by R. G. Thomas
Do it!
Without giving himself much time to consider his actions, Thaddeus reached out with his magic and toppled a fry off Dixon’s plate and onto his tray. He dropped his gaze to his own lunch as Dixon’s laugh cut off abruptly and he glared at the boy across from him.
“Stop touching my food, asswipe,” Dixon said, his deep voice carrying to where Thaddeus sat trying to hold in a laugh.
“I didn’t touch your food, asswipe,” the boy shot back.
One more time, come on. What could it hurt?
Thaddeus waited a moment, then flipped another fry off Dixon’s plate without looking in that direction. The resulting shout of agitation that followed told him he had accomplished his goal, and he couldn’t keep from laughing. When he glanced across the cafeteria once again, however, his laughter stopped quickly when he discovered Dixon glaring directly at him. Thaddeus swallowed hard and looked away from Dixon toward the cafeteria line, hoping to see Andy approaching. There was no sign of Andy, however, so Thaddeus did the only thing he could think of and got to his feet. He carried his tray to the exit and dumped what was left of his lunch into the garbage before hustling out into the hallway.
Right when he reached the hallway intersection, someone landed a blow in the middle of his back that sent him flying into the lockers. He turned to find Dixon advancing on him, eyes narrowed and fists clenched.
“How’d you do it?” Dixon asked, his deep voice booming through the halls and attracting the attention of every other student.
“Do what?” Thaddeus shouted back. He pressed himself against a locker and wished he could melt right inside of it and out of sight.
“You know what,” Dixon said, then dropped his voice to a furious whisper. “My fries.”
“Your fries?” Thaddeus repeated.
A crowd had gathered, all eyes turned to Thaddeus. He could see the bloodlust in every expression and a smartphone in every hand as kids started to video the confrontation. He desperately tried to think of a way to escape without ending up a bloody pulp, and without giving away that he was able to do magic. But he was trapped.
“What are you talking about?” Thaddeus asked. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Liar!” Dixon swung a big fist, and Thaddeus managed to twist so the blow struck his shoulder.
The pain was instant. It exploded in his shoulder like an asteroid strike and radiated out. He blinked back tears as the warm flow of magic twined down his arms and pooled in his palms, eager to be let loose. Thaddeus stumbled along the lockers, and Dixon followed, the crowd moving with them, penning him in and preventing any escape. His breath felt snagged in his chest, and he couldn’t properly draw a breath or exhale. The kids around them chanted: “Fight! Fight! Fight!” with horrible glee. When he looked around for any kind of help, Thaddeus only met grinning faces and raised smartphones. If he performed any kind of magic now, he’d surely expose himself as a wizard in front of everyone. And it would be caught on video and shared around the world in no time, and that would be even worse than any beating from Dixon.
Just do it, the voice said. Blast him with a spell and run.
“I know you did it, newbie,” Dixon said. “If you admit it, I’ll go easy on you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Thaddeus heard the pleading tone in his voice, and it made his stomach curl up tight in disgust. He had faced down goblins and ghouls, even Isadora herself a few weeks ago, so why had this bully gotten the best of him? Was it because he was surrounded by kids who wanted nothing more than to see him beaten up with no chance of using magic to defend himself?
Dixon caught him off guard, swinging and connecting with Thaddeus’s temple. The blow sent him stumbling into the crowd, who pushed him back toward Dixon. Thaddeus couldn’t breathe, and he tasted copper in the back of his throat. His shoulder and his head throbbed in time, and he worried he might throw up the hot dog. He stumbled right into Dixon and had to grab tight to his muscular arms to keep from falling to the floor. The tang of Dixon’s sweat and the heavy, musky scent of some kind of cologne hit Thaddeus like a slap in the face before Dixon shoved him away.
“Get off me, faggot,” Dixon said, his words followed by the harsh laughter of the onlookers.
A hard hit to his left eye blinded him for a few seconds, and Thaddeus slumped to the floor with his back against the lockers. His head spun, and he could feel his eye already swelling up.
