Magic in Costa Rica

The Common Link

I sat down at my laptop, and for the first time this entire school year, my fingers froze above the keyboard. I had no idea what to write for my final essay. We had been assigned to read Wuthering Heights by Emily Brönte and write a paper relating it to three other books we had read throughout the year. I had tons of ideas, too many actually, and I was having trouble organizing my thoughts enough to write them down. What was something, one theme, one message, that connected everything we read? I could feel it, resting at the tips of my fingers, waiting for my brain to catch up. Was it love? No, that was too obvious. Was it family? Not exactly. I paused, and felt my lips curl into a smile as it dawned on me. Finally, I took a deep breath and wrote the title at the top of the page: The Persistence of Human Nature.

* * *

"Alma, are you still awake?" My dad creaked open my door and I broke my gaze from my computer screen to look over at the clock: 12:15am. "I heard typing from the hallway."

"I'm almost done," I mumbled and typed the last few words on my essay. "There," I sighed and closed my laptop. "Sorry if I kept you up."

"Alright, you should try to get some sleep," my dad started to close the door.

"Hey, Dad?" He reopened it a crack. "Why don't you ask out Laurie?" I don't know why I said it, I knew he wouldn't react well. Maybe I was just delirious from exhaustion, or maybe I was sick of the way things were between he and I. We lived our whole lives never mentioning anything real, anything important, and I wanted that to change.

"Ask out Laurie? Because- because I can't."

"Why not? Is it the same reason you can't do magic anymore?" I asked. He seemed to wake up a little more, probably from shock. "Is it because of mom?"

"I don't see why we need to discuss this," he scoffed, angry.

"Because we never discuss anything, Dad. Just tell me," I begged. His gaze softened, but he remained unfazed by my line of questioning. He lowered his eyes.

"Go to bed, Alma." When I didn't respond, he sighed and softly closed the door.

* * *

"You ready?" Carla gave me a nervous smile as we both stood outside of Mr. Miller's classroom. Today was the last day of sophomore year. We had our final exam for English and one other class (Spanish for me, science for Carla) before the year was officially over.

"Yes," I nodded and we both headed in. At my desk, I found my final essay, unedited, with an A at the top lying face-up. There were no marks, no comments, and Mr. Miller hadn't even sent me an email about it like he usually did. Did he even read it? I turned it to the back and found the same ominous note Mr. Miller had written on the back of my essay for The Color Purple: see me after school. I showed Carla and she raised her eyebrows. Great, now I had this to worry about besides both of my finals, which were already stressful enough.

Mr. Miller rushed into class wearing a brown, button-down shirt and a red tie. He picked up a manila folder from his desk and smiled.

"In this folder," he paused dramatically, "is your final exam for this class. We've been through a lot together this year, and I want to thank you for being such a wonderful group. Now who's ready?" The entire class cheered like they were at the homecoming football game, but I stayed silent. Once this was over, I would never see Mr. Miller again, well except when we passed each other in the hallways, which wasn't very often. I gulped down the tears I felt burning behind my eyes and put on a smile as he passed out our exams. Now was not the time for tears, I had to focus on my finals. I wished Carla good luck and got started.