Home Not so Sweet Home Solo

As if her first week home couldn’t have gotten any worse, it did.

Her older brother Matthew arrived home from his first year of college with top marks in every class, although that wasn’t the problem. Despite the age gap, Bridget loved her older brother. They used to play together all the time and Bridget considered him one of her closest friends. As a bonus, Matthew was a good listener and knew not only how to comfort his little sister, but his intelligence and wisdom gained through experience made him good at solving her problems. Also, the two were fairly similar—they were both smart and studious, hardworking and reserved. The main difference was that Matthew carried himself with a confidence that Bridget had lost over her elementary years. Of her three siblings, Bridget was closest to Matthew.

Or, she had been. She was certainly no closer to Jonathan or Ellie who were seemingly the polar opposite of her; no, it was instead that Matthew that had pulled away. The past few years he had been so immersed in his studies that he had no time for Bridget. He wanted to become a surgeon, which was, of course, a very prestigious profession.

No, the bad part was that she was more disconnected from her family than ever. She had always preferred to spend her free time alone in her room, drawing in her sketchbook or reading books. However, Bridget had always made sure to spend time with her family, time that had formed good memories of laughter and love. But now she had an experience under her belt that none of them could relate to, that they couldn’t fathom even in the slightest.

As Bridget raced down the stairs, sketchbook in hand, she felt an excitement. Her two best friends were gone—one in Paris and one having betrayed he explained—but she held onto the small hope that Matthew would be the friend she needed to fill her emptiness. The ordinary brown door swung open to reveal her brother, with his close-cropped, dark brown hair and hazel eyes that matched her own, dressed in a neat, dark blue suit. He was being greeted by her mother, wearing an apron (she was cooking dinner) and her father, who looked nearly identical to Matthew, save for a spattering of grey hairs. The twins were nowhere in sight, presumably up in their room planning pranks for the next school year.

“Matthew,” Bridget exclaimed with a smile she saved for just a few special people. She hung back a little awkwardly. She had never been one for hugging, and besides, her mother was dousing Matthew in kisses.

“How’s it going, Bridge?” Matthew replied. Bridge was the nickname he had given her, an affectionate thing that proved their bond. She had never let anyone else—not even Jemima and Lizzy—call her by anything except for Bridget (her parents, of course, had been allowed to call her a large array of nicknames, but parents were special). However, she couldn’t help but pick up something off in his tone, like his greeting was halfhearted.

“Pretty good,” she lied. In reality, she had never had a worse week in her life. It was what he expected to hear, and if he had indeed been not sincere in his welcome, she had no reason to be truthful.

“Matthew, dear, I can take your suitcase, and I’ll have your siblings each grab a bag. JONATHAN! ELLIE! MATTHEW’S HOME! COME HELP GET HIS BAGS!” her mother yelled up the stairs. The twins thundered down.

“Hi Matthew,” Jonathan said. He had unruly, long, dark brown hair that reached his ears and a cocky grin. Also, he was annoyingly taller than Bridget.

“How was college?” Ellie added, leaning against the staircase wall, her brown hair, which was curly like Mother’s, pulled up in a high ponytail as usual. Both her and Jonathan had grass green eyes and a bunch of freckles on and around their noses and cheeks.

“It was amazing, actually. How have you been keeping out of trouble?” Matthew asked, giving them a smile she was sure was genuine, further making Bridget think he wasn’t happy to see her.

“We can hear all about it at dinner,” her father said, instructing the group on carrying Matthew’s bags up to his room. Bridget trudged up the stairs to Matthew’s room, discarding the duffel bag she had been carrying on his neatly made bed. Looking around the room that was now piled with documents and home to a desk, she had the feeling her older brother wouldn’t mind the conversion on his room one bit. In fact, she’d be surprised if he left it much, as he was bound to continue his studying. On the way back down to the kitchen for dinner, Bridget deposited her sketchbook in her room. She had been planning on showing Matthew her sketches (which were mostly drawings of the castle and landscape, with the exception of a few people she thought were interesting). Now, it seemed Matthew didn’t want to see her at all, much less her drawings.

Downstairs she found the rest of her family already sitting around their rectangular wooden table. She slid into her seat, closing her eyes as her mother prayed over the food as she did every dinner. She had made Matthew’s favorite foods—ribs, mashed potatoes, and asparagus. Yes, Matthew loved asparagus, for whatever weird reason. The twins were miming gagging to one another—they certainly didn’t share Matthew’s favorites, not liking vegetables in general.

