“What makes you think he isn’t doing enough?” Mom asked.
The words caught in my throat for a second before they spilled out. “That’s all I’ve seen. He talks and he talks about how we should be there for the rest of humankind, but then—but then even when someone’s dying right in front of him he won’t raise a finger to help. Because he’s so worried what someone like Uncle Raymond might think.”
Mom’s mouth pulled tight. The engine rumbled as we turned a corner. “You mean the accident the other weekend.”
I’d buried the shame of that moment, but it was still there, twisted around my chest. “We were right there. If there were any time to follow those principles he talks about…”
“She had help. People were calling for an ambulance. Someone was giving first aid.”
“But she still might have died. Maybe she did. And even if she didn’t, what if there hadn’t been anyone to help her?”
“Then there wouldn’t have been anyone to see us casting, so we could have stepped in,” Mom said. Her voice was far too even and reasonable. As if we weren’t talking about a life or death scenario.
“But that’s what any mage would do. He always says we should do more.”
Mom nodded. “And we’re trying to convince our entire community of that. But progress comes slowly, Jonathan. Many people in the Confederation weigh the risks differently than he or I or our friends would. And another of your father’s principles is fairness. Would it be fair for him to force exposure on every mage just because he believes it’s right, whether they agree or not?”
I hadn’t looked at it quite that way before. I crossed my arms, holding in the anger and a squeeze of something that felt more like guilt. That principle wasn’t something I’d taken into consideration when I’d decided to introduce Amy to mage society either.
But I hadn’t hurt anyone by doing that. I hadn’t exposed anyone, not really. And I would have been hurting Amy if I’d left her unaware of the power she could wield, the world she was meant to be a part of, wouldn’t I?
“I don’t know,” I said to Mom.
Mom pulled the car up outside the College. “Well, you have plenty of time to gather experiences and to come to your own conclusions. But believe me, whatever your father does or doesn’t do when it comes to the lives of the magicless, he doesn’t make that decision lightly. When you’re on a crusade, you have to be able to tell the difference between doing what would simply make you feel proud of yourself and what is truly best for everyone.”
My professors had given us the afternoon for independent study, so I studied the inside of a taxi independently all the way to the west side of the park. I’d promise Amy I’d meet her during her lunch hour to check the results of our late-night expedition.
A few bits of litter floated across the sidewalk as I waited outside: a plastic bag, a chocolate bar wrapper, a tissue. The school building itself looked even more shabby than when I’d first seen it in comparison with the one I’d just left.
She did deserve better than this. She did. Of course I’d come to her because it was the best for everyone. How could this be just for me?
Amy slipped out a moment later. She tucked her hand around mine as she joined me so easily a pleased shiver ran through my chest. I tipped my head to give her a quick kiss. Her cheeks flushed that pretty shade of pink, her eyes bright.
Yes, this was definitely right.
“So how do we collect these newspapers?” I asked as we started to stroll down the street.
She gave me an amused look. “I think there’s a newsstand over by the park. I guess you don’t pick up the morning paper all that often, huh?”
“Ah, no. My dad gets the weekend Times delivered. That’s about the extent of my experience.”
“Then I get to teach you something new today.” She caught and tugged my arm. “Come on.”
There wasn’t much to teach once we came up on the storefront with the rack of newspapers. I must have passed these in the car a hundred times or more in the past, but I’d never paid enough attention to realize just how many Dull papers there were. I blinked at the vast spread. “Which ones should we get?”
“I guess the ones most likely to have national news, not just local…” Amy cocked her head and started plucking them out of the rack.
We bought a stack of five different papers and carried them over to a bench in the park. No need to be quite so secretive about our non-magical activities. Amy grabbed one and I grabbed another, and we flipped through them, searching for articles on the volcano. We’d just gotten started when Amy’s head twitched up.
“Are you okay?” I said.
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s nothing.” She rubbed her ear. “I’m still just getting used to feeling—hearkening—the magic, like, constantly. It’s a little weird.”
She didn’t sound completely happy about it. The hum of magic in the air around us was comforting, if anything, to me. I frowned. “Is it bothering you?” Had I made some misstep in the way I’d introduced her to it?
“Not really,” she said. “I’m adjusting.” She smiled again and nudged my shoulder with hers. “Let’s get down to research.”
I watched her for a moment longer as she bent over her paper, an uneasy prickling running through my gut. It wasn’t as if I had training in this kind of tutoring. I just hadn’t thought developing an awareness to magic could be anything but exhilarating.
She did seem fine, though. It’d just been a little twitch. I shook off the worry and got to work.
My newspaper had two relevant articles: one simply recounting what I already knew—the situation appeared to be stabilizing, authorities called for calm, etc. etc.—and the other commentary from a geophysicist explaining why the side of the volcano would have bulged and why he felt it was a good sign that the growth had stopped.
Amy sighed. “Nothing about any new scientific reports here. How about you?”
I shook my head. “There’s no indication they’ve reconsidered their approach or their safety methods.”
