Question Mezzo

Thursday, 15 July 2004
São Thomé das Letras, Minas Gerais, Brazil

I looked out the windows of the station wagon and raised a question. “Why are we stopping here, Dad?”

My father finished parking in front of the small hotel and turned his head at us, smirking.

“We are going to spend the night here. As I told you. Four hundred and twenty-seven times, at least.”

“But why here? It’s not like it’s an important historic city like Diamantina or Ouro Preto. It’s just this town with the houses made of stone.”

“Well… people say you can see flying saucers here.”

“Oh, no! Not THAT again!” groaned my older brother from the shotgun seat – he needed the leg room. “I thought you would leave that alone after last week!”

“Well, I think it’s fascinating, Alex!” huffed our middle sister. “I would like to see one.”

“You would, Bárbara. You didn’t have to spend three cold nights outside helping ‘Fox Mulder’ there with his cameras, trying to get a shot of the E.T… We’re lucky that the people in Varginha are used to crazy outsiders. That farmer could have got us arrested for trespassing.”

“Children, stop bickering,” interrupted Mom. “Your father is just teasing you. Actually, there is a lot to see here. Beautiful waterfalls, caves, rock formations… it’s a major eco-tourism spot. We came here a few times before we married.”

“No flying saucers?” asked Alex hopefully.

“Well, that part is true, there are a lot of strange stories. But he promised he wouldn’t spoil the rest of the trip chasing aliens. Didn’t you, Rafael?”

“Can’t a guy have a hobby, Keiko? Sometimes you are no fun!”

“Yes, I am. In fact, if I remember correctly, the reason you agreed to that was that I can be a lot better company for the night than an alien” she reminded him mischievously.

“Oh, yeah. There’s that,” he said with a goofy grin on his face. Oh, no. Spare us.

“We could have gone to the beach, you know,” I grumbled. “I’m missing the best season for surfing.”

“You can surf when we get back. There will be almost two weeks left before your classes begin again. Now, let’s get checked in and go for a hike,” decreed the family boss.

“You heard your mother, kids. Move!”

“So, Jana, still don’t think this town is worth stopping by?” Dad teased me. We were relaxing in front of the hotel after the day’s hike, enjoying the late afternoon sun.

“I give, Dad, it was nice. The views are fantastic. And the caves…”

“And no aliens. I promised.”

“No aliens. That alone is worth it,” remarked Alex, coming from inside.

“There you are, son. Where are your mother and Bárbara?”

“They went shopping for souvenirs. You know how they are…”

“Don’t remind me, I have to pay for it,” Dad grimaced.

I was only half-listening. I was feeling funny… tired, but in a good way. It made it easy to tune out that recycled banter, but at the same time some things looked sharper, more interesting than usual. For some reason, I couldn’t get my eyes off a small whirlwind dancing in the street. There was something weird about it…

“It’s probably some female shopping gene, Dad. Fortunately, Jana doesn’t seem to have it. At least I have one sister who likes doing stuff with me.”

“Don’t be so sure, son. It’s probably one of those things that come with puberty, like the mutant gene. Jana is overdue.”

“So, Jana… are you about to drop your love for sports and gourmet cooking and get all frilly and diet-obsessed? Jana?” Alex called me.

I didn’t bother to answer, which looking back was not like me. Instead, I got up and approached the dust devil, staring at it. If I looked at it right, I got the impression that there was something inside it. I reached for it…

“JANA!!!” The worried shout of my father and brother was the last thing I heard as I blacked out.

Friday, 16 July 2004

“She’s waking up, doctor.” I heard someone say.

“Let her parents come in. It’s best she sees a familiar face.” Another voice, also a stranger. Who are those people?

“Jana? It’s us, dear. How are you feeling?” This one I knew. My mother was calling me.

I opened my eyes. I was on a strange bed, in a strange room. A woman wearing whites was standing beside my parents. The antiseptic smell told the rest of the story.

“Mom? Dad? Why am I in a hospital?”

“You gave us quite a scare, baby. You passed out in the middle of the street, and we couldn’t wake you up,” Dad explained.

“São Thomé does not have much in the way of medical care. The local doctor thought it would be better to bring you back to Varginha,” continued Mom.

“Am I sick? What happened, Mom?”

“No, you are not sick, but… well… Rafael, could you…?” Mom seemed at a loss. Dad took over.

“Jana, it seems that you are a mutant,” he said, smiling. Trust the weirdness buff to be excited about it.

“A MUTANT? You mean… like those guys with superpowers? How can you tell? Do I look weird now?” I felt frantically for every part of my body I could reach.

“Janaína, CALM DOWN,” exclaimed the doctor, holding my arms. “Mind that IV line, you could hurt yourself.” I noticed for the first time the tube tied to my arm. She had a point.

“You look fine. From what your parents tell me, you look the same as before. Would you like me to explain?” I nodded. “OK, you were brought here unconscious and feverish. Your blood work was a bit off, but nothing we hadn’t seen before. Mainly very low blood sugar. Your symptoms were too vague, though, and we couldn’t find anything really wrong with you. But then, one of the nurses noticed that there was a slight whirlwind around you.”

“A whirlwind? Wait, I was looking at a dust devil before…” I recalled

“Yes, well, indoor whirlwinds are kind of unusual. We moved you to a different room, and the whirlwind came with you. You apparently were the source. That clued us in that there was some kind of mutant power at work here. Unless you prefer to believe in poltergeists, which I don’t,” she grinned. “So, given your age, we figured that was just the stress of the power activating, and put you on a sugar drip to ride it out.”

“A power? Do you mean I really have a, a superpower? What is it?” I got curious.

“We don’t really know. It might be telekinetic, or elemental, but that’s just a guess. You will have to be tested to find out exactly what it is. Anyway, we are not really equipped for it here – we don’t see enough mutants to justify purchasing all the equipment. There are places in São Paulo where you can get specialized help.”

“Oh. Okay, I guess.” I thought a bit. “How long am I going to stay here, then?”

“Not long. Your electrolytes and sugar are back to normal, you are not displaying any other symptoms, and now that you are conscious, there’s no longer any special reason to keep you here. We would like you to stay the night to make sure you stabilized, though.”

“The night… what time is it?”

“Almost four in the afternoon. You were out for close to 22 hours.”

Saturday, 17 July 2004

“Eat your breakfast and get dressed, Janaína.” Mom ordered. “Your father is settling the hospital bill, and then we hit the road.”

“So, we are going back to São Thomé or what?” I said while working at the tray of tasteless food.

“No, we go back to São Paulo.”

“But… the trip…?” I wondered.

“Cancelled. We called your doctor yesterday… Sílvia said there’s always a chance of problems with mutations, and it would be best to be somewhere with up-to-date medical care. Also, she wants you to have a full checkup as soon as possible.”

