Spellweaver (3 page)

She didn’t know how
she was going to get through the rest of the school year. If this
one day tired her this much, how would she cope with the rest of
them? Still, she didn’t have much of a choice. Plenty of the
students at Greenfields skived off many of their lessons, but that
was the kind of behaviour that attracted attention, which was
exactly what Felicity wanted to avoid. In two years she would be
done with school - and then what? She supposed she would have to
get a job and find somewhere to live; her father was bound to want
her out of his flat as soon as she had enough money to stand on her
own two feet. She sighed and closed her eyes, wondering what the
future had in store for her.

She must have fallen
asleep then, because the next thing she knew her father was calling
her into the dining area for dinner. Through bleary eyes she saw
that he had laid the table, something that he had not done since
she had moved in; the usual practice was for her father to sit in
front of the television with his food on his knees, whilst his
daughter disappeared into her bedroom. Clearly the first day of
school was some kind of special occasion.

“I didn’t want to wake
you,” her father said when he saw her, and then he gestured to the
table. “I thought we could sit together. You know... talk about
your first day.”

Felicity sat at the
table somewhat warily; change unnerved her. Her father placed a
plate of food in front of her and then sat opposite her. “So? How
did it go?”

Felicity shrugged as
she picked up her knife and fork. “It was okay.”

“Did you get any
homework?”

“No.”

“Did you make any
friends?”

She looked at him. “I
think so.”

“Good, good. That’s...
good.”

Silence reclaimed the
table after its momentary absence. Felicity pushed her carrots
around on her plate with her fork. “I got invited out somewhere,”
she said hesitantly.

Her father raised his
eyebrows in surprise. “Really? Where?”

“A club,” Felicity
replied. “The Talk.”

He frowned. “Yeah,
I’ve heard of it. I’d, uh, I’d rather you didn’t go
there.”

Felicity shrugged her
shoulders.

Dinner was concluded
not long after. As her father cleared the table and started the
washing up, he said one last thing to her before she retreated to
her bedroom.

“There’s a package on
the sofa for you. I collected it from the police. It’s, uh... your
mum’s things. The things she had on her when...” He stopped.
“Anyway... they’re yours now.”

Felicity had frozen as
soon as the word ‘police’ was mentioned, for she knew what he was
going to say. Her mother’s belongings had been kept at the station
ever since the car accident. She had been told they were evidence
to be used whilst the police investigated the incident. She didn’t
really know why they needed to look into it at all - a car accident
was a car accident, as far as she understood it.

Her heart thudded in
her chest as she gripped the paper package and took it into her
room, unaware of her father’s gaze on her as she did so.

Felicity leaned on the
door as soon as she had closed it, letting out a long breath. She
clutched the package close to her chest, hearing the crinkling of
the paper and the bubble wrap beneath. Why did she feel so anxious?
It was just a bunch of old things that belonged to her mother, a
woman who had never placed sentimental value on
anything.

She held the package
in front of her, staring at the letters of her name written clearly
in bold, black marker pen. She turned it over and over in her
hands, slowly, as if inspecting every crease in the well handled
paper. She knew she was only delaying the inevitable. In spite of
her hesitation, she was going to open the package. But she was
afraid of how this act would make her feel. Upon opening the
package, would she just see... things? Items of no significance,
just trinkets that her mother happened to have had on her when she
died? Would Felicity be indifferent to them, proving that she had
never really known or even loved the woman who had given birth to
her?

And then there was the
alternative. Instead of meaningless things, would she see precious
items that clearly meant something? Would she become overwhelmed
and finally cry the tears that she had been so far unable to
muster? To feel close to her mother only after her death didn’t
seem like a good option, either; she didn’t know how she would
handle it.

At long last, Felicity
sat on the floor and tore open the package, tipping the contents
into a pile on the floor.

She inspected them
carefully. First, there was a small diary. It was very simple, with
a black cover and the numbers ‘2013’ printed in gold in the top
right corner. It wasn’t the kind of diary that one would write in
detail the events of their life, but rather the kind that contained
notes about meetings, appointments and special days. Upon flicking
through it Felicity found that her mother had written very little
in it at all. She hadn’t even bothered to fill in her personal
details on the first page - or Felicity’s birthday.

Putting the diary
aside, Felicity picked up the second item. It was a silver watch.
The circular clock face was made from mother of pearl, giving it a
pale pink tint. The bracelet was delicate and light; the watch was
very feminine, and Felicity thought it quite pretty. She put it
around her wrist, but it was clearly too loose and it slipped
straight off again.

The third and
penultimate item was a black stone. It had three sides; one of them
was curved, whilst the other two were flat. It was similar in size
and shape to a segment of orange. The flat sides were smooth and
shiny whilst the curved side had lines and patterns of some kind
etched into it. Felicity had no idea what it was.

Then she came to the
last item - a gold ring. It was nothing like anything Felicity had
seen in jewellery shops. It had quite a wide band that had many
intricate engravings all along its length. In the centre there was
a jewel of some kind, pale blue in colour; Felicity suspected it
was a sapphire. She slipped the ring on her finger and was
surprised to find that it was a perfect fit.

As she looked at the
ring, it occurred to Felicity that she had seen none of these items
before. In fact, she couldn’t remember any of her mother’s pieces
of jewellery. She never dared to trespass into her mother’s
bedroom, and most of the time she was away at boarding school
anyway so never had the chance. But her mother had never shared
anything with her, or given her anything apart from Christmas and
birthday presents, and even those had stopped several years ago,
when her mother deemed her too old for such childish fancies.
Felicity had no idea what had been important to her mother, and now
she would never find out.

