Legends of Mirandis Academy

Chapter 62: Like Kindling

Iridia.

Iridia was happy with Brielle. She was happy with Luna. She was happy with Duran. She was happy with Spencer and Julie and Backup Food and Calian.

Kelam.

Iridia was not happy with Kelam.

Kelam knew that, he knew that it was true despite all the positive interactions they'd had— well, they weren't really positive, they just weren't overtly negative. Was he ever going to be able to be in a room with her and not feel like she was a bomb he didn't know how to defuse? Would there ever be time he could look at her, look at her sober, and see her smile at him? See her enjoy his presence? Or even, God forbid, miss him?

He was starting to accept that maybe their reconciliation would never see fruition.

Mr. Duval had told him it would only get worse if he let it fester. Apologize and mean it. Kelam had indeed apologized, and for many things, and she said she'd hit him with a mallet if he kept doing so.

But maybe it would finally halt. The pain, the guilt, the never ending spiraling thoughts of how in the world do I fix this... maybe it was just barely repairable.

Those were the thoughts in his head on the drive home. And the hours of which were meant for studying. And the night in which he stared at the ceiling, muscles taut, finding no rest. And then the drive to school the next day.

"Kelam?" Brielle crossed her arms as she rounded the corner. "What's going on?"

"You..." he wiped his hands on his pants as he stood from the bench outside, "are the only person I could think to ask for help with this."

Brielle halted. Her brows drew together in confusion. "Um, all right. Is it safe to assume this is regarding Iridia, yet again?"

"Obviously." Brielle examined the boy in front of her. She had only recently put Kelam's number in her phone, so seeing his name in her notifications was always surprising, especially in a text pleading for ambiguous help. "I... I want to make it up to her."

"The whole—"

"Yes, I know the awful grave I dug for myself. I'd prefer not to lay it all on a silver platter again," he groaned. "Point is, I want to mend it."

"And you've decided it's possible now because...?"

"Because it was a good thing, our friendship," he said, a twinge of desperation pulling into his words. "I... someone told me that if something is good, it's worth salvaging. And I understand how right they were."

"That's great. For you." Brielle leaned back on one foot, arms still crossed. Her most comfortable position. "And what about her?"

He visibly wilted. "When she was... when I was helping her up to the bathroom that night after prom—" he looked up, forming his thoughts. "She and I talked. Before we came back down."

Brielle nodded. Iridia did quite a fair amount of talking in her intoxicated state.

"She was obviously drunk off her ass but she sounded so genuine when she said she missed me. She missed me hanging out with her in the shop, the painting and building and all of that."

Brielle and Iridia hadn't spoken much about Kelam. He was an awkward topic, considering both of their respective prior arrangements with the boy, but there was a distinct moment Brielle remembered her expressing her feelings. Her frustration. The pain in her voice as she told Brielle how betrayed she'd felt.

But Iridia was nothing if not a girl with a massive heart. Maybe she did care about Kelam, in fact, the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Iridia made sure to express plenty of love that night in her inebriation, and Kelam was victim to that just as much as the rest of them were. She had said she missed him, but the reparation was up to him.

"All right." She shrugged and nodded. "So what's your plan?"

He blinked. "No, that's why you're here. For the plan part."

"If you were looking for a plan, Luna would have probably been the better choice. I was under the impression that you had one and wanted a peer review."

He scoffed. "Brielle, please. You literally know her better than anyone else."

"And this is your redemption project." She stood up tall. "What's your opening line? Give me the presentation."

"What?" Kelam's eyes squinted. "Are you asking me to do the cliche thing where I pretend you're Iridia and—"

"No, that would be foolish." Brielle rested her hands on her hips. "Pitch your idea to me, and then I'll help."

He paused and stared at her blankly. "Are you asking me to make you a slide presentation?"

"Do you have one prepared?" Brielle let loose a tiny, teasing smile.

"I greatly dislike you."

"Likewise." She stepped forward and crossed her arms again. "I can't tell you what will fix you and Iridia. What I can tell you, is that maybe finally taking that step to fix what's been broken takes a bit of... risk, for a lack of a better term."

Kelam wilted again. "Right."

"Whoever told you that good things are worth salvaging is right. And that salvaging is going to take work. She and I weren't perfect after the mess with Dante, and you two aren't perfect after all the chaos you've been through. I know I'm not alone in believing a relationship with her is always one worth saving."

"I'll... think of something." Brielle raised a brow expectantly. "I'm not making you a slide presentation, I'll send you a list of ideas. A normal list."

Brielle was hopeful. It felt strange, the lightness in her chest. She was hopeful that Kelam would say the right things—for once in his life, maybe he would. She was hopeful that Iridia would accept him back into her life. She was hopeful that the world was going to right itself.

Even if it never actually would.

Brielle scooped the pile of mail into her arms as she pushed the front door open. It was always Spencer's job to get the mail, and yet he always forgot.

"I'm home!" She shouted out into the house with no returned response, as per usual. Filtering through, there were actually a few things addressed to her; she scooped all hers up and made her way to her bedroom, leaving the rest on the dining table.

Local community college flyers, student credit cards, they were monotonous and sent to every student in the area. Advertisements for scholarship competitions, a letter from NASA, an odd coupon for a boutique that she must have signed up for a rewards program for. A—

She halted her sifting.

A letter. A small, unassuming letter until it was opened and unleashed. A letter that held a nuclear bomb within its words. A letter that held a lit match, leaning towards her past—her love, her comfort, her friends, her home—to set it ablaze and allowing her future to be lit aglow, the whole thousand mile distance of it.

She'd been accepted into the internship program.