“But it’s Saturday… what good is getting there in the middle of the weekend?”

“Did you forget how the roads get in the Sunday afternoon, with everybody going back to work? We don’t want to be caught in the middle of a traffic jam if you have another fit.”

“Oh, yeah… I guess it makes sense…”

Monday, 19 July 2004
Dr. Sílvia Guimarães’ office, São Paulo

“So, Sílvia, how is my daughter?” Mum asked, after I got through the usual routine of blood pressure, temperature, weighing and measuring.

“She seems to be fine, Keiko, but I want to refer her to a specialist. I’m just a pediatrician, and mutations are a specialized field. I can give you a few names, but personally, I would try Dr. Atalla first; I worked with him before, and he’s very professional.”

“Do you think we could get an appointment soon? We are really worried…”

“Let me call him and see what I can do. But don’t expect instant answers; mutations sometimes are hard to classify, and it takes a bunch of exams.”

Friday, 23 July 2004
Dr. Carlos Attala’s clinic

After a spending the rest of the week undergoing tests, my mother took me to hear the verdict.

“Well, young lady,” the graying doctor pronounced, “I think we have a few things figured out. Do you want the good news?”

“Good news?” asked Mum.

“Yes. The tests show you are a mutant, but as far as we can discern, your body is not changing. This means that you are not going to grow horns, or change into a giant amoeba, or become a boy overnight.”

“Giant amoeba?” I couldn’t avoid giggling. He had to be kidding. I hope.

“Don’t laugh, I have seen all of those. Well, actually, I had a patient of mine, a boy, become a girl. With a tail. The other one, the amoeba, happened when I was doing my Ph.D. in Europe. Very sad case. Most mutations are far less extreme, but horns have happened now and then.”

“Oh. Okay. I see how not changing can be good news, then.” Mum sounded relieved.

“On the other hand, this means that you are not a high-level exemplar. Remember that brochure I gave you about the different kinds of mutants? Well, a strong exemplar trait would already be changing your looks. So, don’t expect to take Gisele Bündchen’s job.” Not that I would want that. Why is it that men think every girl dreams about being a model? Not everybody is that vain. “You still might have a low exemplar trait, but those are hard to tell apart from a baseline human – especially in your case, because you are already beautiful, healthy and athletic. It will take a few months to be any noticeable changes.” Beautiful? That’s always nice to hear. OK, I guess I am a little vain.

“So, I’m not becoming a monster, and I’m not an exemplar. What am I, Doctor?”

“Mmm, I think I know, but let me ask you a few questions first to check my theory. What were you doing right before you passed out?”

“Uh, well,” I thought a bit. “I was talking to my father, enjoying the sunset and such. I was tired from the hike, and… There was this small whirlwind on the street, and it looked weird. I don’t know how to explain. It’s like when I looked at it with my eyes half-closed, the dust flying inside had a shape, only when I opened my eyes I couldn’t see it anymore. But I still felt something about it, and I just had to have a closer look. Then, I got up, put my hand inside it… got the weirdest feeling, like I was drinking through my hand… and next thing I know, I’m in the hospital.”

“Yes, that’s consistent with my theory. You, my dear, are an avatar. The feeling of ‘drinking’ you mention was of absorbing a spirit through your hand.”

“An avatar?” Then… that means I’m carrying that spirit inside me? Shouldn’t I be able to tell there is somebody inside my head? “But… I don’t hear voices or anything like that.”

“It varies, depending on the avatar’s strength and the nature of the spirit. Some avatars can tell right away and engage in full conversations. Others describe it more like the ‘feeling of a presence.’ Some spirits are not much for verbalizing, others can’t be shut up and can drive the avatar crazy. And, of course, since you have no practice, it just might be that you haven’t been able to hold on to your spirit and it escaped.”

“Well, then… how that leaves me?”

“First step is to find out if you still have the spirit inside you. Then, to confirm which spirit is it, and if it’s worth keeping.”

“Confirm? What, do you have an idea already?” interrupted Mum.

“Well… you said it was in a whirlwind. That’s a good clue.” He looked at me as if he expected me to know what he was talking about. At my puzzled expression the doctor elaborated. “Did you read the books of Monteiro Lobato?”

“Not really, but I watched the TV show when I was younger. Why?”

“Do you remember the Saci?”

“Yes, but…”

“The Saci is described as a mischievous spirit that travels in whirlwinds, and can be captured in that form. Sounds familiar?”

“WHAT? Do you mean I might have a one-legged black boy inside my head?”

“It’s more complicated than that, Jana,” interjected my mother. “I once read about the Saci legends, and there are a number of other descriptions of him.”

“Yes,” confirmed the doctor. “You really should talk to one that knows more about this, or read some books about folklore, to get a better idea. It’s better to know as much as you can about the spirit, so you can watch out for any attempts by him to influence you.”

“Influence me? What do you mean?” I was getting worried again.

“Actual physical changes are unlikely, but you might pick up his habits. You might want to start smoking, for instance. Or you might get too attached to a hat – remember how the Saci lost his powers if you took away his toque? Or you might start limping without noticing. Most important, the Saci is described as mischievous, so you might acquire a taste for practical jokes.”

“You are not starting to smoke if I have anything to say about it,” Mum warned in her Voice of Authority. “And you know what I think about practical jokes, young lady.”

“Gee, thanks, Doctor. Is there an upside to this?” I grumbled.

“Well, a folklorist or mage would be able to tell you more – but I think I remember the Saci having magical powers. If true, you could learn to tap into them. Magic is not anything to sneer at.”

“Magic… you mean I might learn to do actual magic?” I gasped at the possibilities.

“Yes. But you will need help for that, like a tutor. Unfortunately, the one I used to refer people to passed away a couple months ago, and I have no other good contacts in the magical community.”

“Don’t worry, Doctor. I think can handle this part…” broke in Mum.

“If you say so. But, as soon as you find a mage, have him or her contact me. Jana should be checked regularly from both a magical and a medical perspective, to ensure her mutation is not going to cause her problems.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I’ll make sure to tell him that. Is there anything else?”

“No, not really. Please return in about two months to check your progress, and don’t hesitate to call me if anything new happens. Good afternoon, Mrs. Keiko, Jana.”

In the car, I began to ask questions.

“Who are you thinking about for my magic tutor, Mum?”

“Pedro…”

“That old fraud? Mum, the man is just a bad writer who did a couple self-help books.”

“He’s a good friend of you father, and he has a lot of experience. And don’t go around calling him a fraud. It’s not polite.”

“Mum, you said he couldn’t even write a newspaper horoscope. And now you want him to teach me magic?”

“Not exactly. I know he is not a real mage, but he knows a lot of people in the magical community. I will just ask him to find someone. And he could tell us more about the Saci legends, or which books to read.”

