Chapter 4: School Days

Monday started well. My history teacher, Ms. Yanith, was surprised.

"Martin, I am pleased that you submitted your work on time. I think that was your first report I did not have to penalize for lateness. I hope this trend continues -- as you know there is one more report due, and it's the most important one this term.

"However, your argumentation needs work. I have marked where you should have used the structures we discussed in class. I recommend you review your notes on evidence and warrants before doing the final revision of the book report. I assume you have already drafted it?"

"No, Ms. Yanith. I have not yet started the book report. I realize I have only two weeks left and I have read the book, as well as several of the ones mentioned in the bibliography, but I still have to write my report."

"See that you start quickly -- I expect the report to reflect everything you learned this year."

"Yes, Ms. Yanith."

Linda was friendly today. When I said "Hi", she asked me how I did on the report.

"Not bad. I got a B-, but only because I handed it in on time. Thank you very much for giving me all the details."

"You obviously are good enough to be in the honors class. How you can be bright enough to get the report done in one evening, but completely blow it off until the very last day, I cannot understand. I bet you didn't even read the chapter until you called me last week." She shook her head, but I could see she was smiling.

"Well, true enough, but with enough motivation I can read and write pretty quickly. Again, thanks for getting me the details -- I owe you one. I will try to have less excitement next time."

"You do that. I hope to see you in Honors History II next year."

"Hey, could I repay my debt with a dinner? I'd love to take you out on Friday."

Linda smiled but shook her head. "Thanks, but I am going out with Antonio. I am sure there will be some other way I can collect -- maybe I will need to copy your notes in the future."

"Anytime, although the chances of my notes being better than yours are pretty much non-existent."

We went off to our respective classes. Linda was pretty quiet and studious. I did not recall her hugging or performing other PDAs with anybody in school. Still, Linda was very pretty, so it was not surprising she was going out with somebody. I vaguely recalled Antonio -- he was another quiet studious one, but I didn't share any classes with him.

I was hurrying to my next class and not looking ahead when I ran into a hard shoulder. I stumbled, trying to catch my balance, when I was punched in the gut. For a moment everything swam and I couldn't catch my breath. I somehow kept to my feet, but my knees buckled and it was a near thing. I felt nauseous and fought not to throw up, while desperately trying to get air into my chest.

I bent over, and had my arms curled around my front. I felt more than saw somebody step close again and flinched away toward the wall.

"Stay away from Linda, you stupid fuck! She is one of ours." I could finally lift my head. I recognized Diego, one of the rumored drug dealers in school, and a tough guy. As far as I can remember it was the first time he had hit me, but he's been rumored to be in a number of fights.

Two other guys I recalled as part of his gang were standing within hearing distance and glaring at me. I didn't have enough breath to answer, which was just as well since Diego wasn't expecting me to speak.

"You keep messing with one of our girls and you'll be doing serious bleeding." Diego spat at me, hitting me just above the belt. The three thugs turned around and walked away. I became aware that the few other students in the hall walked on quickly, conspicuously not looking at me.

The rest of the classes went well, particularly math. I got A's in both Geometry and Algebra, and had been working on problems in the appendix of both textbooks. I thought of actually testing out for Calculus I so I could take the more difficult Calculus II next year. My algebra teacher seemed cautiously optimistic. He thought I had always had the ability, but not the drive. He noticed my recently-increased focus-- pretty impressive considering it had only been a week since Leshada's "arrival".

Once home, I tried spell-casting again. My knees were no longer troubling me when I sat cross-legged, and I took this to be a good omen for my spell-casting. The closed door and curtains helped with the illusion of physical isolation, and it didn't take very long to achieve the spell trance.

I continued the silent chant as the external sensory impressions became muted. My sense of time became unreliable. It felt like I chanted forever, and yet I knew from experience that it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. After some immeasurable time I felt the boundaries between myself and the spirit world weaken. I sensed my shield against evil dreams, and once again was appalled at its weakness. Feeling hopeful, I sought to seek the magic flows to recast it.

The magic still felt weak and foreign to me, but I was slowly getting accustomed to it. The flows were less sharp, weaker than in my experience as Leshada, but as I focused deeper I saw that there were more of them. Or perhaps they were more evenly distributed. I would need to use a defter gentler touch to collect the flows and direct them into my spell, and it was easy to lose track of what I had already collected.

After several attempts I was able to concentrate enough magical energy to recast my protection. As it took shape, I was glad to feel its strength. It was still not as strong as what I once had done, but now I felt the shield would at least slow down an attack from anyone short of a true master. I had not felt any sorcery since arriving here. I deemed it unlikely that in the entirety of humanity, whose numbers had grown so huge in the last four thousand years, there were no practicing sorcerers; still, based on what I had learned, they would have to be few and secretive, which hopefully meant that I would be safe from attack -- at least for a while.

Encouraged, I decided to try another spell. Scrying is one of the most commonly used ones. I had to open my eyes but without disturbing my trance. Scrying does not actually use eyes, but the symbolic value of opening them is required. There are other types of divination that can be done with eyes closed, but they are more complicated to cast and much harder to interpret.

I carefully opened my eyes and immediately felt my connection to the magic world weaken. Sight is such a fundamental and rich sense that it tends to overwhelm all others. I half-closed them again and looked, without focusing, at the carpet below. Slowly, I regained my position -- halfway in the real world, and half in the spirit world.

Scrying requires some sort of connection to your target. It could be physical -- like a lock of hair -- but a sharp memory could serve for small distances in time and space. I envisaged Linda Diaz, whose pretty face had been on my mind more than once today.

