Pitch: First Season 4 Chapter 4 Trying And Trying

There was no school that Friday, which meant summer break was officially on. The future of my break was still unclear. BJ and I were waiting to hear back from the internship, and I needed to convince her to help Wes and I if I wanted to go to STR. I felt terrible knowing I needed to ask BJ to do something essentially so I could choose to spend the summer with Wes over her, but the festival was obviously going to be less work than an internship. Neither option was without backdrafts, but at least STR had a chance of my getting laid before my senior year. Still, I felt bad.

I killed a big chunk of my morning sleeping in. By the time I left my bedroom, Dad had already gone off to work. The cable was out, I sucked at cooking, and I broke my game console a few weeks before when a video game spirit decided to haunt me. There was nothing to do at my place by myself, so I left.

Knowing BJ, she was probably kick-starting her summer break somewhere out in the woods, trying out new magic. I didn't get why she tried so hard to be a magician. She didn't need the money. Her family owned enough spells that she could have done anything, but she wouldn't even use them. If my family had access to half the money or spells BJ did, I don't know what I'd done, but I might have been a lot better off. It's not like anyone was forcing her to be like her parents. In fact, I knew for a fact her parents didn't want her to be a magician. They knew how dangerous it was. Everyone knew how dangerous it was. Then again, I don't think I'd have known BJ without her dedication and drive. Maybe if she relaxed more she and Wes could have gotten along better.

Nonetheless, as expected, I found BJ out in the woods. All I had to do was follow the sound of exploding wood and bugs being sent to their graves. As I approached her from the cover of bushes and trees, I should have done better to make my presence known. She was in the middle of some spell when I stepped into view. Startled by my sudden appearance, she accidentally hit me with a cloud of lightning that sent me flying across the forest floor. I slid endlessly until a tree cut my momentum with a hard crash that nearly uprooted it.

Suddenly I didn't feel so bad about what I had to do.

After BJ helped me back to my feet, and I brushed the mud and gra.s.s off my clothes, I finally presented her with my request.

"No," she said.

"But you don't have to actually go," I added.

"I'm not going to lie to my parents for Wes."

"You wouldn't be lying for Wes...you'd be lying for me," I said, knowing it likely made nothing better.

"Pitch, I can't believe you would let Wes talk you into something like this."

"It was my idea," I said hesitantly.

"That's worse."

You'd think she'd have been warmer after hitting me with a lightning storm, but no, she was almost cold.

"I'm not asking you to commit murder, its just a little white lie," I debated.

"Even if I were ok with this scheme, it wouldn't do any good," she said.

"And why not?"

She paused and gave me a look. It was a look of cheerful pleasure being held back by concern, and I didn't understand it until she spoke.

"Because we've been accepted, we got the internships," she said.

It was good news. It was fantastic news. I wouldn't have to work as a fry cook or a cashier all summer, but it would still be work.

"It starts next Tuesday at the town's theater," she said.

"So, you won't lie because you don't want me to go with Wes?" I asked with a twinge of att.i.tude.

"This internship will make us bigger, brighter people. A festival won't help undo your curse."

"What if I just want to have fun this summer, what if I don't care about turning back anymore."

"Is that true," she asked, knowing the answer.

It took me a moment to respond. Ironically I couldn't lie.

"...No, but shouldn't I have the choice?" I said.

"You should have a choice, but I won't help you make a decision I feel is wrong."

"Of course, you won't. Have you even told your parents about the internship yet? How do you know they'll let you go?"

"Because they will," she exclaimed in an almost heated tone.

There was a brief silence. Even the woods seemed to fall dead to highlight the tension further. I didn't want to hurt BJs feelings. Of course, I wanted to go with the choice closest to being lazy, but BJ was right. The internship had the potential to help me in ways that could directly affect my future.

"Congratulations," I said.

I wanted to chill the atmosphere, and I thought acknowledging the good news we glossed over could help.

"I know you think STR will be more fun, but I promise the internship can be too," she said.

"It's still nice to have the choice," I replied, almost exhausted by our back and forth.

"I'm sorry I can't make the decision any easier," she said.

