Chapter Eleven

 

 

I lay on my bed staring up at the ceiling. Facts were undeniable. That’s what my science teachers always said. And the fact was that in twenty-seven days I’d be on a stage trying to fake my way toward a title that any student in the district would kill to win. Figuratively. It was more like any student except us academy types would turn their fiercest foe into a razor back hog or maybe a fat tomato.

Morry kept me after class under the pretense of talking about degunking a choke. What he did instead was spring a big one on me. He wanted me to have one huge trick up my sleeve. That trick, he decided, would be levitation.

Levitation!

I sighed and flopped over to stare at the wall. I’d learned a lot so far. I might be able to pull off making pencils dance across the table and making torn playing cards whole again. Levitation meant something would float like a balloon with no contact to any surface. I might be able to make a flowerpot or something go up in the air, but Morry had decided I was going to levitate. Me, whose feet had never left the ground. And who was very happy that way.

“I’m afraid.” I confessed my secret to Alfredo. “If the judges think my magic is real, I have to leave here. And if they don’t, maybe they’ll kick me out of here for cheating.” Tears threatened to spill. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life washing dishes. Or marrying somebody who digs ditches. Oh, Alfredo, I never should have said yes!”

That’s when I started crying for real. It wasn’t really about the spelling bee though. It was about everything. Not being able to say goodbye to everyone before I was dragged here. Living away from my parents, which sucked. Missing my place on the academic team and struggling to learn all that stuff about flowers and bushes.

And how totally disgusting my life would be without Raz and the rest of the Terribles. Especially Raz.

Alfredo lay curled against my chest and listened. One thing about him was that he’s a great listener. I’d been telling him my secrets like forever, and he’d never let a single one of them slip. I wondered if anyone would ever understand why a stuffed bear is my very best friend in the whole world.

****

“A bunch of us are going outside and play soccer.” Raz slammed his books down on the seat beside me and turned toward me.

“I can’t. I have to study.”

He sighed. “It seems like you always have to study.”

Oh, that was a knife jabbed into my heart. I wanted to spend every minute I could with Raz, but the spelling bee was only twenty-one days away. I actually had faith that rounds one and two were doable. Morry’s confidence that I could go all the way up to the semi-finals or maybe even the finals was driving me crazy. I was practicing as hard as I could. I almost asked my folks if they could only come on the Sunday of parents’ weekend because I was worried about passing my finals. I hated to lie to them. I hated to lie to anyone. But every minute I didn’t work on it was one moment that kept me from floating cross-legged from the yoga mat where I practiced.

“You don’t understand,” I protested. “I transferred mid-year and then I changed classes. My dad will kill me if my grades drop from what they were at Green Hills.”

“I do understand. Honest.” Raz took both my hands in his and stared into my eyes. “I like you, Violet. Really like you.”

“Me too. Really like you, I mean.”

He grinned. “So we’re cool. I’ll play. You work. As long as you’re thinking about me.”

Raz grabbed his books and left with a wave. I was so tempted to play hooky from practicing, but I could almost sense Morry behind me telling me we only had three more weeks until I stepped on that stage. Three weeks which also included a landscape plan in horticulture and the very last, I hoped, rewrite of my report on The Grapes of Wrath. I deserved a gold medal for all the times I’d read the name Joad.

The study room was almost empty since it was still that free time the academy kept telling our parents was wonderful for us. I sat at a desk as far away from the two girls on the other side of the room and took out my pad of graph paper. Once again I realized how hard it was back in the old days before people had computers, tablets and smart phones. With the laptop I had to leave at home, I could have found a program, knocked out the garden plan and been done in five minutes. I tried not to think about that as I pulled a ruler and pencil from my backpack. No matter what my parents thought, old school was not cool.

The announcement for dinner made me jump in my seat. I’d been so into my homework that I’d lost track of time. I jammed everything in my pack and hurried upstairs to stick it in my room. The last thing I expected to see was a pink box with a ribbon sitting next to my door.

If I’d been a cat, I would have been dead from curiosity before I got the door open and my backpack tossed inside. I glanced up and down the hall but didn’t see boxes by any other door. Of course maybe we all got one and I was just the last person to come to my room.

