“That sounds bad,” Brendan groaned. “That sounds really awful.”
Greenleaf finished his cafe au lait and placed the bowl lightly on the tabletop. “Come, come! You have no need to worry, Brendan. I’m sure you will pass the tests with flying colours, once we get past the mental block you seem to be building for yourself. I must admit, I’ve never seen anything quite like it, and I’ve had my fair share of pupils.”
Brendan slumped forward, his elbows on the table and his chin on his fists. “I can’t help it. Whenever I try to use my gifts, it’s like I can’t concentrate hard enough. Somehow, they don’t seem real to me. If I hadn’t done that thing with the tree today, I’d think I didn’t have any abilities at all.”
“I’m sure we can overcome this obstacle.” Greenleaf smiled. “You are a most extraordinary and sensitive person. That is both your strength and your weakness. You think too much about what you are doing and how it will affect others. At this point in your training, you should worry only about yourself.”
“Things would be a lot easier if you weren’t around those Humans you call your family,” Kim pointed out.
“Well, I’m staying with them and that’s just the way it is,” Brendan snapped. “They are my family. I don’t care if they’re Human or Faerie or monkey. They’re mine, so get used to that.”
Brendan’s Human family was always a bone of contention. His father and mother had adopted him as a baby, thinking he was no different from any other infant. They’d raised him and loved him as their own. Though he’d come to learn they weren’t his real parents and he wasn’t Human at all, they still held the place in his heart that true parents should. Many Fair Folk insisted that he cast them aside, but he refused. Although trying to live in two worlds was difficult and perhaps ultimately impossible, he loved his family and couldn’t leave them behind-even his sister, Delia, who made his life a constant trial.
“Peace, please.” Greenleaf raised his delicate hands in a placating gesture. “Ki-Mata, we must respect Brendan’s wishes and his choices. If Ariel allows it… well, let’s just say he’s wiser than either of us can ever hope to be.”
Kim leaned back until her chair bumped against the wall. Crossing her arms, she chose not to reply. Brendan glared at her. She glared back.
“I know what Ki-Mata said is distasteful to you, but she does have a point, Brendan,” Greenleaf continued. “You face challenges that most Faeries have never had to deal with. Most Faerie children grow up knowing of their powers and exercising them daily. Their powers are second nature to them by the time their initiation ceremony comes around. Yours, however, were suppressed by powerful magic. Your father made sure you would seem in every way to be Human, and so you are unfamiliar with the very essence of yourself. That’s a large mountain to climb.”
“Can’t I just wait until the next Clan Gathering?” Brendan asked hopefully. “By then, I’m sure I’ll have everything under control. I’ll totally kick ass in the tests.”
“Sadly, that’s not an option. The Council would not bend on their ruling. The Proving will take place at the coming Gathering. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”
“We hope,” Kim said softly.
Brendan felt his stomach sink. “Thanks for that. You really know how to make me feel good.”
Kim winced. “I’m sorry. I’m just worried about… ”
Suddenly, the tabletop jumped as something struck it from below. The cups rattled with another impact.
“What the… ” Brendan began.
A streak of light shot out from under the table. BLT corkscrewed into the air like a miniature stunt plane, smashing into a hanging plant and setting it swinging wildly.
“BLT, stop that!” Brendan cried. “Have you been eating sugar?”
“Found a couple of chocolate chips under the TAAAA-BLE!” BLT shrieked happily as she dive-bombed table after table.
“That’s all I need,” Brendan groaned.
^ 23 One good thing about being a Faerie was that Brendan could alter his Human guise. It was better than Clearasil!
^ 24 Please, unless you are a Faerie, do not yell at trees. One: people will think you are odd. Two: they are very hard of hearing. You’ll end up with a sore throat. Three: if you do manage to get their attention, they’ll talk endlessly about itchy bark and acorn fungus. Bo-ring.
^ 25 In Book One, Brendan had a strange experience with a large black rock that graced the front lawn of Lord Lansdowne School. He swore he could hear the rock snoring, hence his name for it, the Snoring Rock. I hope you are reading these footnotes as there may be a quiz later.
^ 26 A state of being neglected or simply left awaiting some kind of decision. Not a dance involving a bamboo stick and a bongo drum (although limbo dancing can be agonizing).
HOME LIFE
By the time Brendan took the streetcar along College and arrived back home, it was already past three. He’d had to wait while BLT came down off her sugar high and passed out. She’d slept in his jacket pocket all the way home. He trudged up the steps and reached for the door handle.
“So, this is where you live?”
“Whhaa?” Brendan leapt like a scalded cat.
Charles was sitting in a wicker chair on the front porch. Brendan’s father hadn’t gotten around to taking the chairs down to the basement for the winter. She was curled up, her legs tucked under her, watching him. Her big violet eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled.
“It’s a cute little house,” Charlie said. “I like it.”
“What are you doing here?” Brendan demanded. “This is my family’s house. It’s off limits.”
“I just wanted to talk to you again. See if you’d changed your mind about being such a stick in the mud.”
“Well, I haven’t. So buzz off.”
“You are a very rude boy.”
For some reason, being called a boy was extremely irritating. He glared at her, summoning his will, and said, slowly and clearly, “Leave me alone.”
She stiffened. Moving jerkily like a broken puppet or a faulty robot, she stood, tottered across the porch, and stumped down the steps.
Brendan sighed with relief. He’d done it! He’d Compelled her!
No sooner had he thought that than she laughed and did a little jig at the bottom of the steps. “Nice try! You’ve got some power, I’ll admit that.” She smiled and curtseyed prettily, holding out the edges of an invisible dress. “I’ll go, then. But I’m not giving up. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” With a little wave and a wink, she headed off up Montrose Avenue.
Brendan grunted, annoyed and disappointed. He had to admit that he was a little glad his Compulsion hadn’t worked. He didn’t like having that kind of control over other people. After what he’d unwittingly done to Chester… He shuddered at the memory. He pushed the thought from his mind and entered the warmth of the house.
“Brendan? Is that you?” his mother’s voice called from the kitchen. She stuck her head around the door. “Where have you been? Dmitri and Harold waited for you for an hour.”
Brendan’s stomach sank. “Oh no! I forgot.” He’d invited his friends over to work on their social studies presentation. It had completely slipped his mind. There’s another reason for your friends to hate you. Shaking his head, he kicked his shoes off and hung his jacket on a hook. He’d have to call them and apologize.
“Do you want a snack or something?” his mother asked.
“Not really,” Brendan answered, entering the kitchen. His senses were flooded with the rich scent of fresh bread. His mother was baking, as she did every Saturday afternoon. He ruefully remembered using her baking as a bribe to get the guys to come over. What an idiot.
Brendan loved her bread, so she made sure she baked plenty to last through the week. She also made muffins and cookies for Delia’s and Brendan’s lunches. She loved to bake: it was her way of unwinding after the week at the office. She was a promotions and events manager at an advertising firm. She was always rushed and under pressure. “Baking takes time. You’re forced to move slowly and carefully. I need that in my life,” she often explained as she churned batter or greased a pan.