The Magickers (6 page)

“We already asked, hon. It's full. They can only take so many boys.” Joanna looked back down at her brochure, then added, “I'm so proud of you, but I honestly don't think that you feel you've done anything.” A soft smile flickered at the corners of his stepmother's mouth. “Your father was just like that. Quiet and modest, even when he'd done something great.”

She rarely talked about his father, which made her words even more important. Jason stared, suddenly hungry for something that was not a sandwich or potato chip or waiting cookie.

“He would do these remarkable things yet seem so humble about it. . . .” Her voice trailed off and she bit her lip. She sighed and looked down at the brochure. “Well, I see there's a deadline here. Midnight tonight to accept. That doesn't give us much time to think about it. I'm not happy about this, letting him go when he's hurt and all. My husband's mother has offered to take him.”

“From what I heard, it's a grand opportunity.” Mrs. Cowling smiled brightly at them. “The references are good, and the program seems very interesting.”

“You've checked it thoroughly?”

Mrs. Cowling smiled so brightly her cheeks glowed like polished apples. “I think Ravenwyng would be just perfect for Jason.”

“A camp for geeks?” His voice squeaked and he shut his mouth.

Mrs. Cowling studied him. “A camp for bright, interesting people.”

He ducked his head, slightly embarrassed.

“Unless, of course, Jason, you'd rather not consider it. It's up to you. Grandma or . . . geek camp.” Joanna watched him.

Put that way, he didn't have much of a choice.

Camp. Be careful what you wish for . . .

4

“
G
OT everything?” Joanna asked for the tenth time that morning.

“I think so. Clothes, extra shoes, sleeping bag . . .” Jason paused, tugging on a fastening strap. In addition, the staff at Ravenwyng had sent her a list, and she'd promptly taken Jason in hand and gone off to find the several rather odd items at the bottom.
A Field Guide to Herbs,
a book on Celtic mythology (any book, the list had stated), a jeweler's loupe, and a handful of star charts.

Ever resourceful, his stepmother had had no trouble in finding any of the items. She'd been unfazed by the oddity, as well, even when the shop selling the star charts had also tried to sell her a deck of tarot cards. Jason rather regretted that she hadn't given in and bought those as well. The colorful designs and intrigue of the deck caught his attention with a delightful curiosity.

“Fortune-telling?” the shopkeeper had commented, with a shake of her dangling coin bracelet and a wink at Jason. He hovered over the card with a magician brightly painted on it until Joanna clucked her tongue and dragged him out of the shop.

“It's not scientific,” she'd explained briskly, before hauling him down to the Wal-Mart to buy new shorts and socks.

Lots of things were not scientific, Jason thought, as he piled the sleeping bag and duffel near the front door and checked his watch. What was it that kept you hanging around the kitchen for a few minutes, without knowing why, until the phone rang? Or just knowing you were gonna be it the second before your name was called? He hadn't argued with her then, and he wouldn't now. Instead, he wondered how neat it would be if the laundry ink pen they'd used to mark his clothing could be invisible ink that wouldn't show at all till wet. Then it could read: Jason Adrian . . . someone remarkable.

“You're sure you have everything? Flashlight?”

“I have everything,” he said firmly. In fact, he had one or two things beyond everything, having sneaked back to that store and bought the deck of tarot cards which was still in its wrapper, unopened, only that front card on the box which held it visible, the rest of its wonders to be savored later.

Alicia leaned against the doorjamb. “I hope there won't be this much fuss when I go,” she remarked.

“That will be different, dear. We'll have to drive to the airport and put you on the plane.” Joanna sighed slightly. “You'll only have two carry-on bags, and your camcorder and violin. Dear, dear, we'll have to do some more planning on that. Perhaps a trunk would be better, insured, of course. Going by plane is much more complicated than going by van.” She moved away from the door and Jason's bags, as she frowned and took out her folio to start making some notes. She drifted off in thought.

He took a deep breath, grateful for the recess. Alicia took a step to follow her mother off, then stopped, considering him. “I didn't say this before.” She tucked a blonde strand of hair behind her ear. “I think it's neat, actually. You winning and everything. I mean, we're all astonished you could do something like that. I hope you have fun.”