“Oh… that makes sense, I guess. It’s better than looking in the Yellow Pages, anyway. But what if he wants to teach me himself?”

“Oh, don’t worry. If it comes up, I will say something to dismiss the idea while massaging that oversized ego of his. It shouldn’t be hard. I’ll have Rafael invite him for dinner and we can talk about it then – he never refuses one of your father’s Monday dinners.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t either.” The reason why Monday dinners are special at home is because Dad has time to really cook, being the slowest day in the restaurant – and he always makes something that’s not in the restaurant’s menu. For me, it was even better because he taught me a lot of stuff. Next Monday he was planning on going German…

Monday, 26 july 2004

Dad’s old friend, Pedro, managed to surprise us. We expected to have to work at this, but as soon as the need for magic instruction came up, he interrupted:

“Rafa, I feel flattered that you came to me about this, but I can’t help you. The kid needs a real mage. I’m just a hack. No, hear me out,” he continued, wiping the sauce from his beard, “I write about it, and a few people buy my books, but this has more to do with me telling them things they want to hear than me actually being any good at magic. I can do a few things, sure. Mostly small stuff. But I have no delusions about being able to actually teach another person to do magic.”

“Uh… Pedro, I wasn’t going to ask you that,” Dad admitted, sheepishly. “I just wanted to know if you can help us to find a tutor or something.”

“Well, that I can do. I know a few people – a couple of them right here in São Paulo – who can do things all by themselves that would take ILM a few million dollars and a couple years to do. But they don’t like the spotlight, so I don’t mention them in my books – I’m not that stupid. I will talk to them and see if they are interested.”

“That would be great. Now, more eisbein?”

“Of course. Have you seen me ever refuse anything you cooked? Meanwhile, I can try to see about that spirit. I should at least be able to confirm that it’s there, and maybe identify it.”

“Oh, you don’t need to go to all the trouble. I’m sure your friends will do it.”

“It’s no big deal, it’s just a revelation spell. Good practice for me, and there’s no risk involved.”

“Well, if you say so… when do you want to do it?”

“That depends… what’s for dessert?” he smiled covetously.

For something that he described as “no big deal,” Pedro did a rather large production of it. Candles, figures drawn on the floor (in the kitchen, where it would be easy to clean), subdued light…

“Didn’t you say that it’s ‘no big deal?’ What are you going to do, place my daughter in a pentagram and summon a demon?” asked Mum, worried.

“No, I am the one who is going to be in the middle of this.” he explained. “A first-rate mage could just have a look at her and tell everything. Since I’m not a very good mage, I have to build up magic energy to be able to do that much. But there are no demons involved, and if you look, there are no pentagrams. The figures are a mnemonic device to help keep the right frame of mind, and the candles help concentration – a kind of self-hypnosis.”

“Well, all right then…” she allowed uncertainly.

“I’m ready to begin. Just keep quiet and let me concentrate. Jana, you sit there,” he indicated one of the kitchen chairs, “and wait for me to call you. Then you come and sit right before me.”

“OK, but…” I sat, hesitatingly.

“Don’t worry about crossing lines, as I said, this is not anything dangerous like summoning a demon.”

“No, it’s not that, but… shouldn’t there be another candle, about there?” I pointed one of the figures, somewhere towards the rear-left of Pedro’s point of view?

“Huh? But there is…” he looked there, and there wasn’t. “I’ll be damned. Right at the last station of the mantra. How did you notice? They aren’t symmetrical…”

“I don’t know, it just seemed… wrong. There should be a focus there.”

“I think your talent is showing,” he said, looking at me with new respect. “Intuitive grasp of magic structures… you might go far, girl.”

“Right now, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing,” I grumbled.

“Oh, it is good, it is. It’s a lot of work, but then becoming a doctor or a lawyer also is, and the rewards in this can be huge. Now, one last thing…”

“What?”

“Keiko, is there some beer in the fridge?” Seeing her nod, he commented, “Good, I’ll need one after this. Reciting all those mantras is thirsty work.”

After all the preparations, the reciting, the humming and weird hand gestures, the end seemed anticlimactic. Pedro began glowing softly, called me and looked at my eyes. Really looked, for like one full minute, maybe two. I was beginning to get bothered by it, when he made a few more gestures, and I started glowing too, like him – only stronger. And then, it was over.

“Keiko, I’m going to need that beer now,” he announced, sweating and panting.

“Here it is.” He quaffed the entire glass, and then relaxed.

“Well, your doctor is right. It’s a Saci, all right. And a strong one.”

“How could you tell?” asked Dad.

“Did you see the glow around Jana?” We all nodded. “Did you look at the shape of the glow?” They both admitted they hadn’t. I wasn’t really in position to see the shape. “Well, if you had, you would have noticed that it’s quite similar to the traditional image of the Saci. One leg, tuque… even the pipe was visible. And the glow was very strong, for this sort of thing. Means that it’s a strong Saci.”

“Wait, I have been looking up the legends,” I objected. “Apparently the Saci image as a one-legged black boy is a distortion of the original Indian legend. After all, they didn’t even know black people before the European colonization. Why should the spirit appear like that?”

“Well, you are right in that it’s not the Saci’s original form,” Pedro explained, having another swig of the beer. “These spirits have been known by a number of different names and variant forms over the centuries. The Saci is an interesting case, because we can trace the different cultural influences on the legends. However, spirits feed on the… background mental energy, for lack of a better expression, of people and animals. The mainstream belief ends up shaping them. So, this one may have been originally shaped like a bird, later as a black boy with a fiery head, and eventually as a boy wearing a red tuque – that last came from the Portuguese, if I’m not mistaken. The Monteiro Lobato books kinda consolidated one of the traditions, and now it’s the mainstream one. But who knows? Depending on how well-known you become, it may be that in the future the Sacis will present as a half-Asian pretty girl,” he finished with a smile. “Now, this puts an interesting spin on things…”

“How so?” asked my father.

“Well, those two friends I mentioned? One of them is big on her black heritage, and the other one is the pajé of his tribe. I expected having a hard time getting them to teach a half-European, half-Japanese girl. However, with a Saci involved, it’s a different game. They will probably compete for the privilege – they don’t see eye-to-eye in a number of things, and I can’t see either of them letting the other influence a Saci. Which means you get two teachers instead of one.”

Wednesday, 28 July 2004

Dad wanted to meet Pedro’s friends, so we decided to do this on the afternoon, which is when he usually has some free time — but of course, something came up and he had to fix it, so I had just Mom to play hostess when they came. They weren’t what I expected. I thought I would have to endure a couple old codgers – a mãe-de-santo (that’s a senior Candomblé priestess) and an old half-naked, half-illiterate tribal shaman. Silly me for believing the stereotypes: they were both in their thirties. And the most unexpected part was what they did for a living.

