Page 22 of The Protégé

Tears well in her eyes as she holds me. “You’re okay. Just breathe. In and out.” She wipes the sweat from my face.

I look at her caring eyes, and a calming sensation washes over me.

Mom has taken me to the doctor several times for my anxiety. She’s fought with my dad for not being around much and adding too many things to my day. Though he’s reduced my educational workload, the damage has already been done. I’m fifteen now, trying to fight this disorder that’s made my life miserable.

“Look around the room. What are three things that are red?”

I look around Mom’s eclectic office full of astrology and astronomydecorations and find three things for her.

“Mars, solar flares, and the root chakra on your energy poster.”

“Good. Now let’s find three orange things.”

I’ve spent time in my mom’s office listening to her chat with her astrologer friends at virtual conferences. The cosmos fascinates me, and I can see why mom loves it. There’s no absolute meaning to it.

Space is limitless. There are so many galaxies out there, some undiscovered.My mom is a scientist, and she says they don’t know everything. Nobody does. Unlike a math equation with a definite answer, astrology is a science and an art that gives a multitude of answers.

By the time I find three things for the last color of the rainbow, I feel ninety percent better.

I sit up on the floor, crisscrossing my legs. “Thanks, Mom.”

Mom does the same in front of me. “It’s my job to protect you, Orion.” She places a hand on my forehead. “Are the meds helping? If not, I can have the doctor prescribe something else.”

“They help sometimes. But I don’t like taking them.”

The constant medication makes me think something is majorly wrong with me. I have a disorder that’s invisible. It lives in my mind.

But there issomething that has helped me channel my anxiety elsewhere—and my mom will have a heart attack if I tell her I’m a protégé to the best thief out there. So I keep that thought to myself.

Mom continues to study me.“Let’s reduce your afterschool programs to just two instead of five, okay? You can swap them in a few months. You decide what programs you want to learn. But you do need to maintain your good grades in school.” She pats my head and kisses my forehead. “Take Saturdays off. How does that sound?”

My heart leaps. “You mean it? Will Dad be mad? I don’t want you guys to fight again.”

She cups my face with her hands. “Your dad loves you. He’s a private and stern man, but he loves you. Trust me.”

I really want to believe her, but my dad spends half the year traveling. When he’s home, our conversations are about my studies. I can count on one hand how many times he’s given me a hug. But I don’t want to make mom sad, so I just nod.

“I’ll deal with him, okay? He needs to cut back on his work too if he wants to live a long and healthy life. Your dad has a lot of pressure on him too. But I’ll remind him what’s important is his health and his family.”

I’m grateful to have my mom with me. She’s so smart and works part-time as an astrologer so she can spend more time with me.

“Can you teach me about astrology and astronomy?”

Her eyes sparkle. “I’d be honored. I’ve been waiting for you to ask me.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s when I know you really want to learn it. I don’t want to force you to study something that might not interest you. I know you’re studying a lot of subjects that seem boring to you. But you’ll be well prepared for this complex and dangerous world, Orion.” She cups my chin. “The cosmos is an elective subject that’s fun and unique—like you. I’m passionate about the stars, and I would love to pass that knowledge onto you. I named you Orion, didn’t I?”

I smile as I envision the hunter in the sky. It can be seen in the southwestern sky from the Northern Hemisphere and the northwestern sky from the Southern Hemisphere. I’ve seen it many times from the telescope on the balcony of her office.

“Why do you like that constellation, Mom?”

“Because he’s the hero who’s going to destroy the big bad beast.” She smiles and taps my forehead.

Mom’s my savior. I wish my dad were like her.

Tires squealing on the pavement ripped me back to the present. I rose from the lounge chair and glanced down at the streets. Another car accident.

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