“Thanks. Me, too. I mean, I hope you have fun.”

“Oh, I will.” Alicia smiled and she sounded as if she had no doubt whatsoever in the world. She bounced a quick step down the foyer and after her mother's disappearing form. “Mom! I think I need new shoes, too. . . .”

McIntire had already crushed Jason's hand in good-bye before going off to his latest construction site.

So he sat alone in the small foyer, looking out the arched doorway, waiting to leave. The bus would be parked at the school grounds for precisely one half hour to gather students. He still didn't know exactly where he was going. The brochure had promised “clean air, cool water, newly renovated campsite in the Sierra Nevadas with all the amenities but phone usage and television prohibited to promote creativity among the campers.” Cellular phones would not work because of the remote location and mountainous surroundings. That was something he could not imagine here. A faint haze of dirt and smog shimmered over the horizon as far as he could see, and even the foothills had towers to transmit signals. You'd think Northern California was like faraway Tibet or something.

How far away could it be?

A crow winged past, with a raucous caw.

Startled, Jason jumped to his feet, wincing as his ankle pulled. He blinked and leaned out the doorway. As quickly as it had flown over, the dark shadow was gone. The hairs at the back of his neck prickled. His eyes stung, and he looked at his watch. He'd gone to sleep sitting in the doorway! He grabbed his duffel while yelling toward the back of the house, “Mom! We've gotta go.”

He hefted his sleeping bag and was out to the curb, loading the family van without waiting for an answer. Alicia and Joanna came out in a few moments to find him perched and ready.

The high school parking lot had filled. There were three camp buses—two, long, yellow, and shiny, each with a name stenciled boldly down the side. Sam had already left for soccer camp, so there was no sense looking for him there. Campers and parents circled around these buses, the luggage bays open, and sleeping bags and suitcases and duffels being tossed in by tall, tan camp counselors in white shirts, khaki shorts, and well-laced hiking boots. He took in the sight of a campus that awed him a bit, and the milling crowds of kids, counselors, and parents with cameras. It was definitely camper day, and this was definitely the launch point for any number of camps in the area.

Joanna drove past very slowly, searching. “That's not it,” she said, peering at a bus.

“Nor that one.” Alicia rubbed her nose thoughtfully.

Jason stared across the school. At the end of the lot, a battered, short bus sat with its sides painted white, a large coal-black wing outstretched in flight adorning it. “There!”

“Are you sure?”

“It has to be,” Alicia said loftily. “Ravenwyng. How obvious. Bet you're glad it's not called Crow's Toes.” Jason snorted at the teasing.

Joanna parked a few slots away, a tiny frown line between her eyes. “Not many here.”

Alicia wrinkled her nose. “Old bus.”

His stepmother did not look much happier as she stepped out of the van. “Do you think it's safe? It doesn't look very . . . very . . .”

Jason got out quickly before Joanna could mention Grandma McIntire again or think those second thoughts he could see settling in like wispy clouds. He grabbed his bags. “It's fine! New tires and everything, Mom. Look.” He kicked one as he passed, headed to the curb where he'd spotted a pile of backpacks and bags. A tall, older boy smiled faintly as he approached, and pointed at the stack.

“Throw it anywhere for Ravenwyng.” He watched as Jason did so, then turned his attention back to the Gameboy in his hands.

The man at the fore of the bus came around to meet them, smiling.

He stood and watched as the driver swept a baseball cap off his waving, dark brown hair and bowed.

“Gavan Rainwater, at your service.” He looked at Jason then, his vivid blue eyes shining with laughter. “Said your good-byes? Have all your gear?” He wore a tie-dyed shirt that brought out the brightness of his eyes, and faded jeans, and his hair curled down to his shoulders. He leaned on a cane, the carved silver wolf's head cupped in the palm of his free hand although he did not look the least bit crippled. The wolf's jaws held a large crystal in its teeth.

Jason stared, a little uncertain.

“I am speaking to Jason Adrian?”

