Lizzie agreed, rinsed her cup, and dried her hands. “See you tonight. Gotta get to school.”
Nicole pulled out her cello after Lizzie left and restrung her C string. She spent the next twenty minutes tuning and practicing and tuning some more. Then she packed up her cello, grabbed her laptop and purse, and headed out to school, cello slung across her back.
***
World history passed quickly, and soon it was time to meet with Coolidge and the other students. Nicole headed to Coolidge’s lab adjoining his office. She checked the time on her phone frequently as she walked across campus, not wanting to be late, but also not wanting to be too early.
When she arrived, she set down her cello, ran her fingers through her hair, and inspected her makeup with her compact. Finally, she knocked on the door.
An attractive guy with light brown hair opened. “You must be Nicole. Coolidge said you’d be coming.” He stepped back, motioning for her to enter.
Another guy with glasses and curly hair so light it was nearly transparent was sitting in a folding metal chair with his cello, a heavy wooden desk looming behind him. A window to Coolidge’s lab covered an entire wall, and shelves lined the rest.
The seat behind the desk was empty.
“Where’s Professor Coolidge?” Nicole asked, sitting on the third chair.
The guy who opened the door returned to his seat and smiled at her. He had a nice smile. “He doesn’t usually come—doesn’t need to. But don’t worry—we know what he’d do if he were here.”
He nodded at her. “I’m Toby. That’s Pete.” He pointed at the guy with curly hair and glasses.
Pete was cute, in a surfer kind of way, but the poor guy had obviously struggled with acne in high school. Pockmarks covered his cheeks and forehead.
He waved at her, smiling.
Toby picked up his instrument, sending her another one of his grins. “We were just starting. Why don’t you get out your cello and join us?”
“Sure.” Nicole unbuckled her cello case. “Could you explain how all this works? What’s expected of me?”
Toby set his bow on the stand in front of him. “Of course. We spend most of the time trying to figure out how to use the cello as a focus. Neither of us is very good at it.”
Pete brushed away a strand of curly hair that had fallen across his forehead and pointed at Toby. “He’s more experienced than me.” He smirked. “But only because he’s graduating in a few months.”
Nicole started rosining her bow. “When do you graduate?”
“Spring,” Pete said.
Nicole swallowed. She pretended to concentrate on getting the rosin perfectly on all the bow hairs. “You’re both seniors?” Her hands started getting clammy. It had been a long time since she was the youngest in a group.
“Yeah,” Toby said. Her discomfort must have been obvious because he waved her off. “Don’t worry about that, though. We all have to start somewhere. And Coolidge is great. He’s really helped us figure things out.”
“In fact,” Pete said, “Toby’s focus isn’t really the cello—he’s branching into others with Coolidge’s help.”
Toby grinned. “It’s been fun learning a new instrument. The tuba is very different, if you can imagine.”
Nicole smiled at that. “So . . . what if cello is my focus . . . but isn’t really?”
“What do you mean?” Toby asked.
Nicole told them what happened in Intro to Wind. “Now I have to figure out what’s wrong. Why nothing happens when I play.” She pulled out her cello, lengthened her end pin, and settled into a comfortable position. “I don’t even know what’s supposed to happen.”
Toby picked up his bow again. “It’s different for everyone, but some similarities exist. For example, when I play . . . Well, let me show you.”
He drew the bow across his strings, and a familiar strain filled the room. Nicole immediately recognized Ashokan Farewell, but Toby’s rendition of it wasn’t very good. Attributing it to the fact that he must not have been at the cello for long, she ignored how badly he played and turned her attention instead to her surroundings, wondering what to expect.
After Toby had played for five minutes, getting through the song twice, Nicole noticed that her breathing had become more labored. Her skin tingled and she rubbed her arms, grimacing when her hands came away moist.
“It’s humid in here.”
Toby nodded. “Exactly. The song helps me pull liquid toward myself—I think, if I were more powerful, I’d be able to create a storm.”