"Why do you need me to go with you, you got in?" I asked, curious about my importance in the opportunity.

"With your spell," she said jokingly.

"And one of your own," I added.

"Do you know why I want to be a magician?" She asked suddenly.

"Because your parents are magicians," I answered with the belief that it was the obvious reason.

"There's more to it," she said.

A breeze caressed the forest floor blowing leaves into the air. We took to a nearby tree stump before BJ continued. She put away her book, and I tried to dust myself off further. I wasn't prepared for what she said next.

"My family has money, and power, and magic, but I don't," she said.

"What do you mean?" I questioned still without understanding the gravity of what was being delved into.

"When my sisters turned 21, our parents evicted them from the house. Father said it was time they go out and find their own magic. They didn't have access to the family grimoire, they were cut out of the accounts, and they weren't allowed to see me unless I went to visit them away from the house. They couldn't come back until they were financially stable on their own."

"That's terrible," I said.

I didn't have the emotional intelligence to articulate my understanding when it came to hardships and tragedies. I didn't want to come off as unfeeling or unphased. It was hard to know how to react when faced with something of that caliber without warning.

"And the same thing is going to happen to me when I turn 21. Pitch, I'm not good at anything. I can hardly take care of myself, but my family has always been good at magic, so that's what has to save me," BJ said.

She didn't look at me. She wouldn't make eye contact, but it may have been for the best. The way her voice approached cracks and breaks told me she was uneasy.

"I'm sure there's something else you can do," I said.

I wanted to comfort her, but BJ was strong. She didn't cry, that's one thing for sure.

"There's nothing, but if I become a great magician like my Mother and Father, it won't matter," she said with hope in her tone that broke the negative gravity.

Still, she paused, and I didn't think it right to interrupt her.

"I know you don't like magic, but there aren't many people who've made their own spells. Having you around, regardless of how unlucky you are, makes me feel a little hope."

That might have been one of the nicest things BJ ever said to me.

"Honestly, if you can make magic, then I should be able to do wonders," she added jokingly.

And just like that, she knocked the wind out of a perfectly good compliment and almost made it an insult.

"I understand now, but you know I still have to try to find a way to go to the festival with Wes, don't you? He wants me with him just as much as you do," I said softly.

"That's fine, but I won't help you choose against me," she said.

Walking home from the woods, I was alone again. I loved my friends. They gave me reasons to get out bed some days, but sometimes it was nice to just be by myself. When I was with Wes, he made me feel comfortable in my own skin until I ultimately realized that being comfortable meant being complacent in finding a cure. Being happy the way I was could only ever mean giving up on turning back. When I was with BJ, shed always push me to be better than I was. She saw something in me, but that meant what I was could never be enough. Wes was happy with me the way that I was while BJ saw what I could be. Those were the real choices. Spend my summer with someone who could finally help me come to terms with my life, or spend the summer with someone who could help me try to be something else. That walk home gave me a moment to breathe without worry or thought.

At the time it appeared the decision was made for me. Without BJ's help, Wes and I still needed a third to go on our trip to STR, but the chances of us finding anyone wasn't looking too good. I still had half a day to live in sunlight by the time I made it home. There was a car parked in the driveway. A fancy car, not at all anything dad drove or could afford to drive. It could have been one of BJs family cars, but that was unlikely seeing how I'd just seen her out in the woods earlier. I knew whose car it was.

That's when I got a call from Wes. Answering the phone gave me a reason to avoid walking inside for a little longer.

"I think I found someone to go with us," Wes said.

"Who," I asked.

"You remember my cousin Russell?"

"No!"

"No? You don't remember him?"

"No! He's not coming with us," I said.

Russell was Wesson's older cousin, who had a more traditional cultural upbringing. When people talked about satyr stereotypes, Russell was the perfect example to justify them. He was always on a bender, always trying to get laid, and had little to no filter. I'd only met him in person a few times before, but he made more than a lasting impression on me.

"He's supposed to be coming to town around the time we'd be heading to STR," Wes continued.

"Wes, NO!" I answered definitively.

"He's 24, and he could drive us to the festival, so we don't have to take a bus or a plane," Wes debated.