I put the box on the bed and took off the lid. I laughed when I saw what was inside. I didn’t need the note I found to realize Miss Tiddums had dropped by and left me a stack of smiley-face cookies. A glance at the clock on my desk reminded me I didn’t have time to try one. I had exactly four minutes to get into my chair at the table.

Another thirty seconds and I’d have made it. I dropped into my seat. Miss Willowood, tonight’s monitor, glared at me. I knew I was in trouble when she pushed back from the table and headed in my direction. Luck intervened. Before she could reach our table, Mr. Morrison intercepted her. I was too far away to hear what he said but he winked in my direction as he escorted her to the dessert table. Breathing a quiet word of thanks, I started asking Raz about the soccer game.

I kinda missed some details because I kept thinking about how he said he liked me, really liked me. I had to tell him about what Morry and I were doing or I’d bust. But I’d promised not to tell anybody, and I was so not the person who went back on her word.

Tell him or don’t tell him. That’s all I could think about when he took the chair across from me during study time. The one thing I didn’t want was for Raz to hate me when he learned the truth and wonder why I hadn’t trusted him enough to share the plan.

The final draft of my book report and the landscape design were both finished before study time was over. If I hadn’t been sitting by Raz, I would have asked permission to go to my room early. Every moment of practice time counted now. But so did being with Raz. When the spelling bee was over, Raz would still be around. And I knew he wouldn’t care if I won or lost, only that I tried to make the academy part of the real school world.

As the final seconds of study time ticked down, Raz shoved a note to me. I didn’t have time to read it before the announcement came to return to our rooms which is what he’d planned, I guessed. I stuck the note inside my binder and joined Wendy for the walk up to our wing. She was all excited about the end of the semester coming because she was going home for the summer.

“Last year I stayed here for summer session.”

“Summer session?” Green Hills never had summer classes. I didn’t know any school ever did.

Wendy’s usually happy face was solemn. “There were six of us. That’s all. Six sets of parents who didn’t want their kids.”

I wanted to say something to make her feel better, but I didn’t know what. One thing I’ve always known is that my parents love me and like having me around. Wendy had pictures of her mom and dad in her room and they looked okay. Maybe I was missing something. Like her mom had some horrible disease they were keeping Wendy from knowing about and her dad’s entire life was taken up with caring for her mother. Yeah, I knew that probably wasn’t true, but I couldn’t imagine any other reason for not caring.

I know Wendy loves her folks, even if the situation is sketchy, or she wouldn’t look so sad. I so wanted to tell her about the spelling bee because that would cheer her up. Nobody roots for the underdog quite like Wendy. But I’d promised. And besides, Raz would probably think I didn’t trust him if I told her and not him.

Whoa, this whole thing was getting complicated. All that blah, blah, blah of my dad’s about how lying is its own punishment was beginning to make sense. I couldn’t confess that to him, though. He’d start telling me all sorts of other stuff meant to make me the perfect person on earth, and I could only take so much of that.

“You want to come to my room and celebrate that you’re going home?” I said on an impulse. I still had some chocolate candy left over from when my mom and dad came the last time. Between the two of us, we could polish it off and not feel too guilty about how much we ate.

“Can’t.” Wendy sighed as she shook her head. “I have to draw a map of Europe by Friday for my world government class and I haven’t even started. Maybe we can do it later, okay?”

“Sure.” I waved goodbye as she reached her door and I kept on walking. She was like the coolest person I knew. Except Raz. And maybe the other Terribles. They were all super cool, the best friends I’d ever had.

Alone behind the closed door of my room, I pulled out the note and grinned. “All work and no play makes Violet a tired girl,” Raz had written. He’d drawn a goofy cartoon of me all bent over with a bunch of books on my back. Somehow he always knew how to make me feel better.

*****

Mr. Morrison had begun calling me the “mechanical mastermind” since I figured out a way to hook an engine to a red wagon and make it self-propelled—on paper anyway. The engine was sitting in the shop, but I didn’t have a wagon, and the academy wasn’t going to let me experiment anyway. Independent thought was not highly appreciated at good old Hempstead.

Neither would my embarrassing the entire school. So I dropped my books on my desk and started practicing my illusions harder than I ever had. I was so nervous about the floating thing that I fumbled the rope trick which was like the first one I’d ever learned. I threw myself across the bed and started taking deep breaths. My mother was all into yoga and meditation, and that’s what she did when life made her crazy. She must have done it differently, though, because before long my lungs ached. So I did what any sensible person would do.

