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Knuckledusters

Knuckledusters

I’m an idiot. A stupid, dumb idiot.

Ariel balled her fists up and up them in front of her face. She stepped forward with one foot and rotated to the side slightly, offsetting herself from square with Ben - the basic stance her Uncle Lamont had showed her. She resisted the urge to shake out her hand - punching a person hurt. The bullies circled around her, filling the narrow hallway. She had nowhere to run, and Ben towered over her. She wanted to run. Instead, she swung at Big Ben. He stepped back, and the blonde kid hit her in the gut. She hit him back with her knuckles in a hard backfist. A lanky boy kicked her leg from behind and it buckled. She swung with her elbow, but he was already gone. A short girl punched her in the back of the head and she slumped forward, knees hitting the tile floor hard. Sobs she couldn’t hold back made Ariel shake. She hated this. She didn’t want to fight. It hurts so much. She looked up to see classmates all around her - staring. Why are they staring? Inside the ring of students, the older kids snickered at her, saying things she could hardly hear. Ariel looked at Big Ben and suddenly, she realized why no one could move. The air was thick with his rage, his hate. It flowed out from him like a river, and she felt like she was drowning. It would almost be fun, if she didn’t hurt so much, if she didn’t feel so sick. Was that why everyone was acting so mean? Ariel had never felt so alone in her life. She didn’t know it then, but this was her first brush with how horrid the dark side of emphatic integration could be.

“Get her up,” Big Ben said, nearly bouncing with anticipation. Blondie and lanky boy got to it, each one grabbing an arm tight.

Ariel felt her head drift but she forced herself to focus, moving a mile a minute through the haze of that last punch.

Big Ben came close, punching her hard in the nose, breaking it. Ariel screamed reflexively. But her head was somewhere else, in her father’s words.

What matters more than anything in the world is making sure he’s okay.

She looked to Isaac, even as her head spun. He was sobbing, yelling for them to stop. She didn’t know why no one was helping him -

No, she realized, angry. That’s my job. Her fathers words repeated in her mind like a mantra. With a rush of anger, something twisted in her, making her feel nauseous and delirious in a rush all over again. Still, her vision focused. Sharpened, even. The anger gave her mantra power. Ben’s veins bulged as he looked down on her, oblivious to the shift. She met his gaze with a hard stare.

“Look down, girlie. Where do you get the fuckin’ nerve?” he cocked his arm back again. It was slow to her eyes.

She had to get to Isaac. That meant getting her arms free. And the single thought - off - became a command as she screamed wordlessly.

Lightning flowed out of her, shocking the older kids in a flash. Their grip on her went rigid as they cried out, and they fell like toy soldiers as she moved to dodge Ben’s punch. Fury became strength as Ariel swung her still-held right arm at Ben. Blondie held on with locked muscles a moment too long, flying at Ben with inhuman strength and falling against him into a heap. As Ariel turned to the lanky boy who had stood, angry, Uncle Lamont’s words about fights came to mind. She’d wheedled them out of him, despite her father’s insistence she was too young to even think about fighting.

Rule 1: know your strength, and do only what it takes to stop the fight.

Jab, jab, cross. He was a boxer. She tapped the jabs away and moved in past the cross punching him in the solar plexus. He dropped, gasping for air, but didn’t go sailing more than a few feet. He was so slow. Everything happening was strange. Ariel needed to control her strength, or she’d really hurt someone. She didn’t know how she knew that… but she did.

Rule 2: you don’t start it, but you do finish it. Don’t let anyone push you around.

Ariel turned toward Big Ben, who was reaching for Isaac. The girl from earlier stood between them, twice Ariel’s size. Ariel grabbed her incoming punch and pushed her off her feet. The girl came back at her with another two - the difference in size and numbers should be insurmountable. Ariel wove between them if dancing, striking them gently by her currently standards, and they dropped to the ground like sacks of potatoes.

As Ariel turned to him, Ben lifted Isaac up by his hair. Ariel panicked, yelling as she closed the distance with instantaneous steps. Power filled her arm in a tingling rush as the air flashed cobalt. She punched his wrist - a clumsy, frantic attack - but it hit hard enough that there was an audible crunch as Ben cried out and dropped Isaac. Ariel stepped between the two of them as Ben staggered back, standing defensively. Is it over?

