Item || Variable thirty-one

Spruce stood in front of Sorrel’s office inside the schoolmanor. He was here two weeks ago in order to help Sorrel move the boxes from her office to the classroom, and at that time it was a lot of fun, but today he came prepared for the worst.

In his head, he could already hear the teacher tell him that he has no talent for this; that he should consider going to another school; that if he cannot succeed by next week, he would be expelled. Having his lifegoal destroyed like that was going to be painful, but he couldn’t change the inevitable, so after standing still for quite a long time, he finally found the courage to face his fate. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

The door magically opened with a soft swooshing sound, and Sorrel welcomed him with two words: “come in.”

She was walking around her office room arranging some documents from her desk back onto the shelf. After Spruce walked in, she pointed at the chair in front of her desk and warmly invited him, “please, sit down.”

Spruce sat and waited. In the meantime she kept looking through some of the documents in her hand.

Eventually Sorrel cleaned the documents off her desk and put them back onto the shelfcase. Then she sat down on her chair at the other side of the desk.

“I’m sorry that you had to wait," she started. "Can I see the magical item, which you've bought last week?”

Spruce quickly nodded his head, and put the dagger on the table.

“Oh," Sorrel was slightly surprised. "I should have expected that from a boy." She pointed at the item, "so even with this dagger, you still cannot float a pen, huh?”

Spruce nodded once but firmly.

“What kind of magic does it have specifically? Sky magic? Air magic? Wind magic? Gravity magic?” she listed the most likely options.

Spruce blinked in confusion.

Seeing his reaction, the teacheress explained, “well, I haven’t taught that yet, because magic variations are many in number, but when you were buying this item, the seller should have told you its magic variation.”

“I don’t know,” Spruce quietly admitted, but then he recalled what happened when Linden used it. “I think it may be Fire magic,” he added.

“Fire magic? Oh, then that explains why you couldn’t float a pen.”

After Spruce heard Sorrel’s statement, he looked at her in hope.

“Fire cannot float objects,” she continued. “At least not by itself.” She took a pen from the basket of pens on her desk and put it in front of Spruce. “Instead of trying to float it, try to set it on fire.”

Spruce furrowed his eyebrows, and concentrated.

“Don’t forget to hold it,” she reminded him about his magical item.

Spruce put his hand on his dagger, and imagined setting the pen on fire. A spark appeared, then another one, and three more sparks twinkled consecutively before a flame burst out and surrounded the whole pen.

Sorrel snapped her fingers above the burning pen, and the flame disappeared in an instant.

“I don’t want you to burn my office,” she said with a sweet smile. “But other than that, it’s a pass. I recommend you practice under the sink.”

Spruce looked at the burned pen, and couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“Do you have any more questions?” Sorrel asked the boy.

Spruce looked at her, then back at the pen.

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” She touched the pen, which returned back to its preburned state. Then she put it back with her other pens. “As long as the damage isn’t extensive, it’s always easy to fix.”

“I can use magic,” Spruce still couldn’t believe his own eyes.

“Yes, you can. And if you have no more questions, you can go back and practice more. I expect to see it again tomorrow in class.”

“Yes, professor, thank you,” Spruce responded then got up the chair. He was already on the way out, when Sorrel once again reminded him of the dagger, which was still laying on her desk. He turned around and before feeling too embarrassed, he took the dagger and quickly left the office.

Outside, he couldn’t contain his euphoria. He ran through the hallway of the schoolmanor, and got yelled at by some of the teachers, who didn’t approve of anyone running around or near their offices. However, Spruce didn’t stop to listen to their preachings. He continued to run.

Right after he exited the schoolmanor, he jumped up as high as he could, and screamed, “God-made!”

A lot of students and teachers looked at the boy, who just ran off as suddenly as he ran out of the building. Many smiled with an understanding. They all knew that something very good must have happened to him.

The phrase “God-made” was a common phrase used by those, who experienced something awesome. Some linguists claimed that it was an abbreviation of the sentence, “God made a miracle”, while others sought the explanation elsewhere. The phrase itself had been used for so many centuries, that no one really knew where it came from, but the meaning behind it had never changed. It was always the expression of unlimited joy.

