Basic Physics

Quentin

“It’s for the good of the kids. Surely you can understand, Mr. Matsdotter. It’s integral to your position to keep them safe, is it not? We’re all on the same side, I assure you.”

I straighten the stack of papers once more, their edges tap against my desk with controlled force. With a calm I most certainly do not feel, I say, “Please, Mrs. Wells. Your fear is misplaced. I can not, and will not, sign your petition. You do realize that I am friends with several witches who also happen to be instrumental figures in Levena and the farthest thing from dangerous?”

My archnemesis rests a hand over her heart, disturbing the white ruffles of her blouse. Her whole ensemble is all the latest fashion, but far too dramatic and impractical for elementary school. Her exaggerated collar is high, brushing against the tips of her pointed ears adorned with rows of pearls. Several layers of pearl necklaces rest on the outside of her silken blouse, which is buttoned all the way up her throat.

“I am aware, which is why I am so worried about you. You are too close to the problem to see them for what they truly are. Your friends are danger incarnate, and you must not be complacent. I implore you to—”

I stand abruptly, chair scraping against harsh silence. Every single one of my students watch the stand-off taking place over my desk, but I don’t shift my attention from Carina, not willing to show weakness. “Leave my classroom. Now. If you wish to harass me about this matter further, have the decency to do so in private, not in front of the children,” I whisper harshly, throwing her own sentiment back at her.

Carina straightens impossibly further, her posture already painfully perfect. Her painted nails dig into her palm, and several wisps of teal have escaped from her tightly wound bun. After a tense moment, she says, “Good day, Mr. Matsdotter.”

Carina turns on a heel, spine rigid and long elven ears flattened against her skull. Her stilettos dominate the moment, stabbing my heart with each clack towards the door. She tears the door open and pauses. Carina sweeps her attention over the classroom, settling on me last. She says, “Enjoy your time together. While it lasts.”

Carina softly shuts the door behind her, and I barely hide my flinch. I’d rather if she’d just slammed the damn thing. I readjust my glasses and stare at the door for a moment, recomposing myself. Then, I walk around my desk and stand tall, facing a class of extremely curious fourth graders.

I clap my hands together, sweat trickling down my spine. “I apologize for the interruption. Ah … do we need to extend homeroom for a few minutes? Or is everyone ready?”

The children look between each other, then back to me. There’s a lot of shrugging, and a few nos. The bell went off five minutes ago, but Carina wouldn’t stop shoving that damned petition in my face. Add that to the brewing snowstorm disrupting our normal routine, and you have a morning of pure chaos. A vampire in the back raises her hand, and I internally sigh. Here it comes.

“Stella?”

Stella lowers her hand, tossing her long hair over her shoulder, which is hidden beneath five layer of clothing. “Is Mrs. Wells the reason why we’re still learning about the scientific method instead of magick? I thought we were supposed to start the next unit after break, but we’re still doing the same thing.”

Straight A, meticulous students are a double-edged sword.

I run a hand through my damp and knotted hair, the snowflakes have long melted and frizzed it all up. With careful precision, I say, “As I said yesterday, there is some debate regarding the curriculum. It’s out of my hands at the moment, but I’ve made some changes and we now have a direction. Today we will be learning about something new. Something called force.”

Collective groans break out, and I hold my hands up. “Alright, alright, none of that. It’ll be fun, I promise.” I circle around to the white board behind my desk with renewed vigor. “Open up your books to page 42.” I snatch up a marker and make sure to take my time as I write out, ‘Forces of the Universe. Soul. Spirit. Body. Abracadabri.’

I circle this last word. “Can anyone tell me what this means?”

One of Stella’s neighbors, Peter, says, “To create. But isn’t that just another word for magick?”

I grin. “Not necessarily. Now, there’s a difference between active and potential force, yes? Keep that in mind. Abracadabri is the force that gives life to magickal creatures, and yes, it has the potential to create. But it can’t do it on its own. Think of abracadabri as a living thing that’s got to hitch a ride any time it needs to get anything done. It’s a symbiotic relationship, and for those of you who were sleeping in Mrs. Pointe’s class last week, that’s a relationship that benefits both parties. Magick is the name of what happens when abracadabri is actively put into use.”

