by Lia London
Before five o’clock, the lady officer who had been nice to me the first time I came to the precinct opened the door and smiled. “Well, you’re free for now,” she said, but something in her voice told me the ordeal wasn’t over.
“Where’s Mom?” I asked.
“She and the others have been recording statements to testify in your behalf. Your principal, I think, and some other people from the school. I don’t know them all.”
She led me down a maze of halls that ended in the front foyer. Kelsey sat waiting for me on the edge of the coffee table, and she and Mom rushed forward to hug me. Mom cried like I’d been strapped in a torture chamber for weeks.
“They don’t have enough to book you,” said the lady officer. “They still have to check for the complete cause of the bleacher collapse, and they have to run things through more witnesses, but you’re not to leave town until Detective Sheldon contacts you.”
“Okay.”
She held out her hand to usher us out. “Good luck out there.”
I laughed weakly, not knowing what she meant, but a few seconds later, I felt all kinds of panic flowing into me. The steps to the precinct were covered with reporters. Cameras and mics were everywhere—much worse than that day at school. They were clustered around Mr. Whittle, who had a deer-in-the-headlights look. “I’ve always found him to be very responsible,” he was saying. “He’s a good kid.”
“Yes, but does he have the magical capacity necessary to have caused such destruction?”
“How can you even suggest such a thing? His powers have grown over the years, but he’s—”
At that moment, one of the reporters spotted me and a scrambling rush of bodies pressed us back against the closed doors of the precinct.
“Was this revenge for what happened to your home?”
“Have you been mentally disturbed since the death of your father?”
“Is it true you were kicked out of the band?”
The questions were so fast and ridiculous that I could barely think enough to laugh or shake my head. Next to me, Kelsey began to cry. “Leave him alone!” she shouted, stomping her feet.
Mom pulled her back. “Kelsey, no—”
Too late. She Blew. Not as bad as at the party, but enough to topple the first row of reporters backwards. Screams went up and more cameras flashed.
“Excuse us, please,” said my mother sharply. Holding Kelsey tight to her side, she made her way through the crowd. I hesitated, torn between the desire to fly away and the sudden impulse to reach down and help the fallen reporters up. For whatever reason, I opted for the second choice, and pulled a lady, who wore stupidly high heels, to her feet. She stared at me, and then smiled really wide. Not a nice smile, though. Still gripping my hand, she asked, “So does Wind magic run in your family?”
“I…wha—?”
Suddenly Mr. Whittle’s big hand wrapped around my wrist and he pulled me through the crowd, past the van for The Morning Edition, where a cameraman stood filming things from a distance, and to where Mom bustled Kelsey into the car.
Out of breath, I managed a “Thanks!”
“Maybe don’t go straight home,” he suggested to Mom. “You need to go where they can’t find you for a bit.”
“But we can’t leave town,” I said.
He glanced back at the crowd that was closing in. “Go!”
I didn’t wait. Throwing myself in the front passenger seat, I yelled, “Let’s move it!”
Mom hit the gas while I buckled up. Kelsey continued crying in the back seat.
“Where to?” asked Mom, her eyes wild. “This is crazy, Kincaid. What are we going to do? It’s getting dark…”
I couldn’t concentrate. “Kelsey, shut up already!” Which, of course, made her wail all the louder. “Mill Creek!” I said, slapping the dashboard. “Go to the swimming hole.”
“But it’s almost dark,” said Mom again.
“It’s not a city park. There’s no sunset rules. Go!”
Keeping every traffic law, but pressing the speed, we zigzagged through downtown and into the residential area near our old apartment. By the time we pulled onto the wide gravel shoulder of the back road near the creek, we were sure no one had followed us. I got out of the car before she’d turned off the motor. Without hesitating, I ran through the trees down the bank and to the left.
There it was. The dam Dad and I had started all those years ago. I’d forgotten how huge it had grown. Testing its strength, I stepped out onto the wall and let the cold water rush over my shoes. The current didn’t feel as strong as I’d remembered, but I’m so much bigger now. I turned to see Mom and Kelsey standing on the edge of the water. The fading light over the creek and the swimming hole didn’t reach the shadowy banks.
“Kincaid?” called Mom quietly.
“I’m okay,” I said, staring at the wall, about a foot wide now. The water looked like glass just before it crested the dam, and then it dropped about three feet and continued on its way to the river not far away. I guess it was more of a wading pool than a swimming hole, but again, I’d been smaller then. Feeling my way carefully, I ventured further out along the wall to where someone had added a big log. Lowering myself slowly, I sat on it like a horse, letting one leg hang over the mini-waterfall, and one plunge into the still, coldness of the swimming hole.
“Kincaid?” I turned and looked over my shoulder at Kelsey. She approached the wall and Mom made a warning noise.
“I’ve got her, Mom. She can come.”
“Honey, she’ll get all wet.”
But Kelsey had already stepped onto the wall. She moved very slowly, obviously more frightened by the drop than I would be, but even so, she made it out to me and stood by my back. Resting her hands on my shoulders, she said, “Why are you sitting out here?”