Nicole raised her eyebrows. “That would be awesome. What happens when you play something else?”
Toby looked down. “Nothing, actually. This is the only thing I can do so far—mainly because that’s the only song I’ve learned.”
“Good choice, by the way,” Nicole said.
Toby grinned at her. “You knew what it was?”
“Yeah, it’s one of my favorites.”
“Cool.” Toby leaned forward. “This is why Coolidge is working with me and Pete. Because we’re not very good at what we do.”
Nicole tilted her head. “But the cello isn’t your true focus. Why did you switch?”
“He’s not even a Wind Arete,” Pete said.
Toby glanced at Pete and back to Nicole. “I’m a Water. But I want to become powerful—to learn how to control all of the elements.”
Nicole’s mouth dropped. “Is that possible? I thought you were stuck with the one you got.”
“A stupid myth propagated by uneducated people,” Pete said, pushing up his glasses. “When you get good enough at Channeling, you can change your focus and assigned element.”
Nicole turned to Toby. “But I’ve heard that some people don’t need a focus at all. Why would you go to all the work of changing when you could just put that work toward learning to Channel freely?”
“Not all of us is an Austin,” Toby said.
Nicole frowned. “How do you know about him? He’s a freshman.”
“Word spreads fast when someone like him enrolls,” Pete said. “The last time it happened was several years ago.”
Nicole didn’t want to talk about Austin. She looked at Pete. “What can you do with the cello?”
Pete’s face lit up. “Oh, you just watch! I’ll show you.”
He started Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, but like Toby, his version was out of tune. But her attention to his skill shifted as soon as she noticed what the magic was doing. Unlike with Toby, whose focus didn’t elicit any response within Nicole, when Pete began, she felt the magic pulsing from his cello. It pounded against her chest rhythmically.
Toby touched her arm, making her jump. “Look,” he said, pointing at Coolidge’s desk.
Nicole’s eyes widened. The papers there were rearranging themselves. She jumped to her feet, still holding her bow, her other hand gripping the neck of her cello. “Wow.”
It wasn’t anything like what she’d imagined. Rather than floating in the wind without a direction, the papers were lifting themselves and moving systematically to other sections of the desk.
“That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!”
Pete grinned, lowered his bow, and wiped sweat off his forehead. “It’s the best I can do—I can’t lift anything other than standard-size paper.”
“Not even a smaller sheet?”
He shrugged. “Nope. For some reason, my magic likes letter paper the best.” He leaned forward. “But still, pretty impressive, huh? I’ve worked hard to control their direction and rate of flow.”
Nicole nodded enthusiastically. “It was awesome!”
Toby grunted. “Yeah, and now I’m wishing I’d brought my tuba. I’d show you some serious skills.”
“How is a tuba a focus for Channeling Water powers?” Nicole asked.
“Not a very good one, as you probably could guess. And don’t be grossed out, but the condensation from my breath seems to gather other water particles, probably from the air. Which is wh
y I wanted to start learning Wind too, since I really can’t do anything with the water once it comes to me. But I’m finally starting to see results more and more often with the cello.”
“Why’d you pick the cello?”
“I’ve always liked how it sounded, and since I could already read the bass clef, it made sense.”
Nicole hesitated. “I’m wondering. What use are our powers to us? Why have magic at all—and no offense—if we only can shuffle papers and increase humidity?”
“No offense taken,” Toby said, then sighed. “My goal is to become as powerful as Professor Coolidge. He can do pretty much anything with any of the elements. But I really don’t think I’ll ever get there. I’m focusing on my law degree.”
Pete nodded. “If we were working solely toward Arete abilities, we’d be more powerful, even right now. Unfortunately, most paid Arete positions are rare, and I need to take care of my family.”
Nicole noticed the ring on his left hand. “Is your wife an Arete too?”
“Nope.”
Nicole leaned back in her chair. “So why even learn magic if you don’t really plan to use it?”
