Chapter 1

I’m happier without you. I’m happier without you. It pulsed in my head like a heartbeat. It pounded along with the hammer on my driveway, breaking property that did not belong to me. The hammer would bash against the concrete, and then come down in time for the other half. Happier without you. Happier without you. I couldn’t get the voice out of my head. It lingered and tore and poisoned everything. I thought I had been empty before this. How could I have lost so much when I had nothing to start with? Without you. Without you.

I stood and looked at the hammer in my hand. I got flashes of bringing it down on a head over and over again. Death, death would have been good. It would have been lovely. But what did it make me to decide that I wanted him dead? After everything, what kind of selfish, petty bitch did it make me to hate someone who loved me?

Petty felt fucking great.

I chucked the hammer through the air, letting it slip out of my hands before I knew what I’d done. I gasped, covering my mouth as it flew like Bullwinkle. That beautiful bastard landed in a back windshield of a car that did not belong to me. The alarm rang, I squeaked, and then took off running.

When I slammed my body into the yellow slide at the park down the street from my house, I grunted, and let myself sink into the woodchips below. I panted like the chunky monkey I was, regretting the third McDouble I had for lunch. Screw that, I didn’t regret it, and now I wished I’d gotten one of those cinnamon rolls too.

I rested my head against the slide and tucked my legs up to my chest. It wasn’t a big deal. Windows broke all the time, and I got away fast enough. It looked like rain anyway, and maybe we would get lucky enough to have some hail. Surely a massive piece of hail could break a windshield…and leave a hammer on the driver’s seat…

My phone rang in my dress pocket, and I screamed like a little bitch. The Super Mario ringtone let me know it was my dad calling.

“Hey,” I said when I answered. “What’s up?”

“Um, not much. Can I ask you something, kiddo?”

“Sure.”

Dad sighed. “Did you happen to throw a hammer through Mr. Leigh’s windshield?”

“Uhh,” I breathed. “Why do you ask?”

“Don’t know. I was just sweeping the kitchen and remembered your love of violence.” The humor left him. “We got a knock on the door saying a hammer with the name Walsh carved into the handle, was inside of Mr. Leigh’s car.”

I cursed. “Why the hell does Mom think she needs to mark all the tools?”

“Because she’s paranoid, honey. Would you like to tell me why you were so offended with a windshield that you destroyed private property?”

“No.”

“All right then. Can you come fix it please?”

I agreed, and we hung up the phone.

I made the long and slow trek back home, with my head hung and worry that my neighbor would scold me for breaking his car a little bit. I guess I had it coming, but whatever.

Dad and Mr. Leigh stood in front of the car, chatting while Dad held the hammer I stole. He hit it on his hand and glanced up at me with hazel eyes that perfectly matched mine.

“Sorry, Mr. Leigh,” I said. “I wasn’t trying to break the window.”

The man put his hands on his sides and sighed heavily at me. “I’m sure you didn’t. Do you mind?” He nodded to the car.

At least he seemed more put out than annoyed with me. It didn’t take long for the people in my life to notice that I had been all messed up this last month. He cut me a break that I needed.

I turned to the shattered back windshield and focused my power on it. The glass vibrated in the seats and floated back home. I watched the glass mend itself on my command, each piece changing into what it started as. In seconds, the glass looked like it had never broken in the first place.

“Thanks,” Mr. Leigh said. “Might I suggest you get a punching bag, or maybe a voodoo doll to play with?”

I had to try not to glare at him. “Sure.”

Dad put his arm around my shoulder and brought me inside the house. We stopped in the living room, with toys scattered everywhere, and the distant sound of children screaming in joy at whatever game they played. It sounded like Orny had a one up on Tuney, and I hoped they kept their insanity far away from me.

“Clover,” my father said, his big hands on my shoulders as he made me feel a lot smaller than my five feet and two inches. “We need to talk.”

I broke eye contact, staring at the floor. “I’m fine, Dad.”

“You’re not fine, and you haven’t been fine for a while. I didn’t realize you’d ascended to hammer chucking levels but that sounds like a red flag to me. Me and your mom are really worried about you.”

I believed him, but that was the thing. He worried about me, but it would be fleeting. In five minutes, when my siblings came running in here like a tornado, they would take all of our father’s attention. It wasn’t their fault, but it was true. In five minutes, I wouldn’t matter.

“I need time,” I told myself, because that was what everyone said. In time, it wouldn’t hurt anymore. I would be fine if I got through this rough patch. They all thought that was the magic answer. Why did no one listen to me when I said it was always a rough patch? One after another? I’d never hit smooth sailing, so why should I have put so much faith in this pointless cure-all?

