THE SUMMER CAST A WARM glow on the picturesque streets of Bellevue as she cruises through the city. Windows down the wind tousling her pinned back hair. The nostalgic rumble of her beloved car drew attention before passersby caught a glimpse of the vibrant red exterior.
Bellevue was a blend of old and new with stately historic buildings standing side by side with sleek, modern structures. The warm breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers, intermingling with the subtle aroma of coffee from the nearby cafes.
The sound system crackled to life, as she turned the volume dial up. The news broadcast was covering the recent tragedy that had the city up in arms over the slaying of a young boy.
She was familiar with the situation as Thompson urged her to try and keep Santiago from as much media coverage as possible. These days that was fairly difficult to do with the abundance of information that youths had at their fingertips with their bevy of electronics.
This segment was not about the boy. The radio presenter shared that the child's mother had been released from a short stint in jail. “Charges of assault with a deadly weapon were dropped after Oscar Gonzales' failure to appear in court. There is currently an arrest warrant out for the man's arrest for his involvement in the murder of his stepson.”
Rosenia jumped as the car honked behind her drawing her attention back to the street light now green. It wasn’t the case she held an interest in. It was the name she thought she heard that had pulled her focus.
Guadalupe Santiago.
Since Santiago had come under her care there was much that did not add up regarding the boy. Thompson’s insistence that the boy's attachment to the case was based on him sharing his surname with the boy on the news. Despite the efforts to present him with documentation that showed otherwise the boy was adamant about his believed identity.
That was something even she had called into question. Beyond a shadow of a doubt she knew he was Vicente’s son. The moment she caught sight of him she knew.
The false name on the birth certificate was a familiar one. It wasn’t uncommon to use aliases for the protection of family or themselves. Even Rosenia had a false name that her medical records were filed under. When you made a lot of enemies these precautions were necessary.
The mother could have easily been an alias or the true mother of the child. Yet, she knew the name Guadelupe Santiago as the wife of the late Vicente.
The details surrounding Santiago’s accident were murky due to the chaos caused by a blackout during his admission. They had nearly put the boy in the morgue due to a clerical error.
Things weren’t adding up. Rosenia did not like that.
If Santiago was not simply suffering from confusion induced by a brain injury and really was the boy who died it produced more questions than answers.
How did he survive?
Who doctored the boy's information?
Was it for his protection or something more sinister?
Rosenia was unsure of what she would find in her search for the truth. Regardless she would do everything in her power to ensure Santiago’s safety. There were so many unknowns. These were not things a child should be troubled with. She would see to finding the answers for now she needed to ensure that the boy could return to some semblance of a normal life.
Santiago deserved that much.
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Spacious and meticulously organized the office housed oh tasteful furnishing. Walls painted in a warm shade of cream to pair with the rich mahogany woodwork. The largest piece being the intricately carved desk that dominates the room. Posed in front of the winds to allow the natural light to filter through sheer curtains. Everything atop its surface is arranged with laser precision— a leather-bound planner, an elegant pen set still resting in the satin lined case, and a silver-framed photograph of John and his family.
The principal sat with rigid poise behind the desk. “Rose, you know that I would love to help you.”
“But?” Rosenia gave the man an even stare.
There was always a “but” with a man like John. Neatly combed back salt-and-pepper hair gelled down stiffly not a hair out of place. Down to his navy tailored suit, crisply pressed white shirt, and tastefully patterned ties his meticulous attention to detail was on display.
It was why he was chosen for his position after all. To maintain strict order in a place where appearances were everything and everything must appear in place.
“This boy, it’s not like it was with Mia. He has a record a mile long. Been thrown out of every school he’s ever been in for beating the living hell out of other students.” He flipped the manila folder closed, “I can’t this time. The board will never allow it.”
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“You let me worry about them. I can convince them to give him a chance, they’ve been looking to remodel that pompous sports center. Tell me what he needs to get in.”
His sharp, piercing blue eyes captivated the attention of any who locked gazes with the man, were now focused intently on Rosenia. The woman knew all too well there was only one thing which the vultures who perched themselves in these pristine leather thrones cared about.
Money.
“There’s tuition for one.” Said John.
Rosenia waved her hand dismissively.
Fortunately this was not a concern for her. This place would be good for Santiago. He needed to see what possibilities for his future that lay ahead. To look past the life he once led to something more. There was no way to put a price tag on an opportunity to change the trajectory of a young boy's life.
“His GPA. He’s missed a lot of school. It's not enough.” His hand stroked the well-groomed beard, reclining in his seat. “He’d have to pass a placement test to meet requirements.”
Regardless of whether the boy's scores were enough she knew there was a price to be paid that would allow for leniency.