"Your cousin f.u.c.ks everything with a heartbeat. And wasn't he in jail a few months ago for public indecency?"

"We don't wear pants, dude," he tried to joke.

"It was for doing someone on a playground," I added.

"Allegedly," he said.

Wes was the one who told me about his cousin, so it was almost laughable for him to try to undo all the negative groundwork he laid in my mind.

"How is your mom ok with you going out of town with him but not me," I asked almost dumbfounded in disbelief.

"Because we're family, and my cousin is cool."

I sighed in exhaustion.

"But hey, if you manage to get Bug Burner to help us out, we won't need him," Wes said.

"About that... BJ won't help us."

"I knew it," he said in a way adjacent to saying I told you so.

I took a moment to look around the neighborhood and take a breath before I continued.

"I guess your cousin is better than no one."

"Trust me, Pitch, it'll be fine."

I had two roads ahead of me. I thought STR would be my choice, but after talking to BJ, I was seriously considering the internship. I almost wished I hadn't been accepted, or that Russell wasn't an option, at least then I may not have needed to choose. I was lucky enough to fulfill my goal of helping my friends, but still unlucky enough to have to choose one over the other. It might have been the best worst scenario.

Nonetheless, as I hung up, I knew I'd procrastinated long enough. I had to go inside.

Growing up, my dad tried to shield me from the reality of my mother's life. Before I was born, she and my father were just kids barely out of high school when my mother got pregnant. When they had me, their lives were just getting started. From the age of 1 to 4, we lived happily. Regardless of how hard life might have been, we got by. As a kid, I was blind to the everyday struggles my parents faced because I was too young and naive to see past the warm smiles we kept on each other's faces. When I turned five is when I first noticed our lives were different from everyone else's. We didn't have money, and we didn't have magic. Some might say they were the same, but either way, we lacked both.

It was around that time kids I went to school with started using magic. They had spells for simple things like tying shoes or keeping their lunchboxes cold. I remember coming home one afternoon and asking mom if we could get one of those spells. Money was tight, but she said yes, and a few days later, I had my first spellbook. Fast forward a few years later. I was seven years old when a similar scenario played out. I went to school and found that kids my age were using magic, but it was better magic, magic that made my childhood jaw drop. Kids were flying, kids were talking to animals, kids were doing all sorts of cool s.h.i.t, and I wanted to too. When I got home, I asked mom if she could get me better spells, and she said yes. I was still young, dumb, and naive. We didn't have the money for magic like that, but mom never let me see the struggle. My parents didn't get me in the best school possible just to let me be the poor kid who couldn't keep up.

My mother got me one of those spellbooks. It had stuff from all four fields of magic. Battle magic, practical magic, leisure magic, and even showman's magic. I went to school happy as a kid could be, and then I came home to find our front door was off the hinges. Police were taking mom away in handcuffs. She stole the book, actually, she stole the pages. Most spell books only came with instructions for three spells at best. The one mom got me had at least a dozen. Dad and I never found out how she managed to steal so many, but in the end, she got caught.

Eventually, she was released, but when she came home, she was different. Not only with my dad, but in general, she was a different person. Magic, though it felt amazing to perform and watch the effects, rarely if ever formed addictions. My mother continued to steal spells, so she had to be addicted to something. It might have been a blind rush or the feeling of taking what she wanted, but she couldn't stop. She wouldn't stop. What made it worse was here justifying the action by bringing each stolen page home and giving them to me like presents. It happened so often, and it seemed that after being caught the first time, my mother had enough experience to get away with the act seemingly effortlessly again and again.

My dad kept all those stolen pages away from me. He didn't know how to stop mom, but he didn't want me to get involved. Eventually, he started keeping her away from me too. I came home from school, and all my things were packed up in bags. We left before she came back from wherever she was.

They got divorced.

Dad couldn't bring himself to turn mom in, but he couldn't be around her anymore. Even I understood the problem by that point. Dad got full custody of me, we moved to a new town, and I started school as a new kid. That was all before I turned 10.

I'd see mom every couple weeks, but as I got older, I distanced myself further from her. Her car was the one sitting in the driveway, so as I walked inside I knew to expect an unwelcome reunion.