“Ah. Yes, sir.”

“Ready to go?” Gavan tapped the side of the bus gently, knocking the wolf's snout against the raven wing. “Hello and well met!” He beamed at Alicia and her mom as they came around the side of the bus. He bowed with a flourish. “Your sisters drove you?” He smiled past Jason at Joanna, and he could hear his stepmother make a flustered noise as they shook hands and Joanna explained that, no, she was his mother.

Rainwater answered, “No? Really?” as he shook hands all around. Joanna's face pinked, and Alicia rolled her eyes while Jason looked over the other campers. Barely a handful waited. The tall boy was quite clearly the oldest, by several years. A long-haired Asian girl, her face intent on a paperback book held in her hands as she sat cross-legged against the school grounds fence seemed to be waiting by the Ravenwyng gear; he wasn't sure. He could not catch the title of her book, but the cover looked like it was a fantasy of some kind, a flowing white horse and a minstrel or someone leaning against it. She looked up, smiled faintly, then went back to reading.

Two boys his age or a bit older sat on their sleeping bags, bolstered by the chain-link fencing, steadfastly ignoring everyone around them. They were playing cards, attention riveted on the colorful squares in their hands, looking up once and then back to their game as though nothing else were more interesting. One had flaming red hair and the other looked as wide as he was tall, but in a muscular way, and grunted every now and then over a card.

A car chugged in next to the bus. With a battered fender and dings all around, it smelled hot, and before it was fully parked, the girl inside had the door open. “Wait for me! Wait!” she cried out, all arms and legs, and dark golden-brown hair bobbing in a ponytail. Her hair caught the late afternoon sun in streaks of platinum. Her camping gear left the car in an avalanche, her body caught in the middle. Breathlessly, she kissed her mom good-bye. “I'll write! I promise! Lots and lots.”

Her mother seemed an older version of the girl—heart-shaped face, no freckles, though, her own golden-brown hair pulled back at the nape of her neck. She laughed. “Slow down, Bailey, they're not even loading yet!” She laughed again as Gavan Rainwater took her hand. “I really recommend you keep her away from caffeine for a day or two,” she said to the counselor.

He smiled. “Madam, your daughter is enchanting.”

“That's one word for it.” She tugged on Bailey's ponytail in a fond way. “I talked with an Eleanora. Isn't she here?”

Gavan Rainwater gave a slight bow. “She is most definitely here. She left in search of drinking water, I expect her back any moment now.” He produced a small slip of paper out of nowhere. “Well. One lad still expected, one Henry Squibb, and then we're off!”

Jason bent to help Bailey. She bent over at the same time, knocking their heads with an audible clunk. He staggered back a step. Bailey's face turned red as she stammered an apology and they both reached for the same bag, her hand grabbing his wrist instead. She jumped back as if burned, and practically fell over the young woman who had appeared by the front of the bus.

“Good heavens.” She caught Bailey by the shoulders and steadied her, dusting her off. “Everyone here yet?”

Gavan bowed. “Even as promised, the incredibly talented Eleanora Andarielle.”

The young woman flushed slightly and gave the group a little curtsy. She wore black from head to toe, although her skirt had small white flowers sprinkled on it, and the gauzy material looked thin and light. She wore a barely seeable white underblouse, a billowing long-sleeved black blouse over it. “Not incredible, just a bit thirsty.” She wore a very large and apparently heavy music case over one shoulder. She put a slender hand out to Bailey's mother and then to Joanna. “So pleased to meet everyone.”

Bailey leaned close and whispered, “What did we get for counselors? Rejects from a Grateful Dead concert? He's in tie-dyes and she's a Victorian Goth.”

He glanced at the counselors. Indeed, they seemed a world away from the khaki-and sandal-dressed adults standing at the other end of the parking lot, clipboards in their hands and whistles round their necks, tanned legs showing under their shorts.

The noise of one of the sleek buses firing up and preparing to pull out at the other end of the lot almost drowned out her soft voice. As it passed them, Jason could hear voices already raised in a chanting song, punctuated by cheers and laughter.