“Oh, we’re going to use it,” Pete said. “Especially if the Tarians try to take over. We have to learn some defensive skills, and I’m hoping to devote more time to my magic once I’ve graduated. I’m going to be an electrical engineer. My Wind Arete powers actually help some in my field, but they’re not my focus as a college student.”
Toby started plucking the strings on his cello. “On the other hand, we don’t want to be caught off guard when the Tarians take over.”
“I really hope that doesn’t happen,” Nicole said.
“Don’t be surprised if it does,” Toby said. “Loud minorities almost always win over quiet majorities.” He nodded toward her. “You play the cello already, don’t you? Go ahead. Show us what you can do.”
Nicole felt redness creep across her cheeks. “I don’t know—I don’t want to take over the class. We don’t have much time, and there’s so much I need you guys to teach me.”
“We can’t start teaching until we know where you are,” Toby said. “Go on. Play Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star for us.”
Nicole straightened in her chair and played the song from memory. It was the first thing she had learned on the cello.
“That was way too easy,” Pete said. “Do something harder.”
“Like what?”
“Anything. Show off for us with something you know we can’t do ourselves.”
Nicole shrugged. “Okay. I auditioned for the symphony two days ago. I’ll play that song.”
She played the fast movement of the Stravinsky piece with gusto. It was hard to ignore the guys as their mouths dropped open and their eyebrows shot up in the air. Nicole began enjoying their surprise, playing with more flair than she had in months. She ended with a flourish, letting the last note ring for several seconds before lowering her bow.
“That was fantastic,” Toby said. “You obviously really know the cello.”
“And you used your thumb!” Pete said.
Nicole blushed. “Yeah. You have to in this song.”
Pete looked down at his left hand. “And here I thought four fingers were hard.”
Nicole shifted in her seat, trying to find a tactful way to say what was on her mind. “I don’t know a lot about the magical side of things, but . . . if you plan to play the cello for any amount of time, you need to do it correctly. And I’m going to bet that the magic will flow better if you play the way it’s supposed to be done—you won’t have to concentrate so hard.”
Toby rubbed his chin, staring at her. “I think you’re right,” he finally said. “Coolidge knows the very basics of playing a cello—he’s picked things up over the years—but he doesn’t pay attention to our technique.”
“How about this,” Pete said. “You teach us to play, and we’ll teach you to harness your power.”
“With Coolidge’s help, of course,” Toby said. “We can only show you what he’s taught us so far.”
Nicole agreed, and with a smile on her face, started instructing them on the basics of how to hold the bow and position the cello. It didn’t take long for her to realize that what people had said about her really was true—she did have a gift when it came to the cello. Yes, she’d spent every spare moment of the last several years practicing, but it had come easily and smoothly. She found true enjoyment in her talent.
For the next half hour, Toby tried to help Nicole Channel while Pete practiced his bow hold. Nicole still couldn’t grasp the magic that flowed around her, but Toby was positive things would be better once Coolidge started assisting her.
Nicole hoped so.
She was just about to start working with the guys on the proper position of the left arm when Coolidge entered his office. He nodded to her and sat at his desk, promptly opening his laptop.
“I’ve got to finalize things for the expedition and the tests. Nicole, I apologize for not being available to instruct you today. Toby, continue working with her, please.” He turned to his laptop and started tapping.
At first, Nicole was nervous having Coolidge there, but after a moment, it became clear that he wasn’t paying any attention. She felt a twinge of guilt over her possible role in his apparent workload—the book’s reaction to her really had messed things up. She pushed the guilt aside, though, and focused again on Pete and Toby. There wasn’t any way she could have predicted what happened, and she wouldn’t let it distract her now.
Chapter Four
As soon as the session was over, Nicole turned her phone back on. A text from Lizzie popped up, asking if she wanted to help Lizzie practice her Fire ability.
Nicole responded with a yes and Lizzie’s next text came quickly, asking Nicole to meet her at their apartment. That was fine—Nicole’s first rehearsal with the symphony wasn’t scheduled to happen until four in the afternoon. That gave them plenty of time.
