Blazewrath Games Page 2

  Mom parks in Aunt Jenny’s driveway, which is as white as the people inside the two-story, ranch-style house. My boiled eggs and grilled-cheese sandwich breakfast makes its way up my throat. Time to pretend I’m enjoying Todd’s company while waiting to bail for my tryout. But pretending I’m enjoying Todd’s company while freaking out over Papi’s potential death at the hands of the Sire and the possibility that my Blazewrath career may end before it even starts?

  That’s pushing it.

  “Go on ahead and say hi to everybody,” I tell Mom. “Samira and I will bring the gifts.”

  Mom nods. “Perfect. See you girls inside.”

  Samira and I wait for her to disappear into the house. When she’s gone, I turn to Samira. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

  She cocks an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Tryouts are still on, right?”

  “Well, yeah, but Papi hasn’t gotten back to me, and his sanctuary might be attacked next.”

  “What can you do about your father not responding?”

  “Um … nothing?”

  “Exactly. Now tell me something you can do.”

  My spirits are in free fall. Still, I guess I should find a way to make it through this infernal birthday party and get to that meeting at the Ritz-Carlton. Whether the Cup gets canceled or not, the meeting’s still on. Tryouts will push me one step closer to my dream. I’m doing this for myself, but I can’t forget this is for Papi, too. For our country. I can’t let any of us down.

  “Go to tryouts,” I say firmly. “Do my best to make it onto the team.”

  “And we’re back in the game!” Samira pumps a fist in the air.

  I motion to her wand. “I’m getting you a new one.”

  She gasps, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. “You are?”

  “Yeah. You’re lending me your car. The least I can do is get you the fifth and last Copper wand you’ll ever break.” I give her a stern look. “Swear to me it’ll be the last one, Samira.”

  “But I’m telling you for real, I can get the Transport Charm under control.”

  “Samira.”

  She slouches with a sigh. “Fiiiiine. I swear.”

  “Thank you. Now come on. Mom must be dying from boredom.”

  We pile all six gifts one on top of another, agreeing that I should carry them inside. When Samira and I push past the front door, I regret my decision to leave the car. Gold streamers hang from the ceiling in intricate bows. The gold balloons are shaped like magic wands. The ridiculous things are littered all over the place. Even the carpet’s been decorated with a plaque-like banner that reads HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TODD! in gold letters. I’m sure there’s a wand-shaped vanilla cake with gold frosting in the fridge. The candles are bound to be wand-shaped, too.

  Todd Anderson, my oldest cousin on Mom’s side, is obsessed with magic. He’s not a wizard, though. None of my family members are. We’re just a bunch of non-magic users. Or Regulars, as the magical community calls us. Todd hasn’t gotten the memo yet. Nor does he understand he’s turning seventeen. This party looks fit for a toddler.

  “Jeez. Todd really likes himself a theme, huh?” Samira’s tucking what’s left of her Copper wand into the back of her jeans, trailing behind me.

  “You think?” I walk into the dining room, hoping Todd left in a space shuttle to Jupiter.

  Nope. The Boy King is standing next to my mother.

  “Samira! So great to see you!” Todd says with the biggest grin on his face. He rushes over to Samira, wrapping her in a tight hug. Todd’s gelled his nut-brown hair back today. He’s wearing newly ironed khakis, a royal-blue dress shirt, and a matching V-neck cardigan. His cardigan has the Aster Prep logo on it, which is a Silver wand resting inside an open book.

  This brat is going to a wand shop in an outfit that screams, “I attend an expensive private school with super-rich wizards and Regulars.” Samira and I go to a school that’s open to both wizards and Regulars, too, but Red Crown High is a public school. And I don’t pretend I’m a witch because I hang out with one.

  “Happy birthday, Todd!” Samira claps him on the back twice, but he won’t let go.

  I clear my throat. “Ahem.”

  Todd looks at me like he’s just noticed I’m here. “Good morning, Lana,” he says like he’s greeting the common folk of his kingdom. He unglues himself from Samira and points at the boxes. “Are those for me?”

  Oh no. These are for the Obamas. I’m sure they’ll be super excited to get socks.

  “Mm-hmm. Where should I leave them?”

