CENSORED 13: ELAINA

I pull Nick to me in a warm embrace when he sits down at our center table. The Oculus is full with students, excitement filling the once empty space while everyone talks about their summer breaks. It feels like I haven’t seen him for a million years, though that’s a ridiculous exaggeration since we barely separated an hour ago to distribute the Sparklets before breakfast.

We only half expected a curt denial to the emergency petition filed on Saturday. The Order rarely bothers with a formal rejection, let alone responding outside standard working hours, but we weren’t rejected. The approval was instant, and a Sparklet shipment was express couriered the following day.

We’re excited about the potential social connections made available by this technology. While we’d never voice our pride aloud, it feels pretty amazing to have had a direct hand in the acquisition. Spark ignition has doubled, and we’re really starting to believe our efforts to connect with the charges played a role in the increase. Further expanding those connections between students and their families, via these amazing handheld devices, can’t be anything but a good thing.

The Order further impressed us by purchasing Sparklets for all family members so they can stay in close contact with charges, bridging the divide in the only way we can offer until they can better control their flow. Limiting physical access is done to protect their families. Good intentions aside, that sort of separation isn’t easy for anyone involved.

“I told you we could get it done and still have time for breakfast,” I tinkle, unable to hide my grin.

“We should’ve gone together,” he sputters.

“We were sort of in a rush,” I remind him, sliding my hand onto his thigh under the table.

His eyes vapour cone at the memory, but he stalls my hand just a hair away from the strain I’m causing in his pants.

Ainsley groans loudly, slams her tray down on the table, and drops into a seat across from us. “Can you two ever just…not?”

Nick smirks while I updraft brightly before spooning a heap of eggs between my lips.

“Guess that’s a big blitzing no,” she dryfires.

I notice Luke behind her seeming particularly interested in the back of her head, so I nudge Nick to bring it to his attention too. He chokes on a laugh, blasting eggs from his mouth in Ainsley’s direction.

“So freaking gross.” She swipes egg from her face and doesn’t retaliate. We’re making progress.

“How did you sleep?” Nick tailslides before she can change her mind.

“Surprisingly, not awful,” she reports, staring at her wristband in an annoyed way as she bites into her bagel.

I was worried about her in the room with the dorm guards. They’re all more than a little intimidating, but they’re also the strongest undergrad wielders of their elements. With Ainsley’s spark well so strong, they’re the best option to keep her from imploding. There isn’t a safer place she could be, even if that place isn’t where she truly wants to be.

She smiles when Grady arrives, and it chinkles my chimes. She isn’t choosing to be alone in this. Grady pulls out his Sparklet. She follows suit. He starts tapping hers to show her how different things work. “It’s got a screen slider.” He expands the screen outward, then inward again to compress it back to its smallest size.

“I already used it to call my mom.” His face drops a little as he says it, so I make a mental note to talk to him about it privately in our afternoon session.

He shows her where all her contacts are. She gets excited seeing her dad and brothers as favourite contacts. “You can add pictures to their profiles.”

“Oh, I don’t have any to add,” she backstops.

“They can just take some and send them to you,” he yips. “They’ll have their own devices too.”

“Yeah, maybe. I guess...” she hangfires.

“Just like this.” Grady holds up the Sparklet to snap a picture of him and Ainsley.

She groans her displeasure over the photo.

“What’s wrong? Were you making a weird face?” he whines.

“Not me,” she quickfires, recoiling her nose, “but someone definitely looks like they need to take an rump-tearing dump.”

Nick grabs for the device to see for himself and starts jetting hysterically. I lean in to see what’s so funny. The angle of the photo shows Luke right between their smiling faces with an expression indicating he does, in fact, need very badly to relieve his inverted chime tube.

Grady takes back the device, crops the photo to just him, and adds it to his profile in her contacts. “How did your night go?”

Ainsley shrugs.

“I slept in my doggone wardrobe,” Grady growls.

“Why on earth would you do that?” I tink.

“Seemed safer than under my bed,” he yowls.

Tears well in my eyes. I hate this part for them. They need to release the spark to stop it from hurting them, but wielders terrorizing the charges into releasing it is a horrid tradition.

“I’m sorry, Grady,” I ping.

He snuffs. “Spunkbuckets got me in the end anyway.”

“Did they get you too, Ainsley?” I plink.

“Not really,” she shoots back, finishing her bagel. “I mean, White Horse tried to take me from behind.”

Nick chokes on his eggs. “He what?”

“The more I think about it, I’m pretty sure he put his hand over my mouth to stop me from shooting curses at him.”

Grady quakes with terror beside her. “Then what happened?”

“I took a chunk out of his hand with my teeth, kicked him in the propellers, and boot-kissed his kidney,” she slamfires like that’s the most normal thing in the world.

I gasp. “Do you want us to try to work out some other sleeping arrangements?”

Luke’s eye ripples over my question, but he doesn’t look at me. He just keeps staring at Ainsley.

“No,” she returns fire. “I like Keira, Aspen, and Maverick well enough. They actually tucked me in last night. It was sort of sweet.”

I ting a sigh of relief.

“I have to find an air freshener though.”

“Why?!” Nick booms.

“The room reeks of eruptions,” she clips.

“We have a bunch...” Nick whitetrails. “Elaina breaks wind incessantly in her sleep.”

I glower at him. “Not that kind of wind for dark’s sake.”

Grady headtilts. “What scent do you like?”

“Salty sea air,” she accurizes after considering it for a few minutes.

“We’ll get it sorted,” Nick course-confirms.

Grady looks around, frowning when his search yields no results. “I wonder what happened to Fiona.”

A bell sounds and students start collecting themselves from the tables.

“Time for class,” I chime cheerfully. “I’m sure she’s already there saving seats for you.”

I certainly hope that’s the case.