On Monday, Nellie gathered her belongings and rushed downstairs to prepare a quick breakfast before school. She had spent all weekend in her room, no thanks to her father, and wanted to be out of the apartment AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.

Cereal was the usual option when she was in a hurry like this. The only problems were that, one: her father was currently indisposed, having already spent nearly an hour in the shower which left her without a ride; and two: she didn’t trust herself pouring milk with a cast now hindering her dominant hand. 

Will anyone sign this dumb thing today? Nellie glanced down at the wine-red casing, but rapidly shook her head to shove the thought down.

She poured herself a bowl of Far Out Flakes, and picked at the fruits and marshmallows mixed deep within the collection of grains. With the year’s only lesson on musae coming up that Monday, Nellie’s weekend had passed rather quickly. Her class had just begun writing essays, so to practice they had been assigned a one-page paper detailing their favorite story of the Instruments and why. Most of her classmates would write about the countless battles, crusades, and tragedies that had plagued the militant societies of the past, but Nellie wanted to take a different approach. She wanted to know how the musae and their Instruments affected her ancestors, what they did with their powers, the lessons they learned with them, and how they would use them for courtship and love. She wanted to know why the musae were covered so briefly in school and why people only seemed to associate them with narratives of bloodshed or power. 

Mach was a world of tremendous possibilities, filled with people who could gain the power of the stars and do unimaginable things. Where were the accounts of adversaries coming together? Of people with nothing to gain helping others that have less than them? Where were the sacrifices and amazing feats? Where were the tales of adventure and eerie discoveries? Where were the martyrs and the heartbroken? Where were the ghosts? Their world was an old one, with over a millennia of stories that no one seemed to think were worthy enough to remember. Surely there had to be more to their history with the musae than war and violence?

And though she hadn’t planned on being in school that week, or ever again really, with nothing but time to kill over the past two days Nellie decided to go all out and put together an expansive poster board to present alongside her paper. She titled it, More Musae Classes: Our Stories Belong to the World!

Feeling thirsty after her sugary meal, Nellie went to the cupboard for a glass and instinctively reached into the fridge for milk. A jolt of pain shot through her wrist as the carton’s cold surface  slipped out of her hand. Nellie yelped. The carton fell and tore open on impact, spewing its creamy contents across the kitchen floor. 

“Crap.”

She spun in search of a spare rag, napkins, paper towels; anything absorbent to help her clean up, but it was to no avail. The small kitchen was devoid of any materials that could help her wipe the spill. Using a mop would only create a problem for later since she’d still have to rinse out the milk, so her only option was to hope that they had plenty of toilet paper once the bathroom opened up. 

So much for getting to school on time.

An Instrument, any Instrument, would be perfect for situations like this. With fire she’d be able to cast a controlled flame and quickly dry up the spill. With water she could pull at the liquid and guide it towards the sink. And an Instrument like psychic would not only allow her to take care of the spill, its telekinetic abilities would also let her save a step and throw out the ruined carton. 

Lost in the possibilities that the Instruments could offer, Nellie nearly missed it when the ambient resonance of the shower finally stopped. Upstairs her father’s heavy footfalls slapped tile as he climbed out of the tub. Nellie sprang out of the kitchen, taking the steps two at a time as Gerwig ran out from nowhere to lap up what he could of the milk. 

The bathroom door was shut when Nellie swung around the landing. Behind it, an electric razor began its shrill buzz.

“Ugh,” she groaned, they were already pressed for time. She knocked and almost at once, the door opened. 

“What!?”

Her father glared through a haze of steam as his bleary eyes found Nellie. He stood before the sink, wearing nothing but boxer shorts and a gray T-shirt. The cabinet beside him hung open revealing toothpaste, hair products, pills, and a few extra rolls of toilet paper. Every once in a while, she’d find a small bottle of a brown liquid stashed behind the toiletries, though much to her relief there wasn’t one in sight today. 

Nellie placed a hand on her hips. “We’re late.”

“Sorry,” he sighed, “It’s been a rough morning—”

“As always.” She didn’t have time for this. 

Her father shot her a look as sharp as daggers. “I’m almost done in here. Be patient.”

“It’s been over an hour already,” she grumbled. “What’s taking so long?”

“This!” He snapped. “This is what’s taking so long!” 

Nellie crossed her arms, standing her ground. This wasn’t the first time he’d treated his daughter as if she were some kind of burden. “You can’t keep doing this to me.” She chose her words carefully. “Please, I spent the whole weekend on this presentation. I won’t get to show it in class if I’m this late.”

His grip on the razor tightened. But a moment later an exasperated breath escaped him as he reached to close the door. “Have your things ready in the car.”

“No, wait! I still need something in there!” 

Nellie slid in past him, snatching a roll of toilet paper.

Her father raised an eyebrow. “What’s that for?” 

“We don’t have napkins,” she smirked, and darted back downstairs. “Hurry up!”

…  

Hazel eyes in a field of freckles mirrored Nellie’s face as she watched the town of Comet Hill race by through the windows of her father’s sedan. The buildings at the center of the city were flat, no taller than one or two stories, and polished to look brilliantly white under the sun. Nellie peered through their glass windows catching sight of people bustling about in the stores and offices within. After they’d persevered through several blocks of tumultuous traffic, all teeming with pedestrians, they rounded the city’s easternmost hill and those same shops gave way to luscious trees, large suburban houses and verdant parks. 

Nellie cleared her throat to break the silence. “Do you know if she’s made it to Tennkū?”

Her father flicked her a warning glance. “I don't think about those things anymore.” 