“Wait, you are a college teacher?” Mom asked, surprised.

The guy, Altino, nodded. “I’m working on my Pharmacology Ph.D at the University. I do my research on traditional and natural drugs, you know – my goal is to patent the tribal knowledge, before some multinational corporation steals it,” he explained.

“And you…” I asked the elegant black woman, who had been introduced as Clara.

“I’m the CFO of the Boca Dourada group,” she stated. And she looked the part too: her power suit was impeccable, and I couldn’t avoid noticing the hungry way Mom eyed her shoes. She could have come straight out from “The Devil Wears Prada.”

“That’s in part why they don’t get along very well,” explained Pedro.

“Yeah, she thinks I’m some kind of radical tree-hugger who doesn’t care for the health of the economy or the potential jobs generated because I want all of Brazil to go back to jungle,” Altino elaborated, smiling.

“And he probably would tell you I’m this neoliberal witch who can only think of money,” Clara replied, with more than a hint of irony.

I looked from one to the other. “I gather that you have met before?”

“A few times,” agreed Altino.

“More than a few, I think,” completed Clara.

“Well, yes, if you count being in the same conference…”

“Since they put us to debate each other, I think that counts…”

“I don’t think Jana is interested in your opinions about the best way to integrate a modern economy with environmental concerns,” Pedro interrupted hurriedly.

“Yeah,” I completed, seeing what he was doing. I sure didn’t want to spend my day watching them bicker. “People keep telling me I need magical instruction. Do you think you can help me?”

“I can’t say about him, but I can, at least. I studied under my grandmother, who studied under her grandmother, Rosa Boca Dourada, the same one who dominated the mystic circles in the Brazilian Northeast and the Caribbean one hundred years ago and leveraged her magical powers into a business empire,” Clara stated, very sure of herself. I was getting a bit annoyed with her; she sure came off as a bit arrogant.

“Well, I can’t claim four generations of sorcerers in my lineage,” Altino calmly replied. “We don’t work like that. I didn’t even plan on becoming a pajé, but when I was in my teens the tribal elders chose me to be the successor of the current one. Apparently I had a lot of natural talent, they said. The bad part was it took ten years before they thought I was done with that part of my learning and let me go to college, which was my original plan. But, as we say, a Parakatoka never gives up.” He smirked. I was beginning to like this guy. And he was easy on the eyes, too. “However, I have a bit to offer that I doubt my esteemed colleague has… prior experience with Sacis.” What? THAT sure caught my interest.

“You have captured a Saci?” Clara asked, interested. Her voice even lost that arrogant edge.

“I didn’t say I captured a Saci, I said I have experience with one. My best friend was one when I was a kid.”

“Another Saci avatar? That young? How come we never heard about him?” Pedro was evidently very curious.

“No, not an avatar. An actual Saci. You have to understand, I grew up in one of the last places where nature magic was still strong. People still believed in stuff – REALLY believed – and so they came to be. If I told you some of the things that happened when I was a kid, you would call me a liar. Or try to sell the rights to Hollywood.”

Now I wasn’t so sure about the guy anymore; he seemed nice, but I wonder if he wasn’t actually batty under that intellectual façade. But Pedro seemed to believe him, and Clara didn’t call him out on bullshit, so… maybe it would be better to wait and see.

“So, why can’t we just go to your Saci friend for help?” asked Mom.

“Good question. Well, first of all, things have changed in the last twenty years; the environment that enabled him to remain corporeal and interact with people in a day-to-day basis is just… gone. The last time I saw him, a couple years ago, he told me that it’s getting harder and harder to manifest – and that he has to keep moving, to gather magical energies from all over, in order to survive. But more important… I think there’s a good chance of him already being here.” He looked at me significantly.

“What? Do you think I have your old friend inside me?” I exclaimed.

“Well, it’s possible, even likely. São Thomé was inside his usual range. And he once told me that there are very few Saci still around.”

“Uh, I…” how does one answer to that? He suspected me of having EATEN his friend! “I didn’t know… didn’t want to hurt…”

“Oh, don’t worry, I don’t think you harmed him. In fact, avatars give protection to the spirit – he is probably safer now than before. I hope he was the one you got, to tell the truth. He might even have deliberately attracted you. Eventually, as you establish communication with him, you might ask him yourself.”

“Oh. That’s a load off my mind,” I sighed.

“Too bad you haven’t established communication, though. I would love to tease him about living in a girl’s body…”

“Maybe that’s what’s getting in the way of the communication,” suggested Clara.

“What do you mean?” asked Pedro.

“Well, would you say this Saci had a strong male identity?”

“Oh, yes, he did. We used to double-date…” he reminisced.

“So. He’s now hosted in a female body. Maybe he’s in denial. He doesn’t want to look at the world through a girl’s senses. He’s blocking it all, became catatonic so to speak.”

“Well, it’s a theory,” concurred Pedro. “It could explain a lot.”

“You know, knowing him, it kinda makes sense…” mused Altino.

“I have bad news for your friend, though,” smirked Clara. “Since he’s not trying to assert his own identity on the avatar – and he isn’t, Jana, because otherwise the exams would have detected some changes by now, so don’t worry – he runs the risk of her identity overwhelming him.”

“You mean…” asked Mom.

“Yep. By the time this Saci decides to rejoin the world of the living, she might have become the first female Saci of record.”

Their conversation devolved into mystic mumbo-jumbo I couldn’t follow after that. Eventually, with some prodding from Mum, they got back to the real point, that is, deciding how they would go about teaching me. After some debate, they agreed to split the job: Altino would focus on trying to get more “attuned” to the Saci and related things – what he called Nature Magic – and Clara would give me more formal magical training, of the sorcerous sort. I admittedly didn’t know anything about the subject (yet), but I had to ask a couple questions.

“Uh, wait, does it even make sense separating the things like that? Isn’t my magic supposed to be derived from the Saci?”

They looked at me as if they had forgotten I was there. I think they had.

“Well, you see…” Altino began.

“It’s a bit technical, but…” Clara continued.

“I’m the pop writer here, let me try,” Pedro interrupted. “Yes, it’s true that the Saci should give you some magical powers. But that’s not the only way to become a sorcerer. Magic affinity can run in the family, like Clara’s. Or some mutants just have a natural affinity for magic, for instance, the same way that others have electrical powers – it’s possible Altino might fall in that range, since he didn’t get discovered until his teens. And failing that, any person can just study and work hard to learn magic, like me.”

“So?”

