[16] The Only Advice

“Isn't it awful?” I stressed, “Her parents never even showed up for her funeral. They expected her to fail and probably to end up dead too for all I imagine!”

Ethan shuffled in his spot aimlessly. “That blows.”

“Where will you be when I'm training?” I asked.

“Out protecting the city, I assume,” he shrugged.

“Where's the C?” I asked, looking down at Ethan from up at the top of the ladder. He stretched his long limb upward to give me the black, italic letter.

After the funeral that took place in the Western Plains, we visited a local craft store there and I bought a bunch of adhesive letters for my first room design. It was a quote that would be plastered over the entrance door –

“Freedom is a Choice.”

It was my way of remembering Macy, as well as convincing myself I could do anything if I really tried. I was almost finished with it and I couldn't wait for the task to be over. My back pained me from all the stretching I was doing just trying to get the letters to be straight. I begged Ethan to put it up for me, but that idea was cancelled out by two things:

1. I was afraid he would mess it up.

2. He didn't want to do it because he thought it was comical to see me struggle. He was taller than me. Six-foot-one doesn't come close to five-foot-six, and not all tall people are kind.

“I can't believe time flew by so fast. Isn't it funny?” I said.

Ethan chuckled, “Yea. You moved in not too long ago, and tomorrow your training begins.”

I thought back to how it all played out. In such a short space of time so many things in my life had changed.

I lost the life I knew and I gained a whole new one. I became this whole new person.

Ethan sighed. “I still don't get how you can be so calm about all this. You've been thrown into a completely different ocean and yet you're already just surfing the waves like you’re so accustomed to it all.”

“I always felt like something was missing from my life,” I said. “I knew tattooing wasn't my fate. I didn't know what was. I always loved creative arts, though. You knew that.”

“Truth is, when I knew for sure that you were a Wielder, I got pretty excited,” Ethan grinned. I turned and looked down at him and smiled.

“I thought you'd be like ‘Oh no! Please don't tell me I have to deal with this one in a whole other realm! I can't take it! I can't take it!’” I mimed a throat-slit with my tongue hanging out at one side of my mouth and he shook his head.

“Such a drama queen,” he muttered.

“I know,” I smirked. “It's part of my personality. You love it, don't lie,” I turned back to the wall and continued the sticking the letters. “Almost done -just got one more word to go.”

Ethan was quiet for a few moments. I wondered why.

“This might sound like some intensely deep bullshit,” He said at last, “but don't take it for granted... okay? Do what your heart thinks is right to do and say what your heart tells you to say. No matter how much you try to stifle that inner voice, it's only going to bottle up, get louder and eventually the bottle is going to explode. It's going to be too loud of a voice to ignore; a voice even you won't be able to control. Don't hold yourself back on anything you truly want to do.”

“Whoa, Ethan...” I said, amazed. “You're stealing my spotlight! I’m supposed to be the deep one.”

“I'm serious,” he said, pointedly. “In this world, you're going to rely a lot on what your heart says, especially being a Creative Wielder.”

I smiled at him softly. “Thanks for the advice, Eth. I promise I won't take it for granted.” I stepped down from the ladder and breathed in deeply before letting out a satisfying unidentifiable noise, “Finally. It's finished.”

“It looks pretty good,” Ethan stated.

I paused, offended. “That's it? ‘It looks pretty good?’ You refused to help me, laughed at my struggle and when I do it all on my own all I get is a ‘pretty good’? I disown you, Ethan. I disown you.”

“Fine. It's inspiring!” He responded in a sarcastic, overly-enthusiastic tone.

I punched him hard on his shoulder, “Shut up. Just... just shut up.”

“You should get some rest now,” He suggested. “I'm warning you. Berry's usually up real early doing who-knows-what so you should try to at least be ready by half-eight.”

“Oh my god it sounds like I'm re-entering high school,” I groaned.

“Welcome to Academy One,” He said, in a deep voice, as he slowly exited the room.

I shut the door as he disappeared behind it and I looked around. Everything was white except for my suitcase stuffed with clothes and the black-lettered quote above my door. I sighed and whispered to myself, “Home sweet home.”