Matilda, Child of Fire

MMV: Rocking the Boat

10 MMV: Rocking the Boat

"You've got that kind of love that I've been dreaming of/I know what I see, and you're incredible/You've got what I need and I can't let you go..." –MAALA, Kind of Love

1 pm, Week 5, Lake Wanaka Marina, Roys Bay, Lakeside Road, Wanaka 9305, New Zealand

"You've seriously never gone sailing before?" Wyatt asked incredulously, tying various sailor knots along silver metal-hooked features on the structure that resembled infinity symbols. Matilda shook her head.

"Ok, well, for starters—here's some key language," Wyatt began. Matilda rolled her eyes. Another lesson. "Matilda," he said in a moodier voice that sent pleasant tingles down her spine, "I'm serious. Do you want to stay on the boat or accidentally capsize?" Matilda bade him continue.

"Ok then," he said. "Basically, the aft is the back of the boat, aka the stern. The front of the boat is the bow. Port is left, and starboard is right. Leeward (or "lee") is opposite to the wind. The boom is this pole," he rapped his knuckles on the horizontal structure extending from the bottom of the mast.

"Haha, boom," Matilda snickered, unable to help herself; she had an extremely juvenile sense of humor and knew it.

"Val," Wyatt said. "I'm warning you..." he resumed talking. "The rudder is a flat piece under the boat to steer; tacking changes the wind from one side to the other, via the boom."

"Or what?" Matilda penetrated his personal space, stroking his beach-blond hair as he closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of coconut-lime emanating from her soft hand. In the past couple of weeks, their overtures had included holding hands or hugging as a means of emotional comfort or stroking the other's hair when the senior-level counselors weren't looking. There wasn't an anti-fraternization law on the camp rulebooks, but both Wyatt and Matilda still wanted to play things safe. Matilda had come to appreciate the splendor of Camp Wanaka's placid surroundings; neither of them wanted a camper or coworker to accidentally walk in on them, which would undoubtedly result in suspension of duties, or at worst, expulsion without a letter of recommendation, which both of them needed to enter the working world.

And Matilda knew her only hope at finding a job was the magical realm.

Her at-times volatile temper meant that she needed to seek permanent employment in a place that was not only fireproof, but where her conflagration skills were accepted, openly welcomed, and understood, instead of landing her in prison, or worse, in a medical research facility for the rest of her life. Someplace that appreciated her brains and didn't begrudge her for being a woman. From what she understood of her mother Macy's tales about Whitelighters and the Elders of yore, the magical realm was pretty progressive, and tended to employ women just as much, if not more than, men.

Matilda recalled the website she'd read over breakfast in "incognito mode," detailing the possible career paths of a being such as herself. Apparently, it was possible to become a sous-chef, with her hot-tempered ability to set fires instantaneously, but she crossed that off her list as she imagined it would make her blood pressure skyrocket—and that wouldn't be conducive to one's longevity, magical or not. Other options included camp counselor or special effects designer; the first was only a hobby, and the second seemed a bit out of reach. It required a bachelor's degree, which was certainly feasible, but also required knowledge of industry-standard software programs such as RenderMan. Was that, like Slender Man? She had no idea. The website also recommended borrowing books from the library on anatomy and movement (bad idea for a walking fire hazard), going to ballet performances (ew, why), and taking trips to the zoo to observe animals (she was opposed to the capture of animals for human enjoyment). Also, her attention span was semi-nonexistent at times. So what should she do instead?