One thing Opal has taught me about magic is that emotion can heighten or hinder it. I’ve flown well two times in my life, and they were both very emotional moments. My overstimulation aided me in flight. It’s not a healthy way to use magic, though. Opal took a long break from witchcraft when she was depressed.
When magic is blue, it’s not for you.
A member of the Hidden Folk said that to me once. In the Grassmarket, back in Edinburgh.
I miss them. Murrey. Erica. Freddy.
It’s so lonely up here.
*
The sun is dazzling but cold today, as Opal leads me down to the water’s edge. I feel slightly nervy as we approach, but Marley is back at the house with Aunt Leanna. I don’t need to haul him to safety, should another creature from the deep attempt to steal him.
“They say in battle, your amour is more important than your weapon,” Opal says, as we stand with ten feet of ground between us, by the cold and quiet loch. “So, it’s time to cover shielding.”
I kick a pebble. “Can’t we start with blasting spells?”
“No.”
“You think lots of people will try to blast me?”
“Without a doubt. I’ve considered it three times today and it’s not even noon.”
She smiles softly after she says it, though. I do, too.
“Breathe with your diaphragm,” she says, once the moment has passed. “Concentrate. Connect with your core and trust your instincts.”
I move my stance. I push my feet into the earth. “Ready.”
She takes a moment and then there is a flash, too quick for me to even see it. It hits me and knocks me backwards. I curse and get back up, at once. I open my mouth, prickling at the embarrassment of it.
“Don’t make excuses,” she says swiftly, before I can speak. “Don’t be angry, just be better.”
“Fine,” I growl. “Do it again.”
She doesn’t wait this time, she throws a spell at me with rapid speed. I throw my hand up to push it away, the way you would if someone had thrown a tennis
ball at you. I only just catch the spell, redirecting it
but barely.
“All right,” Opal says. “An improvement.”
“Do it again,” I repeat. Determined. “Come on.”
We continue. When I react too quickly or try to outsmart her, I miss. The spell knocks me down. I get back up and try again. Another spell. Another fall.
If there is one thing I know, as a dyspraxic girl, it’s that staying down is not an option. People expect you to. They sometimes want you to. So, I always get back up. If I have to fail one hundred times, I will. I don’t care how many people see me do it. They’re going to see me succeed, too.
I hate when other people treat my learning difficulty as if it’s something to overcome, when it’s not. It’s part of my brain. The same brain that gives me all my gifts. No, it’s not being dyspraxic that I have to overcome. There is nothing wrong with that. It’s other people. The thing I have to overcome is them. Whoever “them” is. It often changes. Sometimes it’s the Sirens. Sometimes it’s a substitute teacher at school. Sometimes it’s my own parents.
Sometimes it’s me.
I always have an enemy to fight. So, I get back up.
Overcoming “them” has become my focus. The shape may shift, the object of my attention might differ, but I don’t stop. I can accept being an underdog, but I will never accept anyone treating me as anything less than anyone else.
“Hit me again,” I say, a little out of breath but steady on my feet. Opal considers me.
Then fires another spell.
This time I blast it back. It hits her square in the sternum and she stumbles a little before righting herself. I feel a flash of guilt before remembering that this is a training session.
She grins at me. “Good.”
I bend down to pick up my beret. It fell from my head with the power of the spell. I hold it thoughtfully for a moment before I put it on.
“It’s getting a little small for you,” Opal says quietly. “That beret.”
It’s the one he gave me. So long ago now. “It’s fine.”
She opens her mouth but says nothing, glancing out at the water instead. “He loved this place.”
I look up, hungry for more. “Grandpa?”
“Yeah. He loved the quiet. I think he could sense it, too. The magic. In his own way. He could feel how many creatures lurk about up here.”
I touch my beret. “Even if he couldn’t see them?”