Fangirl

As I staggered down the steep road, trying to hold on to the wind-whipped hem of my robe, I couldn’t help but think about what Martha had told. To say that I was surprised was to say nothing — I was shocked! The strange girl, in the minds of everyone, I had noticed on the first day. It was impossible not to notice her. She was tall enough, built like a teenager — though eighteen then — she had a perfectly straight posture, as if she had swallowed a pointer — so they sometimes joked about her; sharp shoulders, completely devoid of girlish slope, long neck, and a pale oval face on which almost black eyes were burning. It was only after a while that I caught myself thinking that I couldn’t see any other features. Her eyes attracted me with that irresistible force of the abyss when you can’t help but look down. I could stare at them intermittently. In the first year, especially at the beginning of the study, everyone was watching each other very carefully — looking closely, choosing friends and circle to stay in. They were deciding who would get the status of the outcast. I wasn’t too surprised when Marta was chosen. Not only was her appearance unusual — her height, build, and pallor were immediately noticeable — but there were other sophisticated features as well. Her dark hair, barely touched by the bronze burned on the top of her head, was worth mentioning. It was thick and unruly, as if it covered the girl with a half-folded veil. She wore her uniform as some of our female professors, those who had devoted themselves to science and therefore had neither a refined appearance nor a family. Only she was not a blue-stocking yet — her age was too young to bury her private life — but one could not but admit that she had every chance of joining their ranks in the future. Besides, such women were always passionate about something important, be it magic, politics, science. I didn’t see any inclination in Martha. Her results in studies and magic were always average and she didn’t seem to be interested in anything in particular. At least, I didn’t see any enthusiasm in her classes or fervor for the other hobbies. But I did notice something. I noticed that she was secretly watching me when she thought I wasn’t looking. It was like that for all three years, and then at the beginning of the fourth, she let herself touch me. I was shocked, because I used to think we existed in different realities. Now, after talking to her, I could definitely say that she did have an inclination. And not just an inclination, but a huge manic addiction, no, obsession. On me! Once I was down the slope, I cursed as sharp arrows of rain poured down. A few fallen tips, as if dropped from a celestial quiver, shattered on the swirling dust; a few moments more, and a downpour began. I didn’t wait for the sky waterfalls and immediately turned to the side of the road. I ducked into the undergrowth, behind the trunk of an old, gnarled ash tree that grew a few feet from the road, snuggled up against the trunk, and pulled my hood tighter, intending to wait out the storm in the shelter before returning to the academy. It was raining. At times the pressure was weak, as if someone invisible, who had unleashed a heavenly punishment on us, took a long deep breath and then again emitted streams of water on the ground. I considered taking a chance and trying to run to the academy door in one of these rainstorms, but I desperately didn’t want to catch a cold. A runny nose, cough, and weakness — what a nasty thing. It was better to work on my own patience and wait it out. Alas, as an airbender, I didn’t have much advantage in this weather, and my potential was below average, which I was careful not to draw attention to. I couldn’t even stop the draught on my spell, and it was getting to my knees! In one of those gaps I heard heavy, squelching footsteps, and almost immediately I saw a figure hopping down the slope. Martha was walking briskly forward, driven by the incline and seemingly in a good mood. She smiled and waved her arms in time with her steps, and seemed to be humming something to herself. The rain didn’t bother her a bit. And if I could be accused of carelessness, for I had not taken my umbrella, even as I saw the inclement weather coming, she had not, I had no doubt, thought of taking one. She also didn’t wear warm boots or a cape, walking in shoes and a dress all year round. Only fire mages could afford that. And strong enough, because the resource was not infinite, as well as the strain of physical strength. If you exhausted yourself, you could get sick for a long time, so many people preferred to make do with clothing. Martha’s behavior was again blamed on her oddness and eccentricity, for she had never demonstrated any outstanding abilities. Everyone just assumed that the crazy girl was playing with her own resource, wasting it on pathetic things. The girl abruptly changed direction at the turn, making me wince. Her hair swept to the side, and the vapor that had enveloped her in a cloud clung to her shoulders, turning her into a smoky cloak. She looked like a creature of darkness, a visitor from the underside of the world. Creepy. I thought, feeling goosebumps run down my spine. I arrived at the gazebo before the appointed time. I knew she was already there — the wind had brought the news. I didn’t hurry to go up, watching from the road below, where I could see a part of the wooden structure and the girl with her head down on her hands, looking into the distance. It seemed to me that the weather did not frighten her at all. Still, I hesitated to show up. I waited, and only then I went up to the gazebo. She turned, and behind her the lightning flashed dazzlingly, making the dark figure stand out more clearly and blinding me for a moment. I couldn’t see her face — the torches weren’t lit. I felt uncomfortable. I decided to talk myself, but at this point I would have gladly run away. Still… Still, I was curious and started this conversation. Perhaps there was nothing surprising about the girl who had a crush on me — there were plenty of them during these years, but their silly dreams about what kind of prince I was had nothing to do with reality. Rather, it was customary to choose a handsome object of adoration, so that there was something to discuss with friends, beating the wind infinitly. In fact, we all didn’t know that much about each other to rely on our judgment. After all, everyone was always trying to hide