Learning to Give (Hawthorn Academy Book 4) Read online

  Learning to Give

  Hawthorn Academy Book Four

  D.R. Perry

  The Learning to Give Team

  Thanks to our Beta Readers

  Rachel Beckford and Mary Morris

  Thanks to our JIT Readers

  Veronica Stephan-Miller, Rachel Beckford, and Kerry Mortimer

  Editor

  SkyHunter Editing Team

  This is a work of fiction with frequent puns, bad jokes, and pop culture references. All characters depicted are my own creations even if they resemble a pack of Slytherdors with a HuffleClaw mascot at times. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Dragonets are, sadly, mere figments of my imagination and I have no idea where you can get one as a pet.

  Copyright © 2020 D.R. Perry

  Cover by Fantasy Book Design

  Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

  PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  Version 1.00, July 2021

  (Previously published as a part of the megabook Hawthorn Academy: Year Two)

  ebook ISBN: 978-1-64971-905-8

  Print ISBN: 978-1-64971-906-5

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Glossary

  Thank you!

  Also by D.R. Perry

  Connect with the Author

  Other LMBPN Publishing Books

  Chapter One

  "I'm heading out!" I hollered up the stairs to my parents, who were still in bed on this lazy Sunday afternoon.

  "Drop by Bubbe's first. She's got a gift for you," Mom called back.

  "Okay!"

  Since I was already almost out the front door, that meant I'd have to go down, out, and back in again through the front entrance to my grandmother's extraveterinary office. It was no big deal; I'd done that a million times over the years.

  In the waiting room, I had to stop until Bubbe let me in. It only took a few seconds, but it felt longer than that. I had places to go and friends to see because it was June fifteenth, my seventeenth birthday. Probably, that was why Bubbe wanted to see me too.

  Or it could be bad news—about a number of unpleasant things.

  “Shush, you.”

  Yes, I was talking to myself, to a piece of my mind I called the Evil Inside Voice. It had shown up last fall and hadn't gone away since. Personality-wise, it was totally a pessimist and super annoying.

  "Aliyah?" Bubbe opened the door behind the counter.

  "Hi." I waved. "Mom said you wanted to see me?"

  "Yes. I have something for you for your birthday."

  My grandmother looked down instead of at me, not her typical behavior. Holidays and special occasions almost always brought her joy. Bubbe usually loved any reason to celebrate, but this day was different, and I should have known why.

  "Are you okay?" It might have been my birthday, but I loved my grandma. She's always been there for me and was an amazing person, so I didn't want her suffering.

  "A little maudlin is all." Finally, she looked up, the corners of her mouth tilting slightly in a faint grin that didn't touch her eyes. "Come along now."

  She held the door open, so I walked through, then stepped aside to let her lead me down the hallway that made up her workspace. Examination rooms lined the hall, each sectioned off by a bisected dutch door. But she didn't bring me into any of those, heading instead into the kitchen.

  The space was clean and well-kept as usual, except for the table in the middle. Boxes from the basement covered its surface, ones I recognized from the storage areas down there. Until now, these had been strictly off-limits. Somehow all their surfaces were clean instead of covered by debris, despite long years languishing down in the dust-bunny farm.

  Either Bubbe had kept it tidy in the storage space, or she'd used some magipsychic device or enchantment to prevent dust from collecting on these. If that was it, the boxes and their contents had to be important to her.

  "I promised to tell you all about my brother, the first Noah Morgenstern. We ought to sit down."

  I sat, thinking she'd join me, but instead of taking the seat on the other side of the table, my grandmother fiddled with a pair of tall glasses on the counter. She'd prepared iced tea, the kind she often made in summer from the fresh mint in Dad's herb garden.

  Patience wasn't my strong suit, but I could manage it for a short and select list of people. Bubbe was first on that list. I sat gazing down at the cover of one scrapbook on the table. It had neon streaks against a deep purple background, reminding me for all the world of the trapper keeper Professor Luciano used in the magipsychic lab at Hawthorn Academy.

  I reached out, thinking surely my grandmother wouldn't mind if I had a peek at the photos before her explanation. Her nod as I ran my fingers over the plastic cover confirmed my hunch, so I went ahead and had a look inside.

  I recognized my great-grandfather immediately from the many photos on the wall in our apartment upstairs. Unlike the ones in that collection, he stood beside two children instead of just one. Grandma's brother Noah was considerably older than her, unlike the small age difference between my sibling and me.

  The first Noah had almost nothing in common with my Noah—physically anyway. The two were practically opposites in that regard. Great Uncle Noah was broad-shouldered instead of beanpole-thin, his smile full and genuine instead of half and ironic, and he was fair-haired instead of dark. He reminded me of someone, in fact.

  Me.

  You resemble your uncle Richard more.

