Firecracker: A Young Adult Fantasy (Arcturus Academy Book 1)

by A. L. Knorr

  I glanced at him, confused. “Why should he care that people know what he thinks?”

  “He’s putting out feelers. He told me that he’s not here to make friends but allies. He was shooting up a smoke signal that will attract those who think like he does. He’s got some idea that he should help our godfather see that Arcturus should be churning out only the most physically powerful mages in the world.”

  I was about to reply that Ryan would need a hell of a lot of luck to pull that off when I overheard a familiar accent. Glancing over, I caught Betty Boop talking with another girl.

  “He’s right, though. If we wanted to study history or geography, we should go to regular colleges. What if a student has registered for all theory classes? No practical classes at all. Should a mage who can recite the table of the elements but can’t conceal their detonations still be considered a proper mage?”

  Gage overheard this as well and cheered me greatly when he muttered: “See what I mean? Ten bucks says she’ll be all over Ryan before the end of the week.” He shook his head. “The cream always rises to the top.”

  Eleven

  Placement Class

  By now the smell of the Arcturus fire-gym was familiar. Faint aromas of metal, rubber and neoprene mingled to make the perfume of a machine shop or an auto repair garage, minus the gasoline and diesel. It wasn’t what one might deem an attractive fragrance, but I associated it with good things all the same.

  As the doors slammed behind me and I crossed the gym floor to join the other first-years, I tucked the tail of my fireproof button-down shirt into the waistband of my academy skirt. My first class had been one of my correspondence courses and it had dragged by with agonizing slowness as I watched the clock count down to my first actual fire class. It was just the placement class which I’d been instructed to get out of the way, but still, it was my inaugural session as a mage.

  Gage spotted me from where he stood off to one side with Ryan, chatting quietly. He gestured for me to join them. Betty Boop and April stood at a distance from one another among a few other first-years I couldn’t yet name. Every student either held, or had on the floor beside them, a water bottle to keep hydrated.

  Four profs staffed stations in each corner of the gym, complete with identical testing equipment. Wanda broke us into smaller groups and sent us to the various stations. I was to remain with her, along with Ryan, Gage, the girl I couldn’t stop thinking of as Betty Boop, April, Tomio, and a slight boy with blue-dyed hair I’d never met.

  “Gather, please.” Wanda was a slight figure, but there was nothing slight about her voice. It carried easily.

  We gathered in a semi-circle around the professor.

  “A quick roll call,” she said as she lifted her chin, “which is a good opportunity to get to know one another’s names since many young people seem to be reluctant to adopt social graces. Jade Alcott?”

  Betty Boop raised a hand and let it flop down again. “Here.”

  So that was her name. Jade had taken the liberty of shortening the hem of her skirt, tying her button-up shirt in a knot under her breasts and pairing the whole outfit with fence-net stockings and what looked like custom-made fireproof motorcycle boots. The black liner around her eyes and the impressive faux-hawk she’d wrangled her hair into made her look like someone you wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of. I wondered how much of it was an act.

  The prof continued. “April Brown?”

  April sported the same pigtails and nervous expression she’d had when I’d first met her. Her thin shoulders slouched forward and her arms tightened in on her body as though she was trying to disappear. “Here,” she squeaked.

  “Saxony Cagney?”

  I put up a hand and smiled at the professor.

  “Kendall Fair? Tomio Nakano?” Wanda went through the rest of the roll call, calling out Gage and Ryan as though they were one person: “Gage-and-Ryan Wendig.” When she was finished she flicked past screens on her tablet and waved us toward our testing station. Setting the tablet down on a stainless steel table, Professor Winkler went behind it and faced us as we gathered round.

  “As you know, the objective today is placement. We have your class selections, but these assessments will help us plan your practical sessions appropriately. Some of you won’t know that Arcturus takes new students every semester, not just in September like most other schools. The rates at which students progress varies wildly and while it is possible to fail your end-of-term exams, failure only means we make the necessary adjustments to your education to facilitate a pass the next time around.”