We each reached for another of the papers she’d gathered. The articles in my second one said much the same things in somewhat different words. I frowned. “It didn’t make any difference. The factors we told them to look into…”
“The scientists could be working on things they just haven’t let the reporters in on,” Amy suggested, but she didn’t sound very hopeful.
“Even if they are, they’re moving too slow. The report I read predicted full eruption within the next ten days. And they weren’t sure it wouldn’t be sooner.”
“It was kind of a vague message we left.”
“I told them everything I could that they’d understand. What else do they need?”
“Maybe there’s some other way we can reach out to someone.”
“Like what?” I asked.
She worried her lower lip. “I don’t know. My dad did say there are companies putting a lot of pressure on the politicians. I’m not sure there’s any way we could override that.”
No. Maybe we weren’t kids, but that’s how the authorities would see us. And we didn’t have any other information they didn’t know, not that we could prove through non-magical means.
My gaze dropped back to the article I’d been skimming. As I read further, I gritted my teeth. “Zeus help me, do you know people are out there demanding they be allowed back into the danger zone to clean out their cottages? Don’t they understand that they could die? Just because they’re Dulls doesn’t mean they have to be idiots.”
Amy stiffened beside me. “What did you just call them?”
I glanced at her, puzzled. “I guess I called them idiots. I think that’s fair for anyone who wants to go wandering around on a steaming volcano.”
“No,” she said. “The other thing. Dulls?”
Oh. Dad didn’t like that term, so I didn’t use it that often either. This must be the first time she’d heard me say it.
I dropped my voice. No one in the park
was that close to us right now, but this wasn’t a conversation I wanted overheard. “It’s just… a word we use, to describe people with no magic. Who can’t hearken it. It’s all dullness to them.”
Amy’s lips pursed. “It sounds like an insult.”
She had a point. That was exactly why Dad didn’t like it. A word like that conveys a certain disdain that I don’t think it’s wise for us to cultivate. “Dull” certainly wasn’t a compliment.
But, gods, in this particular instance I was pretty certain the term applied.
“It’s just a way of talking,” I said.
“Of talking about people like me as if we’re something less than you.”
I blinked at her. “Not like you. You’re not Dull.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Then people like my parents. People like my friends. People like practically everyone I know. Is that how you think about them? Like they’re dull and stupid?” Her voice was starting to rise.
“No,” I protested, struggling to keep mine quiet. “I mean… They are Dull. That’s what it means: having no magic.”. There was an entire vibrant facet to the world that they couldn’t even conceive of. “But it’s not as if I think it’s their fault or—”
She was staring at me as if I’d slapped her. “I can’t believe you really think that way.”
What did she mean? I didn’t think less of people like her father, exactly. But I didn’t know how to explain that without her maybe getting even more upset. I wasn’t entirely sure why she was upset now. I hadn’t been talking about anyone she knew when I’d said the word.
“This isn’t a good place to have this conversation,” I said.
“Right,” Amy said, studying me. “Because we’re surrounded by Dulls?” When I couldn’t argue that point, she got up from the bench, tossing the newspaper down where she’d been sitting. “You wouldn’t ever have talked to me for anything more than the information you needed if you’d kept thinking I was Dull, would you?”
“There wouldn’t have been any reason to,” I started, but apparently that was the wrong thing to say too.
“Sure,” she said. “Like there’s no reason for any of you to use all that super special power of yours to help anyone other than yourselves. I would have still been the same person, Jonathan. Making a pencil float didn’t change that much. I’d better get back to school before my next class starts.”
“Amy,” I said, but she was already stalking away.
Chapter Ten
Amy
“Oh my God, I want this so bad.” Lori gazed at the record of Blondie’s “Call Me” she’d just pulled out of the rack. “But my summer job money is almost all gone and I’ve still got a month and a half to go before I can get more.”
Denise trailed her fingers over the records as she ambled down the store aisle. “It’s on the radio all the time. It’s not like you don’t get to hear it.”
“But not whenever I want.” Lori crinkled her nose like she always did when she was trying to decide something. “What do you think, Amy?”
“Hmm?” I jerked myself out of my daze.
Normally I’d have loved browsing a record store with friends, but under the Elton John track playing on the store’s sound system, the hum of the yellow lights was prickling at my thoughts. The whole mall had that tinny hum. It made the murmur of magic quiver around me at a weird erratic frequency, even more intrusive than it’d been since Jonathan had heightened my awareness of it.
“Earth to Amy,” Denise said, laughing. It wasn’t a mean laugh—Denise always paired her ribbing with a warm smile—but her teasing made me even more edgy. She and Lori had been hanging out together since the beginning of high school, and I’d just dropped in at the beginning of junior year. I liked them and I thought we were on our way to being close, but I didn’t feel quite as comfortable as I had with my old friends back home yet.
I ran back through the conversation I’d only been half listening to. “Um, I think if you still want it after it’s been on the radio so much, you should get it. It’s not that much money for a single.”