An orc named Lily, Stella’s rival, raises a hand. They ask, “Why does something like abracadabri need a tool to work? If it’s so powerful, why isn’t it everywhere?”

“It is everywhere. It’s in the trolley you take to school, enchanted for good luck by those who rode it earlier in the day. It’s inside the people that you know, and love. Abracadabri is too powerful to exist on its own. It’s like … you know how in the spring when you’re trying to water the garden, and the hose can get kinked? And for the first few moments after you straighten it out, the pressure is too much, too powerful. It’ll kill the plants, tear the leaves off.”

“And that’s why we have witches. To make sure the hose doesn’t get kinked,” Stella says. Lily throws a glare her way, pissed she took their answer.

“Exactly.”

Nolan, an avian behema, says, “But isn’t that stealing from magickal creatures? What if there’s not enough abracadabri to go around? My Da says that witches use magick for everything, and there’s not going to be enough left for us. That’s why I can’t shift right.” The gray feathers around his humanoid neck ruffle.

“No, no. That’s not how it works. But that’s a very good question. Abracadabri is an unlimited force. Same as gravity or atmospheric pressure, it’s always there. Even if we had a billion shifters and a billion witches, there’d still be enough. Although I think the earth might get a bit wobbly, that’s a lot of people.” Gentle laughter ensues, and I give the kids a wink before turning back to the whiteboard.

I allow a fraction of a smile to come through.

I’m only teaching basic physics.

Lochian (3:27 AM): It’s alright, I don’t mind. I hope you were able to work through this latest tangle. I won’t be able to come by in the morning, but eat a muffin for me. I miss you.

I sigh, cradling my phone in my hands. I stare at his message for the twentieth time this morning. I haven’t written him back. What the hell else can I say after accidentally texting him my notes?

He misses me.

What does that mean?

Does he miss me miss me? Or is he just saying that because it’s socially acceptable to tell a friend you miss them after your daily breakfasts have slowly become non-existent? I know he’s busy, he essentially runs part of Levena for fuck’s sake, but for the first month after Thatch left he was at the cafe every morning.

And every morning we would have coffee and breakfast together. It was unexpected and unplanned, but it became something that I could count on. Oftentimes, we would sit and say nothing at all. Simply wake up and clear the sleep from our eyes together, and those were the days I liked best.

But things got chaotic. There was Felix’s birthday, then Caspian’s, then Yuletide. Celestials are becoming sick and unstable, keeping Elochian busy and me worried. What if he’s next? There've been magickal ‘accidents’ lately too, which are flooding the hospital. While my specialty lies in Spirit Metaphysics, doctors called for my advice in the beginning.

But there’s nothing I can do except explain the problem.

It’s why Cas has been working from home, because not even Tobias is immune to whatever’s happening. He seems to be enduring the worst of it, actually. Unfortunately, it’s all fuel for the ‘Normal’ sentiment poisoning the town. Not to mention the disruption caused by Thatch’s departure, and all the change that came with it. Change is a beautiful thing, but boy does it piss some people off. They’re screaming for normal, when such a thing doesn’t even exist.

So yes, Elochian has been distant. We haven’t seen each other in … oh fuck, it’s been nearly a week now. I miss him, but then again, I always miss him. I’m greedy for every scrap of friendship he has to offer. I still can’t believe I accidentally sent him my notes last night, or this morning, whenever the fuck it was. I expected him to tease me about it, but he didn’t. He seemed … happy to get my message. Or maybe I’m reading into it too much. I do that sometimes, which is why I like using emojis.

Maybe I should write to him first more often. But on purpose this time.

The staff room is full. Frantic conversation wars with the TV relaying the latest storm warning, and the murmur of a coffee maker as it prepares yet another pot. I wrinkle my nose at the burnt smelling shit in a disposable moss cup on the table beside me, and the people crowding our corner of the room. I’ve been here for nearly a year, but I manage to keep to myself.

Mostly. Leroy never gave me an option.

Over a mouthful of iron gray tusks, Leroy leans over the table and says, “Pretty sure we’ll be all going home early. Have you seen it outside lately?”