For a long time, I stared at the water and felt the coldness turn to numbness. The only part of me that felt warm was where her hands touched me. “Dad made this. Did you know that?”
“He did?”
“Not the whole thing, but he started it. I got to help.”
“Cool!”
“Yeah,” I said nodding. “It is cool. Look how strong it is.” I pulled my leg out of the water and stomped my heel on the log. “He made something new that hadn’t been there before.”
“But now it is,” she said simply.
I swiveled around awkwardly to face her and reached my arms up. She didn’t even worry about the cold water, and knelt down on the log and hugged me.
“Kelsey, honey,” called Mom. “Come on back now. You’re getting all wet. You’ll freeze to death.”
“Daddy made this,” replied Kelsey. Mom didn’t answer. “And Kincaid made Magian High.”
“No, honey, it was there before him.”
Kelsey got up and made her way back while she talked. “But Kincaid made something new out of it.”
“I had help,” I muttered to myself. I stood up and studied the span of rocks. So did Dad, and the dam is still here, I thought. I stepped back over the stones to the bank beside them and hugged them both. All of me felt warm despite my soaking wet jeans and shoes.
Mom released the hug, half-smiling and half-scolding. “You are not getting in the car like that. You’re going to have to fly home.”
“Seriously?”
“If you want,” she said, patting my shoulder. “You might as well fly while you can.”
Chapter Nineteen: The Assembly
I thought I’d be tossing and turning all night, but I ended up falling asleep so soundly that I don’t think I moved all night. I didn’t even hear my alarm go off in the morning.
“Honey, aren’t you up yet?” asked Mom, knocking on my door. “Your friends are here to walk to school with you.”
“What?”
“Hurry!”
I flopped out of bed and grabbed a pair of jeans from my bureau. No time for a shower, so I swiped the deodorant a few extra times. In the bathroom, I splashed my face with water and sw
ished the mouthwash, after checking that I didn’t have anything gross caught in my front teeth. Then I flew down the stairs to find my shoes, only to remember they were drying on the porch.
Amity came in from the kitchen, followed by Hadley and Elizabeth. “Going for the tousled look, are you?” she asked, ruffling my hair.
“Uh, yeah,” I said groggily. “I hear it’s what all the girls want. What are you guys all doing here?”
Hadley and Elizabeth exchanged a glance. “We thought maybe we should show solidarity with you when you go back to school,” said Elizabeth.
I opened the front door and stared at my still soaking shoes. With a groan, I opened the hall closet. “Okay, fashion queens. What goes best with the ‘tousled look’—sloshy sneakers or hiking boots?”
Amity raised her eyebrow. “You really only have two pairs of shoes.”
“I could go with the plaid slippers,” I said.
“Boots!” called Elizabeth. “Ooh, this is going to start a new trend!”
I swung through the kitchen to grab an apple and we all headed out the door. We arrived on campus and the depressed mood practically hit us in the face. There were clusters of kids everywhere, some crying, and some just talking really seriously. No one seemed to want to go in. A few people turned and looked at us, but I couldn’t read their expressions.
“I forgot to ask. What’s The Morning Edition saying about me now?”
Amity actually smiled. “Well, that bit you did picking up the pushy reporter was golden, and then having Mr. Whittle have to rescue you…” She made a grand gesture. “It doesn’t get better. You looked like the victim—”
“Which he is,” said Elizabeth. “The total gentleman victim. You came out like a superstar.”
Relieved, I asked, “What’s the word on the real victims? Those kids out of critical yet?”
“I think they were both downgraded to ‘serious’, but it’s still bad.”
“The only good thing is that the band instruments were pretty much trashed,” said Hadley, clearly hoping for a laugh.
“C’mon,” said Elizabeth, ignoring him. “Let’s go check on these guys to see if they’re okay.”
She glided away, just inches above the ground, and began speaking in soothing tones like a mother calming a child. Before the rest of us could follow suit, the bell rang. For a moment, everyone acknowledged the sound without moving, and then began walking slowly inside. By the time we got to the top of the steps, Mr. Blakely and Mr. Whittle were holding the main doors open, greeting us solemnly and telling us to report immediately to the auditorium for a special meeting.
We filed into the seats on the edge about six rows from the front. Hadley and Elizabeth went in right behind us and she leaned on the back of our seats to talk between our heads. “I bet this is going to be long and depressing. Sure hope they tell us about the kids in the hospital though. Did you know either of them? I think they were sophomores…”
The speakers shrieked with feedback for a second. I’d almost wager Mr. Blakely does that every time on purpose because it really gets everyone to look up front. He stood on the stage without any kind of lectern and sighed visibly before starting.
“Students and staff of Magian High, may I please have your attention?” There was a general rumble and a series of squeaks while people got situated in the old fold-down chairs, and then it got about as quiet as I’d ever heard it in there. “I hardly know where to start, but I suppose it should be with some good news. As many of you know, Jessica Carey and Michael Geoffries, members of the band, were gravely injured when the bleachers collapsed yesterday, but thanks to some quick and powerful healing work by our own Mr. Whittle before the paramedics arrived, and the care they have since received at the hospital, they are both expected to make a full recovery soon. They should be released from the hospital by early next week.” A collective sound of relief filled the hall and most kids applauded. Blakely responded to this. “Yes. Really, we should honor Mr. Whittle. He was quite a hero. Be sure to thank him when you see him in the halls, too.”