  “Don’t worry. I got it.” Todd scoops the boxes into his lanky arms. He power walks to the living room and dumps his presents in the same corner where Aunt Jenny always puts her white pine Christmas tree. Then Todd sidles up to Samira as I say a quick hello to my aunt and little cousins by the pool area, thanking her repeatedly for setting up the private tour.

  “Oh, it’s not a problem,” says a flustered Samira. “It was actually Lana’s idea.”

  Todd dismisses her with a wave. “Either way, thank you.” His gaze finds me again. “How’s that personal statement essay for Harvard coming along?”

  “Great …” This isn’t the time to tell anyone I haven’t started writing that essay. What’s the point? I’m not going to college if I make it onto Team Puerto Rico. And if I don’t get picked, I’ll skip higher education for at least a year. There’s really nothing I want to study.

  “You’re so lucky, Lana,” says Todd. “Schools snatch up minorities like wildfire. Once they see you’re a Puerto Rican girl, your grades won’t matter. But hey, if you need any help with that essay, you know you can ask whenever.”

  I hide my clenched fists behind my back, but I smile like I’ve trained myself for the past twelve years. “Thanks, Todd.” The worst thing about being Puerto Rican with Todd as my relative is how often he reminds me I’m not like him. He acts like I’m family and a foreigner at the same time. As if it wasn’t already hard to abandon my country against my will, in this new one I have to endure condescending remarks from someone who shares my blood.

  I sigh in relief when Mom takes us back to her Buick. Todd’s arm is melting into Samira’s back. Her laugh is two octaves too high to seem genuine, but she’s giving me that “Don’t you worry about me” look, so I keep my mouth shut. Todd slides into the back seat with her.

  “Birthday Mode is officially on, ladies!” he says. “Let’s hit it!”

  I buckle up and take a quick peek at my phone. Papi is still MIA.

  Samira’s advice cocoons me while I suck in a shaky breath. I should focus on the plan. Phase one is almost over. Today I still might become Puerto Rico’s Runner.

  I just have to survive the Boy King first.

  SAMIRA’S RED COROLLA HIDES IN PLAIN SIGHT IN THE WAXBYRNE PARKING lot, six rows to the left of Mom’s Buick. Samira slips me her keys while Mom and Todd lead the way. I hide the keys in my jeans’ pocket. Samira quickens her pace to join a boring conversation about cravat patterns.

  We head toward a grass-covered plot in the shape of a hexagon. We’re smack dab in between the Naples Pier and Third Street South, where the only thing more stifling than the midday sun is the bustle at the Regular shops and restaurants. The Ritz-Carlton is a twenty-five-minute drive up north. It’s 11:00 a.m. right now. I can totally make it on time.

  A set of marble doors juts out of the grass. Waxbyrne’s entrance is similar to the stairs that lead to a subway station. And much like a subway station, our destination is down. Magic keeps the store’s underground network intact. It also prevents flooding and makes sure no harm is caused to sea life. I don’t know why Waxbyrne is underground, or why the entrance is shaped like a hexagon, but there are stranger things in the world.

  Mom turns to Todd. “Will the birthday boy do the honors?”

  Todd pretty much floats toward the doors. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

  Ugh, he’s acting like he’s never been to Waxbyrne. Regulars aren’t allowed into the shop on ou
r own, but Todd’s wizard friends have brought him a billion times, though he’s never taken part in their private wand-making tour.

  Todd reads the two buttons on the side panels. One is engraved with the word ENTRANCE while the other includes the International Symbol of Access for shoppers with movement disabilities. The doors are enchanted to reveal a different entrance depending on which button a shopper presses. He jams the first button a little too hard.

  Once the doors open from the inside, a gust of peppermint bark scent wraps all around me.

  This is the best part about Waxbyrne. It smells like winter-season candy.

  “Ladies first,” Todd says to Samira, waving her forward.

  “Why, thank you.” Samira hooks an arm around mine.

  We make our way down the steps together. Everything, even the walls, is built from the whitest marble. Not a single scratch or smudge on anything.

  I’m halfway down when a witch’s voice booms from invisible loudspeakers.

  “Welcome to Waxbyrne, the world’s premier wand shop! My name is Madame Waxbyrne, renowned wandmaker and owner of the greatest magical store in history. Whatever your magical skill level may be, we here at Waxbyrne have just the wand for you!”