I took a shower. A long shower.

The steady spray of water gave me lots of alone time to visualize myself on that stage beating every other person Until the final rounds anyway. Every time I tried to see myself floating in the air, I saw myself falling down, down, down instead. Morry may have had complete confidence in me, but he wasn’t going to be out there, was he?

The water was getting cold before I got out. I had made a decision. Unless I was super good in one week exactly, levitation was a no-go. I also decided to wait those full seven days before I told Morry. Actually, I was hoping that at the end of seven days of failure he’d catch a clue and change things up.

This time my practice was so smooth that I almost believed I had a ton of natural magic as I watched myself in the mirror. Quick hands, easy movements and total confidence. That’s what Morry said I needed.

I found out the next day that there was more.

“What do you mean there’s questions on the theories of natural magic?” Panic made me forget I was talking to a teacher and an elder to boot. But Morry ignored my rudeness.

“A five question interview with a three-scholar panel,” he read from the instructions for sponsoring teachers. He looked straight at me. “You’re smart, Violet. This should be a snap for you.”

“But what if I have to do something?” I curled my arms around myself “What if they make me demonstrate what I’m talking about?”

“Then you will demonstrate it.” Miss Tiddums, who was sitting on the other end of the couch from Morry, said in the sternest tone I’d ever heard her use. “I refuse to allow you to underestimate your abilities. What the others take for granted, you’ve had to work at. As far as I’m concerned, you’re going in with a huge advantage.”

I buried my face in my hands. Yeah, I’d taken the required study of elemental magic when I was a freshman, but that was two years ago. I’d forgotten everything I’d learned except that essentially magic is the harnessing of the human mind in a positive way. If, of course, you had at least a tiny bit of magic in your genes.

I remember, too, that the teacher had explained that because of recessive genes lining up just right, a few unlucky souls were born without magic. I’d kinda tuned that part out. Now I wish I hadn’t since I was one of them now.

“Violet.” Miss Tiddums called my name in a softer but still no-nonsense voice. I peeked through my fingers at her.

“You’re not being thrown to the wolves. I’ll leave study material for you in Mr. Morrison’s class. Take it home and start reading. If it turns out that you’re truly not suited for this, then you won’t do it. I can sign an affidavit that you’re not in the right mental state to compete.”

“I’m sure that won’t bother Al Winters a bit.”

Mr. Winters. My basset hound-faced nemesis. The man who’d made my mother cry in public.

“And Miss Willowood will surely be delighted as well.”

I threw up my arms. “Okay, I get it. Success is the best revenge, or whatever that saying is. I’ll dazzle the judges and wow the audience with my poise and finesse.”

Morry laughed. Miss Tiddums grinned and announced she believed there was a warm blueberry pie in the kitchen. I was again so grateful she’d convinced the board that as a transfer student so late in the year, I needed deeper counseling than Miss Willowood could provide. I kinda felt guilty but not too much. She was counseling me. So was Mr. Morrison. I just hoped no one asked what that counseling was about.

****

“Once again, Violet.” I groaned and thumped my head against the table. Maybe if I jiggled my brain I could remember all this stupid stuff. “What are the three attributes of fire?”

I raised my head and took a deep breath.

“Brightness, motion and…thinness!”

“Excellent!” Morry settled himself on top of his teacher’s desk. “Now for an easier one. What are the four basic elements?”

“I gots this!” I stood up and did a little dance because this one was easy. “Earth, fire, wind and water.”

Two thumbs up from Morry and another question.

“What are the conditions of the second order of natural magic?”

Whoa. We moved into areas that my brain seriously didn’t want to recognize. I ran through what I’d learned in my head. According to Plato, some dude from ancient times, the elements were three-fold. Four elements, three characteristics of each. Which were …

“Compounded, changeable and impure!” I shouted.

“And she wins again!” Morry shouted back. We both started to laugh not because anything was particularly funny but because I might, just might, know enough to fool the judges. When we both finally settled down, Morry fired another question at me.

“For the million dollar prize, what are the immutables?”

“Time, space and substance?”