Matthew told them all about college—how pretty the campus was (Bridget silently thought the Hogwarts campus was way cooler), all about his classes, about friends he had made, and other stuff. Her parents shared stories from their college days and Ellie and Jonathan filled them in on their latest pranks. All the while, Bridget sat silently, moving her food around her plate with her fork. Finally, the conversation turned to her.

“How was Hogwarts?” her father asked conversationally, but she noticed a slight frown appearing. It was no secret her family had mostly been against her going to Hogwarts. Her mother had expressed her concerns but her father had advocated in favor of her going. This was more because Bridget had wanted to go and the school had informed them of the dangers of not receiving proper training than him actually being for it.

As such, Bridget knew she would have to choose her next words carefully. She would have to send more light on the positive than the negative. True, she didn’t love Hogwarts, but without Jemima and Lizzy, Muggle school would be torture. At least the Hogwarts students ignored her—the Muggle students went out of their way to be mean to her.

“It was really cool,” she said truthfully. “The classes were very interesting and the school was fascinating.” She then described the castle and grounds. “Oh, and the library was huge; they must have thousands of books in there.”

She tried to look excited as she told them about Hogwarts, but the week’s gloom was hard to forget, even for a second.

“Did you make any friends?” her mother questioned. ‘No, obviously,’ she wanted to say. Her parents should surely know that it took her a long time to trust people enough to consider them friends.

Instead, she replied, “I met some nice people.” Not the whole story, but the part she wanted them to hear. Besides, she hadn’t interacted with any mean people, and she had met several individuals who might eventually be considered friends.

Her family fell silent after that, but the silence was worse than anything. The twins kept whispering to each other and from the way they kept glancing at her it was clear they were talking about her. Matthew looked anywhere it the room but at her, and her parents gave her concerned looks. Eventually, Bridget couldn’t take it anymore. She had hardly eaten anything, but she told her mother, “I’m full. May I be excused?” Her mother surveyed her plate with a frown but nodded.

Bridget quickly got up and took her plate to the sink, scraping the leftovers into the trash, rinsing her plate, and putting it in the dishwasher. Then, she darted up the stairs to her room and plopped down on her bed. She grabbed her sketchbook and started flipping through the pages. The first one was a sketch of the Hogwarts Express created from the look she had gotten before boarding. The second was of the Black Lake in the dead of night with the boats the First Years had ridden on to get to the castle. Then there were several of the Great Hall—one with the Sorting Hat and minuscule First Years waiting to join their Houses, and the others of various times of year (Christmas, when the ceiling displayed the stars, etc.) Then she had a whole collection of her classrooms. She had one of the Black Lake from when she had met Ruby Cazares and a detailed sketch of the Library from the entrance view. Towards the end was an incomplete drawing of the Kitchens. Scattered in between them all were sketches of people in various stages of completion. Brynlee Sage and Camille Eve were completed, but admittedly didn’t look great as she hadn’t had a lot of practice drawing people at that point. Euphrasia Millie looked a little better, her eyes clearly a lovely violet shade. Ruby Cazares looked better but only her face was done. The only problem was the painstaking amount of effort she had put in trying (and failing) to make the portrait exude Ruby’s confidence. Thora Larkston was just preliminary sketch, as was Katrina Walker. Although she had gotten off to a rough start with Katrina, she still considered her okay.

A gentle knock sounded from her door. “Come in,” she said, stuffing her sketchbook under her pillow. Her mom came in and sat next to her on the bed.

“How are you?” her mom asked. Bridget shrugged. “Can I see the letter from Jemima?” Bridget knew she had a choice in the matter and didn’t want sympathy. However, she walked over to her closet and picked up the crumpled letter, handing it to her mom. She figured it wouldn’t do any good to push anyone else away. It felt like her mother took forever to read the letter, Bridget fidgeting uncomfortably as she waited.

“Are you okay?” she finally asked.

“No.”

Her mother pressed her lips into a thin line. “Well, Jemima has made an excellent suggestion. Being pen pals would be good.” Bridget shrugged again. Another stretch of silence came. Bridget swore she could hear crickets chirping.

“You haven’t given up on Lizzy, have you?”

“I suppose I have, Mom. You know how it is with me,” Bridget answered with a sigh. They both knew she was referring to her trust issues.

“Honey, Jemima doesn’t know for sure Lizzy is talking badly about you. Lots of what we hear isn’t true. Yes, she’s hanging out with the wrong crowd. But it could just be a phase, and I’m sure she’ll eventually come around and realize she’d rather be friends with you. Bridget, will you please just give her a chance? Talk to her so you can find out the truth?”