Spruce kept running through the schoolground without taking a break to rest. He passed different buildings, students, and teachers. All of whom looked after the runner with questioning countenances, not knowing the purpose or the cause of his run.

He only slowed down, when he arrived by the hamlet, not because of close proximity to his home, but because his stomach muscles began to hurt.

When he finally entered the living room of his cottage, Aspen, who sat at his desk on the left side, looked up from the textbook, which he was reading.

“So how was it?” he asked.

“God-made,” Spruce answered with the last bit of breath, which he had, and fell onto the sofa.

“That’s good,” Aspen responded then went back to reading.

Spruce, who didn’t sleep well the night before, fell asleep on the sofa right away. He woke up later on, when it was almost dark outside. Aspen was already in his bed, so Spruce quietly took a shower, and while doing so, he kept recalling the meeting with Sorrel. He couldn’t get enough of the warm feeling of success burning inside him.

When he was dressing up into his pajamas, he imagined the reactions of his friends tomorrow in class, and he couldn’t wait until the night was over. He hid himself under the comforter and giggled like a bride the night before her wedding. Not realizing when, he fell asleep with a big smile on his face.

And while he slept, the new day arrived.

He felt someone take off his bedcovers, and heard Aspen talking to him.

“If you don’t wake up soon, you’ll be late to class.”

He opened his eyes, and saw that Aspen was already up and ready. It didn’t surprise him, because Aspen was always up and ready early in the morning.

“What time is it?” he asked, while rubbing his eyes.

“Look at the clock,” Aspen pointed at the round clock above the door.

Spruce slowly turned around his head. However, when he saw the hour, his lethargy immediately disappeared and he began to dress up ultra-fast.

“I’ll be going ahead,” Aspen said before he left.

Spruce quickly finished dressing up. He didn't have enough time to eat breakfast, so he went straight to the entry room, put on outdoor shoes and ran out. But as soon as he left the cottage, he felt a quick sharp pain in his legs. The fatigue from the crazy long run of yesterday took over his body, and he couldn’t move well.

He believed that he could still make it on time, if he walked, so he began the difficult journey toward the classroom. His body gave him signals that it would rather rest than walk, but he didn’t want to give up. When he was halfway to the classroom, he felt a sharp stab in his side and he had to make a stop.

“Skipping class?” a female voice asked him from behind.

He turned around and saw Chervil Sun walking around leisurely at a time, when most students ran as fast as possible to make it on time to their classes.

“My legs hurt,” Spruce said.

“Take a day off,” she suggested.

“I don’t want to.”

“What resolution,” she snorted with fake admiration. “But your hands are fine?” she asked with a smirk.

“Yeah?” Spruce didn’t know how it was related.

“Which building are you heading to?”

“History building, classroom A.”

Chervil took him by the arm and pushed him onto a nearby bench. “Then grab on,” she said and also sat down.

“I have to go,” Spruce began complaining, but stopped, when he realized that the bench started levitating.

“All passengers aboard, please hold on,” Chervil said like a kid playing a bus conductor. “We take no responsibility for passengers, who accidentally leave the plane mid-flight.”

Spruce grabbed the bench and held on as hard as he could. His intuition was telling him that he wasn’t going to like it. When the bench was at the height of about five meters, it suddenly moved forward at a speed, which was way too fast for a travelling bench.

“Oh no,” Chervil shouted, “the speed limit is only twenty kilometers per hour. Our car has exceeded the speed limit,” then she looked behind and said, “we’re being chased. We must increase the speed.” Instead of slowing, the bench moved even faster and faster, taking sharp turns around the buildings and among the trees.

Spruce began to feel sick after six or so turns, but before he had a chance to throw up, Chervil announced, “we’re sinking, the boat is too heavy.”

The bench began to slow down and flew downward toward the ground. It suddenly came to a halt, and while it was floating right above the ground, Chervil shouted, “remove excess baggage!” before she threw Spruce off the bench right in front of the History building, classroom A.

All the students, who didn’t enter the classroom yet, were staring in surprise at the method of arrival, which Spruce had acquired unwillingly. Meanwhile, Chervil stood up on the bench and declared, “this is a pirate ship.” The bench once again began floating up. Chervil pointed into the distance and shouted, “the treasure is right ahead,” and the bench quickly flew away.