Aftershock

KEEFE SENCEN

KEEFE STOOD STILL AS a statue in Candleshade's grand foyer as his mother adjusted his cape and smoothed his hair. Normally he wouldn't let her anywhere near his carefully disheveled uniform, or his elaborate hairstyle, but even a week after learning of Sophie and Dex's tragic death he was still in shock. He couldn't seem to reconcile the reality of the world around him with the version in his mind. A version in which Sophie was alive and well, ballroom dancing with him in detention. A version in which Dex...well, he hadn't known Dex very well, had he? But sometimes, he still thought he saw that unruly mop of strawberry blond bobbing its way through the crowd of prodigies during Dame Alina's morning announcements.

Until a week ago, Keefe had thought he knew pain. When he was four he's fallen off the Vortinator and gotten a concussion. When he was nine, he'd jumped from a tree at Everglen while playing basequest with Fitz and broken an ankle. Only a year ago, he'd gotten slapped by Marilee Djinn in the face for wearing Kaylynn O'Hare's crush cuff instead of her own. But those moments paled in comparison to the raw anguish he was experiencing now.

When he'd heard the news that Sophie was dead, it had felt like a part of him died too. Like his very soul was ripping in half. He'd only known her a few months, but he'd felt a bond he'd never experienced with anyone else before. Whenever he thought about how he'd never see her smile light up another room, or how he'd never hear another of her cute laughs, or the detention dancing lessons they'd never get to partner for, it was like he'd been punched in the gut. Whenever he thought about the how she'd never get to graduate from Foxfire or apply for a matchmaker's scroll, it felt like he'd been kicked in the back of the head. Whenever he thought about the crush he'd never get to act on, it felt like he'd been stabbed through the heart. And every time he walked through the Level Six wing, or saw a particularly ornate cape, it felt like he was experiencing her death anew. So no, the Keefe Sencen of two weeks ago had no idea what true pain was. But he did now. And it weighed heavily on his heart.

He walked robotically down the pathway to the glass pyramid. He didn't bother searching for Fitz; his friend wouldn't be there. He didn't bother paying attention to the announcements; they never mattered anyway. And he didn't bother trying to skip class; it wasn't worth the energy.

"Do my eyes deceive me? Or is that Keefe Sencen actually deciding to grace my humble class with his presence?" Sir Cybelle made a faux shocked expression as Keefe walked in. "And to think I was ready to prep for my next prodigy during this period."

Keefe trudged over to the only seat in the classroom and sank down heavily. Resting his head on his arms, he prepared to zone out for another couple of hours. But his least favorite teacher somehow managed to surprise him.

Sir Cybelle heaved a sigh and knelt down next to Keefe's desk. Placing a comforting hand on Keefe's arm, he said, "I know that I can't possibly understand what you're going through," he said, "but I want you to know that if you ever need to talk, I'm here for you."

It was a sweet gesture, but it was completely wasted on Keefe. He rubbed his forehead, too exhausted to leave the class, like he usually would. "Thank you, Sir Cybelle. But that won't be necessary."

Sir Cybelle stood quickly, making Keefe jump slightly. "I get it. You're the big, tough guy on campus. The class clown. But I also get that it's an act, and you can't keep it up forever. I just want you to know that we, the faculty, are here for you in this turbulent time as we all grieve the loss of one of our own. If you ever need to vent—"

"Stop pretending like you care!" Keefe snapped, interrupting Sir Cybelle's monologue. "One of my best friends is dead! DEAD! At only twelve-years-old. And I'm so sick and tired of everyone pretending to be upset about her death. None of you knew her! None of you have a right to grieve! And none of you can even begin to comprehend what I'm experiencing right now; what this kind of loss feels like."

"I assure you, as a Mentor I know much more than—"

"You know much more than what?" Keefe laughed bitterly. "Much more than me? Much more than my petty, childish brain can even begin to understand? Well tell me one thing, Sir Cybelle," Keefe practically spat. "Have you ever had the power to stop a death before it happened? And have you ever not used that power when you had the chance? Because I have, and every single day I'm reminded of my mistake. My mistake that resulted in the deaths of not one but two elves I considered friends." Keefe stood up and grabbed his bag. "I don't know why I even bothered to come," he muttered as he stalked out the door. The BOOM! of the slamming door reverberated through the otherwise silent room.