It was a formality.
“Arrange it.” She said.
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Santiago made his way out to join the others for their usual practice session when he spotted the slender figure ahead. He Trotted forward to tap her on the shoulder.
The doe eyed girl froze her cheeks immediately tinted. Soft brown hair framed her face with a natural grace. Almond eyes underneath long lashes that sparkled with a sense of innocence. Freckles, a constellation of delightful marks lightly dusted across her rosy cheeks.
“Hey, um, I wanted to apologize to you. I realize I didn’t.” Santiago cleared his throat, “I wasn’t trying to be a perv when I walked in on you. I was poking around the house. It was my bad. I’m sorry and it won’t happen again.”
Sylvia simply stared at him for a long moment taken aback. “Apology accepted.”
“Cool.” He smiled.
His good mood lasted until they reached their usual spot in the garden.
This all seemed so pointless. It had been weeks now and he could not do anything. Could not feel anything remotely close to what he experienced that night.
He was starting to think it was a fluke or maybe he burned out what little bit of magic he had.
“Don’t stress about it too much. On the Sabbath you'll be able to do the silver rites. It will give you a place to start.”
“The what on the what?”
She laughed, “You’re like Skylar, a lost witch.”
“I do feel pretty lost with most of this.”
“No worries, the Sabbath is a fancy name for a gathering. Lots of food, some people sell or trade things, we do blessings, rituals, elders sometimes give lessons.”
“Sounds like a church.” Santiago raised a brow.
“Kind of—maybe?” Syliva's nose scrunched thoughtful, “Never been to church.”
“Lucky you.”
“Here let me help you.” Sylvia extended her hands, “I can try and channel my energy through you so you can get a feel for what it’s like.”
Santiago extended his hands resting them in her delicate palms.
She closed her eyes. Her palms began to glow a soft pink.
He could feel the warmth at first. Dull, as if he pressed his palm against a maglite. It started creeping under his skin. Faint pin pricks shot through his palm, climbing up to his elbow, for a moment he thought his hand was falling asleep.
It crept into his muscles and tendons until they buzzed unpleasantly.
“Can you feel that?. It should feel like something moving through your hands, try and pull back on it. Focus it on your palms.”
Santiago stared down at their hands, his own enveloping the girls. Her delicate fingers brushed against his calloused palms. He could feel the flow coursing through.
It felt painfully long that he stood there yet the longer the energy flowed the more he was able to feel how it traveled. Through the center of his palm, up each digit, and straight down to his wrist where her fingertips touched and cycled back through again.
If only he could simply brush it.
Eyes lit up as a spark shot off from the fingertips briefly though it was visible.
Sylvia looked a bit startled, “That’s unusual.”
Santiago still focused intently on their hands. “What is?”
“Forget it, keep going.” She said.
He pushed harder this time.
Several sparks shot off this time, Sylvia winced.
“Hey, is this hurting you!” Santiago pulled his hands away.
“It’s fine, we’re making progress.” She assured, “It’s like static electricity, it's not that bad.”
Pain was the opposite of what he was trying to go for with these powers. It seemed counterintuitive.
“I don’t know, I don’t think this is working like it should.”
“Hey, it’s fine. I’m fine.” Sylvia patted his shoulder with an encouraging tone. “You’re so close I can feel it. You’re tapping into it, you need to just go for it.”
He nodded.
What else could he do?
Santiago was antsy about it, that was because he did not understand any of it. Clearly, Sylvia had a better idea of what they were dealing with, so he would give it another go. It was the closest he had come to harnessing his magic yet.
Hand in hand once more he closed his eyes. The warmth returned.
Santiago had an idea now of how to interact with it. He needed to go for it. Followed the flow of energy and he pulled back with everything he had.
An electric crackle hissed and spat around the two teens' palms.
The sound caught Rosenia’s attention. Her eyes wide. “Santiago!”
She was a moment too late as the boy attempted to push the flow of energy back as he had been told.
Sylvia was jettisoned into the air several yards away into a bed of tulips.
Khalil hopped over a bush to reach the girl. “Oh shit! Rose her hands.”
Rosenia glided past to help Khalil pull her from the flower bed.
The girl was sobbing, hands cradled against her chest. The floral blouse reddened from her blood-soaked palms.
“Come get her inside.” Said Rosenia.
Khalil scooped the girl up and followed quickly after the older woman.
Unspoken judgments hung in the air. This misstep reaffirming the doubts about him. It would only further cement his place as an outsider.
It did not matter the distance, his past actions left an indelible mark that served as a clear warning to anyone around him.
Santiago was one to be feared and kept at arm's length.