Amity leaned close to me. “He sure helped save your hide yesterday.”
I nodded, standing to clap with the other students. “Yeah, I guess we know whose side he’s on now.”
Mr. Blakely quieted us back down and we took our squeaky seats again. He seemed uncharacteristically nervous, and it took him a long time to form his next sentence. “I do have news that some of you will find quite upsetting, but I ask you to consider it in light of the things that have happened thus far this year. Desegregation has been…a challenge.” There were a few chuckles, a few rude noises, and some very scattered applause. Mr. Blakely accepted all of this graciously. “I know. I know. But I also hope you know how much I hope we can come together to make this work for all of us. I’ve been principal here at Magian High for many years, and I love this old pile of bricks. I hope you can tell that I really do care about all of you and what happens to you here and in your futures. I have truly enjoyed getting to know all of our new students from the Wiser and Corporal districts. You are outstanding people.” This time the applause was a little louder. Someone would have to be a total jerk not to see Mr. Blakely sincerely tried. “Of course, my primary job is to oversee your education, and to that end, I need to take away distractions that make it harder for you to focus on learning all that you can. After counseling with the Superintendent, principals from the other two high schools, and other staff members here, we’ve reached a district-wide decision.”
I felt the hair on my neck stand up.
“Uh-oh. I don’t like the sound of this,” said Amity under her breath.
“For the duration of the school year, then, and in all school-related ventures, whether on or off campus…any use of magic by a student will be strictly prohibited.”
A roar of protest sounded which almost drowned out the cheers and applause. I sat stunned and felt Amity’s gaze dig into me.
Mr. Blakely continued. “Any student on campus—at any time of the day or night—who is found using magic of any kind, including simple Flash Jumping, will be immediately suspended for a week. If any harm to person or property is attached to that use of magic, the student will be permanently expelled from the district and will have to make arrangements to obtain his or her education outside of city limits.”
Amity and I looked at each other. “The NMI Academy.”
It got worse.
“Over the weekend, the district will be installing surveillance cameras in a few key areas around the campus: namely, the common rooms like the cafeteria, the library, the auditorium, the gym, and the outdoor sports areas.”
Students reacted in all kinds of ways, positive and negative. Mr. Blakely raised his hands in a calming gesture. “We’re not spying, and don’t worry, no cameras will be in the bathrooms or locker rooms. Your privacy will be respected. However, we want to make sure Magian High students are not victimized again. Rest assured that we are working with law enforcement officials from the city to find those responsible for yesterday’s catastrophe, and the guilty party will be answerable to the highest extent of the law.” The auditorium erupted with applause so instantly and unanimously that I felt a rush of adrenaline.
Amity leaned closer. “There’s hope, Kincaid. As bad as Bagler’s trying, this might backfire.”
I allowed a grin to form. “Plus we’ve got Detective Sheldon on the case, and we can trust him and his officers to be watching out for the actual criminals, not the ones being framed.”
Mr. Blakely went on to explain the rest of the day’s schedule. In order to provide counseling for students traumatized by recent events, professionals had been brought in and would be available in the cafeteria and library until just before lunch. Regular classes weren’t going to start until 10:00am, and they’d each be only thirty minutes long. In the meantime, we were free to assemble either in the cafeteria, or in the rooms that would normally be our first period classes. That meant I’d have plenty of time to talk
to Max before P.E. started. Maybe I could set up a get-together at Binney’s so we could sound him and some of the others out.
***
Without Coach waiting by the locker room door, we didn’t know if we were supposed to stay there or head up to the field to wait things out, but given the cold weather, none of us was eager to spend the next two hours in shorts on the track. The lack of benches to sit on discouraged a lot of the guys, and they headed back out saying stuff like, “I guess I’d better go seek counseling so I can find a chair to sit on.”
It felt a little heartless, but the set-up was kind of weird. Fortunately for me, Max decided to stick around. I noticed the other Mages in the class were there, too. They were huddled and talking about the magic ban with mixed opinions from what I could hear.
“Hey, I know this sounds dumb, but I’m going to take a shower now,” I told Max.
“Before P.E.?”
“Well, it’s not like we’re going to have a real class today, and I woke up late…”
“Whatever,” said Max. He pulled out his cell phone.
“Hey, no pictures. That’s sick.”
He laughed. “I’m just gonna play Yellow Jacket, idiot.” He waved me away. “Go take your shower.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something brewing further down the locker bank. I slowed down my movements, removing my clothes in such a way that I could glance at the action. Four or five bigger guys, possibly Corporals, were lurking over where the Mages had parked themselves.
My mouth went dry when I heard one of them say. “No surveillance cameras in the locker rooms, boys.” Were these Corporal Punkers?
One of the Mages shifted to sit taller and looked up defiantly. “Yeah, and no way for them to prove if we use magic or not, so don’t try anything.”