“True.” Lori tilted the record in her hands as if that would help her decide.
The magic jittered against my skin. Was the hum getting louder? I stepped away from my friends, hoping Lori made up her mind quickly. Between the music overhead and the lights and my sensitivity that seemed to be growing by the minute—
My fingers fidgeted, tapping a random rhythm against my thigh as if that would drown out the other sensations. The magic around me twitched and jolted. A kid farther down of the aisle flinched.
“Ow!” he said, pulling his arm to his chest. A red mark was forming just below his elbow as if someone had smacked him there.
My heart lurched. Had I done that? I hadn’t even meant to— But there was no one close enough to have actually smacked him.
A wash of chilly nausea swept through me. For a second I felt too dizzy to move. Then I bolted for the store entrance.
Lori and Denise caught up with me in the mall promenade. I’d sat down on a bench, my head leaned into my hands. The nausea had faded, but my shakiness hadn’t.
“Hey,” Denise said. “Are you okay? You went, like, completely white.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m fine. Just felt really sick for a second, but now that I’d sat down for a minute, I’m sure I’ll be okay.”
I smiled at them, but I was lying. The lights out here were still humming with their dim yellow glow, and a shiver of magic was still niggling at my skin. Plus there was the twist of guilt in my chest when I glanced through the record store window and saw the kid I’d accidentally hit still rubbing his forearm.
How could I tell Lori and Denise any of that? I couldn’t. Well, I just started learning magic and now I don’t totally know how to shut it off, and maybe I’m even a little bit dangerous…
Ha ha, no. They wouldn’t believe me. They couldn’t feel it. They’d never feel the magic, right? They were the kind of people Jonathan had called Dulls.
Everyone in my life except him was.
I pushed myself to my feet and meandered with my friends past a few more stores, but their chatter passed right by me. Was I going to have to just fake everything with everyone for the rest of my life? The twist in my chest dug deeper. I’d been looking forward to this get-together all week, but the way I felt right now, they were going to think I couldn’t stand them.
“You know, this really sucks, but I think I should head home,” I said, as apologetically as I could. “I must be coming down with something.”
Lori’s eyes went wide. “Are you going to be okay? Do you need help getting home?”
Her concern made me feel even more guilty. I waved her off. What I needed right now was a little distance… so I could stop being reminded of the distance that had suddenly formed between us without them even noticing. “It’s not that bad. I can handle the bus.”
“Okay. Hope you’re feeling better soon. See you on Monday!”
I forced some cheer. “I’ll be there!”
I did feel a little better once I got outside. The murmur of the magic calmed down, present but not irritatingly so. The sun was bright and the air warm enough that I didn’t mind the smells of gasoline and cooking grease as I headed to the nearest stop.
All I was thinking about when I reached my street was going up to the apartment and flopping down on my bed for an hour or two. This morning, Dad had warned me with a flustered expression that he was going to be working most of the weekend. This once I was glad that I’d have the apartment to myself. I could turn on the TV and zone out of reality for a little bit.
I’d just reached the bakery my apartment sat on top of when a guy stepped out to meet me. The sun glinted off Jonathan’s tawny hair. He had a record sleeve tucked under one arm. Like usual, he was dressed up a little more than would have been normal for any normal teenager on a Saturday afternoon: a short-sleeved button-down and gray slacks. Like he didn’t belong here.
&
nbsp; But if he didn’t belong, then what about me?
The annoying thing was, even though I was still kind of pissed off about the casual way he’d dismissed the majority of the human race, my spirits leapt at the sight of him. By the time I’d made it back to school the other day, part of me had started to worry I might not see him again. No more magic lessons.
No more kissing.
My cheeks heated a little. It was a good thing being a mage didn’t give him the ability to read my mind.
I stopped a few feet away from him and folded my arms over my chest. “Hey,” I said hesitantly. “What are you doing here?”
Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I realized I never did get your phone number. So there wasn’t any way to talk to you other than just showing up. It’s been a couple days… I didn’t want to leave things any longer. If you’re still upset with me, maybe we can talk about it? I am sorry about the other day. I handled the whole thing badly. And… I did promise to get your record back to you.” He gave me a half smile, as if he wasn’t sure I’d take a whole one.
His apology had sounded genuine. I guessed I had to give him points for coming down here among all the “Dulls” just to say it.
And the thought of telling him to go away made my heart squeeze uncomfortably tight.
“All right,” I said. “You’d better come in. We can’t really talk out here. But don’t expect my apartment to look anything like your house.”
He nodded with that crooked smile. “No expectations.”
As I ushered him to the stairwell that led up to the second floor over the bakery, his expression turned serious again. “Will I be meeting your father? I’m not sure—”
“He’s out,” I said. “And if he gets back while you’re here, it’s fine. I can just say you’re a friend from school.”
“Right,” Jonathan said with a little chuckle. How had he explained my presence of his uncle the other day?
I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what lies he’d felt he needed to tell to cover my Dull background.