“Here now! Break it up!”
A number of kids hurried off as a teacher waded through the crowd.
“Dixon Praise, wait right there!” the teacher shouted. “I saw that last punch.”
“He started it!” Dixon protested.
Someone crouched next to Thaddeus, and a hand gripped his shoulder. “You okay, Thaddeus?”
He looked up and winced at the resulting pain. Mr. Elder was looking at him with concern.
“I don’t know,” Thaddeus said.
Mr. Elder helped him to his feet. “Let’s go to the office.” He looked over at Dixon. “Both of you.”
“He started it,” Dixon said again. “And he tried to kiss me.”
“What?” Thaddeus said. “No, I didn’t!”
“Sure seemed like it,” Dixon said with a sneer. “You threw yourself at me.”
“I was pushed at you,” Thaddeus said, “there’s a difference.”
“Save it for the office,” Mr. Elder said. “Let’s go.”
Thaddeus heard the whispers and snickers all around him as Mr. Elder took them both by the arm and marched them to the office. They were made to sit with two chairs between them as Mr. Elder spoke in low tones to Marlene at the front desk. Thaddeus crossed his arms and glared at the floor. Even though it had already gotten him into trouble, he had to really fight back the magical urge to push Dixon up against, and maybe even through, the wall behind them. And then maybe off a cliff.
Do it. He’s as wicked as the ghouls in Iron Gulch. No one would blame you for it.
“Mr. Praise, you’re visiting us here in the office a little early this year,” a man said. “Going out in style your senior year?”
“He started it,” Dixon grumbled.
“And Mr. Cane, I must say I’m disappointed to be receiving a visit from you so soon.”
Thaddeus looked up, and his stomach dropped at the sight of Mr. Winslow, the school counselor who had questioned him so rigorously his first day of school. Could this situation get any worse?
“I didn’t start anything,” Thaddeus said. “Can I get an aspirin?”
“School protocol requires that you see the nurse,” Mr. Winslow said. “But first, I’d like to speak to you both in my office.” Mr. Winslow nodded to Mr. Elder. “Thank you for bringing them in, Larry. I’ll take it from here.”
Mr. Elder gave Thaddeus a tight smile. “I’ll post the reading assignments online.”
“Thanks,” Thaddeus said, confused as to why Mr. Elder would be explaining that to him. Surely this meeting with Mr. Winslow and the visit to the nurse wasn’t going to take all that long.
Thaddeus followed Dixon and Mr. Winslow down the hall and into the small, all-too-familiar office. Dixon’s cologne, underlaid with the odor of sweat he’d worked up throwing punches, crowded into the room with them. To Thaddeus, it felt like Dixon and his variety of scents forced the breathable air from the room.
“Explain,” Mr. Winslow said.
“He pushed my fries off my lunch tray,” Dixon practically shouted.
“Keep your voice down, Mr. Praise,” Mr. Winslow said. “You’re not on the football field.” Dixon sighed in response, and Mr. Winslow looked at Thaddeus. “Is this true, Mr. Cane?”
Thaddeus shook his head and winced at the pain the movement produced. “No. I wasn’t anywhere near him. I was sitting a few tables away.”
“Yeah, sitting by yourself like a loser and laughing,” Dixon said.
“I thought of something funny that had happened earlier.”
&
nbsp; “Kissing your fag friend Andy?”
“That’s enough, Dixon,” Mr. Winslow snapped and slapped a hand palm-side down on his desk before Thaddeus could reply. “Mr. Praise, that type of language will not be tolerated at this school, is that clear?”
“Yeah,” Dixon mumbled.
“Say it loud enough for me to hear you,” Mr. Winslow said.
Dixon sighed. “Yes, it’s clear.”
“You’re already going to be suspended for at least two days,” Mr. Winslow said. “Care to add more time to it?”
“What?” Dixon exclaimed. “Suspended?”
“You know the rules around here. All physical altercations will be met with a strict policy of suspension for both parties.”