  April stood across from me, otherwise I wouldn’t have noticed that at the mention of the word ‘fail’, she shriveled up like a salted snail.

  Wanda began to pace the length of the table. “Headmaster Chaplin has categorized students into first-, second- and third-degree mages. The majority of students spend three years with us. Typically, we see first-year students spend one semester at the first-degree level and one semester at the second-degree level. This is confidence boosting, but keep in mind that the jump to third is much more difficult and has been known to take students as many as five semesters to achieve. Don’t feel badly if this ends up being you.”

  April had pulled her turtleneck up over her mouth and nose and was little more than a pair of frightened eyeballs. A quick scan of the group gave me an idea that no one had noticed her anxiety. Ryan was bored and smug—as usual—standing with his weight resting in a hip and his arms crossed. Gage looked as bright-eyed and eager as a sled-dog, while Jade’s expression was closed. Kendall—the blue-haired boy—had shuffled a few steps closer to Jade, while Tomio stood off at a distance, his dark eyes calculating and calm.

  “I’ll be taking you through a series of seven basic exercises. No doubt some of these will be very easy for you, but you might be surprised by a few. Taking this alphabetically then.” She looked up. “Jade? Care to step into the ring?”

  Jade backed up a step, shaking her head. “No way I’m going first. Are you mad?”

  Wanda was temporarily speechless as she blinked at the girl in disbelief. My guess was that she wasn’t accustomed to being so blatantly disobeyed right out of the gate.

  “I’ll go first.” Ryan went behind the table without waiting for an invitation.

  Wanda adapted quickly, scrolling through screens to find the right profile. “Ryan, correct?”

  Ryan nodded.

  “Stand here please.” She pointed to a small square on the floor marked by duct tape.

  Ryan stepped smoothly into the square, rubbing his hands together.

  The students broke into two groups, swinging around the sides of the testing space for a better view. I joined Gage and Tomio on the right.

  “The first exercise is ignition,” Professor Winkler said as she clutched the tablet to her chest. “Produce a flame in your right hand, please.”

  Ryan’s right hand snapped open and a red-orange fire bloomed to life. It was perfect, flickering and crackling nicely, sending the odd spark onto the floor.

  “Very good. Produce a fire in your left hand while extinguishing the right,” Wanda prompted.

  The fire disappeared from Ryan’s right and reappeared in his left like a magic trick. I had to admit it was pretty to watch.

  Jade and April stared at Ryan with admiration in their eyes. Kendall frowned and cocked his head like he’d been tripped by some invisible source while going down the hall.

  “Make the fire the size of a basketball,” was the next command.

  The flame in Ryan’s hand expanded and stopped at the perfect size.

  “Now a lemon.”

  The fire shrank smoothly without stuttering or spitting. “Really?” Ryan drawled as he cupped the fire-lemon in his palm. “I didn’t expect to be making fruit salad on the first day of class. Please tell me I’m not going to regret coming to Arcturus?”

  “Ryan!” Gage snapped, a red flush rising in his cheeks.

  Ryan rolled hi
s eyes. “Jokes, Bro.”

  “Cocky in the first five minutes, Mr. Wendig?” Wanda shook her head and made a tsking sound. “You’ll be eating your words before long, I guarantee it. Extinguish, please.” She made a note in the tablet as Ryan put the fire out and relaxed, looking unaffected by her promise.

  Professor Winkler walked Ryan through his tests while the rest of us learned the vocabulary. Ryan executed every exercise easily and artfully. I had to grudgingly admit that he was a natural and never once did he reveal any of the pain that I knew he was feeling. He took swigs from his water bottle between every exercise, as was recommended. There were a few exercises where the rest of us couldn’t see how accurate he was, for instance the one called detection.

  During this test, Ryan was presented with a bank of thirty lockers, each numbered and only big enough to hold a pair of shoes. Hidden inside three of the lockers were burners, each emitting a small flame. Ryan was to pick out the lockers containing the flames without moving out of the taped square on the floor. The professor explained that this exercise was meant to pick out students who had an aptitude for tele-combustion, the ability to light fires with the mind. First-degree mages weren’t trained to tele-combust, but the academy wanted to know which students had the aptitude for it.