“You are absolutely right.” Morry held his hand out for a fist bump. “Now please demonstrate pryomancy for this panel.”

Pyro. That was fire. Every element had a mancy, which was the old-fashioned name for magical stuff. I nodded and stretched out my hands to show them to him. Then I brought my fingertips to my forehead as if I was concentrating, brought my hands back down and rubbed them together. Within seconds flames danced on my palm.

“Most impressive,” Miss Tiddums said from where she’d been watching. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was as natural as it comes.”

I was so happy when she brought out lemonade and fat sugar-topped cookies. That meant this session was over. The spelling bee was only a couple weeks away and the end of school three weeks after that. I could not believe it was almost time for summer break. It seemed like I’d just walked into this place like last week.

Mr. Morrison had requested that I be his student assistant. Miss Willowood hadn’t been too happy, but when he explained that the boys horsed around and never cleaned up she had to say yes. Not that she worried me. I had Miss Tiddums on my side, after all, which was kinda like traveling through the world with a lion. Or a ferocious grizzly bear.

Miss Tiddums handed me a folder and told me to read it that night.

“The originals are quite old and can’t be taken from the research section at the university library,” she said. “But the scanner on my phone works quite well. I thought you might find a tidbit or two in there that could be helpful.”

I hugged her, even though I know students aren’t supposed to hug teachers and vice versa. But I couldn’t think of her as a teacher during these times. She was my friend, my very good friend.

****

“I’m normally a patient man, Lydia, but when I reach the end of my rope, it’s not pretty.”

Lydia Willowood’s hand tightened on the phone. Al Winters seemed irritated. At her. She sensed trouble ahead.

“Perhaps this sort of thing is easy at your school, but we respect the rights of our students here,” she retorted.

“One student.” Al said the words slowly. “I have asked you to keep an eye on one student, a mousy little girl who appreciates authority. Why is this so difficult for you?”

Lydia wished her hand were on Al’s throat. She’d show him difficult. As in impossible to breathe because she was squeezing the life out of him. How dare this man speak to her like that. She had a very prestigious bachelor’s degree and spent nearly all last summer in enhanced training on working with difficult adolescents. She’d never gotten anything less than a perfect job evaluation, and everyone knew the students loved her. That much was obvious by the way they smiled when she came near. All heads turned toward her for a reason after all.

“I am not in the habit of spying.” She struggled to keep her tone cordial. “Besides I believe if there is fault, it lies with you. Neither of us would have to deal with this if you tracked your students better.”

“Now listen.” Anger was evident in Al’s voice. “She never made a minimum magic score at Green Hills. Our goal is to bring out the best in every student. Our hope was that she was simply nervous and did poorly on tests.”

“Oh, hogwash.” Lydia was over it now. “Her grades were excellent which made up for some of your magically-talented kids who couldn’t count to twenty without using their toes. Magic is important on how schools rate, yes, but plain old-fashioned learning is too. Now instead of blaming each other, we need to find a way to keep her away from the competition.”

“I’d think you’d want her there if that’s the case,” Al huffed. “Or don’t you people care if your students have potential?”

Enough was enough. Lydia felt her face flush and her heart start to race.

“And be called before the board because you screwed up? We have high standards, and our children don’t have to rely on trickery to get through life.”

“Trickery?” Al bellowed. “Say that again and I’ll have you up on charges before the district committee on magical arts!”

“And they will tell you our specialty is working with children who start life with a strike against them. Yours is, what, to make sure you get promoted to grand poo-bah?”

The silence greeting her remark grew to an uncomfortable length. She fidgeted in her desk chair. Maybe she’d gone too far and he would have her brought up on charges. Her mouth had always said that her attitude would get her in trouble someday and this might be the day.

“I think we both need to calm down,” Al said in a strangled voice. “And it might be better if we discussed this in person. Say, over lunch tomorrow? In a neutral location?”

When he suggested the Vernon Café at noon, she agreed. It was halfway between the schools and a place where she doubted they’d see anyone they knew. Although she wouldn’t mind if they were seen. Word might get back, and a certain small engine and automotive instructor could hear. Men were so easy to decipher. They always wanted what someone else had. And while Al Winters was a good catch, he wasn’t the only fish in the sea. Or the nearest one.