Our Magic Savior

I don’t remember how the fire started, all I know is that it killed both my parents, leaving me alone with just my brother, Nate, and a whole, scary world out there. And this time, we had no protection.

Two days after the fire, Nate and I were looking around, trying to find anything that we could salvage, at least something that we could call our own.

“We’ll get through this.” Nate said, tossing a burnt piece of wood over his shoulder. “I’m sure of it. Uncle Tony is going to be here in two days, and we’re going to stay with the police until he gets here.”

“I know.” I said, “It’s just so hard.”

“Chloe,” He said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “If you ever need anything, I’ll be here for you. I’ll always be here.”

“That’s what mom and dad always said.” I choked out, holding back my tears.

Nate went over to where his room used to be, and pulled out something. “Look!” He said, holding it up to me.

Although Nate was older than me, his obsession with Spiderman and Avengers was even bigger than mine. I had to smile when I saw what he held up. It was a Spiderman toy from when he was five. It was in pretty good condition, the only problem I could see was that it was covered with ash.

“Let’s go to your room next.” He said.

I nodded, even though I didn’t want to go see the wreckage that had been insured. I went anyway, tears blurring my vision.

I paused in the crumbling doorway, looking at my sad room. The bed was the only thing still recognizable, and even that was burnt to a crisp.

I started to sift through the ashes. They had made us wait two days to make sure the ash was no longer hot.

My hand hit something hard, and I pulled it out. It was a pen. A gold pen with pink engravings. It was the only pen I felt comfortable enough with to write my stories.

“Hey, Nate. I found my pen.”

I held it up and his face lit up. “Your Writer’s Pen! I was worried we had lost that.” He took it from me and looked it over. “Wow, it looks almost perfect.” Then he frowned at it. “Almost… too perfect.”

“Come on man.” I said, swiping it away from him. “This isn’t an Avengers movie.”

“Yet.” He said, and danced away from me.

I almost laughed, but then I remembered the fire. ‘You’re allowed to be happy. Chloe.’ I heard my mother whisper in my ear. If only she were actually here.

“Let’s go.” Nate said, “I don’t think we’ll be able to find anything else.”

“You’re right,” I said, revelation dawning on me, “Our lives will never be the same again.”

“That’s not what I said.” Nate told me, sighing. “Don’t put words in my mouth.” He said, “If you want to stay sad, then you’re probably going to. But if you let yourself move on, you’ll still find a way to be happy.”

“Easier said than done.” I said, but followed him out anyway.

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Nate drove us back to the police station. He was seventeen and loved driving, something I could never do. Having my permit, I was technically allowed to drive, but it scared me. And I can’t drive without a parent. I thought bitterly.

We stopped in front of the station and got out. The police had been super helpful while we were waiting for our uncle. They had set up a room for us until he arrived.

We went inside our room and Nate flopped down on his bed, but I didn’t. I sat at the desk and pulled out my pen.

I began tracing it on a piece of paper, drawing a cake for no reason in particular. I sighed, stopping before it got even worse.

I brushed the pen lightly over the drawing, as if trying to wipe it clean.

That’s exactly what didn’t happen.

Instead, the cake on the paper literally jumped, and landed in front of me, a really poorly made cake. A real cake.

I am not making this up.

“Nate.” I whispered, my voice barely audible, unable to muster any more strength or projection. “Nate!”

“Mm?” He asked, his eyes closed.

I leaned over and grabbed his arm. He opened his eyes and looked at me. “What’s up, Chlo?”

“That.” I replied, pointing to the cake.

He sat up, eyes sparkling. “Shut the front door. Where did you get that?”

“I made it.”

He looked at me. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Nate!” I cried, “I drew it and it appeared. Like magic.”

He laughed.

“It’s not funny!” I yelped.

“And you were the one telling me our lives aren’t a Marvel movie.”

I grabbed another piece of paper and drew a water bottle. I’ve never been much of an artist, but it looked better than whatever Nate could’ve drawn. I tapped the pen on it, and the water bottle popped up next to the cake.

His eyes bugged open. “Is this.. For real?”

“I think so.” I said.

He slapped himself in the face. “Yep. Definitely real.” He leaned over to peer at both of the things. “How is that even possible?” He wondered out loud.

“Why are you asking me? You’re the science nerd!” I kept staring at the cake. “Are we hallucinating?”

“There’s only one way to find out.” Nate said.

I looked at him and realized what he was going to do.

“No.” I said.

“Yes.” He insisted. He ran his finger along the frosting of the cake and put it in his mouth. “Delicious! It’s real, Chloe!”

I did the same thing. “Mm.. It really is.”

“Do you know what this means?” He asked. I had never seen him more excited.

“Um..”

“Magic is real!” He cried, “Either magic or a really lengthy science explanation, but magic is just funner and easier to say.”

“Funner isn’t a word.” I said.

“I don’t care!” He said, swatting my arm. “We can do so much good with this, Chloe. You realize that, right?”

“Or we just throw it in the trash and pretend this never happened.”

“What?”

“I’ve told you once and I’ll tell you again.” I said, “Your life isn’t a movie. What are we supposed to do with this? We aren’t heroes and we never will be.”

He sighed. “You don’t understand.” He looked me in the eyes. “We could rebuild our house, Chloe. We could rebuild everything, and get everything back that we lost.”

“Except our parents.” I said angrily, clutching my pen.

Nate sighed again. “Are you going to give up the only chance we have to rebuild our lives the way we want to? Would you rather have someone else in control of our lives?” He grabbed the water bottle. “If you aren’t willing to do anything, then give me the pen and I’ll do it myself.”

He stood up and held out his hand.

“Wait,” I said, “I’ll do it. I just don’t understand how things, like stuff we can create with this pen, are supposed to help us get over it.”

He took the pen from my hand and held it up, hope in his eyes. “We’re just going to have to try.”

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“It’s almost done.” I said as Nate leaned over my shoulder. It had taken me almost a week, but I was almost done drawing the house, the house that Nate had wanted us to live in. Personally, I liked it, although it looked a little like something Iron Man would live in, honestly.

“That’s why it’s perfect.” Nate said as I mentioned it.

“Whatever.” I said, smiling. I finished the last stroke. “Okay, I’m ready. Do you know where you want to build it?”

We got in his car and drove almost ten miles up the mountain to an empty plot of land. It was quiet up here, a small breeze ruffling through my hair as I took a deep breath.

“Are you ready?” I asked Nate.

“I’m ready.” He said, “I’m ready for our lives to change forever.”

I brushed the pen over the drawing and we started to build our future.