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“Oh.” I nod glumly.
“Cheer up, Kira.” He laughs. “It’s not that bad, I promise.”
“You promise?”
He nods. “You’ll see. Aura Academy is great. I love it there.”
I sigh. He hasn’t exactly sold me on giving up my entire life, but I appreciate his enthusiasm. And now I guess there’s just the small fact of packing up… well, everything and moving to a school for auras so I don’t spontaneously combust.
Happy birthday to me, I guess.
Four
It turnsout Cooper the fire elemental drives an old VW camper van, and he drives it like it’s a Ferrari. My knuckles are bone white by the time we get back to my house.
It’s still early and the house is empty, but I give Dad a call and ask him to come home from work. Then my insides start to squirm because I don’t know if this is the last time I’ll get to see my father. I didn’t ask Cooper if parents are allowed to visit the academy, and he’s in his van outside the house.
I should really start packing, but I can’t bring myself to do it until I tell Dad what’s going on. Instead, I pace up and down the kitchen, biting my fingernails.
Finally, my dad hurries into the house. “Kira.” He drops his briefcase on the kitchen counter. “Is everything okay?”
I open my mouth to speak, not knowing how to answer that question.
“Does Mum have magical powers?” I blurt out.
He frowns and pulls at his tie. “Why are you asking?”
“It’s important, Dad. Just tell me.”
“Well.” He swallows. “Yes. It’s complicated.” Sighing,he shrugs off his jacket and pulls out a chair to sit down. “She gave it all up before you were born, but she did at one point, yes. Has something happened, Kira?”
“Have you heard of Aura Academy?”
His face turns ashen grey. “Yes.” His eyes turn to me, immediately filling with tears.
It’s enough to set me off too. All the emotions I’ve been trying to suppress come tumbling out, and by the time he wraps his arms around my shoulders, I’m a blubbering mess.
“Oh, Kira,” he murmurs. “You’ve been called?”
I nod into his shirt.
“When do you have to leave?”
“Today.”
He holds me tighter. “But you’re my baby.”
At that, my sobs become even more high pitched until I’m making baby-animal squeaks. He’s wrong, though. I’m not his child anymore. I’m eighteen years old, and I need to pull myself together and act like an adult.
So I take a step back and dry my eyes. Dad wipes a few tears from his cheeks and checks out the mascara stain I left on his shirt.
I take a deep breath. “I need to pack, and then I have to go. When are Abby and the twins getting home?”
“Not until tomorrow.”
“I’ll have to call from there.”
“Can I visit?” he asks.