  I rolled my eyes, then noticed that my grandmother had her back to me, thank goodness. I'd let my family in on nearly every secret I'd kept last year at Hawthorn Academy, but not the Evil Inside Voice because I still hoped it'd disappear once I'd spent more time living authentically. Also, I suspected my inner turmoil had more to do with it than any magic.

  "Sugar in your tea, Aliyah?" She held the teaspoon over one glass.

  "No, thanks. I'll take honey, though, if you have it."

  "Of course." Bubbe switched the spoon for the dipper from the honey jar.

  A few moments later, after clinking long stirrers around the two tall glasses, Bubbe brought them to the table and sat, pushing the one with honey across to me. I wrapped my hand around it, letting my palm cool against the sweating glass. Even though Bubbe's office had air conditioning, she didn't crank it up until July. She always said it helped the animals in her care know the seasons had changed.

  "I hadn't imagined he was so much older than you." With my dry hand, I reached out, tapping the photograph. "Your Noah."

  "He might look much older, but he wasn't really." Bubbe pointed at another picture, one where I immediately spotted the difference. "Only four years."

  "
Oh. So he was big for his age?"

  "An early bloomer is what our parents said." Bubbe reached for the page. "I think you'll see something else of interest here."

  She'd flipped it over carefully so as not to disturb the pictures pasted in it. They all had that matte look, almost pebbled in true vintage fashion. Glossy wasn't the preferred finish in those days.

  I noticed the photo she wanted me to see right away. Great Uncle Noah sat on the beach, just above where the ocean wet the sand. It was dawn, and the person taking the picture did nothing to shield the sun. I saw little besides a silhouette, but one part of it struck me.

  "He had a dragonet. Like me." I blinked.

  "Yes. A huge surprise to our parents. They thought for sure he'd bond with a tannin, but one day he was out taking a walk, and, well," she said and shook her head, grinning mildly. "It was quite similar to how it happened for you, actually."

  "Was he a fire magus? To start with, I mean."

  "Solar, like the rest of us Morgensterns. The fire came in later, during his Coast Guard training, so he discovered he was an extramagus later than you did."

  "He was in the service?" I sipped my tea.

  "Yes. He introduced me to your grandfather. Brought him home for shore leave right after I graduated from Hawthorn. He ended up winning our wager because of that, too."

  "Wager?"

  "I said I'd never marry. He bet me two dollars I would fall in love eventually." She smiled softly. "I bet him two more that I'd stay a Morgenstern for the rest of my life. We ended up breaking even."

  "Because Grandpa insisted." I returned her smile, remembering stories from my childhood about him saying there were plenty of folks named Smith but almost no magi named Morgenstern.

  "That's right."

  "Even back then, before the Reveal, your parents were okay with your brother bringing a mundane friend around?"

  "He knew about extrahumans. One boat squadron at the Coast Guard was in the know. Back then, with the rise of technology, things had almost gotten untenable. Most of the Salem community figured keeping extrahumans secret wouldn't be possible for much longer."

  "I know we’ll cover it this year in extrahuman history—the twentieth-century stuff, with the Reveal and everything. Noah said I'd have to do a report on what someone in my family did. Can I use these and make my report about your brother?"

  "Yes." She nodded her head once, then held it still. Was this too painful for her? I wanted to take the request back, but she continued, "I'll put them in the spare supply closet so you can get them as needed, but bear in mind, your brother will be jealous."

  I sighed. "Why?"

  "He didn't have access to any of this last year." Bubbe stared at her hands, laced around the glass of tea. "And that was my mistake. He should have. He's the namesake, after all."

  "So, who did he write about?"

  "Perhaps you ought to ask him."

  "But Bubbe, you know he's not—"

  "I know, and you're aware of how I feel about that. The two of you should make up, and this time it's more on him than you."

  "I don't understand." I twirled the stirrer in the glass. "Last time you said we both made mistakes. And now, after I got punished for lying, you're saying our issues are his fault?"

  "Aliyah, your brother has to learn forgiveness sometime." She shook her head. "Grudges break the person who holds them forever."

  "I don't think that’ll happen." I shook my head. "Not for a while yet."

  "It'll take time, but keep trying." She gazed out the window behind me.

  "Do you want to stop talking about your Noah, then? For now, I mean."

  "I think I can manage for a while longer. Was there something specific you wanted to know, Aliyah?"

  "My brother and yours don't seem much alike. Were you surprised? That I turned out more like him than Noah did?"

  "He came late to his abilities, which saved him a good deal of turmoil when he was your age. I wasn't expecting any similarity between the two Noahs, but they are alike in one way. The first Noah Morgenstern had a long and passionate correspondence with a fellow from overseas he met at Hawthorn Academy during an exchange program."

  "He was gay?"