Thaddeus’s gut clenched. Both parties? “Wait, I’m going to be suspended too? But I didn’t do anything! He followed me into the hall and started pounding on me.”
“You make it sound faggy,” Dixon said.
“That’s it, one more day for you, Mr. Praise,” Winslow said and jotted something on a notepad.
“Come on!” Dixon shouted. “That’s not fair! He’s a new kid. You have no idea about his background. He could be some kind of telekinetic freak of nature, and you’re suspending me?”
Push him up against the wall, and show them both he’s right.
Thaddeus intertwined his fingers to keep his hands in his lap and avoid the compulsion to act out.
“Any other protests you’d care to lodge, Mr. Praise, before I call your parents?” Mr. Winslow asked, and the look he gave Dixon sent a chill through Thaddeus.
Dixon pressed his lips together and folded his arms over his broad chest as he glared at the wall.
“Very well.” Mr. Winslow turned his attention to Thaddeus. “Before I call your parents and have you see the nurse, I have a question for you, Mr. Cane.”
Thaddeus swallowed past the hard lump in his throat. The top of his head tingled, and his brain felt as if it floated on a string a couple of feet above his head. He had never been suspended from school before. In all the years and all the different cities, he’d never even received a detention. How had everything changed so quickly here in Superstition?
“Are you listening to me, Mr. Cane?” Mr. Winslow asked.
Thaddeus nodded and licked his numb lips.
“Did you have anything to do with Mr. Praise’s french fries?”
The disbelief that had mixed with unease in Thaddeus’s gut spun into a hard ball of tension. He did not like to lie, but he really had no choice in the matter. He silently cursed himself for not controlling his temptation to mess with Dixon as he looked at Mr. Winslow and said as steadily as he could, “How could I? I wasn’t anywhere near him.”
“Your location was not my question,” Mr. Winslow said, his dark eyes behind his dark-framed glasses seeming to bore into Thaddeus. “I asked if you had anything to do with Mr. Praise’s french fries.”
Push him out of his chair.
Thaddeus shook his head and clenched his hands tight together. “No, I didn’t.”
Mr. Winslow sat back and steepled his fingers in front of his thick, dark mustache and slightly upturned nose. “All right. Two days’ suspension for you.”
“What?” Thaddeus waved toward Dixon. “He picked a fight with me for no reason!”
“Mr. Cane, I’ve known Mr. Praise for several years, and I just met you last week,” Mr. Winslow said. “And in my many years of experience in the education system, I’ve found that while all situations have three sides to them—for instance, yours, Mr. Praise’s, and the truth—every party in every altercation carries some blame.” He leaned forward and stared at Thaddeus. “Ergo, you have also been given two days of suspension. School policy requires at least one day. Would you care to go for the trifecta as Mr. Praise did?”
“That’s not fair,” Thaddeus said.
“You are entitled to your opinion.” Mr. Winslow stood up. “Mr. Praise, I will deposit you in the vice principal’s office as I escort Mr. Cane to the nurse. Let’s go, both of you.”
“Mr. Winslow—” Thaddeus began but was interrupted.
“I’ve made my decision, Mr. Cane,” Mr. Winslow said. “Unless you’d like to change your response to my question of whether or not you had anything to do with Mr. Praise’s french fries?”
Thaddeus sighed and shook his head. “No.”
“All right, then.” Mr. Winslow motioned toward the door. “Let’s get this process underway.”
Chapter TEN
THADDEUS WAS grateful to see his father was alone when he arrived at the school. The embarrassment and anger at himself for his situation had him on edge, and he didn’t want his mother to see him when his emotions were so raw right as she was getting comfortable being with them again. As it was, Thaddeus couldn’t bring himself to meet his father’s gaze when Mr. Winslow brought him into the nurse’s office.
“As we discussed,” Mr. Winslow was saying, “Thaddeus will need to stay home for two days’ suspension. It will be noted in his permanent record, and he will be expected to remain current with his assignments. Each teacher provides very detailed instructions on the school website.”
