by Lia London
We looked at each other for a long minute until Kelsey bounced into the room.
“Good morning, Kelsey!” I said as brightly as I could. I stuffed a big forkful of crepes in my mouth and slid the chocolate sauce across the table to her.
We spent the rest of the day not talking about the trouble I would be in when the cops finally came to lay charges for the “attack” on Jack and his friends. In fact, we spent the whole weekend worrying about it, but they never came.
Chapter Eleven: I’m Arrested… Sort of
I let my guard down, thinking maybe it had all blown over and some denied insurance claims would be the worst of the aftermath, but as Amity and I stepped onto school grounds, we saw a crowd had gathered. Most were students, but there were some adults holding picket signs saying stuff like “Stop Mage Violence!” and “Re-Segregate!” Vans from Channel 5 News and The Morning Edition blocked the way to the main steps.
There was also a police car. The way cameras flashed as soon as I showed up, I could tell they were all waiting for me. In a bizarre tide of arms and legs, I was swept towards the police car. People kept badgering me with questions, most of which I couldn’t even hear. I sort of nodded vaguely. Everyone was shouting—either to have me set free, or to have me locked up.
The cop put his hand on my shoulder. “C’mon, kid. Let’s go.” I lowered myself into the back seat, and he slammed the door shut. As we pulled away, I looked back at all the chaos. It was like something from a movie, all this focus on me. That’s when the craziness of the situation washed over me. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be reading me my rights or something?”
The cop looked at me in the rearview mirror. “Relax, kid. You’re not being arrested.”
“I’m not?”
“I told you, we’re just bringing you in for questioning.”
“Oh.” I slumped back. “So why didn’t you come get me yesterday?”
“Couldn’t get clearance ‘til today.”
That sounded dumb, but I figured the big bosses were gone on the weekend. Sure made for an exciting show, coming to get me at school, though. In fact, by the time we got to the station and the cop plopped me down in the lobby, I could see the Channel 5 breaking news report of my non-arrest on the wall-mounted TV. The sound was turned down, so the whole thing was about as clear to me on screen as it had been in person, but I noticed how much I kept saying, “Okay.” I guess I’d been in a trance. In the background, I could see more of the students, including my friends and some of the people from the party. Their faces looked sympathetic, though Curry looked like he was trying to avoid the cameras. Elizabeth and Amity were crying. Blakely and Whittle were trying to calm people down.
Then the screen changed to close-ups of the damage at my house and the news anchor reappeared looking serious. The lettering behind him said “Mage Violence on the Rise”.
The TV cut to a commercial break, and I leaned forward, rubbing my eyes. I felt so tired.
A familiar voice jolted me upright, and I saw Mr. Petercriss and some lady in a business suit entering the lobby. They were speaking quietly enough that I couldn’t make out the words. I picked up a community event flier and pretended to read it, hiding my face. The receptionist recognized the lady and waved them back into the hall leading to the various offices. Right as they entered a door on the left, a lady officer came up to me with a smile. “Are you Kincaid Riley?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Come with me. Detective Sheldon is ready for you.” She led me down the same hall where Petercriss had gone, but about four doors further along. At the door, she ushered me in. “Do you need a glass of water or anything?”
“Am I going to be here long?” I asked.
“Get the kid some water,” said the man behind the desk.
I sat down, sweating already, in front of Detective Sheldon. His elbows rested on his desk, his mouth hidden behind clasped hands. I fidgeted with the zipper on my backpack and tried to look confident. He stared at me, unsmiling until the lady officer returned with a little paper cup of water. Hardly worth the wait, but I took a sip to try and steady my nerves.
“How old are you, Kincaid?”
“Seventeen,” I said, surprised that he’d start with such a pointless question.
One of his hands dropped to his desk, and the other one formed a fist in front of his mouth like he was trying to keep a screaming lecture from escaping. I kept waiting for him to blink. Finally, he asked, “You’re a Mage?”
I let out a weak laugh. “Not a very good one, sir.”
“I don’t know about that. I saw pictures of a pretty big Dirt Hole in your yard and some impressive fire damage to your porch.”
“That…was someone else’s handiwork, sir.”
“Someone else?”
“Other Mages did it. Not me.”
“You invite those ‘other Mages’ to your little get-together on Friday?”
I swallowed another sip of water. “I invited some Mages and some Nomers, but then other Mages showed up, and—”
“They crashed your party,” he finished. “You know these other Mages?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And who do you think they were targeting? You? Your guests?”
“Probably both, sir. They’re not fond of Nomers.” A knot formed in my stomach as I realized that I had no idea of the magical status of my interrogator.
“But you are fond of Nomers?”
“I…Yes, I guess. I’ve made friends with some of them this year.”
“So everyone’s getting along over there at Magian High?”
“Um. Better than before? It’s a process, I guess. We’re all getting used to each other.”
“And the party crashers were…?”
“They’re Punkers that go to my school—or at least, they used to.”
“They got names?”
A knock sounded, which was weird because the door had been left open. I turned to see the lady officer giving an apologetic look to the detective. A second later, another woman entered—the same one that had come in with Petercriss.
Detective Sheldon placed both hands on the desk as if bracing himself, and shifted his gaze to her. “Can I help you, ma’am?”
The woman glanced down at me with an artificial smile and then launched into speech like she was used to giving orders. “I must protest that you’ve taken Mr. Riley out of school for this. This is really unacceptable.”
I stared up at her.
Detective Sheldon let out a puff of air and blinked slowly, as if appeasing a spoiled child. “Mrs. Bagler, you know we need to investigate this matter to ensure the safety of the Nomers at Magian High.”
Mrs. Bagler!
“Well, do it after school hours! This is ridiculous and irresponsible,” she snapped. “Besides, this young man is famous for his support of Nomers. He lobbied for desegregation. I can hardly believe that—”
“Yes, Mrs. Bagler. I know all about him,” he said with a scary edge to his voice.
Mrs. Bagler stopped talking and stood taller. After an awkward silence, Detective Sheldon spoke with extra control. “Mr. Riley, I apologize for the manner in which your education was disrupted. We will have an officer return you to the school, but I need you to report back here today at…” He checked his planner on the corner of his desk. “3:45. Don’t be late.”
My mouth was too dry to respond. As I stood to go, Mrs. Bagler said curtly, “Thank you.”
“Sorry for the inconvenience, Mrs. Bagler, Mr. Riley.”
She stormed out of the office and down the hall. For a moment, I stood there, unsure of what to do. The lady officer touched my shoulder lightly and tilted her head to indicate I should follow her. I looked back at the detective. He had his head in his hands, staring down at his desk.
Twenty minutes later, I was sitting next to Amity in chemistry, listening to a sub talk about half lives and wondering what was happening to my life.
Chapter Twelve: The Real Detective Sheld
on
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 you
r 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 out 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.
Chapter Thirteen: Real Estate Deals
“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.”