Bridget agreed, but not willingly. She didn’t want to see it for herself because if it was true... well, it would hurt more to see it for herself. But she supposed Lizzy wouldn’t have given up on her so easily.

“Okay, Mom. I’ll give her a chance.” Her mother gave her a side hug, when her dad walked in.

“Hello ladies,” he said. “I believe we have a few things to discuss.”

Bridget felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. What now?

"First things first, here's your report card," he said, handing her a letter that had clearly seen an owl's talons. Of course, she had already been informed of her final grades--all of the Hogwarts students had received their results the week after finals. Regardless, she tore the letter open and pulled out the crisp sheet of parchment written with ink and quill.



Miss Bridget Olivia Collins in her First Year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has achieved:

Charms: 102%
Potions: 97%
Transfiguration: 92%
Defense Against the Dark Arts: 95%
History of Magic: 98%
Herbology: 96%
Astronomy: 95%
Flying: 95%

Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts



Bridget thought she had done extraordinary well, especially considering she hadn't even known magic had existed before this year. It also wasn't a surprised she had gotten extra credit in Charms (Professor Henley always gave extra credit opportunities), nor was she that she had gotten an A- in Transfiguration; in fact, she was proud of herself, as it was her hardest class. Privately, she was a bit disappointed in her Potions grade. She knew she should be satisfied as a 97% was very good, but that was the one class she really cared about. She resolved to work harder next year; every grade 95 or above would be good, and her Potions grade just 1 or 2 percent higher would be preferable.

She surrendered the paper to her parents who hadn't yet seen her grades. After they both saw the results and congratulated her for achieving their high standards, her dad spoke.

"Bridget, we received your syllabus back in October, which has given us plenty of time to deliberate this decision.

Bridget felt her heart stop. No, they couldn't pull her from Hogwarts; she wanted to learn more magic, more spells and potions; Muggle school would be awful to go back to...

"We aren't going to pull you from Hogwarts." Bridget was able to breathe again.

“However, we don’t believe Hogwarts is giving you a proper education.” He held up his hand to stop Bridget from explaining why, in fact, she was getting the perfect education considering she had magic. “Yes, yes, I know that you are receiving a magical education so of course it will be different.” He said ‘different’ as if he found magic very distasteful. “Your mother and I have decided that while you will continue to learn how to control your magic (like she was going to blow something up if she didn’t), we have decided we still want you to learn that which matters in our world. Therefore, we will be having you, after the Hogwarts school day, take some courses. You won’t even have to go anywhere—we will send you with everything you need. We would enroll you in an online course, but apparently technology doesn’t work around magic.”

“Now, Hogwarts covers science pretty well, albeit a bit unconventionally, so you need only to take a summer course and we will be satisfied. You are learning history there, so to give you a fair coverage of our history, we’ll just have you tour museums, which should be sufficient. You are also doing plenty of reading and writing there, and magical folk speak English too, so there is no need for you to take any literature.

“As for the subjects you will be taking while at Hogwarts: math, French, and music. Math is a very important subject and, well, I’m appalled Hogwarts doesn’t teach it. French, as our world requires you to learn a different language and just because you have magic doesn’t mean you’re getting out of that. And I believe French is the language you want to learn?” Bridget nodded; of course she wanted to learn French, especially now that Jemima was living in France.

“Finally, I would like you to continue with music. You are a skilled musician, Bridget, and I don’t want that talent to go to waste. Take whatever instrument you like.

Her father finished speaking and his gaze softened. “I know that this is a lot Bridge, but I also know that you can do it. You’ve always been a fast learner. If you need any help, you can send us an owl asking for it. I promise I have your best interest in mind.”

At that, he kissed her on the cheek and left, along with her mother. ‘I’m in for a long year,’ she thought. Hogwarts had given her plenty of homework in her First Year, and it was bound to multiply in years to come. And now with Muggle homework too... she would be swamped. Of course her father had her best interest in mind, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be hard. Besides, how was she supposed to make friends if she didn’t have any free time? However, they were allowing her to send them owls as much as she needed, and as they didn’t really like the birds delivering their mail, she took this gratefully.

Matthew passed by her door, which her parents had left ajar.

“What’s up with you?” she asked. He turned and gave her an incredulous look.

“What’s up with me?”

“Yeah. Why aren’t you happy to see me?”

