Funny Tragic Crazy Magic (Tragic Magic Book 1) (3 page)

Henry
Jarbonie keeps slurping his Jell-O. It’s getting obnoxious. I swear, the worst
thing about this place is the routine. Every day here is exactly the same as
the day before. It’s enough to make a person crazy, which is good job security
when you think about it.

Every
day from the hours of three until five, I come into the cafeteria: the one room
in this bleeping place that they allow us a computer. That’s where I write
this. That’s why the chapters are all so short; that’s as much as I can write
in the allotted time. I actually type fast when you factor in the fact that I
no longer have hands.

My
old buddy Henry with his rear end free to feel the breeze isn’t the only one
who has to eat their Jell-O with a straw. I do not slurp. Somehow, I still care
about things like that, while Henry is free to do whatever he wants. There must
be something liberating about being truly crazy.

The
ultimate act of punishment for a Rune is to take their hands. You might
remember I told you that Runes hold all their magic in their hands. Take the
hands, and you take the magic. Threat annihilated.

Now
I’m a rube, just like everybody else. I couldn’t do magic if I tried, and
believe me, I’ve tried.

They
save the real punishments for traitors. Rule breakers like me usually get more
of a slap on the hands instead of the clean removal of the hands. I was guilty
by association, I guess.

That
comes later.

I
type, in case you were wondering, with a straw in my mouth, punching each
individual key. That should tell you how important this is to me. I go through
about five straws in two hours.

I
think Doc Jensen is reading this. I can’t tell; he doesn’t add anything between
writing sessions, but he’s smart. I’d read it if I were him.

So
Doctor Jensen, this is a work of fiction. Remember that. I am a hard working
girl who has hope for her future and has a goal. Remember, Disney Channel
Movie?

They
won’t let me out. After what they think I did, I don’t blame them.

I’m
done for today.

So
I guess I should mention that my English teacher was new: Ms. P. That was what
we all called her. It took me about three days to realize she was Joe’s mom. I
liked her and not just as a teacher. I used to hang out at their house all the
time, and she filled the void I have--had--for a mom. She liked me, too. She
thought I was a good influence on her son, and I guess that was true for a
while; his grades, at least, did improve.

Instincts
are like that, though. See, Runes often end up becoming Deans at Ivy League
Universities, or Generals, or Presidents. Instincts often end up homeless. I
think it’s because they don’t have to work to get anything, so they rely on
their magic so much they don’t bother learning any life skills.

I’d
still rather be an Instinct, though.

Sorry.

I
didn’t see Joe for the rest of the day. I was almost back to my shallow self
when the final bell rang, and I walked out to my car. Joe sat on the hood of my
car. My notebook rested on his knees, as he wrote on it with that detestable
BIC pen. I don’t know how or when he got my notebook again. Joe was like that;
he could steal anything from anywhere… at least that was what he claimed.

I
clutched my pale pink cardigan closer to my chest and walked out to meet him.
By the time I got to my car, my shoes were dead to me. I opened the back door,
threw my backpack and my shoes inside, and then plopped next to him on the hood
of my car. My feet left sweat prints on the green bumper.

Next
to Joe was a blue notebook. It wasn’t one of those good ones, with the papers
stuck tight with a black leather cover, and a pocket at the back, like my
notebook. I bet his cost about 32 cents new. I opened it up and saw a few runes
written in. I saw that he’d copied mine, and that he only had the three runes
before today. That made me feel a lot better.

“How
do you make them work?” he asked. His eyes followed other students as they left
the school.

I
held my left hand up, my palm facing me, and I traced the rune for
stay
along the entire width of my palm. Yellow light trailed behind my finger. Joe
watched my hand as if he was trying to figure out how it worked. I smiled. It
felt good, finally showing someone what I could do.

I
had beautiful hands. They were one of the few things I liked about myself. One
of the few things I didn’t change with my magic. I had long fingers, which made
up for me always chewing my nails when I was nervous. I remember that morning I
had painted my nails this shimmery pink color called oyster shell.

