Chapter 6: Half

The mirror smiles at me as I brush through my brunette waves. I show it my vulnerability, and in return, I receive myself on the opposite side of the reflective glass. My true self, the one that doesn’t have to hide. The one that knows how to control magic like it’s nothing, like it’s the easiest thing on the planet. The one that can have friends and not worry about the safety of an entire race. I’m sucked into a whole other world.

Imagining what that life might look like snatches each organ out of my body, then only putting half back in. Things could’ve been different. Everything could’ve been different, to a point where it’s unrecognizable.

I place my brush down on the vanity and tuck a stray lock behind my ear. It’s just another day. Another morning. Wake up, go to school, come home, do homework, sleep. The same old, boring week day. Nothing changes. All the same.

But today, I got up early, so I can actually enjoy breakfast rather than rushing to eat it on the drive to school. A little less boring, I guess I can say. My parents are probably waiting for me downstairs, Dad preparing something nice like honey pancakes or toast… with honey.

Upon hearing Mom call for me from downstairs, I leave the bathroom after giving myself one last look over. Good. Just good.

I tread down the stairs, and a strong whiff of honey tickles my nose, a fruity treat for the morning. “Amazing.” I sigh as I walk to the island and lean over the countertop. “What’s it gonna be today?”

Dad turns away from the stove to face me for a moment. “You’re ready early. Is there some special occasion happening that I don’t know about?”

“Besides breakfast with my parents? Nope. I know this may be a rare occurrence, but I do like to have a decent breakfast every once in a while that doesn’t include weekends. Although I do like sleep, I’m really trying to balance it out.”

“You’ve just unlocked the secret to life,” Mom comments, grabbing plates and glasses from the cabinet and setting them on the counter by the stove.

I shrug. “Better now than never.”

Mom opens the drawer for utensils. “How much time do you have before you need to get to school?”

“Enough to sit down and enjoy my breakfast, unless Dad doesn’t stop playing Mr. Perfectionist for five seconds.”

He’s always like this when he cooks, making sure that each dish is worthy enough to be on one of those cooking contest shows. Growing up, I thought that he should be a professional chef. When I asked about it, he told me that it was a dream of his, but life guided him elsewhere—it didn’t work out.

Dad moves the last pancake over to the tower of pancakes that rests on a single plate and turns off the stove. The flame dims with a snap.

Some minutes later, in the dining room, we all sit on one side of the table, leaving the other half empty. Years ago, we would have family over for holidays, and the table would be filled.

Both Mom and Dad’s family had to move for work. Mom’s is in California while Dad’s resides in England. The trip to come here is too much for them, too expensive, so now, it’s just the three of us. Although I do miss my cousins and aunts and uncles, I don’t mind it. I still keep in contact with them. It’s not the same.

Like us, they’re Druids, too. On Mom’s side, there must have been some kind of mutation because my cousins didn’t grow the points of their ears. I mean, it makes it easier for them to hide, but they’re not any less of a Druid. We always tell them that.

What I never really understood is how this family happened if we have to keep our identities to ourselves to lessen that risk of exposure. If there is a rule set in place that keeps us from interacting with other Mystics, then how am I here, sitting at breakfast and going to school and living my life? That part of the rule has always been unclear to me since I’ve grown to acknowledge its origins, since my parents first told me about it.

I pick up my fork and stab a pancake from the tower of pancakes. It plops onto my plate. “So, uh, how did you meet?”

Mom sets down her fork and chuckles. “Hon, we’ve already told you this story.”

“It was a long time ago when we did, so maybe she forgot,” Dad says.

“I didn’t forget. You met in college and the rest was history, or whatever. Happily ever after, the end.” I cut a piece of the pancake and bite, my cheeks swelling with the sweet honey packed in the pancake. “How did you not get in trouble by the Council? Like what if Dad was actually a shifter? There’s no way to know if you can’t tell each other what your species is, let alone that you’re a Mystic.”

Mom glances at my Dad from across the table, then at me. “Well, we aren’t sure if this is true, but according to rumor, if the person you’re with isn’t the same species or isn’t a Mystic at all, the Council will create something bad within the relationship that will separate you.”

“You could say that your mother and I got lucky.”

I sip my orange juice. “It doesn’t make sense that they can have eyes everywhere all at once.”

“The Council are the most powerful Mystics in existence, Michaela. Nothing stays hidden from them,” Mom says.

“That’s not creepy at all,” I mumble, and push my plate away from me.

But it doesn’t check. If nothing stays hidden from them, they would’ve caught me back when I was nine and banished me for risking exposure. We were able to run from them then, run away from consequences. I know that Mom wouldn’t lie about this stuff, about the Council.

What if what she was told isn’t true to begin with?