“I am happy to see you, Bridge.” But he was lying and she knew it. She could always tell when her brother was insincere, which was very rare—his ears would turn an almost unnoticeable shade pinker. But Bridget noticed. She noticed just about everything, and right know she wished she didn’t, that instead she could just pretend everything was normal.

“You know I can tell when you’re lying,” she whispered. “What happened, Matthew? Why are you different?”

His gaze turned fierce. “I didn’t change. Bridge, nothing here changed except you. You’re the one that went to some weird school for... for freaks.”

“Matthew...” Bridget whispered, but he was already storming away. She jumped off her bed and rushed into the hallway.

“I’m not a freak,” she yelled, trying to not let him see how much he’d hurt her, but the tears were already coming. He gave her a loathing look and slipped into his room, locking the door behind him. Bridget went back into her room and slammed the door behind her, causing her bookshelf to rattle. But she didn’t care, nor did she care if her parents overheard. Matthew had called her a freak. Of course, as siblings do, they had both said plenty of rude things and called each other mean things, but they had never really meant it. But Matthew had meant what he said. There was no playful glint in his eye, no ‘just kidding’ with a smile to try to annoy her. All she had seen was steel in his eyes and pure hatred.

She roughly wiped at her tears and threw the glass owl he had given her for her birthday last year hard across the room. It shattered upon impact with the far wall. Then, still fully dressed, she turned her light out, locked her door (she didn’t want anyone to talk to her), and cried herself to sleep.

Bridget quickly settled into her new schedule. Her parents had signed her up for a Science class from noon to three on the weekdays. It was pretty much a crash-course in sixth grade science, but the problem was half the kids needed to take it because they had failed their science that year. This, of course, meant that some stuff was explained endlessly when the concept was quite easy to grasp. The downside was she had to figure out parts the instructors skimped over because the other kids had already learned and shown understanding. Mostly, she enjoyed it because it was science, her favorite Muggle subject and it meant being away from her family, which had some sort of problem with her.

Her free time was spent strolling through sun-scorched parks in her baseball cap, jean shorts, and tee shirt, generally perched in trees shaded from the sun and away from people. Otherwise, she was found, inside or out, reading some monstrous book or drawing in one of her older sketchbooks. She didn't use her special sketchbook, because that was saved for the magical world. She also read as far ahead in her Hogwarts textbooks as possible, because it was the nearest thing to magic she could get. She had heard about the Summer Camp at Hogwarts and really wanted to go, but her parents had been very clear that summers would be spent at home, not that she was welcome there. Finally, she spent time practicing music on her family's piano or her violin or flute. She had resolved to bring her flute to Hogwarts to satisfy her parents' wishes as it was the smallest and would fit the best in her trunk.

In the mornings she would tour museums. Now, she wasn't a normal kid touring a museum, looking at the cool stuff and going through as fast as possible. Instead, Bridget took hours, reading each information panel. She even took notes on important things and dates because she wasn't sure if her parents would give her a test. The good thing was, she could tour any museum she wanted. Whether it was a history museum or an art or science exhibit, her parents counted it towards her learning what they stubbornly referred to as 'our history'. Bridget admittedly had started to think of it as Muggle history.

Getting to the museums was the only issue. She could walk to the nearby ones but many were simply too far away to walk. She didn't want to bike after her first magic incident. For those, she would either take the bus or train. These modes of transportation required her to pay with her own money, which was rather scarce. She did have more money than the average eleven-year-old because she had been saving it, but she only got five dollars a week for doing chores, meaning she didn't have a lot. Her parents' money was generally going towards Matthew's education. Becoming a surgeon required a lot of certification.

Matthew, who she really didn't want to think about. Seriously, who called their little sister a freak just because she was going to a school for magic? It wasn't as if she had chosen to have magic anyways. Her brother, who she had considered one of her best friends, was avoiding her, and if she was completely honest, it hurt. She didn't like letting people hurt her. In fact, the only people with the ability to hurt her she trusted with her life, and to intensify her trust issues, several of those people had broken her trust. She supposed it was time to see how much one of those people had betrayed her. It was time to see Lizzy.

She had bought Jemima's really late birthday gift and would send it as soon as she wrote a letter to accompany it. At the same store, she had also bought Lizzy an even later birthday gift. It was a porcelain Spider-Man figurine. She had chosen that because 1) Lizzy loved Marvel, 2) Spider-Man was her favorite super hero, and 3) she said Bridget had 'spider-senses' because she was so observant and had a gut feeling something was going to happen before it did.

