I’ve got clear blue eyes, auburn hair, and a face full of freckles. And I’m a sucker for an adventure. The thrill of getting caught? Half the fun. While Mark, who’s older, stronger, and taller, often needs reassuring like a five-year-old whenever we’re breaking rules. Speaking of Mark, he and I live in an adoption ward, the farthest place anything magical could ever happen.
Mrs. Hall, our dictator? She’s the most unmagical creature alive. And to think what she’d say if she ever found out she was harboring two keepers—someone born with the ability to master magic through the use of a key —is almost comical. I had bet Mark a whole week’s worth of sugar she’d lock us in a closet and pretend we never existed, if she ever found out. Luckily, she hasn’t…yet. Though, it’s only a matter of time. Mark uses his key as carelessly as he makes his bed.
No one else knows our secret. As far as I know, Mark and I are the only keepers in the ward—and I like it that way.
I was nine when I first heard anything about magic. I’d come back to my room, crying because Mrs. Hall wouldn’t let me go outside in the snow with the rest of the kids, and buried my face in my pillow. Whether I fell asleep or not, I can’t remember, but the next thing I knew, a gentle breeze was blowing on the back of my neck. Dragging myself up, I turned to find an envelope, floating in midair. Two tiny white wings were attached to its sides. And written in slanty black writing on brown-bag colored parchment was my name: Luke Cedrus.
I froze. Confused at first if I was dreaming or not. Then curiosity engulfed me. Grabbing the envelope, I tore open the top and zoomed through the letter. You’re a keeper, Luke. Your life, though not how I’d like it to be now, will change for the better. Never stop hoping.
When I was done, I looked all over for a signature, but no one had signed it. Ever since then, the letters came randomly. The first few talked about that word, keeper. Mark told me it meant keeper of magic. Whatever it meant, it was better than anything I’d ever heard of; better than a scrawny orphan nobody cared to adopt.
Anyway, I ate it up. I wasn’t sure if I truly believed it but felt like I had to. Whenever Mrs. Hall punished me for no reason or kept me from eating my dinner, I’d go upstairs and read over my letters. They were my lifelines; the secret life I always dreamed of living. And they were mine. Not hers, but mine.
*pssst…keep reading about Luke HERE.