Valhalla High (A Magnus Chase Fanfic)

Mother of the Century

March 16

When my mother found out about Alex's predicament, she went above and beyond what I expected. She offered to contact a social worker for Alex. "They can help you with getting housing and food," my mother said, "but if you'd prefer, you can stay at my place."

"Do you want me to help pay rent or groceries?" Alex asked.

My mother shook her head. "I can manage to feed one more teenager and the rent won't change by you moving in. We just need to fix a place up for you."

We ended up turning a storage room into a bedroom for Alex. First, we had to declutter it. We donated some of the stuff, threw away other bits, recycled what we could, and kept what we wanted. The room was left dusty and empty. After sweeping and scrubbing the room, we searched for furniture.

My mother took us to a bunch of thrift stores and secondhand shops on Saturday. Currently, Alex was still staying with her grandpa, but she'd move in on the weekdays with us. We'd picked her up today to let her pick out furniture. We found all sorts of wacky decor — loudly colored chairs, tables with mismatched legs, and rolls of antique yellow wallpaper.

We ended up getting the bed new from a store in town since the options at the places we visited were limited: a bed sized for a five year-old and one with bloodstains and a dent shaped like an axe; truly it looked like something from a horror movie set. We also bought a bedspread set (including matching pillowcases) and a comforter from the bed store.

    Everything else we got used. We found a wooden side table with handles shaped like snakes at one of the thrift stores. The wooden armoire we found on Craigslist; it was plain, but roomy with silver-toned handles. We got a beige side lamp that we repainted pink with lime-green dots later that day. We found a six-foot long snake plushie, an abstract painting, and a plush rug to spice up the room from various thrift stores.

We laid out the bed in one corner and put the side table beside it. The lamp we placed on the side table and armoire we put on the opposite wall. The rug was adjacent to the bed, so Alex could enjoy its soft plushness underfoot whenever she got up. We hung the painting on the bare wall a few feet from the closet. In one week, the storage room went from feeling claustrophobically cluttered to strangely empty to cozily laid out. It wasn't a large room and I was afraid Alex might be disappointed with it after living in a large house for eighteen years.

She wasn't. Instead, she hugged my mother and thanked her profusely (with some added cuss words to describe how my mother was far superior to her parents). "I like to call them my egg and sperm donor," Alex said, "because that's basically all they did."

We had tacos for dinner and Alex entertained us with stories about her grandfather growing up. "His own grandfather told him tales of the Aztec," she said. "According to family lore, we are blessed by Quetzalcoatl."

"That serpent god?" I asked.

Alex smiled. "500 points to you, Magnus."

I laughed. "Well, your room certainly is decorated like a slithering reptile. Most people I know are afraid of snakes, but you like them."

"Snakes are interesting," Alex replied. "They change. They molt and grow new skin. They represent many things in different cultures. They should be feared to a healthy extent, but they are also beautiful and majestic creatures."

"Maybe you should go into herpetology," my mother suggested.

"What's that?" I asked. "The studies of herpes?"

Alex facepalmed. "No, it's the study of snakes. It is interesting, but I think I prefer remaining an amateur snake lover."

"There's nothing amateur about Alex," I whisper-shouted.

We all laughed.

***

My mother dropped Alex off at her grandfather's house that night. I accompanied them. "Will you need to go clothes shopping?" my mother asked.

Alex hesitated and then nodded. "I wasn't allowed to pack much. Knowing my father, he's probably thrown my stuff away or incinerated it already."

The more I heard about Mr. Fierro, the less I liked him. I texted Alex that night as I laid in bed. It had been nice spending a whole day with her. Some people might be embarrassed to have their mother there too, but it felt natural. Alex and my mother hit off extraordinarily well and I couldn't help but be pleased by it. I loved them both to bits and few things are worse than two people you love not getting along.

Magnus: Sleeping well?

Alex: No, dummy. I'm texting you instead of getting my zzzs.

Magnus: My apologies.

Alex: None needed. I usually stay up a bit. I should be working on homework, but I can do that tomorrow.

Magnus: If any of your teachers chew you out, I'll bite them.

Alex: There you go, trying to be a golden retriever again. I doubt you'd bite any of them — even Loki.

Magnus: I am not a golden retriever.

Alex: You're right; you're more like a golden doodle. They're fluffier.

Magnus: I am certainly not fluffy.

Alex: You have the softest hair of any guy I know.

Magnus: I just use conditioner.

Alex: You'd be surprised how many guys don't.

Magnus: What has this conversation turned into?

Alex: I dunno. Your mother rocks.

Magnus: That she does.

Alex: She's a lot like you — kind and cheery.

Magnus: We'll just have to disagree.

Alex: You are so bad at accepting compliments. I worry about your self-esteem.

Magnus: My self-esteem is touched by your concern.

Alex: . . .

Alex: I'll have to make it a get well soon card.

Magnus: I'm afraid the condition is chronic.

Alex: Alright, an improved or at least don't get worse card.

Magnus: Is there such a thing?

Alex: There should be.

Magnus: Many things should be.

Alex: Like you should be getting to bed. It's 10:12! It's past your bed time, mister.

Magnus: Good night to you too, Fierro.

I gazed at her last text for a few minutes, smiling. Then, I laid my phone on my side table and drifted asleep.