“You’re only special because you’re disabled.”
Those words have been reverberating around my skull since class ended. We had our elemental manifestations due today. Jada summoned flames from her palms. Lucas raised the earth. Chase levitated water. I was the only one who didn’t present.
Lucas didn’t like that.
He’s an earth elemental, but his condescending tone drove a serrated icicle into my lungs. He acted like there’s something fundamentally wrong with me. Like I’m broken.
Maybe I am. I can’t squeeze out a single drop of magic in public, even though an overflow could kill me. It’s completely normal to use magic in public. Every elemental does it.
Everyone but me.
Class is over, and I’m left sitting on the edge of the three-tiered stone fountain in the academy courtyard, isolated from society behind a blockade of fir trees. Disappointment seeps into my veins, plaguing my every thought.
Why can’t I do what everyone else does? Why am I so bad at being normal?
Now that I’m alone, my magic is bursting at the seams, begging to be let out. I blow a frustrated whistle, and the cool autumn air awakens from its slumber. The gentle breeze grows forceful as it scatters leaves across the cobblestone.
I stand up and clench my fist. The wind closes in on me until I’m encircled by an invisible funnel. Then I suck in a breath, filling my lungs with air, and let the wind carry me higher. Higher. As high as it can go until my head is barely poking above the trees—
“Tabitha?”
The familiar voice breaks my focus. I spin around midair.
Chase is staring up at me from the entrance.
And just like that, my magic shrivels up into nothing. The wind halts in its tracks.
I plummet toward the stone fountain below me.
Before I can make impact, the fountain water leaps up high. I safely slip past the stone in a makeshift water slide and land on trembling feet. My heart thrashes against my rib cage.
Chase observes me through glowing blue irises, unfazed. “You’re an air elemental?”
I nod, swallowing my annoyance. It’s not like I almost died or anything.
“Why did you fall?”
“Because you’re here.” My cheeks burn under his persistent stare. He seriously doesn’t get it? “I can’t control the wind with people watching.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t, okay? Why do you even care?”
“How can I not? You’re amazing.”
His compliment catches me off-guard. I study his face for any hint of sarcasm, but there is none. He really means it.
“Yeah, well, I’m not very amazing when I can’t do it on command,” I say dryly.
Chase blinks. To him, magic just happens. He doesn’t have to will it to come out of him.
I shrug. “It’s not a big deal, I’ve always been like this—”
“Let me help you.” Above his usual stoic expression emerges a determination I’ve never seen him wear before. “Maybe you could use magic if you got comfortable around me.”
“That could take hours. Days, even.”
“Alright. Let’s do it.”
I hug myself, overwhelmed by his motivation. “Why are you trying so hard?”
“Well, uh…” Now it’s his turn to blush. “To be honest, I’ve always wanted to fly.”
My brows shoot up. I’ve never met a water elemental who wanted to do something not water-related.
“So you want me to take you flying?”
“Only if you want.” Chase offers his hand. “I’d be okay just watching you.”
For a moment, I forget how to breathe. I’m too lost in Chase’s eyes as they shift between normal brown and ethereal blue, full of excitement.
I accept the handshake. “If I can use magic in front of you, I’ll take you flying.”
He cracks a grin. “Deal.”
And so we wait. Chase keeps himself entertained with the fountain water while I sit in the corner, eyes closed, pleading for my magic to surface. Nothing happens. But I won’t give up yet.
We continue after class the next day. No progress. Chase must notice me struggling because he asks about my music taste. I hum the melody of my favorite song. The wind responds during the chorus before dying out.
On the third day, we share our favorite foods. The wind doesn’t care, but I could listen to Chase ramble about ube for hours. I’ve never been able to connect with someone this easily.
On the fourth day, Chase brings ube cakes. I bite into one, savoring the sweet yet earthy flavor on my tongue.
“This is amazing,” I whisper.
A smile takes up his whole face. Between the brown and blue, I swear his irises become ube-colored.
On the fifth day, I’m desperate to see that smile again, so I push myself to the limit. I beg the wind with my whole heart to show itself. But it never does.
I end up curled into a ball on the cobblestone, exhausted after hours of failure. Tears stream down my cheeks from knowing I’ll never be good enough.
Chase wraps his arms around me. “It’s okay if we never fly. You don’t need the wind to be amazing.”
His gentle voice soothes my muffled sobs. I lean against his chest, sinking into the nutty aroma of ube. Replaying his words over and over until I can bring myself to believe him.
That’s when the wind finally responds to me. A strong gale whips our hair around, surrounding us like another embrace.
My eyes shoot open. It stops completely.
Chase and I gape at each other. As soon as my lips curl upward, he brings me back into the hug. We spend the rest of the day celebrating, even though I’ve only taken one step forward. We’re nowhere near close to flying.
But this is proof I’m not broken. I’ll keep trying to improve until I can use magic whenever I want. I’ll become good enough for myself.
Until then, I’m okay with being amazing.
Katie Collan (she/her) is a Jewish neurodivergent author who brings characters to life both textually and visually. She received a B.F.A. in film from New York Institute of Technology and wrote a psychological thriller short film that won the Best of Film award in the 2022 NYIT Film Festival. Off-screen, her short fiction has appeared in a previous FLARE Magazine issue.
Bluesky: @kancollan.bsky.social
Twitter: @KCollan