Magian High (8 page)

I found myself scanning the faces in the halls during passing time, looking for the kids who had come to the party.  By lunch, I’d managed to find five of them and apologize.  They all pretty much shrugged it off, but not very convincingly.  I got the impression they didn’t blame me, but that they wouldn’t likely say yes to any future invitations, either.  It was always “the other Mages” that worried them.

Feeling dejected, I stopped by my locker to grab my lunch.  That’s when I saw Curry.  He was alone at his locker down a few
yards from mine.  Our eyes met, and we seemed to understand that we should stay put until the crowd cleared.  When the last stragglers walked off towards the cafeteria or down the hall to go outside, he slammed his locker shut and looked at me with that unreadable expression he wears so much.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” he grunted.  “You made it out alive, huh?”

“The party?”
I asked.

“That, too.”

I moved closer so we wouldn’t have to talk too loud.  “What do you mean?”

“Cops.”

“Yeah.”  We stared at each other for a few seconds while I figured out which question I wanted to ask most.  I decided to play it nice.  “You get Rikki home safe?”

He looked surprised, and then his shoulders relaxed. 
“Yeah.  She was pretty shook up.”

“I can imagine.”

There was another long pause, and then he cleared his throat.  “I wasn’t the one that told Jack about the party.”

That had been my other question, of course, and as he gave the answer, I knew he was telling the truth.  “So…
you and Jack…”

“I’m trying to…you know…
stay out of trouble this year.”  I had no idea how to answer that, so I gave a general gesture of approval.  “Who was your detective?” he asked.

That surprised me until I realized that the Punkers must be well acquainted with the local law enforcement officers.  “Sheldon, I think. 
I have to go back at 3:45.  The guy is like talking to an angry brick.”

Curry almost smiled.  “Yeah
, but that’s good you got him.”

“Why
?”

“
He’s honest.  Like you.”

***

At 3:46pm, Detective Sheldon shut the door behind me and let out a big sigh.  “I’m sorry about this morning, Mr. Riley.  It was…awkward at best.”

“Yeah, especially when Mrs.
Bagler came in.”

Sheldon sat on the corner of his desk looking tired, but much less stressed than before.  For the first time, I got a good look at his mouth.  Large, crooked, white teeth, like a row of tiles that got bumped out of alignment.  “You know Mrs.
Bagler?” he asked.

“No, that’s the first time I ever saw her.  I was
kind of surprised she—”

“Came to your rescue?” he smirked.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think that’s what
happened, Kincaid.  Can I call you Kincaid?”

“Of course.”
  I wished I had another paper cup of water.  “So what happened, then?”

Sheldon looked at me steadily. 
Something in his face said he felt sorry for me, and I wondered how much trouble I was really in.  “Those ‘other Mages’ included her son, Jack, and his boys, didn’t they?”

I nodded, and then added, “But not Curry.”

“Curry Sanders?”

“I guess. 
He’s a big guy with blonde hair.  He’s dating a Nomer girl now, so…”

Sheldon
smiled suddenly.  “
Is
he now?”  He moved to sit behind his desk.  “Well, that
is
news!”

“Sir, what’s going on?  Why
the media this morning over Punker pranks at a teen party?”

His fists went up to his mouth again, and I feared I’d shut him back down.  He glanced at the door and leaned forward, talking quietly.  “This is much bigger than pranks, Kincaid.  Though, believe me, I’ve been trying to nail
Bagler Jr.’s bunch for two years.  But this morning…Can I be honest with you?  We could have brought you in for questioning on Saturday.  Heck, we were pretty much done Friday night, but…”

“But
what?”

“But that wouldn’t have helped the various parties.”  He spoke quickly.  “A certain group is very interested in discrediting you, Kincaid.  You may be a kid, but they see you as a threat and would love to have the media skewer you.”

“
Me?
Why? Who?”

“
Probably because you seem like a nice kid, especially when you talk about the whole desegregation thing.  You make it sound noble and natural.  You want to bring people together—people who don’t
want
to be brought together.”

“
That’s a reason to make me look like a criminal?”

“
Well, I confess, there was also the police curiosity.  I’m sorry, but it helped us gauge things to watch media and crowd reaction to what looked like an arrest of a pro-desegregation minor.  We needed to see what we were up against.”