  Madame Waxbyrne’s message plays on an endless loop.

  In the entrance hall, the scent of peppermint bark hits harder. I take a deep breath, wishing I could lick the air. The receptionist’s counter is dead ahead, with an elderly witch standing behind it and a younger wizard guarding the next set of doors.

  The wall on the right is unadorned except for a gigantic logo that reads WAXBYRNE, a cursive script underlined with a thick brushstroke. That’s supposed to be Madame Waxbyrne’s own handwriting. Not that she’s here to corroborate it. Waxbyrne is a chain of wand shops all over the world. It’s the only business with an official license to sell wands from the International Bureau of Magical Matters, but that doesn’t stop wannabes from cropping up in the streets.

  “Who the hell wants to watch this?” Todd glares at one of the TVs mounted on the left wall. Each is tuned to a different channel. Mostly reality shows, but Todd’s watching ESPN.

  The camera pans to the same lean, black-haired boy whom I have as my phone’s wallpaper.

  I press a hand to my chest. “Takeshi …”

  It’s a rerun of the “Disappearance of Takeshi Endo” 30 for 30 episode. The footage is from 2015. Outside the IBF building in Tokyo, twenty kids smile up at Takeshi. He wears jeans and a white jacket with the Japanese flag emblazoned on the front.

  Hikaru, the white Akarui dragon, is also smiling. His ivory feathered wings are tucked to his sides. Whenever he nods, the shorter crimson feathers atop his head ruffle a bit. He even pretends to blow kisses at Takeshi to make the kids laugh. Takeshi wraps up his speech to fervent applause, then the video cuts to him and Hikaru facing an off-camera interviewer.

  “What do you hope these children will learn today?” the reporter asks in English.

  Takeshi keeps rubbing Hikaru’s chin. “The importance of compassion,” he says in his gentle, kind voice. “It’s like my late father used to say: ‘We can make the choice to do good in this world, and no matter how impossible it seems, that’s the right choice.’”

  Todd sneers. “Focusing on this dragon vermin makes me sick.”

  I flinch. “What did you call Hikaru?”

  Todd gazes down at me like I’m vermin, too. “My magical-history teacher’s right. Mister Thompson says dragons and their riders have this … attitude. They think they’re above us. And those Dragon Knight morons actually worship them.” He shakes his head. “I don’t care how long they’ve been here or how powerful they are. They’re the worst.”

  Red bursts of light explode all around me. I can’t smell peppermint bark anymore. I can’t see anyone other than the wannabe wizard in his stupid Aster Prep cardigan. “You’re confusing the Sire with every other dragon. Educate yourself before you run your mouth.”

  “Lana,” Mom says. “Don’t speak to your cousin like that.”

  I curse under my breath. Of course she’d think I’m the problem. No one can mess with her precious, Harvard-bound nephew. It hurts to know Mom will never support my Blazewrath dream, but knowing she’d rather take Todd’s side than mine is the last twist of the knife.

  I’m about to talk back to Mom when Samira snatches my wrists.

  “Oh, look! The counter!” She drags me forward. While Mom’s warning glare follows, Samira whispers, “Listen to me. You are not killing Todd Anderson today.”

  “He called Hikaru vermin,” I whisper back with a growl.

  “Ignore him.” She faces the counter. “Good morning, ma’am!”

  The witch looks up from her computer screen. Her name tag reads SALLY. “Welcome to Waxbyrne! How can I help you?”

  “We have a private tour scheduled for today.” Samira gulps, her expression guilty. “And, um, I’m here to buy a new Copper wand.”

  “Oh, you must be quite enthusiastic about reaching Silver.” Sally hits a few buttons on her keyboard. The counter slides open in two halves. A glass bowl rises from within. It’s filled with a sort of translucent, thinly grained dust. “Please place your hand inside to confirm your status.”

  Samira sinks her hand into the dust. Nothing happens at first. Then a fistful of dust flies up into the air, changing into a bright copper shade. The computer says, “Copper Wand.”

  Sally hits more keys. “Excellent. You’ll turn Silver any day now.”

  “Yup. Any day.” Samira’s tone is as deflated as Todd’s brain. Every witch and wizard starts out a Copper Wand. Their magic evolves as they grow older. Most stay Silver, though. Samira’s little sister, Shay, is already a Silver Wand at fourteen. Having your little sister grow into her Silver abilities before you? Super embarrassing.