“So, well, remember the thing with the candle? You have already displayed some magical affinity, although the Saci is not talking with you. That strongly suggests you may have magical abilities independent on the avatar power – it might just be that the presence of the Saci has ‘awakened’ your magical vision without the rituals baselines like me had to go through, but more likely you have a secondary mutant trait. An awakened but untrained mage can be dangerous, so Clara will help you get a handle on those magical abilities while Altino works with you on the Saci part.”

Monday, 02 August 2004
Colégio Anita Garibaldi

After a month away, what with the trip, and becoming a mutant, and all the doctors and everything, it was sort of good to just go to school again and meet my friends. It was the first normal thing I did in weeks.

“Jana! What were your vacations like?” my best friend Lara asked as soon as she saw me.

“Boring at first, then scary, then… well, scary and boring, I guess. Didn’t you read my e-mails?”

“Yes. So you are a mutant now?” she asked curiously.

“What next, are you joining the Lemontree Gang?” Her brother Marcos teased me. Marcos is three years older than us, and so cute… I tried to focus on what he said.

“Are you nuts? The minute Magnesia finds out I can cook, they will chain me to the stove. They say that she eats like an entire football team. Including reserves. No, I prefer staying where I can develop the quality of my dishes, thank you very much.” I replied while we walked to class.

“Hey, you are always talking about food, when are you going to cook a dinner for the gang?” Patrícia, another friend, intervened.

“Not anytime soon,” I grumbled. “You wouldn’t believe how little free time I have now… on top of school, and English, and swimming, I’m having magic classes. Two different ones.”

“You could always drop swimming. You already swim like a fish,” Marcos reasoned, while we walked to classes.

“No way! Then I would get out of shape for surfing! And you know how much I love that!”

“Don’t remind me. Last time we all went to the beach, you wouldn’t come out until it was pitch black. Your mom almost called the lifeguards.” Patrícia recalled.

“And if I don’t burn the calories, I’ll have to start watching what I eat. I mean… how can I learn to cook, if I can’t eat half of what I make? Answer me that.”

“You got me there,” Lara admitted. “If I didn’t do aerobics twice a week, I think I would be a lardball. And I even try to watch what I eat. If I spent as much time in the kitchen as you…”

“So, Lara told me you have magic powers now? What is that like?” Marcos asked, bringing the conversation back on track.

“To tell the truth, I’m not sure. I can’t do anything yet. My teachers say I have to ‘awaken’ my magic first, whatever that means.”

“Is that what the classes are about?” Patrícia asked.

“Well… sorta. The ones with Clara are kinda like you would expect, a bit Harry Potter, a bit like yoga. Lots of concentrating and focusing… She wanted me to read a bunch of books – but the problem is, almost none of them are in Portuguese. I mean, my English is good enough to get around on the Internet, but, well, in magic, any misunderstanding is incredibly dangerous – and those are in old English, like before Shakespeare. It’s like reading those medieval Portuguese writers from Lit. As for the others… I can figure out Spanish, I guess, but I didn’t do all that well in the Italian class at school and the only French I know is from cookbooks. And I’m lost in German, despite my Tyrolean grandfather trying to teach me. So in the end she gave me just a couple of the easier ones, but she said I’ll eventually have to learn more languages to get ahead. And she says that the more advanced ones are like, in Greek, Latin, Hebrew… even Sumerian.”

“Hmm. French is not that hard, and it would be useful if you want to get ahead as a chef.” Lara mused.

“Do you know French?” I was a bit surprised. Lara had good grades in Italian – which is mandatory in our school — and I knew her English was better than mine, but a third foreign language?

“My mother had to take classes a few years ago, because of work,” she shrugged. “I tagged along, and I ended up picking up quite a lot. Enough to understand the French channel on cable, at least, and reading magazines. I guess I’m just good at languages.”

“I guess,” I commented, a bit envious.

“Hey, tell you what. When my mom’s old boss went back to France, he gave me a few things you might like to read. Maybe that would help…”

“Like what? A recipe book? I can already figure out those.”

“What about… a few things by Goscinny?” she smiled slyly.

Oh, that was a low blow. “Astérix? You have Astérix in French?” She knew I couldn’t resist that sort of bait. All three of us Loncarovik kids had learned to read from Astérix and old Disney comics, particularly the ones by Carl Barks. Dad is a huge nerd, but I can’t fault him for giving us stuff to read that is actually fun even on the tenth reread.

“Not only that, but a bunch of Lucky Luke, and Oumpah-pah, and Iznogoud, and Le Petit Nicolas… he said he had a full set back home, he just ended up buying some of them again here because he missed reading them. They are even funnier in the original. You can borrow them, if you promise to take good care of them.”

“Oh, I promise, I promise.” Well, learning French seemed a lot less boring now.

“So… what about your other teacher?” asked Patrícia.

“Altino? He’s a bit odd, but nice. Sometimes I think he is missing a few screws. Like, he gave me this booklet to study for next class…”

“More books to read? What do they think you are, a student?” Marcos mocked me.

“You didn’t see the booklet. It’s… well, look for yourself.” I dug into my daypack and handed it over.

“Spiritual Training Through the Tao of Hanging Ten?” he read, unbelieving. “Is this crap even real?”

“Apparently so. It’s a form of meditation by means of surfing. I didn’t think it was possible, but…”

“‘Reaching the Nirvana of the perfect wave’?” Lara peeked over her brother’s shoulder. “Now I have seen everything.”

“The good part is that he scheduled the next Saturday class in Guarujá… and told me to bring my surfboard” I said smugly. “That’s a class I won’t miss.”

Saturday, 14 August 2004
Siqueira Campos Park, a.k.a. “Trianon”

“Why are we here?” I asked Altino.

“Well, we spent the last ten days working on your connection to nature. It went nowhere, even with Clara’s help. I think I figured out what I was doing wrong.”

“And what would that be?” asked Clara, without a drop of irony. Surprisingly, after that initial bickering, it turned out that they could work together without killing each other. I guess having a common goal, instead of being on opposite sides of an issue, helped.

“You see, I was trying to guide Jana to find her link to the nature energies, like I found mine when I was her age. But I grew up in the woods, nature was what I knew best. Jana is a city kid, she does not share that affinity.”

“Wait a minute,” I objected. “I like nature fine. I enjoy surfing, and hiking, and camping now and then.”

“Not the same, Jana. You grew in this city, among ten million human beings and more concrete, steel and electricity than I can even imagine — and I live here. Your instincts are city-based.”

“So… you are saying that it can’t be done? I can’t connect to the nature magic after all?”

“No, Jana, I see where he’s going with this,” interrupted Clara. “You are going after her primary link first, aren’t you?”

“Yes. The thing is, Jana, you do have a link to nature. Everybody has, you can’t be alive and not have one. But you can’t use it for magic until you can isolate and identify it, and you can’t do that unless you can first isolate your link to the city that is overwhelming your senses.”