At Ben’s shouting, one of his peers tossed him a metal baseball bat, which he swung experimentally in his good hand.

Rule 3: don’t escalate. Never be the first person to pull a weapon, unless you know there’s danger. But if you are threatened, do what you have to.

Murmurs ran through the crowd, and it was enough to shock some of the kids out of their stupor and get them running. Ariel shivered with fear, but not enough to make her back down. She was still seething with anger under it all. Muscles rippling, Ben swung for Ariel. The bat whistled through the air. Ariel’s hand flashed.

She caught it - almost. Ariel didn’t want to be hit by a bat. She wanted it to be something else - anything else. Then she would be okay. Then she would protect Isaac.

And she made it so.

Just as the bat touched her hand, bluish light flashed. The metal twisted and warped, then flowed, like water. All in a moment, metallic knuckles glimmered on her right hand, keeping her fingers locked in a fist. Ariel couldn’t reach Ben’s chin for a proper knockout punch. So, she did the next best thing. Just like lanky boy, she knocked the wind out of him. Big Ben fell to the ground, gasping and throwing up.

Her ears twitched at a sound behind her. As a boy came closer, staggering, she cocked her fist. It was still entombed in metal, chambered with violent fear.

“Wait!” Isaac say, pointing to the boy with the farmer’s tan. “He’s okay. He tried to help.”

Ariel let out a shuddering breath, dropping the arm to her side with visible exhaustion. As her brother stumbled to her, she pulled Isaac into a tight one-armed hug. The small boy returned the vice-grip. Eventually, the moment passed, and though her head was swimming, Ariel’s parents had taught her manners…

“Thanks,” Ariel said, nodding at farmer’s tan. “What’s your name?”

“Gabriel,” the boy said dizzily. “But everyone calls me Gabby.”

“Gabby,” she said earnestly, “can you get the nurse? I think we’ll need him.”

***

A short while later, Darin arrived at the school building on foot, out of breath. They’d caught him on lunch at work, and he’d come running when he heard the reason for it. His grade school children had been in a fight - and apparently some of the kids had gotten really hurt. Despite his fatigue, Darin hurried to the principal’s office, slowing down only to make sure he didn’t run into one of the children in his rush.

When he made it into the office, sweaty and messy from the lumberyard, Emilia was already there, his opposite as always. Her beautiful blonde hair was pulled back in a neat bun, her hands folded in her lap, as she sat next to Ariel. Darin sat on the opposite side of his daughter, giving her hand a squeeze. She held onto his hand tightly - something she hadn’t done since she was Isaac’s age. Her nose was bandaged, and she was holding an ice pack to it, but her eyes were aimed squarely at the floor.

“Ah, Mr. Beskyte,” the principal said, though he didn’t look up right away. “It’s good you’re here for this. We were just discussing your daughter’s position. She used excessive force - magical force - and badly injured another student. This could be a serious legal situation.”

Darin felt a flash of fury, but he clamped down on it. Emilia would want to toe the line and handle things that way - and that was probably best. The sneer on the principal’s face pissed him off, though. Allan Murphy - he was slightly handsome middle-aged guy in a suit that thought he was God’s gift to the world, and he wore that ego plainly.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“What is the nature of the injuries?” Emilia asked.

“A few bruised ribs, but much more seriously: two of the students have electrical burns, and Benjamin had his wrist badly shattered. It’s doubtful whether it will ever recover properly.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Ariel sobbed.

“Quiet! The adults are talking,” the principal barked.

Darin put a protective arm around Ariel and rubbed her back to comfort her. The principal gave him a flat look, which Darin returned. He didn’t have any doubts about Ariel’s character. Not one. He’d told her magic was more trouble than it was worth, like everyone told him he was supposed to. Like a good dad drone. Hell, he could even believe it. He had his own trauma with magic. If the situation was so serious that she awakened despite all his warnings, then fuck it, that boy could live without a hand.

“And what circumstances provoked this altercation?” Emilia asked.

“Benjamin seems to have been rough with Isaac, which Ariel reacted savagely to,” the principal said.

