Elemental: Chapter Five, Part 6

They gathered on dry ground near the lake’s shore, bathed in sunlight. For the first time, I realized how different the groups were from each other. Most of the earth elementals possessed varying shades of brown hair and eyes, while the water elementals were mostly blonde and blue-eyed. I wondered if air elementals were just a jumble of anything, or if they were similar to Mom and me.

“What’s with the feathers?” Danny asked, skeptically.

Michelle added, “None of us can do anything with them.”

“Not with your elements,” I conceded, glancing around, hoping everyone was listening. “But I can do plenty. Today, we’re going to learn to end this silly segregation of the elementals.”

“This is how it’s always been, though,” an older boy from the water elementals piped up. He didn’t say it in a demeaning way. If I wasn’t mistaken, he sounded somber about it.

“Name?” I asked.

“Jake.”

“Well, Jake,” I replied, “we’re ending that business today. We’re here because we’re going to make changes in the world. And if we aren’t united, how can we expect anyone to unite with us?”

A few of the older children agreed this was a good point, while some of the younger children smiled or made faces at the other group. I was beginning to think all they needed was someone on their level to instigate a change instead of perpetuate what had become the norm; I just hoped it worked and I wasn’t blowing steam.

“So,” I began, drawing attention back to me, “we’re going to play a game, and I’m going to lead it.”

“What do we do?” a small, dark skinned earth elemental asked. “Mikael,” he said quickly, as though it were an afterthought.

“Mikael, what we’re going to do is this.” I lifted one of the feathers and made a show of blowing a little air underneath to give it lift. They watched, mesmerized by the feather now floating over their heads. It drifted under my will toward a girl on the outside of the water elemental group. Knowing an argument would ensue if I didn’t even it out, I sent another unseen feather toward a boy in the center of the earth elemental group. The first feather ducked under her long golden waves while the other slipped into his pocket.

“No fair!” someone shouted from the earth party.

Many more cries of injustice filled the air while the water party complained it was only right. I caught the eye of the boy with the feather in his pocket and sent a whisper to his ear. He pulled out the feather and silenced everyone on his side by showcasing his own treasure. “It is fair,” he insisted, standing. When they finally took notice of him and quieted, he added, “Derek.”

The girl stood also, saying, “Xenia.”

“Each round, two people will have a feather,” I went on to explain, “except you won’t know who, only the people with feathers will. You all have to work together to figure it out. When you have six candidates, we’ll see if you chose right. The winners will either be those with feathers or everyone else.”

“Bethanie,” a dark blond, tanned girl said, raising her hand. “So it’s a guessing game?”

“Sort of,” I admitted. “But there’s a twist. You have to question each other, but you can’t question anyone from your elemental group. And no one is allowed to lie; I’ll know if you do.”

“Kora,” a pale brunette said suddenly. “Because you’re special?”

“Because I’m an air elemental,” I corrected. Drei might have thought it was special and unique, but I wasn’t going to buy into that with them; it would probably only backfire. Besides, bringing them together was about emphasizing our similarities despite our differences.

They were unsure about my claim since they’d never met an air elemental before. Then Jake pointed out I had made the feather fly and they all agreed this was perfectly plausible. It was something I missed from my childhood: the undeniable way something so simple can lessen the complexity of a question.

Thus the game began. It was interesting to see them mingle as if they had done it forever. The most enjoyable aspect of the game, however, was listening to all the creative ways people denied having the feather when they did. Thanks to water in the blood and contact with the earth, most of them could tell when someone was nervous or excited, so the feather holders lost more than the whole. By the end of the third game, there were no more snide accusations toward others, just curiosity filled requests. The change, in just a few hours, was incredible. If only adults could be like these children; special or not, they had accomplished a sense of—hopefully enduring—unity.

Valetta approached us toward the end of our tenth round. Both of the feather holders were in the six candidates and the group won again. Even though the feather holders lost, the two joined in the celebration of cheers.

She cleared her throat. Immediately, the children faced her, silent, but joy still burst inside them and apparent in their anxious stirring. They wanted another game and she was an interruption that demanded attention and respect. “It is time for lunch,” she said, seemingly oblivious to the whines and disappointed fussing. “Please line up.”

They obediently slumped up the slope to where vampires were waiting to pass out meals.

Valetta gave me a look before stalking away. She was either curious as to what I had done, or envious that she had been unable to do it herself. Either way, it was nowhere near the friendly smile she had showered upon Drei earlier.

I waited until last to receive my lunch. When I arrived where the children were sitting, I was somewhat surprised—though mostly relieved—to see the groups were demolished. It became even more obvious from the way they flocked around me, asking me to sit with them and show them more tricks. Some even requested I create a new game for the next day. Their words were filled with excitement and wonder, and their eyes overflowed with adoration. Something about the whole situation made me feel important and less petty than I knew I had been. It was uplifting.

A shame I still felt alone.