{ELEMENTISTS OF WILLOW FOREST BOOK V} The Journey Across Water

Gran

4: Gran

"You seem to remember a heck of a lot from when you were four." Olivia noted.

"You have a few vivid memories, I have a few vivid memories." Sasha shrugged. "Maybe Elementists are just epic at remembering stuff."

"Maybe." Olivia said. She looked thoughtful for a second; Sasha hoped she'd be able to have a break from 'Show and Tell' for a minute, but Olivia quickly added: "Continue."

"The second fire I've ever been in was about a year later. The one my mother died in.

"I don't remember being particularly remorseful about her death at the time. I think I'd argued with her and subsequently sulked the day before. This time, the officials claimed it was due to a faulty boiler, which was quite normal, so I still qualified as normal, too.

Thinking about it logically now, it would have been more convenient had my mother not died, although, if that were the case, I would no doubt be deputy of Echo Valley right now.

Or maybe I would have died instead. Which would suck. Death is a pile of bull****.

Instead of continuing to live with my father (and, I suppose, Felix), I was sent to live with my maternal grandmother, who made me call her Gran, although I secretly referred to her as something much ruder, which she deserved.

People are so stupid.

I'm not quite sure why I was sent to live with my grandmother. Usually, when children are split up like that it's because they've both been the cause of some accident and they're kept apart because they're a bad influence on each other, but that obviously wasn't the case for me and Felix because I was still normal at that point.

"Really?" Olivia said.

"What?" Sasha snapped.

"Sorry, it's just that you said earlier that you weren't exactly a normal child, and now you're referring to your five-year-old self as normal."

"You weren't a 'normal child' either." Sasha pointed out. "You spent all your time talking to animals at the top of a mutated tree in a forest you never left since you had lived for a decade, only knew what a TV, a phone and a computer was when you came across them in books, and have never owned a plush toy in your life."

"Actually," Olivia inputted, "I once won a giant toy Rook in a chess tournament. I've just never possessed a soft toy animal, because I lived in a forest full of real animals, so there wasn't much point."

"Score!" Sasha said sarcastically, "Miss ten-year-old chess grandmaster. Yeah, that's totally normal."

"I technically am still the national junior chess grandmaster champion." Olivia said, "And I'm fourteen now. That's slightly less weird."

Sasha snorted. "Wow. Fourteen. What a great age."

"You're twelve." Olivia reminded.

Sasha decided that it was an excellent time to continue telling her story. "My grandmother told me that my mother was dead, I had no siblings and my father never existed, which, in case you're wondering, is why I believed the whole stork story slightly longer than most children. I guess, because of this, I convinced myself that I didn't have a brother, and blotted any memories of Felix out of my mind. If someone had tried that on my now, I never would have fallen for it, but I guess when you're young you're stupid enough to believe stuff that you wouldn't otherwise.

"I suppose," Olivia mused, "When a spark is still small, the wind can change it easily. When it grows into a flame and spreads, the wind makes no difference, for the damage is already done."

Sasha sighed, exasperated. "Stop using your stupid fire similes to make comments on my life! You're starting to sound like everything you said was annoying about Hephzibah!"

Olivia growled. "A) Don't ever tell someone their showing the qualities they most dislike, and B) They're metaphors, not similes. A simile would be 'Sasha is as blatant as a neon sign'. A metaphor would be 'Sasha is a snake; she's slippery, a liar, and worms her way out of everything.'"

Sasha shrugged. "Whatever. I haven't gone to school much."

"So... you struggle with grammar and people?" Olivia wondered.

"Olivia," Sasha began, "Is as secretive as a cobweb-covered book. However, once you can get her to open up, she's an insulting intruder who expects you to do the same."

"Very good." Olivia said. "Not the insults, but the simile and the metaphor."

"Thank you." The descendant of Aodh replied. "I take great pride in offending people."

"Don't worry. We all know that. Now, on with the story?"

Sasha let out a big "URGH" then continued. "So, I didn't like it at Gran's. Although she often forgot to take me to school, which was a big bonus, 'cause it meant I could trash the house when she was watching 'Coronation Street' or in the garden, she gave me teddies and Christmas presents and a big flowery duvet. When she dared to re-decorate my room, it was pink with expensive wallpaper and designer furniture and all this stupid stuff which I couldn't care less about. So, to show my displeasure, I strew paint all over the walls and tore up the floorboards and beheaded the teddies and tore up the bedcovers and smashed the mirror and-

She wasn't overly happy when she found out, but she didn't punish me or anything, which I found ridiculous. I'd wrecked my bedroom beyond repair, and she wasn't even angry! Why on earth would I have done it otherwise, Mrs Margot-****-A-Lot! Gran just got the interior designer back in, and had the walls stripped in my attic bedroom so it was just the wood planks. I remember her saying to me "I'm very sorry that you didn't like how your bedroom was done, Sasha-pops, so I've had it redone, so you might like it better.

Sasha-pops? How dare she call me Sasha-pops?

When I next went to school, I stole all the spray paints from the Art Room, snuck them back 'home', then used them to spray rude words and pictures all over the room, including some very graphical and offensive illustrations of Gran, who, ever since I'd found out her first name, I'd been calling Margot ****-A-Lot.

But Gran didn't get angry at that, either. In fact, she said, "If that's the way you want your room, Sasha, then that's the way you can have it."

I tried other things to make her angry. I wrecked her room. I wrecked the kitchen. I wrecked the living room. I wrecked the whole house, and even used the leftover spray paints to write on the stairs 'Ima Reckin Bal'. But still Gran wouldn't get angry, however hard I tried.

I tried to think about what would make her angry. I tried to think about what would make me angry, in case that would make her angry too, but all that made me angry was Gran not getting angry.

I was angry.

There was a rush of red, then black, then white.

Fire.

Apparently the burning down of the house (with gran inside it) was the cause of a frying pan fire. Frying pan fires are normal, so I was still normal.

For now.

That was the third fire I've ever been in. Don't worry. There's a lot more to come.

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