Darin bit back a retort, then turned to dab at her still-bloody nose with a tissue. He hated to see her treated like this. And to just sit there and have to take it…

“He badly bruised Isaac’s ribs,” Emilia corrected. “And was in the process of doing worse when she arrived. It’s also very clear from the children that he swung a bat at her head.”

“So it is,” the principal agreed. “But what are you getting at? Magical violence, especially against children, is a very serious matter - and it is handled with the appropriate seriousness in this jurisdiction. Now, I don’t know if you think it’s acceptable to send your girl to school with sloppy unformed magic to brutalize others who can’t possibly fight back, but you should know better. She could be spending years in prison for this beastly behavior.”

Darin pulled his crying daughter into a hug. He’s saying the worst case scenario, Darin thought, almost trying to will the words into her. He’s pushing us around so we’ll grovel and then cut a deal that makes this easy for them. But Darin could not bring himself to grovel. He would not apologize, and he sure as hell was not going to tell his daughter to apologize. He had to trust that Emilia knew what to do.

“Mr. Murphy…” Emilia started.

“Doctor Murphy,” the principal corrected.

Emilia fixed her glasses on her face. “Doctor Murphy, then. I want to clarify - all of the 5th and 6th grade children that fought with my 2nd grade daughter, who you insist on berating, are in thoroughly stable condition? Are those superficial burns in the nurse’s office the extent of it?”

“And Ben’s wrist -”

“And the wrist,” Emilia cut him off. Darin looked up, surprised. “Very well then.” Emilia kissed Ariel on the top of her head, then turned back to principal. “I don’t think we’re going to have a reasonable conversation here. Anyway, I need to take my son and daughter for ice cream, since they took such good care of each other when the school and its teachers failed to.” In a softer voice that stirred Darin’s heart, she said, “let’s go, Ariel.”

Their little girl looked up like she’d just discovered the sun, then shakily rose to her feet. Mana shakes, huh? Poor thing wrung herself out. Darin rose and picked up his daughter like she was a princess - and to him, she was. She was well past that age - normally she’d get squirmy if he tried to pick her up, so he let he be. Today, she didn’t protest.

“Mrs. Beskyte, your daughter is not dismissed! There are disciplinary measures-”

“Unless you’re going to try to forcibly seize our daughter, we’re going,” Emilia said. “You may thank my husband for not breaking your nose, Doctor Murphy. You were very rude.”

The man sputtered for a moment, then stumbled onto something else to say.

“This will go to court!”

“That’s fine,” Darin replied, turning to Murphy. “I know a good lawyer.”

To accentuate his point, Emilia flashed Lamont’s business card from her purse. Darin’s grin widened as her strode out of the room, leaving a speechless Murphy behind. God, I love that woman.

*Present day*

Ariel sat up from her long dream, feeling several emotions in quick succession. First came loss, as if Isaac was taken from her right in that moment. The second thing she felt was simple surprise at how vulnerable she’d been as a child. To feel so completely helpless and to cling to her parents the way she had - she remembered the shape of that feeling, but not what it really was. She’d taken it for granted at some point that she always liked fighting. Remembering the fear and pain of that first fight was surreal. But she smiled at another feeling - the joy of victory. Uncle Lamont had pulled out all the stops to argue her innocence. With a court stacked against her, he’d used one of the most concrete forms of evidence: post-cognitive scrying. Hiring expensive experts to look back at the past, he’d been able to show the jury exactly what happened. Only the few anti-magic purists shoving their heads in their own asses had any idea of pressing charges after that point, and the counter-suit against the school for negligence had paved the way for her mom to get her own teaching certificate. It’d funded her and Isaac’s college funds, also - though that money had now been burned on apparently useless private eyes to search for her missing brother. She sighed. Worth a try, of course. It’s better than doing nothing.

Pushing past the pain of that thought brought a fourth emotion: curiosity. The details of that fight had hazy in Ariel’s surface memories, and her dream had floated in and out of the real details as they’d happened. Still, she was perfectly confident in the reality of one detail, having seen it. She’d controlled metal in that fight. Intuitively, without any effort.