An hour later, Nicole was standing in the kitchen holding a metal garbage can with a small piece of paper in it. “Okay, I’m ready. Again.”
Lizzie bit her lips and squinted. Her expression of concentration was so intense, it nearly made Nicole laugh. Nearly. They’d been practicing for forty-five minutes already, and so far, Nicole had laughed so many times that she knew if she did it again, Lizzie would stab her with the pen she was using to take notes.
“Turn on the music,” Lizzie commanded.
“Didn’t you say you needed to learn without music?”
Lizzie’s answering glare made Nicole jump to push play on her phone.
As soon as the happy beat filled their apartment, Lizzie started dancing, focusing on the fire. Nicole held her giggle inside. Poor Lizzie. From what Nicole had heard, most Aretes enjoyed the manner in which they brought their powers to life. Not Lizzie, though.
After several seconds of nothing, Nicole stopped the music. “I know what your mom wants, but how do you want to do it? And why is your dance teacher agreeing with your mom?”
Lizzie swept the curls out of her face. “She doesn’t want to peeve my mom. Dancers all know each other.”
“Okay. So, I ask again, what do you want to do?”
Lizzie blushed, looking down. She didn’t respond.
Nicole’s eyes widened and she grabbed the nearest bar stool, pulled it over, and slumped onto it. “It’s something you haven’t told me.”
Lizzie nodded.
“Why not? You tell me everything.”
“Because you’d laugh.”
“Laugh? For trying to use your magic?”
Lizzie glared at Nicole. “You’ve been laughing for the past hour. Why would this be any different?”
“Oh, Lizzie.” Nicole got up from the stool and hugged her friend. “I’m sorry I’ve made you uncomfortable. Really, I am. I won’t do it again, I promise. You can show me your idea.”
“The thing is, it doesn’t always work.”
“But is it better th
an dancing?”
Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “Anything is better than dancing.”
Nicole watched her friend, waiting for her to make a decision.
A smile spread across Lizzie’s face. “Okay. I’ll show you.”
Nicole grabbed the garbage can, relieved it hadn’t taken much to convince her friend. For the most part, Lizzie was really easygoing. She always had been.
Once Nicole held the can in place, Lizzie put one hand out, palm up, and acted like she was writing something on it with her other hand.
The paper in the trash can popped. Nicole shrieked and dropped the can, stumbling away. The can rolled, then came to a stop, facing her. Little tendrils of smoke curled up from the paper, and Nicole raised her eyes to Lizzie. “It worked. It worked!”
Lizzie bounced up and down, clapping. “Oh, yay!” She stopped moving, glancing out the kitchen window as if expecting to see someone there. “Don’t tell my mom—she’d freak.”
“Of course I won’t.” Nicole put out the fire with a spray bottle and righted the can. “How’d you figure out that writing on your hand would work?”
“Drawing, actually, and it was a total accident. I’d been practicing dancing, trying to produce magic, when an idea for a portrait popped into my head. I grabbed a pen and drew the idea on my hand. I’m guessing that since I’d been focusing so much on magic, the power was ready and willing. It was awesome—a little fire appeared in my palm.”
“That’s so cool.”
Lizzie grinned. “I know. My pen melted—I still have it somewhere, if you’d like to see. But anyway, it’s the actual motion of drawing that gets my magic going. I only have to pretend to be holding a pen or pencil.” She grimaced. “But like I said, don’t say anything to my mom—I’ll eventually tell her, when she’s ready to hear it.”
“Isn’t it difficult to switch to a different focus?”
Lizzie pulled out a new piece of paper, placing it in the can. “Well, yes, but I didn’t technically switch. I’ve been trying to force one that isn’t mine. It’s no wonder I’ve only ever produced magic while dancing a couple of times.”
“I can’t believe your teacher tries to make you do it.”
Discern (Mosaic Chronicles Book 1) Page 7