My ears burned
.  “I’m a prop to test public opinion?”  Sheldon chewed the inside of his lip.  It was my turn to lean my elbows on the desk with my head in my hands.  Staring down at the gray metal surface, I mumbled, “So what did you find out?”

“We’re seeing something very interesting.  The
informal polls show an almost 50/50 split on the matter of segregating Mages and Nomers.”

“I thought we already knew that,” I said, still looking down at the desk.

“Ah, but people keep shifting sides.”

I glanced up.  “
Which way are they shifting?”

He drew a breath.  “That’s the trick.  Opinions are shifting
back and forth, and it’s all very fluid.  That’s what makes you so dangerous.”

I snorted.  “I’m not a very good Mage.  I can’t
do
anything dangerous.”

“You can tilt the scales
of public opinion depending on how people perceive you.”

I let my forehead sink all the way to the desk and covered my head with my hands.  “So, if I blow it, Magian High goes back to being Mages only?”

“If you blow it, Magian High may even cease to exist, which would make some people very happy and very rich.”

My head shot up.  “What?”

Detective Sheldon leaned back in his chair, watching me closely.  “Kincaid, have you ever heard of the NMI?”

“No.”

“This is on public record, though not publicized, if you get my drift: NMI, or the National Magic Institution is an organization currently funded by donations from wealthy Mages.  Its purpose—on paper—is to improve the education and training of Mages for the betterment of national interests.  It has many people at the federal level watching closely, and it may receive grants at some point if it can prove its worth as an organization.”

“
That’s on paper?”

“Off the record, it’s the opinion of many that
the NMI is more interested in the betterment of
Mage
interests.  At least this local chapter is, and probably several others around the country.  It’s like they want to intensify the study of Magic to a level akin to the Wiser academics, and then let the Mages gradually take over all the prominent roles in society because they are both so smart and so magical.  They are not satisfied with dominating the welding, excavating and underwater dredging industries—not to mention health care.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with those jobs,” I said.

“Not a lot of money, prestige or power, except for the doctors.”

“What does that have to do with my staged ‘arrest’?”

“It’s a step backward to take several leaps forward.”

“I don’t follow.”

“If they can make
you
look bad, Mage minors look dangerous.  Then segregation comes back.  NMI offers a ‘school’ to ‘rehabilitate’ them, which actually means training them up to take over with a vengeance.”

I had to ask.  “Sir, are you a Mage?”

He got very still.  “It’s not common knowledge.  I’d like it to stay that way.”

“I won’t say anything.”

“I appreciate that,” he said, standing up.  “I don’t know that I really have any questions for you after what I found out today.  I had a chance to talk to your mother, and that was very helpful in getting the picture straight, too.  Except…”  He put his hand over his mouth again.  “Let me ask your opinion on something.”

“Okay.”

“If city council pushes through a policy of no magic use by minors at all, what do you think will happen?”

“
Wow.  It’d be like cutting off a limb.”  I thought deeper, though, and added, “Mage kids would rebel.  It’d be placing them on the same ground as Nomers, and they can’t always compete mentally or physically.  It would equalize things in a way that could almost put them at a disadvantage if they’ve relied on their magic too much.”

“
What about you, Kincaid?  What would you do?”

“
I’d hate it. I’m not a great Mage, so I wouldn’t be giving up as much as some, but…it’d really stink not to even have the option of Flying or Flash Jumping.”

“Would you comply?”

I sighed and stared into the air between us thinking of my family and friends.  “Yeah, I would.  There are some things still worth more than magic anyway.  Besides, I’ll be eighteen soon enough.”

He gave me a crooked smile before his face took on the angry brick look again, and he snapped into business mode, calling ou
t to a secretary for something.  With a wave, he dismissed me, and I headed home, flying low.  All the time I zipped by buildings and trees and people, I tried to fathom the idea that if I did anything wrong—or if people
believed
I did anything wrong—Magian High would be lost, and maybe even the right for kids to use magic at all.

“Apparently, I’ve become some kind of icon, with both sides of the segregation issue trying to use me.”  I sat with Mom and Amity in our living room after the interview with Sheldon.

“Well, don’t let them,” said Amity matter-of-factly.  “Make it clear where you stand.”

“But it’s like it’s not really about the truth, but perceptions of truth, and if I don’t make desegregation look really positive—I mean
really
positive—we could lose everything.”

“What ‘everything’?” asked
Amity.

