Wood Sprites

Mr. Kessler turned from the window, his mouth still open in soundless protest to what he was seeing.

“The windows blew out on the first floor,” Miss Gray said. “A lot of the children were hit with flying glass.”

Mr. Kessler blinked at them. “What?”

“Go to the first floor!” Miss Gray cried and caught Louise’s shoulder. “Come on. We need to go now.”

“Miss Gray, we know first aid. Our father is a medical technician.”

“You need to go to your homeroom.” Miss Gray steered them toward the stairways. “First things first. Miss Hamilton has to know that you’re here and safe before you can do anything.”

They went down the stairs without talking, seven flights, the crying on each level growing louder. Each floor was a lower grade. Younger students. Closer to the destruction on the street. With each step down, Louise wondered, “Who would do this?” The gutted building had been nondescript, with offices on the upper floors and a failed art gallery on the first floor. Nothing that seemed to warrant a bomb of that level. What was the real target of the bombers?

When they reached their floor, Mr. Howe and Miss Hamilton were in the hallway.

Mr. Howe was shaking his head but then pointed toward them. “There they are.”

“Oh, thank God, they weren’t out on the street!” Miss Hamilton pointed across the hall to Mr. Howe’s room. “We’ve moved rooms.” Mr. Howe’s windows looked over the auditorium’s roof toward the school’s loading docks and the back alley. The teachers didn’t want them seeing what was on the street, barely fifty feet away.

Miss Hamilton reported, “Room 501, all students accounted for,” via her headset as she herded them into the room. Mr. Howe, however, headed downstairs to help with the younger children hurt by the blast.

“We can help,” Louise said. “We know first aid. Our father is a medical technician.”

“No, that’s very good of you, but no. This is our responsibility.”

“We took the first-responders test.”

“And probably aced it; yes. I know. You two are very, very smart, but you’re still children. I know this might be hard for you to understand, but it is the right of every child to grow up innocent. And it’s the duty of adults to protect that innocence.”

Louise eyed her with confusion. “Is this a sex talk?”

“No, it’s not about sex. This is about growing up enough that you can make wise and intelligent decisions for yourself instead of having decisions forced on you. It’s something that being smart doesn’t help you with without time to know yourself and the world around you.”

“But we can help.”

“You can’t be a child if you’re being an adult for another child,” Miss Hamilton said. “You can’t be a child and make life and death decisions for another child. And for me to allow you to be put in a situation where you have to act as an adult, I’d be denying your right to your full childhood.”

“We know what to do—”

“Yes, I know. And the fact that you don’t understand what I’m trying to explain just makes it all the more important that I do my duty and protect you. Now, go sit down.”

Zahara was waving at them. Her little brother from kindergarten was clinging to her. Her eyes were bloodshot with tears. She hugged them tight, her whole body shaking. She didn’t seem anything like the girl they knew, usually so calm and sure. It was like her little brother had sucked away all that was Zahara and left something fearful in her place. Was this why Miss Hamilton wouldn’t let them go downstairs?

“We were late,” Zahara cried. “We had just started up the stairwell to the first floor when it blew up!”

“It’s okay,” Louise said. “You’re not hurt.”

The frightening thing was how easily she could have been killed.

17: Smoke And Mirrors

As if the blast had blown away all thoughts, they didn’t remember the magic generator until late that night. By unspoken agreement, they were both in Louise’s bed, after a long, hot bath to scrub away the lingering smell of smoke.

Jillian suddenly sat up with a gasp. “Did you get it?”

“Huh?” Louise had been already dreaming. She was babysitting several dozen of their baby siblings who all looked like Jillian miniatures. The babies were taking turns using the gossamer call and they had a host of monsters trying to break into the house. Louise was chasing the babies through the house, trying to get the whistle off them while arguing with a 911 operator who wouldn’t believe that they had a black willow in the backyard. She wasn’t sure if Jillian meant the whistle or the operator’s cooperation, or film for Nigel Reid as evidence that the monster call actually worked. “Get what?”