“I think I understand… but why here, then?” I asked, looking at the trees around us.

“Well, we are in a patch of the original native Atlantic jungle in the center of this urban sprawl. Instead of trying to punch through the city to find the nature, we are going to do the reverse – find the city through this bubble of nature. And after you figure out how to tell them apart, then you can concentrate on the nature link.”

I looked at Clara. “Does this make any sense to you?”

“You may find it strange, but it does. Lots of things in magic are like that, looking at things the reverse of the obvious way.”

“OK, Jana, let’s begin. Clara, if you please…?”

“What is she doing?” I asked.

“Clara’s role is to keep intruders out – both of the mundane and mystic kinds. I could just place a standard protective spell, but it would make it harder for you to find the connections. So instead she is going to be our guardian. It’s not as discreet, but it’s even safer — I pity the poor devil who tries anything with her on the lookout.”

And, crazy as it sounds, this “find the city through the nature” approach worked. Under Altino’s guidance, I sat on the ground, closed my eyes and attempted to feel the world around me. The trees, the birds, the earth – it was all easy, on a surface level, but in my previous attempts I never got to their essence. But now I was not trying to; instead, I was trying to feel the city around me. A muffled car horn, a hint of diesel smoke… I grabbed onto that and expanded on it, and eventually, I could feel the city, in a way I never could before – all the people, all the dirt, the concrete, the asphalt… as something big, and alive, and vital.

“Good,” I heard Altino comment. “Now, let’s try to reverse it. Ignore the city and look at what you blocked to reach it. Try to grab on that in the same way that you grabbed at the city.”

It wasn’t as easy as he put it. The City was loud and smelly, but seductive and sensual – it seemed stupid to let go. But with his prodding, I kept trying to shift my focus. It was kinda like one of those Magic Eye pictures – you have to deliberately unfocus what’s in front of you, but when you finally manage it…

“Whoa!” How could I have not seen this before? The wood was small and quiet, but full of a power that burned bright to this new sense I was discovering, dwarfing all of the City. A power that seemed to extend inside myself. In fact, it seemed to react to my thoughts – like I could make it move and change form…

“I see you found your link to the nature power. Don’t try doing anything else with it for now, it could have bad consequences. Just let go of it.”

“Let go?” I complained. I just found this, and he wants me to let go?

“Yes, let go. Then we will repeat the process a few times, until you can do it on your own.”

“Oh… okay, I guess.” Feeling deflated, I opened my eyes to a world that looked smaller and drab, compared to what I had experienced.

“Good. You did that very well. Now let’s rest a little and then you do it again. Did you have any problems?”

“Well… letting go of the City was kinda hard, but then, feeling the power of the Wood was a trip. It’s so much more intense than the City. Is there really that much power in this little park?”

“Not quite, your perception is kinda skewed. You, like me, is naturally attuned to nature magic, so it seems so much stronger than the city energies. But then, you weren’t feeling the energies of just this small wood – Nature is all linked, and even in a city, there are a lot of conduits to the rest of the world. So a large part of that energy you perceived came from outside. Some call these conduits ‘ley lines’ or ‘dragon lines.’ We are going to get back to them later. Now, ready for a second try…?”

“How many times will I have to do this?”

“Not many. Until you can open your link to Nature without passing by the City first. And then, of course, I expect you to practice on your own.”

I don’t know if twenty-nine fits a normal person’s definition of “not many,” but still, it did go easier as the day advanced. I don’t think Altino was entirely satisfied, but I was too tired to go on, and both Clara and I wanted to catch the Olympic gymnastics event on TV.

Sunday, 19 September 2004

Mom dropped me at Clara’s apartment for my weekly candle-staring and hand-waving session. After a few false starts, we had settled on a routine: Altino’s classes more often than not ended up being field trips, so he usually took the Saturdays – morning or afternoon, it varies. And Clara was too busy with business during the week, so she got Sunday mornings.

By now, Clara had cleared me with the building’s staff (she lived in a really high-end apartment, and the security guys were a bit overbearing), so they let me in without waiting for her to answer the phone. When I arrived at her floor, I saw the last person I expected to see, leaving her apartment and kissing her goodbye.

Altino. With his hair visibly wet, like he had just stepped out from the shower. Not hard to guess where he had spent the night.

They both looked a bit embarrassed. “Uh… hello, Jana,” he said, trying to look nonchalant and failing miserably.

“I thought you hated each other’s guts?” I asked, trying hard not to giggle. “It seems that there was more to it, wasn’t it?”

“Well, kinda, but…” he tried to cover.

“Altino, just go. Let me talk to her.” Clara interrupted calmly.

“Uh, are you sure you don’t want me to help?”

“No, this is better done by me.”

“OK, if you prefer this way… bye, Jana,” he went.

Clara looked at me seriously. “Jana. Inside. Now.”

“Uh, yes, ma’am.” I gulped. She usually was no fun, and after surprising her this way, she would probably be harder than usual to deal.

“Relax. I’m not angry at you, and Altino and I have nothing to be ashamed of. It’s just that I don’t like to discuss private matters in the hallway.” She went to the kitchen and started her espresso machine. “Do you want anything? Coffee? Tea? Milk? Orange juice? There’s fresh bread, Altino got up early and fetched some.”

“Uhh, a juice would be nice, I guess.”

“Here you go.” She sat down, still wearing her peignoir, and proceeded to have breakfast. I had never seen her so relaxed – she usually presented that rigid “businesswoman” façade. “I guess our class today is going to be a bit different than what I had planned. Let’s talk about what you have seen, first.”

“Oh, no, you don’t need to. You’re both adults and unattached, it’s none of my business. Although I think it’s great you got together.”

“But it is your business, in a way. You see, the thing you have to understand, and it bears on your magical education, is that Altino and me are not ‘together.’”

“Not? But…”

“Well, yes, he spent the night here, and we had a lot of fabulous sex – I’ll not insult your intelligence by pretending he slept on the couch – but we are not romantically involved. We are not making plans for living together or anything of the sort. It’s just sexual chemistry, not love. The thing is, Jana, magic is great but it has its inconvenient parts. One of those is that it kinda takes some of the fun out of sex, most of the time – you can’t really ‘let go’ and enjoy it, because there’s the risk that all that emotional energy will form some sort of wild spell and hurt your partner.”

“Yeah, I can see how that would be bad.” I had read about wild spells in her books – she meant the guy could be transformed into something, or could have his mind affected… and the worst part is that she wouldn’t know exactly what she had done, so it would be hard to undo.

“That doesn’t apply, of course, if he happens to be a mage too. His own power protects him, and then we can both use magic to enhance the experience. Sex between two mages is… well, it can’t be described. But it brings its own problems. You are relaxing most of your defenses in front of another mage. If he wants to attack you, would there be a better time? So you have to have an immense amount of trust in the guy.”

