"Leo, where are you going?" Ayan could barely follow behind her brother in the busy streets of Forgecard Falls. He walked much faster than her, and her feet hurt. Apparently the difference between seven years old and eight was a big one.
Ayan trailed after Leo like thread on a needle. Then he took a sudden turn down an alley and placed Ayan next to a trash can. She tried not to wrinkle her nose at the smell because she didn't want to hurt Leo's feelings.
"Leo, I'm hungry."
"Okay, wait here." Ayan looked at her clothes as Leo went back onto the the street. Leo had gotten them a month ago from the Xurugwi temple--an orange and floral sarong and a shirt the same pale blue as the uniform their dad had worn before he died. Now both were gray and brown. Ayan wanted Leo to take her back to Temple Avenue. Most of the temple leaders had been quick to offer food or clothes, but Leo said they shouldn't go too often or the Florarovan officials might find them and split them up.
Leo returned to Ayan with a steaming hand pie in a napkin. "Be careful, it's hot."
"You're quite the little thief." The new voice made Ayan jump. She could barely see the woman over the top of the trash can, but Leo was trying to back away. Ayan scrambled up, in case they needed to run. She wondered if the woman was another Florarovan looking for them, but her accent didn't sound funny, the way Florarovans didn.
"Well? Do you talk?" The woman inched closer to them.
"I didn't steal anything." Leo's face was serious and Ayan wanted to believe him, but she wasn't sure where he'd gotten the money to pay for what they ate most of the time.
The woman held her hands palm up in the air. "I'm not angry. But I know a pickpocket when I feel one. And I'd like my wallet back."
"I don't have your wallet." Leo turned the pockets of his shorts, as dirty as Ayan's shirt, inside out to show the woman they were empty. "You probably dropped it."
The woman frowned, then took a step back, out of the alley, and glanced up the street. "I supposed I did." She turned back to Leo. "Though I doubt there's any money left inside."
Ayan knew Leo wouldn't want her to say anything, but she couldn't hold back any longer. "Please don't take him away!"
The woman met Ayan's green eyes with her own soft, golden ones. "Would you like some new clothes?" She said, rather than adress Ayan's outburst. Ayan noticed the woman also wore an orange floral sarong, and her feet were bare, like Ayan's and Leo's. She couldn't be Florarovan. They always wore shoes. But Leo grabbed Ayan's arm. She could see fear in his eyes.
The woman still held her arms in the air. "What I mean is, I think we can help each other."
Leo shuffled back slightly. Ayan wanted to tell her brother to take the woman's help. Then they could stop moving around all the time. They could sleep in beds again. And take baths. The woman stuck her hands in her pockets. "Keep the money. If you want my help, come by the antiquities musem. Ask for Altiane." Then, hands in her pockets, she sauntered away.
While Mat's dreams were improving, Ayan's were getting worse. Her memories of Leo had haunted her since she had received his letter. Ayan looked around the room. Miriam was still asleep, so she knew it was early. She dressed quickly in her uniform and headed out ot th elightning ball pitch, hoping practice would take her mind off things.
Ayan was the first to the pitch, but she didn't have to wait long before she saw Wince coming toward her delicately holding the ball. Coach Lincaoter was not far behind.
"Ayan, is that you here early? Are you feeling off color?"
Not familiar with the idiom, Ayan looked at Wince, hoping for a translation.
He grinned. "He's suggesting you're sick."
"Oh. No, I just thought I would shock you all by arriving on time, instead of last minute."
They heard a shout from across the pitch as the other players arrived. Coach Lincoated clapped his hands together. "All right, let's warm up."
After some stretches and a short jog around the pitch, the coach divided them into teams to play against each other. When she ended up on the same team as Wince, she tried to position herself close to him, only to realize that, strategically speaking, this was a bad idea. Being so much taller than her, Wince tended to catch any hit she might have been able to make on the ball. At one point, they jumped into each other. Wince missed his shot and got shocked as he smacked the conical end of the ball. Ayan lost her balanced and as ahe dropped back to the ground, her foot twisted beneath her.
"Tyeen, you alright?" Coach Lincoater came forward.
Wince helped her up, but when Ayan tried to shift her weight to her injured foot, it hurt more than she liked.
"Take her to the infirmary." Wince slide his arm around Ayan's back to help her balance, and somewhere in the back of her mind, Ayan thought this would have been perfect if it weren't for her foot.
Wince helped Ayan to the infirmary, and then into a chair. The room looked a bit like a hospital waiting room, with several chairs spaced out against two opposite walls, not that anyone was there. Across from the door they had entered was another, through which a short, balding man with a thick black mustache and beard walked. He raised bushy eyebrows at her and Wince.
"Hi Mr. Putyam," Wince said, "She came down wrong on her ankle during practice."
Mr. Putyam? Ayan thought, as in Mrs. Putyam's husband? She helf expected him to be as harsh as his wife, but he looked at her with kind eyes. "We'll see to it. I'm sure she'll be ready to play again in no time."
Wince left, and Mr. Putyam felt Ayan's ankle. He opened the innder door and called to someone inside. Then he drew up another chair for Ayan to elevate her foor. A student in Magnolia yellow came out with a bundle, wrapped in fabric. It took a moment for Ayan to recognize Tisheet.
"I didn't know you worked in the infirmary," she told the older girl.
"Yeah, I have the morning shift, before classes start, so the overnight crew can get some rest." She handed Ayan the cloth, which turned out to have ice for her ankle.
"You mean someone stays here all night?"
"What else are we going to do if someone gets sick in the night? Mr. Putyam and Ms. Collins can't be here all the time. Even he's not usually in this early, on the nights no one comes in."
"But the overnight kids have to go to class afterward?"
Tisheet shook her head. "They're excused from their morning classes."
That was relief, anyway, not that Ayan had any intention of ever working in the infirmary. She held the ice to her ankle, and once she figured out how to get it to stay by itself, leaned back against her chair. She wished he had her embroidery hoop, or at least a book. Mr. Putyam left, probably for breakfast, and returned an hour later. The uperclassmen working shifts also came and went. There were students from all five houses, but more from Westwood than the others. After a while, a girl in Providence purple came in with a hand to her head and took a seat next to Ayan. Ayan turned away quickly when she realized it was Jo.
But Jo had seen her too. "Hey. You're freinds with Mat, right? How is he? I heard they were going to expel him."
"Well, you heard wrong," Ayan snapped.
"Good." Ayan turned and looked at her. Jo still held a hand to the side of her head, pressing it slightly as if to see where it was tender. "From what Tony told me, sounded like he was going to blow a fuse. Maybe he didn't after all."
Ayan wasn't sure what to say to that, and she was grateful that she didn't have to say anything because Mr. Putyam came back through the door and turned to Jo. "Jo Lumo, back so soon."
"Invisibility accident. Someone opened a door into me."
Mr. Putyam actually laughed. "I'll get you some ice."
"You can have mine." Ayan handed the soggy towel to Mr. Putyam. She knew it was a stupid thing to say, and the ice had probably all melted, but didn't want to stay there any longer. "My ankle's feel better now, thank you." She gingerly stood up and left the room.
