Page 44 of Jinxed

Mom shrugs. ‘They have to fix them sometime. At least it’s on a Sunday and not during the week when I need to get to work. Petal informs me they should be finished very soon.’

I lift my eyes to watch Mom, pottering around the kitchen, throwing salt into the panwith a chunk of beef. She stirs the pot with one hand, the other tracing the recipe with her fingers. I have memories of them trying out different recipes, her hands flour-covered or spice-dusted, the apartment scented with their success (or sometimes with the caramel-dark burn of their disasters). I try to cast my mind back to the last time I’d seen her cook something that wasn’t on Petal’s listof recommended eats.

Perfectly nutritious, calorie-controlled and generally tasty – celebrity-chef endorsed, to boot. There is nothing wrong with the recipes Petal provides. As I have to consistently remind myself, being fed at all is a privilege, having decent food to warm my belly and a roof over my head, and a baku by my side to keep me connected and never lonely. There are so many peoplein the world who aren’t that lucky.

And I have a guaranteed job at Moncha HQ once I graduate from Profectus. But my problem – and it gnaws at me that I even consider this a problem – is that I’m so arrogant as to think I deserve it. I don’t want a boring baku marketing role like my mom. I want a career that sets my soul on fire, that fans the flames of passion that smoulder deep in my belly –that I guard with my hardness and intellect. I want a place to unleash that which burns inside me.

And I know exactly where that is.

In the companioneering department of Moncha Corp.

I take a deep breath. ‘Mom, can I ask you something about Dad?’ I don’t want to upset her, but I have to know more.

Mom’s face drops.

‘I didn’t tell you but... one of my teammates recognized Dad’s name. Theyknew about him. And I don’t know anything at all. Can you tell me what really happened?’

She sighs, and I cringe at the look of pain on her face. She never looks angry. Only sad, and I hate reminding her of that time. ‘That’s your father’s story to tell. I wish I had the answers for you, Lacey. I don’t know where he is, or I would tell you how to find him. But if you’re asking me what I think...’

I feel a sharp pang in my chest, a wound I’d long closed over ripping open. Every fibre of my being wishes I had known my dad. He would have been interested in what I was learning at Profectus. He would’ve known and understood what it meant to me. The ring on my finger proves that.

‘Why did he leave Moncha Corp?’

I nod.

She sighs. ‘I think he burned out. All I know is that one day hepacked up and left – his dream job, us... That’s why I worry about you and this school. I don’t want you to face that same pressure.’

I pause. ‘There really was nothing else? Did he work with Eric Smith?’

‘What makes you say that?’ says Mom, sharply. There’s a tiny flicker of doubt on Mom’s face, but she smooths it out again. ‘I don’t know the story. Your dad didn’t even give me a chanceto ask. But I don’t think badly of him – he gave me you! You remind me too much of him for that. But whatever you end up doing, I know we’ll be okay.’

I grimace, despite myself, but immediately regret it as a stricken look appears on my mom’s face. I know I need to drop the subject.

‘Do you mind if I go and see Zora?’

Mom smiles, glad for the change of subject. ‘Not at all. But be back fordinner at seven. It feels like an age since we’ve had dinner together.’

‘Will do.’

Zora greets me at the door of her apartment and we hole up in her room. When we’re firmly ensconced with the door shut, we both start to talk at once.

I start: ‘I wish you’d been able to come to BakuBeats, you would have loved it.’

She starts: ‘You never texted me back last night...’

We face off then – mewith a big smile on my face, that drops – and her with a frown, that softens. Standing looking at her now, Linus swaying his thin, curly tail over her shoulder, her pint-sized body tense, I realize how much I’ve neglected her. We’ve only been at separate schools for a couple of months and it feels like a lifetime.

‘I... I’m sorry,’ I stammer out.

‘Forget it,’ she says. She places her handon mine, and the familiar scent of coconut butter hits my nostrils. It’s a tug of familiarity that brings me back down to earth.

‘Why don’t you tell me about St Agnes?’

Zora shrugs. ‘Oh, it’s boring. Same old, same old.’ But still, she launches into tales of the drama in the cafeteria. Yet even as I listen to stories of the people that I used to know, I can sense my interest waning. I even side-eyeJinx, worry that he’s going to give something away, but he sits docile at my feet. There’s nothing like the Baku Battles back in my old school. No way for students to progress their skills outside the classroom. Heck, there’s no way a student at St Agnes would want to stay for a second longer than they had to at that school.

I compare that to Profectus. To all the extra hours I’ve already putin with Team Tobias. How the teams work well into the night, devoting their spare time to the cause. And even the students who aren’t on teams, they’re working hard too. There’s a sense of pride in industry, in achievement, and a genuine interest in what we’re learning about that I had never sensed before. A community of learning. I’d always heard this was what university was like. But I was gettingto experience it now.

I nod, smiling at the right intervals and exclaiming in appropriate places. But it’s now clearer to me than ever. Profectus is the way for me to live the kind of life that I want, to give Mom the freedom to pursue her passions free from worry and stress.

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