Gradually but steadily, her face grew in definition. Instead of smiling, it changed to a look of concentration. I started perceiving objects surrounding my target: first, Linda's body, whose delicious curves threatened my concentration again. Then, I could see a man -- a boy about my age, holding Linda's hand. They were sitting somewhere and Linda was listening to him talk. I recognized Antonio, and also realized that he was stroking Linda's hand with his thumb.

I released the scrying focus, and Linda and her boyfriend disappeared from my view. I felt some fatigue but decided to risk another spell. For some time now I had wanted to cast a physical shield. It required much more energy than the more-spiritual shields, and also required more frequent reinforcement. But it also provided a lot of protection. A shield like that would not save its wearer from ten armed Akkadians, but it could turn away the knife-blade of a thief in the night. It could turn a deadly beating into a merely painful one. An adult sorcerer would never leave his home without one.

I used my newly adjusted technique to gather the elusive spread-out magic flows. Once I had enough for a small head-and-torso shield, I started the invocation of physical protection.

Almost immediately I knew I had made a mistake. Suddenly, my external senses intruded on the trance. My heart was beating too quickly and my skin was sweating. There was a pressure in my sinuses that only the most desperate of spell-casters ignore. As soon as I was able I aborted the invocation, letting the magic flows dissipate. I felt the trance waver, as the magical senses and the external ones alternated on my consciousness in pulses. Finally, I did a hasty but controlled exit from my spell trance, and looked out into the room that has grown cold and dark.

The darkness was from lack of blood in my eyes, and the cold was from the sweaty body and cloth chilling in what was a comfortable temperature just a few minutes ago. Or was it? I looked at the clock -- it was almost time for Mother to come home. I had spent nearly two hours in trance.

I took a hasty shower, and was barely dry and clothed by the time Mother opened the door.

After the normal greetings I concentrated on homework. I needed a good grade for the last history paper, and it was clear I needed a break from magic.

I sketched out possible conclusions from the book -- it dealt with World War 2 and was full of detail. What conclusions that were there were obscured, and the argumentation was muddled. The good news was that I didn't have to agree with the author's reasoning. The bad news, I had to come up with a compelling argument on my own. I had three possible arguments, but didn't like any of them. Still, in the process of supporting them I should be able to refine my own position. I had not started writing the paper, but felt I had made some good progress by the time dinner arrived.

I had the clean-up duty after dinner. With a dishwasher machine it was a very easy job. It was amazing how quickly I got used to the marvels of the 21st century.

Shortly afterwards, I discussed my recent school results and aspirations with my parents.

"I'd like to take Calculus II and AP Chemistry next year, Mom. I got the okay for Chemistry, but I need to pass an exam for Calculus I first."

"That's very ambitious of you. Even if you pass the exam, are you sure you can handle the load?"

"I think so. I know my grades haven't been all that great, but it was mostly because I was bored with school. In the last few days I've decided to see if I could fight boredom by concentrating on doing a good job, and I find that it's actually not that hard. I got A's on all of my homework assignments except the history paper, and I plan to do better in history by starting on reports before the last night before the due date." I smiled at my parents and they smiled back. Obviously, it was not an uncommon occurrence.

"And my Algebra teacher thinks I can do it. I've been doing the advanced problems in the appendix, and I pretty much finished them -- they cover a lot of derivatives and trigonometry."

"I am glad to see that. I always knew you could get much better grades. But how long will your enthusiasm last? Remember, we've seen years of your lackadaisical approach, and only a few days of your new-found ambition. What's the point of signing up for hard classes if you are going to be barely passing them? That's pretty much what happened with your Honors History."

"True. But I am getting much more enthusiastic about history. And I also had advanced math and physics this year -- mostly without whining, huh?

"But the important change is my realization that my childhood is nearing the end. I realized that much as I enjoyed goofing around with friends and playing games and reading, I need to start preparing for independent life. Next year I need to focus on getting the best results for college, and that in turn will probably determine the rest of my life. For good or for ill, I need to become an adult."

My parents looked at each other. I could not interpret their body language, but they were communicating. After a long pause Mother sighed.

"I am both happy and sad that you are growing up. You are right, and you do need to start preparing for your independent life and start making your own choices. It's ironic that after many years of wishing you would grow up a little, I now wish for more time with you as my child."

I went to my mother and awkwardly embraced her where she sat. "It's going to be slow. Remember, it will be a couple of years before I leave for college, and I doubt I will all of a sudden stop coming to you for advice, even after that."

"Advice, maybe. More likely laundry, food and loans," said Father, trying to lighten up the conversation. Mother chuckled, and I laughed out loud.

I avoided any more spell-casting, although I practiced breathing and calming drills without actually going into a spell trance. I needed to recover from my earlier attempts, but I knew from experience that the more practice I had, the easier it would be for me to go into trance quickly. The body learns, and there may be times when speed would be crucial.

I searched on the Web for some references to sorcery. There were thousands of sites, but none of them seemed useful. Those that treated it seriously were either obviously incorrect, or so vague as to be impossible to test.

I tried a different method. I looked for reports of people who practiced sorcery. Some were intriguing, but nothing was consistent enough to prove it was real. Also, the more recent the events, the more vague was the reporting. It seemed that either there were no real sorcerers in this time, or they carefully obfuscated the news of their existence.

I finished and double-checked all my non-history assignments, and spent more time trying to draft my book report. After I got tired of that, I read ahead in some of my other textbooks before going to bed. I practiced my breathing exercises, and this time I performed some gentle dream control to encourage relaxing sleep.