“I know,” Dad said. “But you threw a hammer through a car. If you need me and Mom to send you to talk to someone, or get you help—”

“No,” I said. “That’s insane. I’m not talking to a shrink because a douchebag hurt my feelings.”

Dad patted my head, and then crossed his arms. “I’ll let you do what you want, but if this kind of stuff keeps up, you’re seeing a doctor. You can’t let yourself make stupid choices because you’re hurting. You—”

And so came the tornado, in the form of a seven-year-old, and a nine-year-old. They screamed, and ran around us, continuing their game like I wasn’t trying to talk to Dad.

“Dad!” Tuney yelled, running up to him. She batted blue eyes up, and he mussed her dark blond hair. “Can you take us to the park? The birds are out and we wanna chase them.”

“Hold on,” he said. “I’m talking to your sister.” When he turned to me, he started again. “If you want, we can spend a little time together later. Your mom should be back from work in an hour. We can make dinner as a family.”

I knew what that meant, and I wasn’t interested in trying to scream over kids. “I—” was all I got out.

“Dad! Look at this!” Orny screamed, and Dad looked over to the floor.

My little brother had set up some Legos, and when Dad gave him attention, he smashed them while roaring like some monster in a show he watched. Dad laughed and complemented his style.

I took my exit.

When I closed my bedroom door, I locked it behind me. It didn’t do a thing for me, but I wanted a barrier between me and the people on the other side of it. It didn’t even block the loud peals of joy that hurt my ears. All they ever did was scream, and it only seemed to bother me.

I sat on the edge of my bed, unsure of what to do with the rest of my Saturday. I normally would have spent it with Peter, following him around wherever he wanted to go. It didn’t matter to me, because we got to be together. Now, I didn’t have anyone to spend my time with, so I got to sit here, alone.

I stared at the dresser in front of me, and the little wooden carvings that had been given to me as presents. I had one for every holiday, two birthdays, and one anniversary. They should have been thrown away or burned a month ago, but I couldn’t bear to toss them. I’d watched Peter shape them from nothing, not even having to touch the wood to carve into it and change it into something familiar. I did the same for him, making little glass figures that I was sure he’d gotten rid of by now.

Lying back, I stared around my room, for lack of something better to do. I would have cleaned, but that got taken care of three times this week. All of my books were organized, by size, then series, then color. They sat perfectly on the shelf, as well as every other thing in my room. Not an item out of place, or a crooked picture. It had always been like that. One constant in my life, though I wasn’t sure what it did for me. I felt the same no matter what my room looked like.

Someone knocked on my door, and I grunted as I got up to unlock it. Mom stood on the other side, still in her work clothes. I pointed to the burn mark. “You all right?”

She looked down at her overalls as she pulled her scrunchie off. “Yeah, the blowtorch got a little uppity. I hear you were trying to break our driveway with a hammer.”

Of course Dad told her. “I wasn’t trying to break it.”

“Like you weren’t trying to break the windshield?”

I stared at the wall. “Long story. It’s fine now; I fixed it.”

“Because you got lucky. What if you did something else? Something that wasn’t fixable? This is getting out of hand. You don’t do anything at all, and when you do something, it’s this.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. That was stupid of me, but I won’t do it again.”

“Mom!” Tuney called. “We’re going to the park! We want you to come!”

Mom looked over her shoulder. “Give me a second. I’m talking to your sister.”

I crossed my arms, waiting for her to take off. Then they would all go to the park, and have a great time without me, because I guess that was a common thing. Even if my parents invited me, I knew how it would have ended. I would have sat on the bench, while they all played together. On the rare occasion my parents tried to talk to me, the kids would swoop in—through no fault of their own—and make sure it didn’t happen.

Mom turned back to me. “If you need to talk about anything, I’m here.”

I nodded. “I know, Mom. Thanks.”

The truth was that Mom had a busy life, and I didn’t fit in. It would have added more stress if I came to her with every hurt and tear. As a metal worker, she was in high demand. A life that Orny would have when he was old enough, since he had the same magic as she did. I guess I got lucky, as well as unlucky. At least Dad and Tuney had useful abilities, both being able to work more natural elements, earth and wind respectively. I took after Grandma.

“Maybe we can spend some time together later,” she said, echoing my father. “You and I can go see a movie.”

“Sure,” I said as my brother yelled for her again.

“I’m sorry,” Mom said. “He’s going to keep bugging me until I listen.”

“I know. It’s fine.”

She gave me a hug and patted my back. “You’ll be okay. Chin up, and don’t spend so much time letting that jerk make you sad.”

Right, because it worked like that. “I’ll see you later.”

She kissed my cheek, and then I was all alone in my house, staring at the wall again.