“Thank you, Mr. Winslow,” Thaddeus heard his father say. “Thaddeus will keep up with his school work, don’t worry about that. And I’ll make sure he’s back here Thursday morning.”
“Very good. I’ll leave you two alone.” Thaddeus felt Mr. Winslow’s gaze on him and looked up at the counselor. “I hope to not see you in my office again anytime soon, Mr. Cane.”
Push him through the wall.
“I hope for that as well,” Thaddeus said.
Mr. Winslow left the office, and Thaddeus looked back at the floor. His father approached and put a finger beneath his chin to tip his head back, inspecting his eye.
“Going to be quite a shiner,” his father said. “Does it hurt?”
“A little,” Thaddeus replied. “The nurse gave me some pain reliever and an ice pack.”
His father nodded, then tipped his head toward the door. “Let me sign you out, and then we can go.”
Thaddeus let his father and the nurse’s voices fade into the background. He wondered how his father was going to react once they got to the car. Since he’d never been in this kind of trouble at school before, he had no idea what to expect. What if his father was silent during the short drive home? Would he save up an angry tirade for when they were back at the house and Thaddeus’s mother was around? Thaddeus hoped that wouldn’t be the case because he wasn’t sure how his mother might react if she became upset. Wouldn’t that be the cherry on top if his mother accidentally burned down their house because he’d gotten suspended from school?
“All right, let’s go.”
Thaddeus got to his feet, grabbed his backpack, and followed his father into the hall. It was halfway through the final period of the day, and Thaddeus was relieved there were not that many students around to stare at him.
“Where did you lock up your bike?” his father asked.
“That side,” Thaddeus replied, gesturing down the main hallway.
“Let’s go get it and walk it to the car.”
They didn’t speak as Thaddeus led the way to the doors at the end of the hall. It had never felt as long of a walk as it did then. His father’s silence weighed on him even heavier than if he’d been shouting, and by the time he stepped outside, his stomach was in knots. He approached the bike rack and fumbled with the combination lock, needing three attempts to get it open. His father took his backpack as Thaddeus pushed his bike along the sidewalk and up to the Camry.
“Go ahead and get in,” his father said. “I’ll put your bike in the trunk.”
Thaddeus got in the passenger seat and stared at his hands as he listened to his father wrestle the bike into the car’s trunk. His head hurt, his eye was swollen half shut, and pain radiated in his shoulder. He was a mess. The driver’s door hinges shrieked as it opened and his father dropped into the seat and stuck
the key in the ignition. He sat back without starting the engine, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he stared out the windshield.
“Did you do it?” his father asked.
Thaddeus felt sick to his stomach, but then a rush of anger swept away the nausea.
“He’s a bully, Dad. A big, stupid, ignorant bully. He deserved it.”
His father looked over at him, sad disappointment shining in his blue eyes. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Thaddeus looked away as guilt swamped the anger within him. “Yes, I did it. I used magic to knock Dixon’s french fries off his plate.”
“Looking back on it, do you think it was a good idea?”
He couldn’t help a humorless huff of a laugh. “No.”
“Think you’ll be tempted to ever do it again?”
Thaddeus looked back at his father, relieved to find the disappointment had been replaced by a softer understanding. He flashed a tentative smile and said, “No way.”
His father gave a single nod and started the engine. “I didn’t think so. Let’s get a pizza on the way home, sound good?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
As Thaddeus fastened his seat belt, relief trickled through him, loosening the muscles that had been tight all this time. The gloom and doom inner voice seemed to have quieted down, for now. “You’re not mad?”
“I wouldn’t say I was mad, no,” his father replied as he pulled out of the parking lot. “I am disappointed, but I’m not surprised. I actually feel like part of the blame for this incident should fall on me.”
“What do you mean?”
“If I had brought you up to be aware of the power you can wield and its consequences when used out in the world, you wouldn’t be tempted like this now. I can’t blame you for wanting to use your newfound power to protect yourself or secretly provoke someone who has more than earned it.”
“I’m sorry,” Thaddeus said, feeling guilty once again. “But Dixon is a complete ass.”