Standing and walking across the room, Ariel laid her hand on the doorknob that Dave wanted her to ruin. He’d warned her off trying to do anything with brute-force - he’d told others not to come to her end of the hall without letting her know, but if she overdid it, the blast radius for a botched spell could still be dangerous. Ariel thought the house’s defense systems could handle anything she’d manage, but that was besides the point. He meant for her to do things the right way, so she was careful, never putting out too much power at once. Instead, she tried to hold onto the memory of that crucial moment when she’d deformed Big Ben’s bat into her own knuckledusters. It was fleeting and hazy, and every time she drew close to it, she found… fear?!

Ariel could have screamed in frustration, but she forced herself to put the problem down, looking outside to see how long she’d slept. It was evening - she’d slept longer than expected after wearing herself out. It’d been a day since she’d blown up at Serina, and she was still too embarrassed to meet the woman’s eyes. Serina, for her part, had made a point of leaving Ariel to eat alone rather than risk another close brush. Ariel would have left it like that. But following the dream, she couldn’t shake the feeling of how hard her parents, her uncle, everyone had fought for her. Even Damian, the boy who tried to help Isaac and got sucker-punched for the trouble, had testified in her defense, despite the way he shook with anxiety on the stand. She thought about how she left without a word, to any of them - and it made her sick. She couldn’t keep running away forever.

Steeling herself, Ariel found her door unlocked and walked into the hall, then downstairs. She found Serina in the kitchen, working on something that smelled incredible. She spoke without preamble, startling the woman.

“I’m sorry for yesterday,” Ariel said. “I didn’t want to sort out my own feelings, so I just yelled at you instead.”

Serina looked up, startled. “I’m surprised to hear you say that, dear.”

Ariel grimaced. “Whatever you think of us bumpkins, my dad did teach me to take responsibility for my mistakes… wait, that came out wrong.” She put her face in her hands. “Damn it, I promise I’m not trying to start another fight.”

Serina gave a tired smile. “Neither of us want that. I forgive you, Ariel, and I’m sorry, too. I was insensitive. I know this is important to you, but all I can imagine when I look at you is how afraid I would be as your parent.”

Both of them fell silent, alone with their thoughts. Ariel didn’t love hers.

“Would you like any dewberry pie? It’ll be coming out shortly.”

Ariel’s eyes lit up with curiosity as she turned to the oven, crust turning a healthy tan-green. “Aren’t those too mild for pies?”

“Only if you use them alone. Add in some tart apples, a bit of sannhet, and the dewberries smooth it all out.”

“Sounds yummy,” Ariel said. “Anyway, that’s not what I came down for. I wanted to set up a call with my dad, if that’s okay.”

Serina nodded, wearing a very grown-up expression as she strode to the oven, quickly retrieving the pie. “I can call first in the morning. I know your parents don’t have a phone, but they shouldn’t have any trouble contacting him by afternoon.”

“Great!” Ariel said, forcing enthusiasm. She wasn’t sure what else to say, so she watched as the woman cut up the pie, giving her a generous slice. “Do you mind if I bring an extra piece up to Lailah?”

Serina turned to Ariel, her pie server frozen over the plate. Ariel didn’t think anything of it, tantalized by the sight of the apple slices interspersed with teal berries.

“You met her?” Serina asked.

“She talked me off the ledge,” Ariel said casually. “She’s nice. Pretty, too. What happened to make her hole up in there?”

Serina frowned, then cut a second slice and scooped ice cream on top of it. She avoided answering the question by asking her own.

“As her mother, I’m glad someone else likes her so much. Please do bring this up for her. I think she’d like that.”

After bringing the pie up to Lailah, Ariel sat quietly with Serina and ate. The pie was fantastic - not too tart after all, and so nice with ice cream. Still, it wasn’t a carefree moment. Ariel stewed about what she would say to her dad. And what he would say to her. It wouldn’t be easy. Still, she had to face him She thought there was a good chance her dad would demand that she came back home. Remembering the way he’d always been there for her, the way that felt, Ariel didn’t know if she could say no to him. She cursed herself for the weakness, then tried to focus her mind on training. One way or the other, she would talk with him honestly and figure things out.