She was walking along the sidewalk on Lizzy's street, desperately hoping she was home because she doubted she'd have the courage to attempt this twice. She had just finished touring a mini history museum and Lizzy's house was in the right direction for heading home. Truthfully, she had almost bailed the attempt entirely, but she had promised her mom that she would see the truth for herself, so she went.

Lizzy lived in an ordinary house in the middle of Observatory Road. The house looked perfectly still and her brain tried to tell her no one was there, that she should just go home. But her gut, spider-senses or whatever, knew that the Stokes were home. On wobbly knees, she walked up to the door and tentatively knocked.

The door was opened by a familiar face. Lizzy. Sure, she looked a bit different. She was wearing lip gloss and mascara. Her red hair, which Bridget remembered as untameably frizzy, was straight. But she still had the same brown eyes with a fiery look and freckles all over her cheeks.

Before either of them could utter a word, Bridget noticed three girls halfway down the stairs. She felt a wash of hatred when she saw them but kept her face impassive. Elena Norton, Emma Shirdell, and Fiona Eldridge. The 'popular' girls. Because apparently the determining factor of popular was pretty, and in Bridget's opinion, an awful personality and rude-to-just-about-everyone attitude. Seeing Lizzy with them made her sick. The girls had made her elementary life particularly miserable.

"Who is it?" Emma asked, her hip jutted out (even though they were on the stairs).

Suddenly the group exploded into giggles.

"Oh my gosh, is that Bridget Collins?" Fiona said, and then they were whispering to each other. Bridget felt her insides boil. All she wanted to do was yell at them and tell them how obvious it was that they were talking about her, but she kept her mouth shut.

"Sorry," Lizzy mouthed, and that's when Bridget knew that everything was okay. Lizzy wasn't joining in with their rudeness. She looked very uncomfortable, actually. Although she still hadn't the faintest clue why she was hanging out with them, she realized Lizzy wasn't taking part in gossiping about her. Maybe she didn't do anything to stop it, but at least she didn't join in.

"Happy late birthday," Bridget whispered, discreetly handing her the wrapped package. "Careful, it's fragile."

"Thank you. I have something for you too," Lizzy whispered back. Apparently she had it on hand, because she reached into her pocket and handed her a card.

Bridget gave her a small grin and waved goodbye. She tuned out the other girls' calls of "Goodbye, Shrimp." Seriously, why would anyone make up some stupid nickname based on height?

Once home, she opened the card. In Lizzy's large, cursive/printing crossover handwriting were the words:


Dear Bridget,

Happy Birthday! I hope your boarding school was great!

I want to apologize for anything you've heard from Jemima. Yes, I am hanging out with the 'popular group'. You see, Jemima and I are just to different--you were always the one that held us together. I want you to know that I am NOT gossiping about you.

To keep it short, I really miss you. It's been a rough year without you. If you want, we can hang out sometime (I suppose this might seem ridiculous, but can we plan it so Elena, Emma, and Fiona aren't around? It's not that I don't want to be seen with you, but they are currently my only friends).

I really miss you Spider-Sense (yes, I know you hate nicknames, but there),
Lizzy

P.S. My phone broke, so I apologize for any ignored calls and texts.


It took her longer than usual to decipher the words, but at the end she felt that a bit of her life-shattering summer was fixing itself. Lizzy wasn't truly gone, just going through a phase where they weren't as close. The card had also explained why Lizzy hadn't been answering her messages. She was glad she had taken her mom's advice to talk to her.

Pulling out a piece of paper and a ball-point pen (Muggle pens were easier to use than ink and quills), Bridget wrote Jemima a letter.


Jemima,

I hope you like your late birthday present.

Just so you know, Lizzy isn't talking bad about us. She actually hasn't changed too much. She said the biggest issue was that you too couldn't get along well without me. I hope you will forgive her.

I really, really miss you. My family (Matthew in particular) is acting really weird, but at least now I know I (sort of) have both of my best friends to lean on. Write at least every week, please, because I'm pretty sure I'll die if you don't.

From,
Bridget


She put it next to the wrapped package of a snow globe of Edinburgh to send from the post office later, then picked up her wand. She couldn't do magic with it, but it felt good to just hold it, to remind herself that summer would end and she would be able to return to Hogwarts. Maybe she'd even make a few friends next year. But for now, all she needed were Lizzy and Jemima to get her through these two months. Even if they were distant, one way or another, knowing they still had her back made everything seem a bit more... bearable. It reminded her of a quote she had read once. 'Friendship improves happiness and abates misery, by the doubling of our joy and the dividing of our grief.' She was starting to understand what that meant.