  "You can read them if you'd like, but yes, they're love letters." My grandmother took a shoebox off the table and opened it briefly to reveal a row of envelopes, then replaced the lid and handed it to me. "Share them with your brother if he asks. He's proud of who he is, but…"

  I nodded, studying my grandmother's face. Her eyes were shinier than usual, though not bright. Instead, they reminded me of deep water under moonlight. I imagined the extra reflection in them was hiding grief not given voice for far too long.

  "I'll have a look at them eventually." I glanced at the clock on the wall behind her. "My friends are waiting, Bubbe. Sorry, but I gotta go."

  "One thing before you leave." My grandmother picked up the smallest box and plucked something from it before closing it again. The item fit so completely in her hand I couldn't see what it was at first. Then she opened her hand, letting part of it drop.

  The object dangled, gleaming gold, red, and orange with a hint of blue at the center. She ran the chain through her hand, pulling up the slack until the pendant rested on her palm, then showed it to me. I read the Hebrew inscription twined between the gemstone accents.

  "Shema Yisrael. Was this his bar mitzvah pendant?" I glanced up at her.

  "Yes, it was. And I'd like you to have it," she said, her voice hushed as if she spoke at a graveside.

  "Bubbe I couldn't possibly take that from you. It should be Noah's since he's the namesake."

  "It's a gift, one I've wanted to pass on for years now. I hope as you explore your great-uncle's past through these letters and photographs, you will understand why it belongs with you and not your brother."

  All at once, it made sense. This was a matter of the heart, important to Bubbe, and by extension, important to me because I loved her. If I could honor her this way, I would. I was the one who’d insisted on learning about Great-Uncle Noah. Instead of nodding and turning to leave, I reached out and ran a finger over the pendant.

  "It's beautiful." I lifted my gaze, looking my grandmother in the eye. "Thank you. I'll wear it today."

  She nodded, swallowing. She'd been on the verge of tears. It reminded me of last year when I tried empathizing with my roommate Grace, who’d lost her parents, imagining how I'd feel if Noah had died. All this time, my grandmother had carried a similar burden, secret from her grandchildren—heavy stuff to ponder on a birthday.

  I turned and let her clasp the pendant around my neck. It hung just below the top of my shirt. Before turning around again, I pulled it out from under the fabric.

  We hugged briefly but tightly. The moment brightened.

  "Thank you, Bubbe." I pulled back enough to look her in the eye. "I love you."

  "Happy birthday, Aliyah. I love you, too."

  The whisper of shuffling papers and closing albums followed me out of the kitchen and down the hall toward the veterinary office's exit. Soon I'd be out in the bright light of day, in the company of friends and celebrating. I'd appreciate it all the more after the somber start to my day.

  Chapter Two

  "You're not going to tell us to beware the Ides of June this year, Aliyah?" Izzy raised an eyebrow, then rolled the Skee ball up the lane to score five hundred points. “It’s practically a Salem Willows tradition.”

  "No. After last year, my birthday’s nothing to worry about." I chuckled.

  "There was a problem last year?" Grace blinked. " I wasn't around, but it couldn't have been that bad, right?"

  “Aside from a certain dragonet getting tangled in her hair and Aliyah fleeing the premises after flipping the bird at Noah, everything was great." Dylan smiled, eyes twinkling.

  "You didn't tell me she got stuck in your hair." Grace shook her head, reaching down to pat her moon hare's back. "That's a bond right there. Lune practically burrowed into mine t
he night we met, but nobody saw. Where is Ember, anyway?"

  "Sleeping in. Bubbe says it's because she's having a growth spurt. And the day we met was pretty embarrassing." I rolled my eyes. "Thanks for sharing, Dylan, even if you left out the part where you almost had to kick me out of here."

  "Hey, it's practically my job," he stated. "Someone's got to fill in for Noah. And Gale's slothful, too. Catching zees like they're endangered or something."

  "Making sure we've got plenty of tokens isn't your job anymore, so I guess you've got to do something while you're here." I shrugged.

  "How's the job at Walgreens?" Cadence changed the subject. She'd been doing that an awful lot since the end of the school year.

  "Boring, but less trouble and way more air-conditioning than I ever had working here." Dylan grinned. "At least campus is climate-controlled."

  "You'll appreciate that by the end of July." Cadence nodded at Grace. "It's nice out now, but later on, it can be downright brutal. Figured I'd warn you since you haven't experienced Salem summers. I imagine it gets hotter here than Québec."

  "Oh, yeah. I checked the almanacs." Grace fanned herself with a flier advertising open mic night on Sundays at the Witch's Brew. "I could have gone back and worked for my aunt, but my bank account said I couldn't turn down Mr. Ambersmith's job offer. And I get to explore more of the town."

  The corners of Dylan's mouth turned down briefly, but the moment he caught me looking, he wiped that look right off his face. I raised an eyebrow, but he turned.