Chapter 8

English flies by, and after the event in Mr. Yerth's class, I sit in the back of the room and try to stay out of the class discussions, only talking when I have to. Halfway through, the bell rings for lunch, and begin worrying about where I'm going to sit. As I follow the crowd through the hallway, someone calls my name. I turn and see Sasha running down the hall towards me. She reaches me, out of breath.

"Hey," I say, "Mind if I join you at your lunch table?" I hope she says yes, if she says no I think I'll die.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I let you?" She laughs, and we walk to the lunchroom together. She shows me the line, then to her table. I sit down between her and another girl, her hair in a long ponytail and her nose buried in a book.

"Sup." The guy across from me says, waving with his fork.

"Hi," I say, taking a bite of my mashed potatoes.

"Hey," The girl sitting next to me says, setting down her book, "Is it true you made Mr. Yerth leave the class?"

"Uhm. Not- uh, he spilled water on himself, I didn't-"

"Oh, come on. He's deserved that for a long time." She shoves her tray away and picks back up her book. "If you want my opinion, he needs gone."

"I think I may have caused that to happen..." I say, and Sasha pats my shoulder.

"Hey, don't worry, he was a royal pain. I just hope you standing up to his bull finally made him realize that he's an ass." She tries to comfort me, but I still have the lingering feeling of regret. No logical explanation could explain why his mug acted as it did...

After eating the greasy food and watching the wildlife in the cafe, lunch ends and the rest of the day goes fast. The bus ride is louder than in the morning, but luckily I brought my earbuds, and the music gets me home sooner.

I collapse onto my bed and bury my head in the pillow. Subjects I've never even heard of, and yet I know so much about them all. To be honest, I'm not sure what to do next. Dr. Strange informed me that I would be fine as long as I read the book and considering his track record, I think it best to go with what he says. I grab the book out of my bag to continue reading.

This chapter talks about the ancient teachers of magic. Entire clans of witches worship the magic surrounding everything. I chug through the book, and it continues to get more interesting, even slightly scary. The book speaks about the magic, though powerful, is highly dangerous, especially to untrained children. These magical children can absorb and produce so much energy that if they so much as throw a temper tantrum, it could level a large building. According to the book, that's where the witches come in. They had a special way to rid the child of the dangerous levels of magical energy that had built up over time, and could then drain it to make the kid more stable.

The chapter then goes on to tell of a test for too much energy. For those who cannot sense the built-up energy, they would simply have to have the child point to an object, and if it explodes, then there's too much energy. If it takes a minute for it to blow, then that isn't as concerning as the immediate explosion.

Well, what the heck? Let's blow something up!

Setting the book aside, I go to my bedroom window. It takes a minute for me to wiggle open the jammed window, but when I manage to get it open, the cool rush of air is a relief.

"Alright, magic. Let's see if you exist in me." Looking down, I notice a full trash can, sitting all alone on the quiet sidewalk. I look for any witnesses before attempting to explode something in broad daylight. When it's safe, I take a deep breath, then point at it.

Immediately, it explodes in a spectacular burst of trash and metal. My heart sinks and I close the window.

"Oh shitshitshitshitshitshitshit!"I grab the book and continue reading. The more I read; the more good news keeps coming.

If the magical child or person has not gained treatment, the energy will build up and when they have reached a certain level of energy, they will inevitably explode, taking 1000 men with them.

My heart sinks. I close the book, place it on my nightstand, then get up and go into the kitchen. Grabbing a chunk of bread, I bite into it carefully, concerned that it, too, will explode. Luckily it doesn't, and I sit down at the dining table and begin my homework assignments.