Pitch: Second Season

Shopping for clothes before the new school year was an age-old tradition. Due to my unnatural proclivity for getting into accidents, Dad usually bought me clothes in bulk. I had at least 100 copies of the same shirt hanging in my closet and 50 of the same jeans. Each year I'd have to decide on a look to stick with for the next 365 days. At the rate that I destroyed clothes, I couldn't afford the luxury of going off-brand very often.

Honestly, my style stayed the same, but I loved going to the mall to look for one thing in particular.

They had shoes for people as tall as trolls and as small as fairies but nothing that fit me. I dreamed of the day I would find a pair of shoes I could wear, but no one made sneakers for teenaged rabbits. Even if none of them were shaped to fit my feet, I had to window shop to be sure.

"It was made out of paper," I said as Dad and I walked around the mall, heading out after our shopping was done.

"Are you sure you didn't dream it all?" He asked.

"Dad, I was kidnapped and held against my will," I added.

"But it gave you back?"

"...yes, but ...," I stumbled as I realized how unlikely my story was probably coming off.

"Maybe you hit your head too hard this time," he joked.

I tried telling Dad about my abduction, but I suppose it was too far fetched a story to believe without proof. To be fair, Dad didn't know about half of my adventures, so maybe he didn't have enough scope on how otherworldly my life was becoming. Either way, he was right. I was returned home without being hurt, so I let the subject go.

On our way out of the mall, we were passing the suit and dress store "Tailor Made" when I noticed a familiar face. Beth was walking out just as we passed by. Dad and I were a few steps ahead, and I thought for sure we'd make it outside without being noticed. Of course, a teen sized rabbit was hard to miss, so before we made it to the revolving doors, I heard my name called out from a distance.

"Pitch?" Beth said.

I stopped dead in my tracks, stunned by her voice. Dad went on a few steps ahead of me until he realized I wasn't moving with him anymore.

"Pitch, Its good to see you," Beth said as she approached us.

I had to turn around. I couldn't just walk away. I felt like an asshole. I felt like an awkward asshole. A crowd of people was walking around us forcing my dad and me to step away from the exit and closer to Beth until the space between us was closed.

"Your recent correspondence made it clear that you were still in recovery. Does this mean I'll see you at the theater soon?" She pressed.

Before I could lie or try to come up with an explanation, I found that I didn't need words at all. My dad stepped in front of me.

"My son is starting school soon, and I'm afraid he won't have time to continue his internship with you, " Dad said on my behalf.

"Your son is much more than an intern," Beth argued.

"If it's all the same to you, Beth, my son isn't interested," my Dad went on to say.

On the one hand, it was a relief not having to break the news to Beth myself, but on the other hand, I still hadn't decided whether or not I wanted to keep my job. Dad made that decision for me.

Beth looked beyond my father and found my eyes. Her look of displeasure hurt.

"I can't say I'm not disappointed," she said to my father, but honestly, she was speaking to me.

Dad and I left before anything else could be said.

In the car, I felt the need to say something but couldn't organize my thoughts enough to settle on anything. Dad didn't seem phased by the moment at all. He went on just as he would have if we hadn't seen Beth at all. I was confused, but the longer we went on, the better I understood what I was feeling.

First, it was regret, and then it was anger.

I was mad at my dad for putting words in my mouth. I was even more upset that he made such a big decision for me. He gave me an easy way out, but did I want it?

When we made it home, I helped carry all the bags inside. I tried to get over my sudden anger, but it was like a bubbling pot. I couldn't keep it down.

I finally had something I was good at. I might not have been the best at it yet, but I had potential. Beth thought I had potential. I couldn't just throw that away. Before the internship, I was struggling to keep my head above water. I relied on the lives of people around me to give enough motivation to get up in the morning. Figuring out I could be a magician finally gave me something of my own to look forward to. How was I supposed to go back to the way things were?

The relationships I had with my friends were gone or altered in ways that couldn't be undone. I didn't have BJ anymore. Maybe giving up would have been enough to get her back. Did I want a friend who could only tolerate me when I wasn't in her way? I knew I had to give up if I wanted to keep Wes.

I was spiraling. The day went by before my eyes. Like snapshots, I remembered watching TV, eating dinner with dad, talking to Velmer, and then I came back to myself late that night.

"Fuck," I said to myself, sitting in a chair illuminated by the light of my laptop in my otherwise dark bedroom.

Why couldn't I let it go? There had to be something else I was good at. Magic couldn't be so important I'd let it make me mad at my dad. It couldn't be so important I'd kill my relationship with Wes. I knew the terrible history behind magic. I knew creatures literally had to die for magic to be possible. I nearly died trying to do something so immoral I should have been sick to my stomach. Why couldn't I let it go? I had to let it go.

I stood up from my seat, and in a wild frenzy, I collected every spell I ever wrote, every piece of magic paper, all my notes and stuffed them into a trash bin. I might have set it all on fire, but burning spells usually led to chaos. I settled for taking everything out to the sidewalk to be picked up in the morning by the garbage truck. I kept the gloves Beth gave me. It didn't feel right to throw away something gifted to me, but I packed them away in a box I kept under my bed. I made my decision. It was the only decision that made sense. Or so that's what I told myself. It had to be the right choice. If only I could have believed myself.

I had two days before the start of my senior year of high school. I thought to myself maybe I'd be convinced by then.