  Even though breaking her wand was her own fault, Samira’s doing me a huge solid by being here today. The least I can do is help her deal with my cousin’s stupidity.

  “Let’s get you that wand.” I put my hand on the dust pile. After a few seconds, the dust flies up again without changing colors. The computer reads aloud, “Regular.”

  The same thing happens when Mom’s and Todd’s turns are up. Mom is super chill, but Todd glares at the dust bowl as if he’s pissed about being called a Regular.

  Sally says, “Regulars must remain with their magical companions at all times. Paul will help you to Level Two. You’ll meet your behind-the-scenes tour guide at the end of corridor six. Have a wonderful day!” She motions to the guard, who’s pushing the marble doors behind him.

  After thanking Sally, we get into the elevator, where each button is shaped like a wand. Its letters are written in the same style as the Waxbyrne logo:

  Level One: Entrance Hall

  Level Two: Copper Wands

  Elemental Manipulation

  Level Three: Silver Wands

  Elemental Manipulation and Creation

  Level Four: Gold Wands

  Elemental Manipulation, Creation, and Destruction

  Level Five: Staff Only

  Once the guard shuts the doors again, Samira presses the Level Two button. The ride down lasts about five seconds. Another guard opens the doors for us. Instead of white marble, there are walls and tiled floors dripping in penny-colored paint. Customers are scattered throughout the store, which is really thirteen corridors that span from here to forever. Skyscraper metal shelves line each side of the corridors. All sorts of wands are displayed. Long, short, thick, thin, bedazzled, plain, you name it. They sit there, waiting to feel their future owner’s presence.

  “Remember the key to surviving Waxbyrne,” Samira tells a slack-jawed Todd. “Duck.”

  “Watch out!” someone yells a few feet ahead.

  I throw myself onto the floor. A swoosh echoes all over the place. More people fall down around me. When I glance up, a wand shoots into the middle corridor. It stops right in front of a russet-skinned teen witch wearing a coral dress and
matching hijab. The girl gasps. The wand points directly at her, choosing her as its rightful owner. When she grabs the wand, the whole floor claps. An older hijabi sweeps her into a tight hug. This must be her first wand.

  “I love it when that happens!” Todd stands up with shaky legs. It’s like he’s died and been reborn in the span of two seconds. “Amazing.”

  “Slightly dangerous, but yes. Amazing, indeed.” Mom points to the corridor with a huge emerald sign, the number six painted on it. “The tour guide will be that way. We still have a few minutes before eleven-thirty, so if it’s okay with Samira, we could walk around until your new wand finds you. Or would you like to wait until after the tour?”

  “After is fine,” Samira says. “How about we go check with the guide first?”

  Todd rubs his hands together. “Sounds perfect.”

  Showtime.

  While Todd hooks an arm around Samira’s, I touch my belly and grimace. “You guys, I don’t feel so good. I think I need to go to the bathroom. You go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

  Todd doesn’t spare me a glance. He’s taking Samira deeper into the store. Samira sneaks me a thumbs-up, then pretends to be interested in whatever Todd’s rambling about.

  Mom looks me up and down. “We’re not supposed to separate from Samira.”

  “Regulars are allowed to go to the bathroom, Mom.” I bend a little, straining my voice to sound like I’m hurting. “If I don’t make it, do the tour without me. I’ll wait in the entrance hall.”

  She considers me for a moment. “Okay,” she finally says, “but we need to have a serious discussion about how you behaved once we get home. Is that clear?”

  “Mm-hmm. Bye.”

  I power walk away from Mom.

  Holy crap. This is happening. I’m actually for real going to Blazewrath tryouts!

  I weave past the endless stream of customers, getting closer to the cash registers and the Waxbyrne logo at the center of the marble tiles. The hijabi and her mother are waiting in line hand in hand. I offer the girl a quick smile. She offers me one, too.

  BOOM!

  I crash to the floor with a yelp. My left knee hits the tile hard, pain shooting up in one swift wave. Everyone drops like weightless dominoes. Some shelves slam right into each other. Wands are zooming around, either searching for their rightful owners or a way out.