“But I can help myself,” I murmured, thinking out loud. My parents had already forged their legacies, but mine was still in the earliest of stages. If I wanted to make them truly proud on family weekend, then I had to start kicking things up a notch. The physical side made up half of the graduation score, so I couldn’t rely on academics alone. And I wasn’t about to waste these years only to fail at the end. I’d told Genie I would run, and I had to put my money where my mouth was.
“Maybe I’ll go for an evening—” I gulped “—run.” It wasn’t too late, the island was more or less a crime-free zone, and the dusky twilight would mask most of my awkward technique. During the week, students were expected to be in their rooms by eleven o’clock—an unwritten rule of sorts—but the same didn’t stand for weekends. The older students would probably be in the pub by now, literally drinking in some Irish hospitality, and my classmates would be in the rec room. If there was ever a time to start my cardio journey, it was now, when I could be guaranteed peace and quiet.
Cynane erupted into fits of giggles and set off across the desk in a weird, squat run that reminded me of a frantic lizard I’d seen sprinting across a pond in a nature documentary. She gasped loudly for air until she toppled over in a heap, cracking up.
I shot her a stern look. “Hilarious.”
Boudicca flew up to my face and grasped my cheeks in her tiny hands. She gave me a solemn look, clearly trying to show that she had faith in me, but the attempt was ruined by the half-smirk on her lips. I’d hoped I might get some encouragement from one of the pixies, but they all seemed to be thinking the same thing: “You? Running? HA.”
“I suggest you drop the negativity, or I’ll put on so much boppy music that your ears will bleed. I need cheering on, not a reminder of how weird my legs are.” They hated pop music with a passion, screeching every time I cycled through the latest charts and trashing my room until I made it stop. They’d even gone so far as to launch an assault on my speakers a month ago while I was in the shower. Naomi had fixed them up for me, with limited questions as to how they’d gotten so wrecked in the first place, but I’d learned a valuable lesson—pixies despised modern music, but they were suckers for a folk tune. If I needed a break while they were in my care, I put on the Internet’s finest “Celtic Folk Jams” playlist and let them go to town, jigging away to their heart’s content.
Cynane grabbed a pencil and hurled it at my chest like a spear, while Spartacus lobbed his teaspoon at me. Boudicca flicked me on the nose and chattered furiously, making violent retching noises in between bursts of rage.
“Then I don’t want to hear so much as one snort,” I warned. Fitness was the one aspect of my life that I’d never taken seriously, despite knowing its benefits. But if toughening up and finally bolstering my endurance brought me closer to flooring Marcel, then I had to start. I mean, who knew, maybe a bit of cardio would help with my Purges, too. Being in better shape might help me recover more quickly, no matter the size or power level of my creations.
Boudicca clamped her lips shut and drew her fingertips across like a zipper. Glancing back at Cynane and Spartacus, she reopened the zipper before hitting them with a tirade of shrieks and barks, which I guessed meant she was relaying the instruction. I had to laugh—my life had certainly been more colorful since these little beasties had come along.
Exhaling deeply, I took my sneakers and exercise gear into the bathroom to change. I’d learned another valuable lesson early on, which was that it was never a good idea to change in front of the pixies. On one occasion, Cynane had done a mime piece involving two satsuma mandarins that would be forever seared into my brain.
Heading back out, I pulled up the hood of my sweater, already trying to think up an excuse to avoid the evening jog. No… no excuses. I have to do this. If Genie’s running tales were to be believed, it would be life-altering.
“I won’t be gone long, so don’t wreck anything,” I said to the pixies, resigned. “I’d take you with me, but you’ll be safer here.” They still wore their yellow tagging rings and, while I’d become an expert at removing them for previous excursions, it didn’t seem like a smart idea to take the pixies out in the dark. They glowed, for one thing, which might draw unwanted attention.
Before I even reached the door, the pixies had rocketed through the air and divebombed me, forcing me to duck and cover my head with my arms. Clearly, they didn’t approve of the idea of being left in my stuffy room while I enjoyed the fresh air. Cynane had wrapped herself around the door handle, gnashing her sharp teeth, so I knew I’d get a nasty bite if I even tried to grab it; Boudicca pressed herself flat to the jamb and puffed up her lungs, letting me know she was ready to scream the place down if I resisted; Spartacus hovered in front of my face with a paintbrush poised at my forehead, bright green paint dripping down to the hardwood floor.
“It’s not personal!” I protested. “If I take you guys out there, it’ll be like carrying three rainbow lanterns. And you’ve got those rings on, which I’ll have to take off first. I’m trying to keep us all low profile.”
Spartacus brought the paintbrush closer, and Boudicca looked as if she was about to burst from inhaling so much. Reluctantly, she released her breath and fluttered down to my head, bending over so I had to look at her upside down. She gave me a sharp rap on the noggin with her clenched fist before unleashing a twittering torrent of pixie-speak that definitely wasn’t polite. I’d developed an ear for their language in the last six months, and they were major fans of the expletive.
Boudicca dropped down to hover in front of my face and pointed to her cuttlefish spots, which were an irritated shade of vermilion.
“I understand what you’re saying, but those lights come on as soon as the sun goes down. You won’t be able to not glow,” I argued. If anyone saw us, I imagined their first instinct would be to worry that the Wisps had somehow returned. We’d be swarmed by hunters before I’d even warmed up. And then Victoria would know we’d broken the rules, and I’d never be able to take the pixies out again.
Boudicca rolled her eyes and dove, without permission, into the neckline of my sweater and began to rummage around, in what I assumed to be an attempt to harass me into concession. I yelped and patted wildly at the fabric. But she was faster, dodging my strikes. Thoroughly tickled, I grabbed the hem and tried unsuccessfully to shake her out.
“Come out of there, or none of us are getting out of here this evening,” I commanded. Inwalla teetered on the tip of my tongue; I didn’t want to use it, but I didn’t want a pixie hiding out in my clothing, either.
She scrambled down my sleeve, making me wriggle. I hated being tickled almost as much as I hated running. A moment later, her head poked out of the cuff, wearing a mischievous grin. She chirped, as if to say: “Does this mean we’re allowed to go with you?”
I shook her out of my sleeve wordlessly, prompting her to fly straight back up and poise for another dive. I raised my hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, you can come!” Boudicca backed off, smug as anything. “But, like I said, I’ll have to take the rings off first, and you have to swear that you’ll keep your lights as dim as possible and keep close to me. If you get me into even the tiniest smidgen of trouble, we’re all screwed.”