I stare at him, vaguely gesturing to the flurries that have evolved to a full blown snowstorm outside the staff room windows. The weather can’t make up its mind; one minute it’s lightly snowing, then ten minutes later it's a blizzard that spits a foot on the ground before turning back again in twenty minutes. Levena is known for its bitterly cold and near intolerable winters, but even this storm is out of the ordinary.

I slip my phone in my pocket with my other hand. “Obviously.”

Leroy runs a hand through his neat and trim dark brown hair, unable to veil his pleased grin. He finds great joy in my irritable moods. “Who pissed in your wheaties?”

I groan, slouching in my chair. “It’s pointless. Why they’re so concerned with saving snow days for the end of the year is beyond me. They’re called snow days for a reason. I could be curled up in bed right now, but instead I’ve got fucking Carina up my ass within the first ten minutes of morning bell.”

Leroy blinks. “Wow. Did not expect all of that word vomit.” He feigns wiping something off his taut button up shirt, grimacing the entire time. He looks around before whispering, “She paid me a nice little visit this morning too. Let me know how optional she thinks woodworking is.”

Hesitantly, I say, “You didn’t ….”

Now it’s Leroy’s turn to give me a death glare. “Of course I didn’t fucking sign it. My uncle’s a witch. If you ask me, it’s only a matter of time before the rest of these fuckers realize how much of a lunatic she is. Just because we don’t like something, doesn't mean we should stop learning about it.”

I pick up my disposable moss cup and toast him, which prompts Leroy to do the same to me. I take a long swig of the bitter shit otherwise known as coffee, wishing I had picked up a cup from the cafe on the way out this morning. It felt wrong, though. For the past couple of weeks, I’ve kept myself busy and out of the cafe, and away from professionally made coffees that always hit the spot.

Thinking about the cafe leads to thoughts about Arlo, and how wrung out he’s been. Before he disappeared, Thatch essentially gifted Arlo all of his investments, properties, and businesses. So not only is Arlo insanely rich now, but he has a say in more than a good portion of Levena’s economy, which has pissed off a lot of people. Thankfully everything mostly runs itself, designed for Thatch’s long periods of absence, but it’s a lot to settle into. Especially when Arlo’s priorities lie in research, not management.

Not to mention the hell his kids are giving him.

Felix and Silas go to school at the castle, where Felix can finish out his school year and Silas can get in a few months before it ends. But lately Felix’s growing magick has been misfiring, closely tied with his emotions. Tobias had been mentoring him, but that fell apart before Yuletide, around the time Tobias started getting sick. And Silas, he’s slowly coming out of his shell, but trust doesn’t come easy with him.

I blink, recalling what we were talking about. Leaning closer to Leroy, I whisper, “I’m worried that it won’t be a matter of time. Did you see how many names she’s got on that thing? Mrs. White’s on there.”

“No,” Leroy protests, dark eyes shining beneath the fluorescent bulbs above us.

I shake my head. “I saw it. And Bob Kenc.”

Leroy stares into his coffee. “I didn’t pin either of them as anti-witch.”

“I guess you don’t know, until you do.”

We sit there in melancholic, but companionable silence. Eventually, the loudspeaker system kicks on with an irritating beep. Principal Nelson announces, “Levena Central will be dismissed at 11:45 AM today. Those who walk or bike to school are urged to take the buses, as conditions are currently severe. If any staff or students are in need of alternate transportation, please visit the main office.”

I groan in relief, content to let everyone else filter out before I even think about moving. “Thank Gods. Do you need a ride?”

Leroy tilts his head. “You don’t drive.”

I laugh. “No, but I’d walk you home.”

“Ass.” Leroy laughs. “Nah, I’ll take the bus. What about you, you’re really going to walk in that?” He gestures to windows, or rather the snow pummeling the glass.

I shrug. “Why not? It’s just snow.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I shamelessly take it out. I wince at the nearly dead battery. Whoops.

Arlo (Group Text, 10:43 AM): If anyone’s out and about today, Shh called and they have a new order in for me. There’s cake in it for whoever brings them over. No special trips though, I hear traffic and trolleys are having a time of it. Sidewalks aren’t bad.