their shortcomings and emphasize the advantages. And the only people we loved in these fictional love stories were ourselves. Suffering, weeping, killing ourselves, putting ourselves in the middle of the picture: either overjoyed or hopelessly crushed — everything always revolved around our own feelings, not the feelings of the one we thought our attention was directed to. For this reason, I’ve never had a relationship with anyone. Flirted a little for the sake of appearances, but that was the end of my intentions. People found my behavior charming and mysterious, assigning me the image of an inaccessible heartbreaker. Girls seriously besieged me, bringing more discomfort and annoyance into my life. It was all too banal and boring, and therefore completely uninteresting. What Martha had done — first warming my hand and then nailing up the windows — was a little at variance with the picture of falling in love that I was accustomed to see in girls. Sighs, long glances, notes, perhaps unsigned, crumpled to the point of unseemly invitations to the winter ball dance, were all that the girls despaired of. They were so worried about their own heart rates and crimson cheeks, however, that they didn’t notice anything around them. Hardly anyone paid any attention at all to each other’s real inconveniences, difficulties, or problems, and even less could hope that anyone would decide to pick up on them. And I’d be lying if I said it was the only thing that made me talk to Martha. I was amazed at the courage of a outcast who had decided to act after so many years of being invisible. After all, I could push back and ridicule. I could have publicly outed the one who had nailed up the windows and then she would have looked not just weird, but wild. Except now, after the conversation, I seriously doubted she cared what the people around her thought. Yeah, and taking my reasoning one step further, I’d have to admit that having considered me well enough, she knew for a fact that I wouldn’t do that. I exhaled, giving up, and leaned my forehead against the trunk of the tree, pulling in the scent of damp earth and long-dead leaves that wafted through the air — a wonderful smell. It was no match for the nasty, sweet perfumes of girls. As an airbender, I was particularly sensitive to scents. The thing was, I needed to find out what was on her mind. How she decided to do something new and quite daring, after so many years of silent adoration. Yes, of course I couldn’t help but see her transfixed look over the years — my friends had noticed it too, joking about it. I was much more concerned with some of the other strange things that sometimes happened around me. Like everyone else, I had minor troubles, but they were always successfully resolved without my effort. I lost mail from the capital and then suddenly found it. There was a misunderstanding with a neighbor, and suddenly he was luckily moved. There were not enough textbooks in the library — I was late for the beginning of the second year — and then the books were given, saying that someone turned in unnecessary copies. The girls pestered me, but I never got poisoned by potions that were poured wherever I went, and, by some unknown coincidence, I never wore clothes that had been conjured up. There were plenty of such happy accidents and non-accidents on my list. And if at first I wrote everything off to luck, in time I had some doubts about it. However, there was no evidence that anyone had a hand in it. Except for one not-so-convincing point: even though my element was air, I had no problems with fire, problems that were obvious to others. Like any other student, I was required to pay attention to all elements and be able to use the required minimum of non-native ones. As for fire: I was supposed to be able to light candles and burners in the potions lab, to be able to light my way, and to be able to use the simplest and most necessary spells. I was only good at it in the classroom, in front of the professors. In my room, I was sweating to get a spark out of my fingers, and even that didn’t always work. I’d first suspected her about a year ago, but only yesterday I’d realized I wasn’t imagining it, and Martha was probably involved in some of the weirdness, if not all of it. Who asigned he to be my keeper, damn her spirits! — I cursed to myself. — She’s been silent for years! What’s worth it is her remark that the note is not signed. Me and my own words! But I’ll be damned if she said it to hurt me. No! There wasn’t an ounce of reproach or complaint in her disgustingly sharp remark. In her words I heard the intonation of an older and more experienced to a naive child… Who the hell did she think she was? I gritted my teeth. That mute endless adoration and such an attentive look at me. To me, not to herself. At the thought of it, I became agitated. And yet… And yet that was far from all that made me see her. There was a crack of twigs behind me. I turned around, expecting to see a beast and hoping I wouldn’t get caught by a dangerous predator. There was no one, only the rain drumming haphazardly against the vile greenery and… An umbrella. A long cane with a folded black cloak stood next to a dead tree stump a couple steps away from me. I froze, feeling everything trembling inside. ‘I know it’s you! Show yourself at once! ’ I demanded. From behind a nearby trunk, a shadow swayed silently, emerging only halfway out. It looked at me with one eye. ‘Spirits be damned! ’ I blurted out, feeling a cold fear somewhere in the middle of my chest. How had she got so close without making a sound? The branches crunched just to draw my attention to the damn umbrella. And when did she notice me? When she was coming downstairs, but didn’t let on? Without feeling my legs, I clumsily scurried away. I ducked out onto the road and ran like nuts. She scared me to my knees. To the point of shaking. To cardiac arrest! And that was the main and primary reason I wanted to talk to her so badly. All these years. She drew me in like a story weaving through a dark room in a quiet whisper; like a corner in a darkened corridor that you’d be tempted to peek around even if your hair stood on end; like a black spider hanging over your bed; like the echoes of deep dungeons. She frightened me with her mere presence, and because of that, she was never an empty space. For me. Strange? Perphaps. Probably because I was a little strange myself, it’s just that no one noticed. Except her, I guess.