
I am irrelevant.
I am not even a speck of sand in a vast beach of worlds, no matter what anyone says.
The next morning, I make a decision.
I’m going to college.
Using Magic is the same as, say gambling. Or alcohol. Or drugs. Detox is hard, abstinence becomes easier over time, but if you give into it, man, the hit is too strong to resist.
I fabricated myself all the transcripts I need. And then, even though it’d been suggested I hold off for Fall admission, I go for Summer. Flush with my decision and subsequent action on that resolution, I can’t help myself. I make myself a new pair of boots and a new coat and take Nell out on a walk with a brand new, fancy leash that says her name on it.
Maybe I can do Magic and still be Chloe. Er, Zoe.
As I walk through the neighborhood for one of me and Nell’s ten-minute-max walks, I spot Mr. McGillicuddy kicking his ancient Oldsmobile. The thing is notorious for breaking down on him on a daily basis. He’s a nice old man. He’s helped me out several times when Will and Cameron weren’t around. So I decide to help him by giving him a new engine. And it feels awesome, just incredibly awesome to help somebody out and know that I didn’t kill anyone or destroy anything.
I gave an old man the means to go visit his Alzheimer-afflicted wife in a nearby nursing home without having to pay for a taxi.
Maybe I can do this after all.