SHE could not do anything. Not even grab her friend's pinafore when she suddenly fell. She could only hear the thud of her body, the shock of her classmates and her twin cries. Her body froze. Her mind kept on repeating Stella's quivering voice. It was her fault yet it was her responsibility to do so.
Owen landed smoothly in front of Stella. His gaze wandered to her. Dark and full of anger as if he was blaming her for something that she should not do. She hated it. She was not supposed to feel this way more so to be blamed on. She is a courageous woman who could face the fate even if it meant that she had to die.
Because she is Jacqueline Wisdoms.
Slowly she inhaled and gathered her lost spirits. She needs to be recovered so that Stella could recover. Even when she no longer holding Stella's wrist, she could sense Stella's lingering magical footprint. It was a faint light yet it was what she expected. He expected.
She had succeeded as per his instructions.
"Jacq," her name was called firmly and coldly. She hated it.
"Yes," she answered as she turned to look at the instructor's face. He was handsome when she first met him. Somehow and somewhere, that face had turned grim and angry.
He was crouching beside Stella, whose head was laid on Citra's lap.
"Give me the note." He held out his hand to her.
Her hand instantly searched for the note that Stella gave to her. Then she stopped. "What do you want to do with it?"
His eyebrow furrowed. "Just give the damn paper, Wisdoms," he scolded her and everyone was starring at them.
She hated it and confused. They had zero close interaction ever since the last month they met at the café in the plaza. So why was he mad at her? Scolded her like her existence there was wrong! More baffling was that even when he scolded her, he never really looked at her.
Owen sighed heavily. "She needs to be treated. You've done your part and now I'm doing my part. So, the paper now," he instructed her.
Jacq looked at the side of his head then towards her twin Jill. He looked furious, maybe because of how Owen treated her but he managed to control his anger in front of Donne and Citra. Those two looked like a lost lamb in their midst.
"Give him," he mouthed. It was because the intended of the letter had changed from her family name to his and the content had become as white as new. That was the reason why she and Jill had such a long discussion. They concluded that Owen is one of them.
Begrudgingly, Jacq handed him the paper.
Owen read the paper in one flash then he tore it into half. He crumpled each half of the paper in both of his hands while he closed his eyes and enchanted a spell in a foreign language. It was the Surka's tongue.
Then the crumpled paper went poof in his hand and turned to a cloud of glittery dust which Owen sprinkled it on top of Stella's body. Last, he clapped his hand once then twice.
Slowly, Stella's body faded into the thin air. She had been transported to wherever the spell intended to. Surka culture of magic was very delicate but they love big gestures. To manage to pull one was admirable. All the more reason for her to hate him.
"What the!" Citra gasped.
"Where she went?" Donne panicked.
"Enough demo kids. Now it's your turn to show me how much of progress your imagining is. Take a stance in the frontcourt. Punishment for dawdlers. In five!"
All ran for their life. Included her.
Owen Jefferson was famous for punishment. Military punishment and her list of hatred for Owen grew one box after another.
*****
STELLA was climbing a tree. Enthusiastically. A big smile formed on her lips. Below her brother was frantically calling out to her to climb down. He was worried that she might fall. But such worries were for naught, as she continued to climb high and higher. Her adrenaline was punching fast and her excitement fuels her feet and hands pushing her to the next limit.
"What kind of girl climbing trees like a monkey?" she heard her father talking.
"I am a monkey," she retorted.
"Then what kind of things should a girl do, dear husband?" her mother called with both her hands on her hips.
"No honey, she'll fall," her father defended himself.
"You'll catch her. Jilly's here too. Aren't that what boys supposed to do in this house?" she beckoned her son to come near. A warm wide smile pasted on her face.
Xavier Wisdoms once again defeated by his wife's witty charm.
From above, Stella could saw the picture of a lovely family. She is part of that family. The source of her life.
Yet, impending darkness loomed behind her mother. It was so dark that her shadows blended with it and it seeped through her dress and into her skin. Slowly her body melted and her surroundings turned grey. Heavy rain fell creating puddles everywhere.
"No!" Stella screamed.
"No!" she wanted to jump. Her feet were readied to jump from that height but there was a force holding her. A dark shadowy hand grasping her ankle. Her adrenaline punching faster again. But it did not give her the same output as earlier. This time it made her wilted and small. She wanted to cry. She wanted her mother to come and save her.
"Please, help me."
STELLA opened her eyes. Her body was heaving. Sweat ran down her neck making the pillowcase the below her damp. Carefully, she rose from the bed and adjusting her position. She wiped the remaining sweat on her forehead and her cheeks. She stopped.
Her eyes were sweating? No, she cried.
Why?
"Nightmare?"
Her head zapped to the voice. A man carrying a tray of steaming mug. He looked comfortable in his white loose shirt and brown coloured straight trousers compared to the first time she saw him in the lecture hall last week.
"What?" The word stumbled out of her mouth. Was what she dreamt just now called a nightmare?
Usually, when she sleeps, she saw grey coloured images and flashes. Although this dream was in grey, it was fully complete moving images and voices.
Professor York put the mug on the bedside table while the tray remained on one of his hands. He took a place at the end of the bed. "It's okay now. Drink while it's still warm," he said.
She took the warm mug beside her then she saw the place she was in. The room was warm coloured coded. There was a small fireplace burned with a small fire.
Three small windows lined behind a large oaked desk, and two cabinets full of books and photo frames sat side by side of the window. There was also a small closet room filled with a cleaning supply and a down jacket hanging on the door. Lastly, a parade of wedding photos from every generation framed in front of her.
"It's my office if you're wondering," he offered.
Stella nodded. How was she able to be in the director of the institute room and why?
"I was told that you're a curios child and I guess they forget to tell me that you're not good with strangers." He chuckled. His words and voice were gentle. Stella could sense that he was genuine with her. Maybe the man she saw in that hall was a farce, same like that man.
A series of memories were entering her brain and it slapped her awake. She was supposed to be in Owen's class and she had to confront him. But she...
"You fainted," said Professor York.
"I was," she acknowledged him.
He nodded.
"Supposedly Effan has to take care of you since you are his student but he had a class to take care of. So, this old man volunteered and help you recover," he told like he was talking about spinach with the local farmers.
She did not understand one bit of what this professor was talking about. Well, it was understandable for one reason and confusing for another. Moreover, the reason for her ailment was lost to her.
She took a sip of her milk. The drink was lukewarm.
What was happening to her? She was nothing like she ever behaved before. Her voice, her body, and her inner self. Like her world had turned upside down.
"It seems like you had a lot to think of," his voice breached her long thought.
"I should have thanked you sooner. Thank you," she offered. He cared for her while she lost consciousness. They should have sent her to the nurses' office.
He stood up.
"No, no," he insisted when Stella tried to stand up. "Rest more. At least, at least until Effan finishes his class."
"A little advice," he said while he turned towards one of the wedding photos.
"You're going to experience this problem again in the future. It will be a handful if it occurred multiple times. You might be interested in searching for assistance. One where you can depend on yourself. I think you must've heard or seen of this title; 'The Dancing Cat Journal'. I heard that your instructor has it."
Professor York left Stella to ponder alone.
He knew it.
He knew that she had been searching for that book. All those years she had dive herself in that big library, store hopping from one store to another and even asked favours from the military healers who came to her family apothecary... She will be able to see that book.