Light as a Feather

Chapter Sixteen

     Annabelle waited until Jilah had left, and then she went up to her mom's room. Her dad had disappeared, yet again, for another business trip, so she and her mother were alone in the mansion. As she passed the door her first conference had been in, she noticed the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door. Her mom walked out of the master bedroom as soon as Annabelle turned the corner, causing them to collide in the hallway.

     "Annabelle, are you okay?" her mom asked, seeming only half-concerned.

     "Yeah, I'm fine. Mom, what did Jilah want?"

     "Oh, nothing," she said. "Just to go over a couple of things with me." She seemed very distracted.

     "The fairies are losing their powers," Annabelle said fiercely. They had become her unlikely friends. She had gone through a lot of changes, both with her powers and with herself, and the fairies were a part of her now. She was basically the master for all of them, so Annabelle felt like she should protect them, and that's what she was going to do.

     "I know," her mom whispered.

     "Why wouldn't you tell me something like that?"

     "Just because you have the feather doesn't mean you get to know everything. You're still in high school. You're still my daughter."

     "Mom, that's exactly what the feather means! I am responsible for everybody's power. If the necklace is gone, I can't do anything, and our family will be ruined. I have to know stuff like this!" Annabelle shouted. She had never felt so passionate about something like this. It occurred to her that just a few months ago, she wouldn't have cared either way.

      Annabelle hadn't noticed it before, but now her mother seemed close to tears. "You are still so young. The feather is a blessing and a curse, Annabelle. A sophomore in high school should not have to take on these responsibilities, and I don't understand why the feather chose you."

     "You don't think I'm worthy?" Annabelle asked. Her heart hurt. It felt like it was going to break.

     Her mother's eyes looked like fire. She stared at Annabelle ferociously. "No," she said.

     "No what?"

     "No, you shouldn't be worthy. You're my baby girl." She choked at the words "baby girl," and began to cry silently. She did not sob. The tears merely dripped down her sullen face like raindrops. It was rather creepy, actually. Her eyes changed from fire to puddles.

     Annabelle planted her feet right there in the hallway. "I didn't want this," she admitted. "But the feather chose me. We can't choose our destiny. A few months ago, I would have laughed if you told me that magic exists, but you know what? I'm trying. I'm trying to help these fairies, because little old me is the only thing they've got. I have the feather, and I can do anything."

     Her mother looked at her face. "You shouldn't have to."

     "Mom, don't you get it?" Annabelle asked, close to tears, or exploding, or something like that. "I didn't choose this, I can't control it, and there's nothing you or I can do about it."

     "Annabelle..." her mom said.

     "No. You meant every word of that." Annabelle didn't notice, but as her control melted away, a steady fire was starting to burn behind her.

     It wasn't until her mother cursed and yelled "Annabelle!" and then pointed to the growing flames that she turned around. Annabelle panicked, and the flames grew higher. She thought about everything that Jilah had taught her.

     Pointing her palms at the flames, her fingers splayed and stiff, Annabelle began to think of cold. She let her mind go to snow and ice, and before she knew it, she was shooting watery ice out of her hands. She moved her shaking hands around the hallway until the flames were out. Annabelle willed the ice to stop, and it did. She breathed heavily in the deafening silence. The walls and carpets were soaking wet, and some parts were black from where the fire had burned them.

     Annabelle turned around, and saw her mom staring at something on the wall. When she realized what it was, she nearly fell to the floor in a heap. It was the picture of her grandmother, and it was black and charred. You couldn't tell who it was anymore, because it looked like a black paintbrush had gone over it. It occurred to her that the feather was there there first, and that's where the power had first come from. And now it was destroyed. Her mother turned to her.      "Annabelle..." she began.

    "Mom... I can't... I'm so sorry, I didn't know what to do, and then..." She felt the blood drain from her face.

    "Annabelle, our power originates from that painting. And now it's gone. None of our powers are going to work the same way, unless we can revive that painting."

    Annabelle knew that that wouldn't be possible. It was gone. No amount of nature powers could bring it back to the way it was. And that explained why the cold shooting out of her hands was watery ice, and not water or ice. Her powers were malfunctioning.

    Her mom sighed and turned to her again. "What have you done?" she asked. Then she turned away, as if looking at her physically disgusted her.

     For the first time since gaining her powers, Annabelle felt the same way she used to, when her parents rarely paid any attention to her. Her shoulders slumped and she looked at the floor. She felt hopeless and dead.