“And Altino…”

“He annoys me at times, and we have different opinions on just about everything, but he’s scrupulously ethical – I have seen him lose important political battles because he wouldn’t do the slightest bit of mind manipulation on a piece of shit corrupt senator who, frankly, I wouldn’t turn into a sewer rat because I would worry his being a bad influence on other sewer rats. And I happen to know that his tribe’s culture absolutely despises rapists, and a magical attack during sex is a form of rape. So I’m pretty sure that I can trust him. And he does have a great body…” she smiled dreamily.

Yeah, I could see how hard it would be for a woman to trust a man that much, or even for a man… wait a minute. “What about you?”

“Huh?”

“Well, it goes both ways, doesn’t it? You have seen things that make you think he can be trusted. But, no offense, you said it yourself, he sees you as this big business tycoon who is out to exploit everybody and ruin the world. Why does HE trust YOU won’t mind-rape him during sex?”

“I would never…”

“I believe you, but why should HE believe you?”

“Come to think about it, I’m not sure. Of course, my family’s stance on magical ethics is well known within the circles, but still…”

“So… maybe he just likes you and took a risk?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” But she didn’t sound so sure.

The class ended up being a LOT different than I expected, and more fun too. Clara took the opportunity to teach me how a lot of magic stuff relates to sex. Like Tantra, and why many traditional ceremonies are performed naked, or “skyclad” as she put it (nothing sexual involved, by the way, except in the mind of teenage boys), and the relationship between magic, emotions and sex, and all kinds of fertility rites and enchantments – including the tidbit that a full witch does not really need the Pill. No, I didn’t learn to do all that stuff in one morning, any more than you are going to become an electronics engineer by watching a Discovery Channel documentary on electricity. And NO, she did NOT introduce me to the joys of lesbian sex. Don’t be disgusting. She’s not in it to corrupt young girls. And neither of us swings that way. I think.

Still… I hoped that the effect of the night with Altino would last a while, and she wouldn’t be all uptight again next week.

Saturday, 9 October 2004
Guarapiranga Reservoir, São Paulo

“Why are we here?” I asked Altino.

“Did you bring a swimsuit and your surfing wetsuit as I told you?”

“Yes, but…”

“Well, the last time I was reviewing your progress with Clara, the matter of your whirlwinds came up. Or, more accurately, your lack of control of them. Clara tells me that they keep turning pages of the books and blowing candles.”

“Oh. Yes, they aren’t very strong, but every time I try to do some magic, they appear. It’s a drag.”

“So, I thought what you need is to learn more about wind. To feel it, so to speak. To be one with it, so you can control it instinctively,” he explained while parking the car in front of a shop.

“And what that has to do with the reservoir?”

“Check that sign,” he pointed.

I looked. The sign at the store said “Sailing School” and, in small letters, “Optimist-Laser-Hobie Cat-Windsurf – classes and rentals”

He explained, “My first idea was hang gliding. But I couldn’t find a place that would teach a 13-year-old. Then Clara suggested sailing. That could work, but I didn’t like it because it’s a bit, well, detached. You don’t really feel the wind. But that reminded me that I used to windsurf when I was younger, and I know you love surfing…”

“But… windsurfing is not the same as surfing…”

“I know, I know. If it were the same there would no point to this, would it? But you already have good balance on a board, and strong arms, so I think you will pick it up quickly. And, after you get the hang of the beginner boards, you can try the ones made for waves. You might end up liking it.”

“OK, I guess I can give it a try…”

Saturday, 16 October 2004

AARGH! I can’t believe I fell for it! I’m an idiot!

Turns out that I DID learn windsurfing fairly quickly. After a bit of sailing theory and about one hour of repeated dunkings, I managed to wrest control of the damn thing. By late afternoon I was trying to race Altino across the reservoir.

So he insisted we have a second session today. And then he sprung this on me…

“So, how did you like the board we got you today?” he asked.

“Well, it’s old, but a bit lighter and faster than the one last week… overall, I liked it, why?”

“It’s yours.”

“WHAT?”

“It’s my old sailboard. It had been collecting dust in the back of my garage for about ten years, because I never find the time to sail anymore. I asked the guys here to give it a check-up, and I’m giving it to you. Think of it as an early birthday present.”

“Uhh… thank you, I guess.”

“Oh, don’t thank me yet. It comes with a condition… you will have to USE it. I want you to sail as often as you can, in order to develop that ‘feel’ for the wind we talked about. And, DON’T think that will count as magic classes.”

So, that’s how I got suckered into filling even MORE of my weekend schedule. The way things were going, I wouldn’t have ANY time for myself anymore. I had to do something or go crazy.

Sunday, 17 October 2004
L’Osteria di Trentino, kitchen.

After months away, it was so good to sneak into the restaurant’s kitchen again.

“Jana! Where have you been? And where’s my kiss?” Uncle Severiano is not really my uncle, but he is an old family friend and my godfather. Oh, and the restaurant’s chef and Dad’s minority partner – Mom told me it was the best way to ensure he wouldn’t leave for one of the big-name places. Mom’s a fair cook, and Dad’s a very good one, but Severiano is a real chef: he not only makes better food than anyone I know, but also has the talent for motivating all the people in the kitchen into doing their best work. We might not be the poshest place in town, but we were fairly well known and respected.

“Busy, busy, busy, Uncle. Has Dad told you about what happened to me?” I gave the short, dark man a big hug and a kiss.

“Yes. Mutant powers, and magic classes. So, am I losing my apprentice? I was hoping you would take over the kitchen when I retire.”

“Oh, and when is that going to be?” I teased. I knew he loved his work.

“When they take the wooden spoon from my cold, dead fingers,” he admitted. “All right, so it’s not going to be anytime soon. But still… knowing there’s someone to take over in case of need, if I get sick or so, would be a comfort. Both for me and for your parents. We are still young, but you can never guess the future.”

“Chill, Uncle. I still love to cook. I don’t know yet if that’s what I want to make my life about, but considering that my other love is surfing… well, not much chance for a long-term career in that. Particularly for a weekend surfer like me.”

“And what about that magic? What if you decide to do it full-time?”

“I don’t know. Both my teachers seem to think magic is something very useful, but not necessarily one that should take over your whole life. They both have careers outside magic, and they use magic to do the things they are really interested in.”

“Well, maybe you will make magical food then,” he joked.

“Maybe,” I agreed. “But really, I would like to come here more often, Uncle Seve, but I don’t know what to do. This stuff is taking over all my fun time.” I gave him the details of my busy schedule.

“You do have a point. This is no life for a teenager. You need some time to go out with your friends, shop, do stuff. Help your godfather…” he said, scowling.