  When Jade refused to take her turn after Ryan and Wanda called on April, I thought the girl might actually turn and bolt from the gym. To her credit, she stepped into the testing square as though braced for assault.

  “Ignite in your right palm, please,” Wanda instructed.

  April’s right hand came up, palm to the ceiling. Her fingers trembled visibly. At first, nothing happened. April stared at her hand so hard I wondered if her eyes might pop out.

  “April? Ignition?” Wanda repeated, her gaze sharpening on the girl’s hand.

  “One second, sorry.” April shook her hand, her wrist and fingers snapping, before trying again. A dim glow appeared beneath the thin skin of her palm. April’s body tensed. A red flame the size of a walnut popped into life.

  “Ha!” April cried, triumphant.

  Ryan burst out laughing. Jade made an incredulous sound and put her hand over her mouth. April’s victorious smile faded and her shoulders slumped. Her flame flickered but remained lit.

  “I’ll thank you not to laugh, Mr. Wendig. This is not elementary school,” the professor snapped before turning back to April. “Very good, Miss Brown. Can you make it the size of a grapefruit?” Wanda crossed around behind April, holding her tablet and making notes.

  April pinched her lips together and glared at her hand. The flame flickered but didn’t change. April bared her teeth in a grimace of effort. Her fire wobbled and inflated, changing from red to orange, but stopped at the size of a tangerine. She pushed harder but the little flame only flickered a little before going out with a puff of smoke.

  “Thank you.” Wanda’s tone was neutral and I mentally congratulated her for that. April’s skill was appalling. There was no way around it. Jade was shaking her head, incredulous. Ryan had reverted to his default boredom. At least the other students and I politely masked our disbelief, and Ryan and Jade were out of April’s periphery. I was sure April was embarrassed enough.

  “Do you remember what pitch is?” Wanda asked.

  “Measuring temperature.” April’s voice was little.

  Leaning in close to listen, Wanda nodded and then picked up the cylindrical device she’d used to test Ryan’s pitch. “You know the drill. I’ll set the meter to give a sequence of three different temperatures. You tell me what they are as best you can. Make sure you say Fahrenheit or Celsius when you answer. The machine gives me both readings so it doesn’t matter which you choose.”

  Wanda punched the temperatures into the panel and hit the start button. She handed it to April, who white-knuckled it close to her belly.

  “No need to hold it quite so tightly, dear,” the professor murmured.

  “Forty-five degrees Farhenheit,” April spluttered, her words coming out in a rush.

  Professor Winkler made a notation on the tablet.

  “Two-hundred degrees Farhenheit,” April said with a gasp, her knuckles turning white.

  A line appeared between the prof’s brows.

  “And—” April gasped and dropped the meter. “Gosh, I’m sorry Professor.”

  “That’s all right.” Professor Winkler picked up the device and handed it back to April.

  April shook her head and leaned close to the professor, whispering.

  The professor’s brows twitched in surprise before they smoothed back down as she patted April’s shoulder. “Let’s move on to isolation.”

  “Ms. Winkler?” Ryan put his hand up. “May I be dismissed?”

  The professor’s gaze sharpened on him. “Don’t you want to support your classmates? We encourage first-years to become acquainted with one another’s strengths and weaknesses. There is an exercise in the final exam that will require teamwork.”

  Ryan scoffed. “I won’t be on any team with that girl,” he said. “She’s not a mage, she’s barely even a supernatural. This is a waste of my time. I could be studying... or napping.”

  “I’ll tell you what you can do, Mr. Wendig. One of the chefs has called in sick and Susan could use a hand peeling potatoes for tonight’s dinner. Why don’t you pop by the kitchen and offer her your assistance?” The professor’s eyes glimmered, her normally pleasant expression as cold as a winter’s wind.

