Fangirl

The next day I hurried back to the library. I found Martha in the small hall. She saw me, froze for a moment, waiting to see what I would do. ‘Hi.’ ‘Hi.’ Her attentive gaze slid over my figure. Spirits! I shouldn't have worn a new shirt. I hurried to divert her attention from my appearance and the blush that seemed to be appearing. ‘Would you mind working in the common room? The air in here is stale, I can't breathe.’ Martha didn't answer right away, and I got nervous. Would she say no? Yesterday I thought she still liked me. Her touch, her words, her look. I couldn't believe her obsession had evaporated so quickly. The girl nodded and started gathering her things. I took her logbooks from the table, put them on top of mine, and hurried to the common room. We occupied the same table as the day before. I tried not to show my excitement, so I waited for a while, mindlessly checking the dates. Finally I made conversation. ‘Martha.’ The girl looked up, and I swallowed. ‘I was wondering if you could recommend me a good book on simple fire spells. I want to try something else.’ ‘Just a second.’ With those words she got up and disappeared behind the bookshelves. When she returned, she was carrying a couple of books in her hands. ‘Here are the spells.’ She lifted a small book with a purple imprinted cover. ‘You can try any of them, and you don't have to follow the order. And this.’ She pushed a book with a faded yellow cover toward me. ‘A bit of theory and reasoning about the fire element. I'd suggest you start with this one. I find this author's explanations the most accessible, but that's not even the point, he has the right perspective on fire.’ ‘Is he a firebender?’ ‘Funny, but no. His native element is air, just like yours.’ ‘That's unusual.’ ‘At first glance, I suppose. Not many people know that fire magic is best practised by airbenders when it comes to non-native elements.’ ‘Really? I've never heard of it.’ Martha nodded. ‘There is nothing special abou it. Fire without air is impossible. A second element is necessary for fire to ignite. So fire and air belong to complementary ones.’ I nodded. This I knew, but I had never pondered over a well-known fact. ‘So I wasn't too surprised to come across a good explanation about fire written by an airbender.’ ‘It's great. I will definitely read it. Thank you!’ I smiled, feeling truly grateful. This help may not have seemed huge, but it was valuable. Not only was it for the first time in over three years that I didn't have to worry about exam on fire - I admit it always made me nervous - but I had learned the spell almost instantly, and I certainly wanted to consolidate the results. Up to this point, my efforts had been useless. My family tried but failed to help me. Then there was a year of extra classes with academy professor. Futile as well. My friends volunteered to help me, alsa, with the same result. Martha smiled back. Something shuddered in me chest. ‘Do you still like me?’ Martha seemed surprised at this change of subject. I was embarrassed by my own words. ‘What answer do you want to hear?’ ‘An honest one, of course.’ What kind of question? ‘Yes.’ Martha answered, and I exhaled a little more freely, but she continued. ‘I understand that you're uncomfortable about it, and I'm trying to keep myself in hands.’ Do what? Is that why she stopped looking at me? ‘I'm not uncomfortable.’ I said hurriedly. Then realized what I'd said, got embarrassed, and lowered my gaze to the logbooks. I took the quill out of the inkwell and pretended I was going to write. A greasy drop came off the tip, staining the paper. Oh, spirits! ‘You can keep looking if you want.’ I said. We didn't speak again that day. We worked on the notes in complete silence, each of us was thinking about something. *** The next week started as usual. I was a little nervous walking into the Artifacting classroom. The students were yawning and taking seats, Martha wasn't there yet. When she walked in, the first thing she did - as she always did before our conversation in the gazebo - was to look me over and then walk to her seat. I exhaled. It was just like before. ‘Are you sleeping again?’ ‘What?’ I didn't understand my friend's question. ‘You look happy.’ ‘Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I don't have insomnia anymore.’ ‘That's good. Have you asked anyone to the winter ball yet?’ I cringed. ‘Come on, what a sour face.’ Maxim was having fun at my expense. He knew perfectly well that it was an unpleasant duty for me, which I literally endured year after year. Not wanting to provoke idiotic questions, it was always easier for me to suffer some obedience, to fulfill a duty, and forget about it. The exact same attitude I had toward the annual event. The academy threw a lavish ball: dancing, a buffet, and congratulations of all kinds. Students came together, less often alone. It looked pathetic to come by yourself, so everyone was anxious to have company for the day. In my case, things looked a little different. I was unwilling to give false hopes and never asked a girl out twice. Others considered me a womanizer, but I simply wasn't going to get into trouble, and that's what a relationship with a girl promised. ‘So, have you decided who you're going to ask?’ Maxim knew about my position, but he thought I was fooling around. ‘They’ My friend meant the girls. ‘...look at you like wolves.’ That's for sure. I had to do something soon. *** Over the next week, I fully experienced the power of female persistence. Girls besieged me in the classrooms, the dining room, the passages, and now I had just got rid of one who was waiting for me at the door of the common living room of the men's quarters. I made sure that the lock was securely guarding my room from unnecessary intrusion. Only then did I make my way to the desk by the window and sank heavily into the chair. Outside, the blizzard was howling, with the wind scraping small ice crystals against the glass. The patterns thickly covered the smooth surface, hiding the frosty forest outside the window. The heavy, impenetrable night was finishing off the remnants of the blue twilight. The next morning, I was hanging around in front of the staircase on purpose. It connected all parts of the academy, including the girls quarters; from here they left the wing to go down to the classrooms. When Martha appeared on the stairs, I caught up with her and rubbed her shoulder, just lightly, to get her attention; she paused, and I slipped a note into her pocket. In the note I asked to meet in the library, in the small hall, during the big break. I signed it. She came. The hall was empty - everyone was at lunch. ‘Hi.’ I hurried to start the conversation before my courage left me. ‘Hi.’ I couldn't read anything on Martha's face, as usual. ‘I'd like to ask you,’ My voice sounded a little higher than usual, and it was terribly annoying. ‘... would you like to go to the winter ball with me?’ I'm done. A mountain fell from my shoulders. All the night before, I'd been practising this one phrase. In fact, it was always me who was invited, and I was just saying: ‘yes’, ‘okay’, ‘I'd love to.’ It turned out to be harder than it looked at a first glance. Not just saying it, but appearing calm and confident. ‘No.’ Martha answered firmly. I opened my mouth in surprise, immediately felt shy for my overt reaction: she saw that I hadn't expected rejection and was now dumbfounded. I was embarrassed, my cheeks instantly flushed. ‘Okay.’ I shoved my hand into my pocket, rubbed my neck with the other, and tried to dodge her gaze. ‘I need to go. Bye.’ I flew out of the small hall like a gust of wind. My face was burning. I was angry. Why not? Why didn't I ask for the reason? Spirits! I just... just... I couldn't think of a good word to scold myself. I've always been a focused, calculating, rational thinker, not a rash one. What's wrong now? In fact, I already knew the answer to this question, but I was not yet ready to admit it to myself. And I didn't understand how Martha always managed to keep her temper in check. I'd always thought of feelings as a weakness, a sort of dependence on others. Vulnerability to everyone and lack of control. But Martha acted as if she were a head above my own ineptitude, even though she herself had frankly admitted iher feelings to me. And all those years of silent adoration were proof of that. I saw her glances, caught the echoes of feelings directed to me. I believed them to be genuine. So how could she keep her cool? I was angry with Martha. I hadn't even got to the empty room - the next class was to be held there, and there was no reason to show up for lunch when I was in such a state of turmoil - as I was already kicking myself for thinking that Martha must have felt obligated to say yes to my invitation because of her feelings. Who was I after that? I felt like a pathetic, superficial, shallow, cowardly womanizer who resented rejection. I stopped being angry with Martha. I was angry with myself.