“Yeah, but I can’t sail on school days, the reservoir is too far. And I don’t see how to move their classes either.”

“Hmmm… what CAN you give up?”

“Well, if I’m sailing, then I don’t really need the swimming classes, I guess… but that will only free up a couple hours.”

“That might be enough, if you reshuffle other stuff… what if you moved one of the magic classes to a weekday?”

“Oh, that would be nice, but I don’t see how. Clara is just too busy, and Altino has this thing about ‘going to the lesson, instead of the lesson coming to you.’”

“So, they are both set in their ways, yes? Talk to your father. That man can be stubborn as a mule when it suits him. I think he will be able to convince them.”

Monday, 18 October 2004, evening

“So, Daddy, that’s why I’m feeling so tired.” I’m embarrassed to say I brought out the big guns. I whined, I called him “Daddy,” I curled in his lap, I even sniffed. It was shameful. It worked, though.

Five minutes later, he was on the phone with both my tutors (Altino just happened to be “discussing my progress” with Clara, snicker snicker) to complain about the way they were overworking his baby daughter.

In the end, I got what I wanted. I would drop swimming classes, and Altino would try to keep his lessons to a more regular classroom environment. Any field trips would be done instead of sailing sessions. Oh, and Clara offered to move her aerobics class so she could teach me on Thursday nights (I wonder if she just wanted to sleep in on Sundays, now that her Saturday evenings apparently were… busy…). And since I was starting to like that damn windsurfing, that meant that I HAD MY WEEKENDS BACK.

Saturday, 23 October 2004

For the first time in months, I had a full Saturday afternoon all to myself. Which, of course, I went to spend with my friends. When I gave Lara the news, she was enthusiastic, saying that she and Pati had something they wanted me to try. But they wouldn’t say what it was.

I should know. They dragged me to a salon for a makeover. Since we started to sprout boobs, they had been in my case to look more “mature” and “sophisticated.”

“What? This, again? I thought I had made it clear that I don’t like those complicated hairstyles. I’m a tomboy. I want something easy to maintain, thank you very much.”

“That’s not it,” Patricia, who is so into all that beauty magazine crap, told me. “It’s actually about your spirit.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, since you told us about how some spirits can influence the look of the Avatar, we have been doing some research on the Saci,” explained Lara

“Lara’s brother checked out a book on folklore, and there were all these Saci variants – but everybody agrees that they are the same spirit.”

“Yeah, I know that. Your point?”

“We thought – if there’s a chance of your Saci making you look more like him, but there are all these different variations, well, which one of those would it be?” continued Pati.

“So we decided that the best thing would be for you to pick one before it has a chance to mess it up,” Lara finished.

“Wait, wait, I don’t think it’s that easy. Magic is complicated, and…”

“Give us some credit. We are not morons,” scoffed Pati.

“Yeah, we did check with your teachers if it was a good idea.”

“You went behind my back? How? I don’t think I gave you their phones.”

“Marcos asked Bárbara. They are in the same classes, you know.”

“Yeah, they have been awfully close lately,” commented Lara. What? Marcos was interested on my sister? That… bitch. She knows I like him. Well, yeah, he is three years older than me, and I had no actual claim, but still…

“She wouldn’t give us the numbers, but she did pass along our idea,” Pati continued.

“They called back, and said it might work.”

“That Clara woman said that, since the Saci look is so flexible, you could even create your own interpretation of it, as long as it’s consistent with the main concepts.”

“Which are?” I asked.

“Duh. Black body and red head,” explained Lara.

“And one leg, of course.”

“Yeah. And fire. There’s always something involving fire.”

“And he’s a boy.”

“That’s fine, but I don’t really want to have coal-black skin. Although it would be great for surfing for the SPF factor, but well, I like looking like my family. And I sure don’t want to lose a leg nor do I want to be a boy.”

“We know. This is what we came up with,” explained Pati, pulling a few sketches from her purse.

Pati is the artistic one in our group. Well, no, she’s not a prodigy or anything, but she draws quite well. What I had in my hands was a head shot that was recognizably me, but with short, spiked hair dyed a fiery red with blonde highlights. Cool, but very alternative. Mum is sorta traditional in spots, she wouldn’t like this.

There were also various full-body drawings, in a variety of clothing – dresses, t-shirts, pants, even a wetsuit. They all had a few things in common: they were very feminine, they tended to be figure-hugging, they covered a lot of skin… and they were all black. Also, most of them were posed with one leg folded.

“See, if you dye your hair red, it sorta preempts the whole red tuque thing. And with the right highlights, it can look like your head is on fire,” explained Lara.

“And if you make black your signature color, that might take the place of the black skin. I mean, if the red tuque replaced a red head or a fire head, then it’s allowed.”

“But you will want to choose clothes that cover a lot, most of the time, so there’s always a lot of black.” Yeah, I got that. So… maillots instead of bikinis, I guess. Avoiding short-shorts and micro-T shirts even during the peak of summer. Not that different from what I usually wore, to be truthful. I was never one for the super-revealing clothes. Mum would sure like this part.

“And, since you don’t want the boy thing, well, you will want to dress in a way that leaves no doubts that you are a girl. You have to hammer the idea in.” Wear practical but flattering clothes? I didn’t see a downside.

“OK, that takes care of black, red, fire and boy. What about the one-legged thing?” I wondered, a bit worried.

“Ah, that’s the best part. Look at the last page to see Pati’s genius idea,” gushed Lara.

“You see,” explained the creator, “I drew the first ones with your leg folded, but that is stupid. You can’t spend the whole time that way. So I had another thought…”

I flipped to it. And… it was brilliant in its simplicity. The idea was to wear all-black clothes… except for one leg. Black pants with one white leg; asymmetrical black dresses that covered one leg and left the other uncovered; wear a black stocking on one leg, a white one on the other. It was weird, it was sorta-punk, but it was surprisingly cool. Some of those ideas would have to be custom-made, but a few of them were easy. I really wanted to try it. Pati had even designed a superhero costume along that theme. Not that I was thinking of becoming a superhero, not seriously.

“Uh… did you show these to my teachers?”

“I sent them copies,” said Patricia. “They thought it won’t hurt, and it will probably help in directing whatever magical energies that might be trying to shape you into a Saci.”

“But, what they said, Jana, is that the most important thing is your attitude. You have to embrace the look, it has to be how you think of yourself,” advised Lara.

“I think I can do that,” I smiled. “Does my mom know about this?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t tell her, but your teachers might have.”

I thought for a second. With the red head and black clothes, I would look sorta Goth. Mom would hit the roof. But it’s just a haircut, dye job and clothes; it’s nothing really serious, like getting a tattoo. And I had a good reason for it, and Altino and Clara would back me up. So…

“Let’s do it!” I grinned. I couldn’t wait to see the faces of my family.