Out of the corner of
her eye, she saw the loose floorboard that she had tripped over so
many times. Her father had promised to fix it, but so far he hadn’t
found the time. Felicity didn’t give it much thought; it was his
home, not hers, so he could either fix things or not fix things at
his own leisure. The floorboard stuck out awkwardly, goading her to
walk in its direction and catch her toe on its protruding
edge.

Felicity didn’t know
what compelled her to do what she did next. Perhaps it was because
she didn’t know her father very well, or perhaps it was the
unsavoury nature of the neighbourhood and the flat’s exceedingly
poor security. Whatever it was, she felt a sudden urge to pull up
the floorboard and see how good a hiding place it was - and that
was exactly what she did.

The space beneath was
dark and airy. In the dust and dirt that had settled there,
Felicity found a five pence piece and a few scraps of paper, their
writings long since faded. As she peered into the gloom, she saw
that there was just enough space between the joists to place the
padded envelope and its precious contents. She did so carefully,
and when she was done she slid the board back into
place.

3.

School was somehow
easier the next day. Felicity suspected that overnight, her mind
had had time to process the vast menu of information that Hollie
had fed her the previous day. A good night’s sleep had rejuvenated
her. She was hoping that the ‘new girl’ novelty would wear off and
that she would cease to be the centre of attention, but Hollie had
been quite keen to become friends. Felicity, on the other hand,
didn’t think she really knew how to be friends, for no one had
taught her.

The first lesson of
the day was Science, and it appeared that Hollie was still excited
about Felicity, for now at least. The two of them shuffled together
to begin an experiment involving Bunsen burners but before Hollie
could call to two of her regular companions, Jamie and another boy
sailed over to them.

“And that makes a
group of four,” Jamie said somewhat triumphantly.

“Are you serious?”
Hollie exclaimed. “No way! Find your own loser friends to play
scientist with.”

“I would, but alas, it
seems as though every group is full,” Jamie said with a smile.
“Plus it looks as though your little posse has banded together
without you.”

Hollie turned; it was
true. Her friends had made groups of their own, and the teacher’s
instructions had said only four to each group.

“Well... I’ll do you a
favour this time,” she muttered, defeated, and then she turned her
attention to Jamie’s companion. “And who’s this? I’ve never seen
you before. Are you that new guy?”

“Indeed,” Jamie said
with a nod. “Looks like I got myself a buddy, too. This is Oliver.
It’s his first day here.”

Oliver nodded to the
two girls, but he didn’t smile and he said nothing. These actions
clearly impressed Hollie, who regarded him with an overly keen
interest that manifested itself in her smile.

She leaned over to
Felicity. “Oh em gee,” she whispered. “He’s an absolute dream,
don’t you think?”

Felicity looked at
Oliver. His skin was quite pale, his dark hair hung around his
face, and his eyes were brown. Beyond that, she couldn’t really see
much, and had no idea what qualified as a ‘dream’.

Not knowing how to
respond, she shrugged awkwardly. “Yeah, I suppose...”

“You don’t think so?”
Hollie asked, surprised. “He’s gorge. And so... mysterious. Well,
if you’re not interested, you’ll leave him for me,
right?”

“Uh...
yeah.”

“Thanks, Fliss,”
Hollie replied with genuine gratitude, and then she stood, picked
up her stool and moved it beside Oliver, introducing herself
immediately.

“So Fliss,” Jamie said
to Felicity as he struck a match to light the Bunsen burner. “How
was your first day? I hope my sister didn’t bore you to death with
her incessant rambling.”

Felicity glanced over
at Hollie. She had managed to use her charm on the unsuspecting new
boy and the two of them were fully immersed in the Science textbook
in front of them - or at least, that was how it looked. Hollie
clearly had some flirtatious plan in mind.

“It was fine,” she
replied as she handled the chemicals for the experiment.

“Oh come on, be
honest,” Jamie said. “Hollie told me you used to go to boarding
school.”

Felicity was
surprised. “Hollie told you?”

“That’s right.” Jamie
looked at his sister. “Social etiquette doesn’t permit her to be
too nice to me in public, but outside school she’s as nice as
anything. Both our parents would kill her otherwise. But don’t
worry,” he added with a laugh. “I’m fine with it. Nothing Hollie
could possibly say could do me any damage.”

Felicity smiled
slightly, feeling as though that was expected of her.

“So how does
Greenfields compare to your boarding school, then?” Jamie
asked.

“Oh, it’s...” Felicity
paused. “It’s smaller.”

“Smaller?” Jamie
looked surprised, as if he had expected something more.

“Yes,” Felicity said
with a nod. “Smaller.”

“Right. Uh, smaller.”
Jamie stared for a second, and then decided to change the subject.
“Hollie also said that your parents are divorced. Did she give you
her empathy speech? She loves that one. I swear she’s just doing it
to give herself the best chance at being Head Girl next year.” He
smiled wryly. “We’ve only just started year 10 and she’s already
thinking about her popularity in year 11. Typical.”

Felicity didn’t reply.
Jamie regarded her with a mixture of confusion and interest as he
waited for her to play her part in the conversation, but Felicity
said nothing and squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. At last he
spoke again.

“You know, you’re
doing that wrong.”

“What?”

Jamie pointed with his
pen. “The chemicals. It’s meant to be ten mil of hydrochloric acid,
not twenty.”

Surprised, Felicity
quickly pulled the beaker away from the Bunsen burner.

"Sorry," she
muttered.

"No problem," Jamie
said. "Easy mistake to make. Here, why don't you let me do
that?"