What
a random thing to remember.

I
blew on my hand and then shook it. The runelight fell in a shower of glitter.

“That’s
a rune,” I said quietly. I reached for his hand and drew a simple triangle rune
for
silence
, and then I drew the same rune on my own hand. The rune made
the air feel stagnant beside us. We could still hear the rubes talking outside
the bubble of silence, and feel the wind as it blew through our hair. Yet, it
sounded as if every noise around us filtered through plastic wrap.

Someone
was watching me. The back of my neck felt itchy like a day old sunburn. I
turned around and looked behind me. There were cars and rubes in constant
motion, none of them focused in my direction. I told myself it was nothing. I
hadn’t ever done this rune in front of people, and maybe it always felt like
that. I didn’t know any better.

I
turned back to Joe.

“Now
no one can hear us.” I lifted my hand; a speck of the light from the rune was
missing. “With every word I say the rune fades.”

We
watched together as the edge of the line of runelight dimmed.

“That’s
because it is a working rune. It moves, takes energy to perform it. There are
also, well, I call them statue runes, cause they just set and stay still. Like
my favorite,
stay
, which you met in second period.”

Joe
rolled his eyes, but I could tell he was paying close attention; he seemed
almost hungry for the information, if that makes sense.

“There
are other statue runes,
protection
is one. That’s the strongest rune I
know. It’s one of the few runes that can exist after the person who casts it
dies.” I swallowed and looked away from him. My mom’s
protection
rune
still stood above the front door of my house, glowing in my mom’s color code of
cool blue.

“How
do they work?” he asked, when I trailed off into grief land.

I
was glad for the distraction, “They take energy. Same way running a mile would.
The more runelight used, the more energy expelled, the bigger the cost. That’s
why most people who use magic are lean; magic burns calories.”

“Sweet,”
he said.

I
smiled. “I know.”

“What
makes us different from the rubes?”

“The
rubes?” I asked.

“Yeah,
um… normal people. I’d call them muggles, ‘cept J.K. Rowling would sue me.”

I
smiled and looked down at my knees, then blushed when I realized how I had to
answer his question.

This
was going to be really awkward, and I felt awkward enough just talking to Joe
already.

“Okay,”
I said with a sigh, “so pretend you’re not a teenage boy for a minute, okay
Joe? Pretend you are a doctor, or something very clinical.”

“Alright,”
he said.

“This
is how my mom explained it to me, and it’s the clearest explanation I know.”

I
took a breather. My cheeks puffed out, as the words didn’t want to come out.

“Come
on, spill.” Joe said.

I
looked away from him and spoke really quickly. “Okay, think of how moms create
breast milk.”

“Yuck,
Larissa.”

“Clinical.”
I pointed my index finger at him but still wouldn’t look in his eyes. “Remove
yourself from the situation, Joe.”

He
made this exaggerated shudder, and I blushed and looked away from him. This was
so not the conversation I wanted to have with a cute boy.

 “So
the body sends a hormone to the mom when it’s time to create milk for the
child, and then the milk comes when it’s needed. The mom really does nothing to
make it flow. It’s just kind of natural. You know? All mammals do it.”

I
felt itchy warmth again on the back of my neck. I turned around to see if
anyone was watching, but no one seemed to notice us.

“Magic
is kind of the same thing. Witches and whatever you call yourself…”

“Joe.
I call myself Joe.”

“Dork.
Okay… Witches, like myself, or dudes like the great and powerful Joe,”

“I
like it.” He interrupted.

I
pretended I didn’t hear him. “…have this hormone… umm… flaw really, that normal
people, or rubes I guess, don’t have. It triggers at puberty, and then the
magic starts flowing.”

I
glanced at him. Joe didn’t seem grossed out anymore, so I felt a bit more
comfortable. “When a Witch is taught runes, the magic can flow out safely.
That’s my branch of magic: Runes. Runes can do almost anything, if they know
the right rune to draw. That’s why you never steal a Rune’s notebook.”