Caspian’s read it. And Elochian. That’s it so far. It’s Tuesday, which means Cas is probably at home with the kids. Kitt’s working, and Lindsey too. Elochian … I think he has office hours today, so he probably won’t show up. But there’s a chance.

Getting out of my seat, I wink at Leroy. “I think I’m going to walk.”

Leroy shakes his head. “Crazy fucker.”

I rush back to my abandoned classroom. I don’t have any students this period, and after the next, which is a study hall, all I need to do is switch my flats for boots and throw on my coat. I don’t have any work to bring home, considering I didn’t give any and there was no test today. I don’t believe in homework, another ‘flaw’ that sets my co-workers and I apart. Kids have enough going on at home to worry about school. We get everything done in class, and their scores are all in the upper percentiles, proving that the way I do things works.

When I reach for the door, I find that it’s already cracked open. I pause, head tilted. I … I think I was the last one out, but I definitely would’ve shut it. I don’t ever lock my door, but it’s either shut or open, nothing in between. Hesitantly, I push the door open and step inside the classroom.

It’s empty. The children’s desks are arranged the same, and my desk is as much of an organized chaos as it was before. My chair hasn’t moved, and the drawers are still locked. I keep all my valuables on me, but I keep completed work and certain necessities in my desk in case the students need them. Fourth grade is a time of change for many, after all. The basket of snacks appears to be missing a few things, but I wouldn’t be surprised if a few kids grabbed something on the way out, an extra snack comes in handy for later in the day.

I don’t know why it takes me so long to see it, but when I do, the whole world drops from beneath me. A scream catches in my throat, and my bad knee buckles. I grip the edge of my desk for support, accidentally shoving the basket of food to the ground. Scrawled across the breadth of the whiteboard in a disgustingly familiar hue that reeks of rotted fruit, are four words.

‘I miss you, Glimmer’

The clock ticks, and besides my heart it’s the loudest thing in the room. With shaking hands and nausea burning my gut, I push away from the desk and steady myself. I take out my phone and painstakingly take a picture of the message. The moment it’s done, I rush over to the sink along the left side of the classroom. I yank hemp towels from the dispenser, and water splatters everywhere as I desperately hurry to wet them. Upon approaching the whiteboard, I falter.

Beside the dry erase markers, is a tube of lipstick.

Color, Mulberry Dreams. Brand, Glimmer Cosmetics.

The period bell rings, scaring the shit out of me. I hurriedly scrub at the lipstick marring my whiteboard, but it’s a challenge as the stuff is beeswax based, well known for its endurance. Hot, furious tears blur my vision, and I wipe at my eyes with my sleeve. I sniff, anger and fear building as I burn through towel after towel.

When I’m finished, the message is gone. But the board is no longer white. Instead, it’s a sickening deep purple that borders on crimson.

“Shit,” I whisper.

“Mr. Matsdotter?” A student asks, one of many who have stopped just inside the door, bearing witness to the beginning of the end for me. “What happened to the board?”

I turn on my heel, swiping up the lipstick tube as I do. “I, ah, used the wrong marker by accident. Why don’t you take a seat? You’ll all be going home soon, so let’s take it easy.”

“You don’t want us to work?” Another one asks.

I press my fingers to my forehead. It’s only a study hall, not an actual class. I just have to make it through this, then I can leave. “You can if you’d like,” I say, then wave to a row of computers in the back of the room. “Computers are free this period.”

A few whoops break out, followed by several cheers of, ‘Thanks Mr. M!’

It takes all my strength to sit down in my chair with poise instead of collapsing, but I manage it. Hands in my lap and out of sight, I open my right one to reveal the lipstick tube. Why? After all this time, why has he come for me?

I’ve expected River to hunt me down. I’ve prepared for it, but over time I’ve become lazy. Too relaxed. Too happy. I thought that I had gotten away with a new life, but I was wrong. He knows where I work, he probably knows where I live. Oh Gods, what if he’s at home, waiting for me?

I pocket the lipstick, then take out my phone. It’s dead.

Great.