  Ryan frowned and shuffled before letting out a long sigh and taking his former place in the audience.

  I decided Professor Winkler was my favorite instructor.

  By the time Wanda had finished with April though, I was beginning to see Ryan’s point. April Brown was terrible at everything. Instead of moving her fire-light from one palm to the other, the glow zipped from her hand to the side of her neck. When Wanda asked her to absorb a fireball tossed at her the way you would throw a softball to a four-year-old, April missed. The fireball bounced off her knee and arced over Wanda’s head, skimming April’s own nose as it went by. She was so bad that the professor cut her testing short and told April she’d come back to her after class. April stepped back into the group, looking smaller than ever.

  After that things moved faster. Gage and Tomio walked through their testing confidently and never failed once. Kendall had a little trouble with pitch and isolation, but produced perfectly sized fires when asked to ignite. Jade refused to go until after I’d gone, so I stepped into the testing ring, second to last.

  The headmaster’s directions rang in my memory: You need to pass with enough skill to get bumped into private coaching, but don’t be so perfect that you raise suspicion.

  I felt Ryan’s calculating gaze on me the entire testing period.

  Professor Winkler walked me through ignition, absorption, throwing and drawing, making her notes as we went along. When she handed me the meter to test pitch, I wrapped my fingers around the warm metal cylinder and let out a breath, preparing to fib.

  “You know what to do,” Wanda said. “The meter will go through three temperatures, one after the other. Give me your best guess.” She stepped back and raised the tablet, ready to make her notes.

  I gripped the cylinder out in front of my chest as the meter heated up to two-hundred-twenty degrees. “Two-hundred fifteen degrees Celsius,” I said.

  Professor Winkler’s eyes widened as she made a notation, looking impressed. Somewhere behind her, Ryan craned his neck.

  Crap. That was too close.

  The meter’s temperature swelled to four-hundred-sixty-three degrees Celsius.

  “Four hundred... degrees Celsius,” I blurted.

  Professor Winkler gave a curt nod, expression shifting back to neutral. Was that too far off? She made her notation and waited for the last one, watching my face.

  The meter shifted again, this time to 1003 degrees.

  “Nine-hundred-two... degrees Celsius,” I said, letting out a breath. Handing the meter b
ack to her, a weight lifted off my shoulders.

  “Very good, Miss Cagney. I’m impressed.”

  “Thanks.” I prepared myself for the last test, but Professor Winkler turned away from me.

  “Jade, you can’t avoid it any longer, I’m afraid.” The prof beckoned the brunette to step up.

  Wanda had tested everyone with the lockers except for me.

  “Excuse me...” I began to remind Wanda she’d forgotten the tele-combustion test when Jade bumped my shoulder with hers hard enough to knock me out of the box.

  “Your turn’s over, cupcake.” Jade stepped into the square.

  I resisted the urge to crush Jade’s bespoke fireproof boots with my heel. But I let it go and went to stand by Tomio. Jade had spent the entire class ducking her turn, and now she cut me off from finishing mine? I liked to give people the benefit of the doubt, anyone could have a crappy day. But the tone for our relationship had been set.

  “When will we get our results, Professor Winkler?” someone asked from behind me.

  “Tomorrow evening they’ll be posted in a case in the victor’s hall. You can go there after dinner to see your placements.” Wanda turned back to Jade.

  For the remainder of the placement class, the fire hissed low in my gut. I hadn’t yet completed my first day at the academy and already I had an enemy. What had I done to insult Jade? Or maybe it wasn’t personal. She hadn’t been particularly nice to anyone else. I couldn’t help but feel a little smug, though. The results of the tele-combustion test were irrelevant anyway. I was to be privately coached by the headmaster himself, it just hadn’t been publicly announced yet. I’d never have to do another practical class with Jade again.

  Twelve

  Girl Talk

  I was just putting the last poster on my wall when the squeak of a shoe on hardwood made me turn. The tall, slender form of April stood tucked behind my door jamb, her back to me. She peered into the hall from my door as though trying to shrink into the wood.