“Magian High,” I said.  “And magic for every Mage
under eighteen.”

Mom sat down on the other side of me.  “I survived youth without magic,” she said.

“And I survived three years at Wiser,” added Amity.

“You don’t get it,” I said.

“Actually,” said Mom, patting my arm, “we really do.”

From the other room, Kelsey screamed, “
Wahooo!
  I made it to level
seven!
”

We all cheered for her, and the smiles gave me strength.  I guess it’s always about getting to the next level in life
.

“Mrs.
Riley, is it okay if Kincaid comes over to my house for a little while?” asked Amity.

“Yeah, just be back
for dinner, honey.”  Mom tried to sound casual about it, but I knew she worried about more Punker violence.

Amity slipped her hand into mine.  “C’mon,” she whispered.  “Tell me everything you remember from the interview with Detective Sheldon.”

We headed down the street, and I tried to concentrate on reciting what had been said, but my mind was elsewhere. 
I’m walking, not Flash Jumping or flying.  Those cars going by… I might have to learn to drive… If I don’t use magic, will the power build up?  Or will it fade away like unused muscles?
  Somehow, I must have kept talking sense because, by the time we got to Amity’s house, she sported an especially thoughtful expression.

“We should ask Dad what he knows about the NMI’s real estate dealings.”

My mind snapped back into the conversation.  “Why?”

“
I told you, he’s a real estate agent.  Haven’t you been listening?  He has access to information about big land deals and stuff.”

I blinked.  “What good would that do for us?”

“Maybe find out who stands to gain from a lucrative sale to NMI.”

***

Amity’s dad gave me the same piercing look that every father of a beautiful girl should wield at the first meeting of boyfriend.  It worked because I was suddenly afraid to touch her.  He was tall and had her chiseled facial features.  Fortunately, Mrs. Griffin came in and changed the mood by fawning all over me.  I don’t know what part of the world she came from, but she had the dark hair, skin and eyes that made Amity so exotic.  However, she was more the warm, chubby mama in personality.  She even pinched my cheeks and called me “such a cutie”.  I thought that kind of thing only happened in sitcoms.

Once the initial introductions were over, though, the bizarre stereotypes stopped. 
Her parents didn’t ask normal questions about “How was your day?” or “Did you get your assignment turned in?”  They grilled her on what the teachers had taught as if trying to verify that their lesson plans were good enough.  I got the impression that they could jump in and teach any subject at Magian High better than our current teachers without even picking up a book.

I couldn’t help sounding dubious.  “You’re a real estate agent?”

“International business real estate,” said Mr. Griffin.  “I can do it with my eyes shut, and it pays for world travel so I can study anything I feel like on location.”

“Really?
  That’s awesome.”

Mr. Griffin had moved to his laptop at the kitchen table and was punching keys faster than I could even process the sound.  I approached him a little uncertainly.  Amity nudged me
, encouraging.

“Sir?”
  He looked up, not exactly annoyed, but like he was thinking about something else and I’d interrupted.  “Amity said you… Um… Do you know anything about NMI land deals in the area?  Like, for a school or something?”

His eyes returned to the screen, and he resumed typing.
  I wasn’t totally sure he’d heard me.  He tapped the return key with a flourish and read for a few seconds.  “Hmm,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning upwards.  “Very interesting.  You may be on to something.”  He spun the laptop around so we could see the screen, and I silently thanked Amity for giving me credit for the question.

She
and I leaned in to read, and before I’d gotten past the first line, Amity was bouncing on her heels and squeezing my wrist.  “Kincaid, this is it!”

And then I saw it
: a list of the three top sites being considered for a possible new NMI Academy.  Beside each land parcel location and description box was the name of the seller.  In number two, it simply read
The Bagler-Farrell Foundation
.

“
Bagler! 
The
Baglers?!” I asked.

“Interesting that theirs is the only site outside of city limits, which would normally make it harder to approve for a school property,” said Mr. Griffin.

“Unless they’re trying to get the Mages out of town,” I said.

“Or if they’re planning on makin
g it a private school and charging tuition,” said Amity.

“I bet it gets better,” said Mr. Griffin, grabbing the laptop back and typing again.
  When he turned it back to us, he had two windows open.  “Take a look at the names on the Bagler-Farrell Foundation Board of Directors—and the roster for the local chapter of the NMI.”