“I’ll
stick to stealing from rubes from now on.” Joe said.

I
laughed, sure he was joking, but he didn’t laugh with me.

“Your
term “Rubes” sounds too much like Runes, so I don’t think I’m ever going to use
that word to describe regular people. Runes are not normal people.”

“I
believe it,” he said emphatically.

“Shut
up.” I punched his arm, and he fell off the side of my car. I laughed, but
tried to do it silently so it wouldn’t take any runelight. I checked my hand,
and the rune was half-gone. Most of the cars were gone in the parking lot.
There was a pale silver corvette parked near the front, but I didn’t think much
of it.

Joe
stood up and brushed himself off. He started saying something I’m sure he
thought was intelligent, but I silenced him with my next sentence.

“You’re
an Instinct. That’s the other branch of magic. Runes and Instincts used to be
at war with each other, but there was a peace treaty signed in like the
eighteen hundreds or
something.          The friction
now is between the genders- male and female- so you and I still can’t be
friends.” I smiled anyway, although it was true, and he sat back down next to
me.

The
car lowered with his weight, and I adjusted to keep my balance.

I
think he sat closer to me than he did before. That would account for my being
so much more aware of him.

“Anyway,
umm… so Instincts work a little different.” My voice was quieter because I felt
a little self-conscious. He leaned in to hear, and I could smell him. He smelled
like pine… and the honey smell that filled the Grandmothers Study the one time
I had been there. I looked away from him.

“Instincts
have the same hormone thing that Runes do except when the magic comes, if they
aren’t taught a rune to let it out slowly, it kind of builds up. They become
engorged, if you like.”

“You
are disgusting.” Joe’s revulsion was false; I could tell he was crazy focused
on what I was saying.

“And
then one day, it happens. They um… snap, I guess. The magic explodes, and they
can do this one crazy, impossible thing. It’s like the rune they should have
done gets stuck, and instead of being able to do magic to do all sorts of
things, they can only do one thing amazingly well.”

He
looked down at his hands. I felt awkward for a second, explaining something I
had no experience with, but he had lived through.

“At
least that’s what my mom told me. Is that right? How’d it happen for you?” I
asked.

“Oh…”
He looked at me like he was surprised I was still there. “umm… That’s about
right. I was fourteen, when it happened.” He lowered his voice and leaned in
closer. “I’ve never told anyone this before. Feels weird talking about it.”

His
eyelashes were almost colorless at the tips. He seemed so close that I wanted
to lean back, but I didn’t.

“I
was grounded for some bogus thing I had done. There was a party and a girl I
wanted to see, but my mom wouldn’t let me out of my room. Uh...this was back
when we lived in Georgia when my mom was finishing school.” He turned away. “I
was mad, and my head was pounding, and all I could think is how I had to leave.
I had to get out. All of a sudden, it felt like this pressure on my shoulder
blades lifted, and I fell through my bedroom wall. I thought I had gone crazy.
How did I move through the wall? Was it like a subatomic thing, or maybe a
problem with the wall structure? I shifted my hand through the wall and held a
handful of drywall that crumbled between my fingers. That was one deposit we
didn’t get back.”

“
Open
.
That’s your rune. I don’t remember how to draw it, but I do remember hearing
about it. So I guess that explains it.”

“Explains
what?”

“Why
you could get into my car, even though I set a great rune. You can walk through
walls.”

There
was pain at the back of my neck. I stopped talking (and listening, to be
honest) when the feeling of being watched came back and bit me. My entire neck
burned like someone put a curling iron there and wouldn’t take it off.

I
turned behind me. That silver convertible was the only car other than mine on
that side of the parking lot. When I looked at the car, the burning sensation
left. There was movement from inside the car, a rustling of yellow and green,
and a flash of red hair. The convertible revved its engine and then pulled
forward with a jerk. I watched as the car pulled past me. Erica Fisher sat in
the front seat of her car, her red hair dancing behind her in the early fall
wind.

Erica
Fisher was an Instinct?