“It’s a yes or no question,” Nellie said, pursing her lips. Tennkū was an island nation found far across the Sunbleeds Ocean. Its traditions and culture had become widespread throughout the years but because the Tennkā people were reclusive in nature, many only knew the archipelago as the Land of Wind. The thought of those exotic islands and the gift its people could wield often prompted fantasies of where her mother could be in the world. 

“I was just wondering if—”

“Nellie, please.” Her father sighed, “Not now. My supervisor called again this morning. She still doesn’t trust the new guy enough to let him close so I—”

“Have to stay late with him,” Nellie finished, almost with a yawn. “I know.” Up ahead, the Comet Hill Academy for the Arts came into view; a cluster of white buildings spread out around the walls of a large auditorium, a sprawling courtyard with a playground in the center, and a brand new gymnasium sitting on a small rise to the west. 

 Her father continued, “It might be better for you to find another way home this week. Don’t be afraid to walk. I trust you, baby girl.” He reached over and gave her a tender rub on the shoulder. Slumped in her seat, Nellie nodded. She needed this day to end already.

It was 11 o’clock when they reached the student drop-off. A portly woman waved them past the security booth and guided them to a parking spot along the curb. Nellie hopped out without a second to waste. She grabbed the poster board and the rest of her belongings from the rear seat as the security guard approached, her eyes full of delight. 

“Peredur!” She greeted, “Another late morning, huh?”

Perry scowled and bid his daughter a quick goodbye before he replied, “Bug off Carol. Who asked you anyway?” He revved the engine and peeled out of the parking lot with a roar. 

All the security guard could do was shake her head. “Always rude that one.” She turned away, headed back towards her booth, when she caught sight of Nellie struggling to lug the poster board through the school’s front doors. Carol did her best not to laugh. 

“Need a hand?” 

Nellie frowned. She had expected jokes, but none this early. “I’m okay. Thanks.”

“Don’t be dense, girl,” said the security guard, “You’ll end up a grouch like your father.” She strode past the eight-year old and held the door for her. Nellie needed both hands to carry the poster board. It was half her size and the cast made it tough to hold on to for long. Dread filled her at the thought that she might trip over it if she wasn’t careful.

Carol caught a glimpse of the maps, quotes, and photos pasted onto the board and asked, “What’s this thing for anyway?” 

“Class,” Nellie said hastily. “I’m late for our history lesson.”

The security guard furrowed her brows. “Wait, there’s no one in class right now. We’re having a school wide assembly in the auditorium. Third graders and up.”

“What?” Nellie’s heart sank in her chest. 

“Yeah, a guest speaker came in today,” the security guard continued, “Some politician from the Pharum. But I dunno, it seems like the event should be over soon. It’s close to lunchtime and the kindergarteners are almost back from recess–”

Nellie darted from the scene. She sped past lockers with strung-up decorations and empty hallways bathed in fluorescent light. There wouldn’t be time for her presentation if she waited until lunch passed. Her teacher, Ms. Therese, preferred to keep things low-key after an assembly and would often end the day by playing a movie or reading aloud to them. It was a longshot, but if Nellie managed to get Therese’s attention as their class left the auditorium then she might just be able to share her story that day. 

The thud, thud, thud, of her knees striking the poster board became almost rhythmic as she neared the auditorium. She found a bench in front of the main doors and waited there with her board propped up for everyone to see. Her chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths. 

A muffled voice inside the auditorium grew into raucous applause. Doors burst open seconds later and a tide of shrieks and squeals rushed through. 

Kindergartners. 

They were on their way to lunch. Nellie gazed about the swarm, eyes wide with alarm. How would her class find her in this crowd? 

“Whoa! Look at that boat!”

“Who’s that woman? Is she a princess?”

“She’s so pretty!”

“Look! Look! It’s the Instruments!”

More and more kids gathered around Nellie, pushing one another for a better look at her poster board. Most spoke excitedly about the large 3-mast galleon, a wartime sailing ship lost to history, that spanned the center of the board. Others near the back reenacted a clash between two musae, the unpredictable fractals of Lightning versus the coarse, oily heaps of Dark, that she had cut out from an old library book. And to her delight, she found several wide eyes fixed on the two women in a small photo towards the top of the board. 

 Nellie grinned as if she could barely contain herself. “That’s the signing of the World Treaty with Tennkū—”

A roar tore through the hall like a crashing avalanche. The auditorium had finally opened, releasing a surge of restless students from the confinements of the school assembly. Nellie straightened. Peering through the masses, she caught a glimpse of her teacher’s dark mop of curls and spun to grab her board. 

“Sorry! Gotta go!”

Ms. Therese had her back turned, herding her students outside for recess. Nellie sped towards her, weaving her way through a determined current of kids headed for the cafeteria. They complained and voiced exasperated remarks —“Watch it!''—“Food’s this way!”— but Nellie persisted, using her poster board to part the crowd. She opened her mouth to shout her teacher’s name, when suddenly someone gave her a forceful shove. 

“Out of the way!”

Nellie hit the ground hard and the poster board flew from her hands. All around her the stampede of sneakers continued their march towards the cafeteria. I can’t get through, Nellie realized. She lay still to catch her breath. After another surge of students, she glanced up in search of the board but immediately saw something that deflated her like a punch to the gut.  

Her class had made it to the outside doors. Ms. Therese waved them toward the playground but two stragglers had caught sight of Nellie, pointing and snickering at her helpless on the ground before they ran to tell the others. That seemed to be the only time her peers cared for her, when they could ridicule her or make her the butt of a joke. Why did she think today would be any different? An essay presentation wouldn’t have changed anything. 

I shouldn’t have come today. She shut her eyes, her lip quivering. I should’ve ran while I had the chance. When the halls cleared, she noticed the poster board lying only a few feet away, but with suppressed sobs choking up her throat, she couldn’t bear even the briefest glance. 

“Take my hand.”