Abigail sat at her desk, one leg tucked underneath her and her other swinging slightly as she looked at the paper in front of her. She tapped the end of her pen on the desk for a moment before putting pen to paper, writing in neat handwriting.
Dear Mom and Dad,
How are you doing? I’m settling in here alright. All my classes are interesting, and I’m doing well and adjusting to the new surrounding. All my classmates have been very nice, and several are from different countries, so I’m really expanding my experiences. I’ve joined the marching band, and I plan on joining the Drama club that’s forming.
The white haired girl looked at the page with a frown on her face. It was the written equivalent of small talk. Every word of it was true, but it carefully avoided the fact that, say, some of her classmates had wings, or where from other dimensions, or were humanoid cat people. There was careful avoidance of mentioning the actual reason she was sent to St. Joes. From the day the decision was made to send her here until the day she left that topic had been carefully avoided in their house. If they had to bring it up it was always referred to as her ‘gift’, and the topic was quickly abandoned.
She glanced up at the wall above her desk at the tiny newspaper cutting she had taped up. A brief mention of a rescue of someone she had done as Winterfrost. It had been buried in 2 pages reporting on small-time heroics done by various people, almost like a police report. Still, she couldn’t help the pride that rushed through her.
Before that, she had been ready to give up on this whole ‘patrolling’ thing. When she had read about heroes before, it was all about people saving the world, and bringing down evil. There was nothing about how evil seemed to like to hang out in sewers, or that there would be really gross zombies that would puke on you, or how easy it was to get lost in cave full of stupid mages with their stupid demons that hit with their stupid magic that hurt like nothing else. When her contact told her about the office under attack she figured she would go in, clean it up, and then be done with it. Other people could save the world.
She had managed to get through the stupid zombies, and had been in a horrible mood. Finally she found the hostage, and if she had been in a better mood she might have laughed at the look on the man’s face when he saw how young his rescuer was. She had rolled her eyes and lead him out, and by the end of things…
Well, the relief on his face, and the way he said ‘thank you’… well, she went back on patrol the next night. What was the point of having crazy ice powers if you weren’t going to use them, anyway?
She looked at the clipping for a long moment. She wanted to rip it off the wall and drop it in with her letter. She didn’t want to pretend that part of her didn’t exist. But she had seen the fear on their faces at the party when what had been building within her finally found its way out. After they had found out what was going on, they called it a ‘gift’, but she could always hear the commas slot into place around the word. They acted as if their ‘perfect daughter’ had come down with some shameful disease or something.
I’m learning a lot, about many things. It’s never a dull moment around here.
It was just more words, something to fill the space. Once there was a time she would have told her mother anything. But it had been a long time since then. Not since she had wandered off into the forest, and came back changed. But lately it felt like there was two of her. The perfect daughter her parents expected her to be, and… something else that she wasn’t quite sure of yet.
I love you both, and I miss you. I’m doing well, so don’t worry about me. I’ll write again soon.
She looked at the page for a long moment. She heaved a sigh before finally signing it, folding it up, and putting it in the envelope. They weren’t the words she wanted to say, but they were the words her parents expected.
They would have to do for now.
Searching for Words
Moderator: Student Council