Before long I’m overrun with students getting off and running through the halls and up the stairs. I make my way safely to a corner and wait there for the madness to stop.

“That is the one I was telling you about.” I hear the second-row girl tell her friend. I pretend not to notice them.

“The Langdale?” the other girl asks. Second-row girl nods eagerly. “Is she really as amazing as they say?”

“Well, she did get us cokes,” she answers.

“That’s not what I meant - can she really do as much as people say she can? Is she really that talented?”

“Well, all she really showed us was that she could move some pearls around. By the end of the lesson so could I.”

“You were playing with pearls today?” she asks and laughs. Pearls are for children.

“It’s harder than it sounds,” she defends herself.

“Well, if you ask me, the Langdale name has been blown way out of proportion, and if she can do it, it really can’t be all that hard. I bet even Boy could do it,” she mocks. The girl has never even met me.

“Well, well, well.” A boy makes his way through the crowd to stand right in front of me. “I think we’ve found the Langdale girl.” He laughs at the guys behind him. “I heard you showed quite the skill today.” He looks about 17 maybe, possibly a little younger.

“I heard this school is a gossip factory,” I reply. He laughs two short laughs in condescending politeness.

“Nice one. Nice one. You and I girl, you and I.”

“I don’t think so.” I try to move away. I haven’t had to deal with teenage boys since I left school - at least not ones I’m not related to.

“Meet me on the rooftop on the full moon,” he orders me with a confident smile I choose to attribute to his lack of years, funny how just two years can make such a difference when you’re on that side of 20.

“I seriously doubt it,” I tell him again and make another attempt at moving past him.

“There you are,” a familiar voice exclaims and soon Miriam has broken through the circle of guys. “I’ve been looking for you. I heard they let you teach a class today?”

“No way, not this one. This one is a scared little kitten, they wouldn’t let her teach a toad.”

“Go away, Kevin.”

“I was talking to the new school genius,” he complains. “I must say she’s not all she’s cracked up to be, she refuses to meet me on the roof.”

“Seriously, the roof again? Have you got nothing better to do with your time?”

“What are you going to do about it? Tell mom?”

“You know she doesn’t like you fighting.” It’s not hard to guess which is the older sibling.

“I’m just introducing myself,” he says and backs away with his arms out in a half shrug.

“I hope he wasn’t bothering you too much,” she turns to me and says.

“I’m fine. What is the deal with the rooftop?”

“Older students meet up there on full moons and duel. It’s good fun really, but Kevin hasn’t been defeated in a while, and he’s getting a bit cocky.”

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“You duel? Like with your powers?”

“Yeah. Kevin is in Nature. He’s only in 337, but I still can’t beat him.”

“Too bad.” I shrug.

“It would be really nice if someone could,” she hints.

“Yeah, I suppose that would be nice for you,” I agree.

At five to eight that night I am standing outside the dark blue door on the seventh floor wondering what kind of tests they will be giving me and feeling just a tad bit nervous. So far I’ve learned that being a Langdale means people will expect much more of you, but they would also prefer if you didn’t live up to those expectations. I wonder if it’ll be the same in there. I hate exams, and the teachers rooting for me to fail won’t make it any better. I take a deep breath and knock on the door.

“Come in,” a voice calls and the door is opened. I step over the doorstep and look around. The headmaster is here, and so are the two teachers from yesterday as well as Sasha’s mother.

“Take a seat.” The headmaster indicates to one of the couches. “I believe you have been told why you are here?”

“To take a test.”

“To help us judge where you would best fit in and what studies might benefit you,” he corrects.

“A test,” I agree. He then explains a whole lot of useless stuff, like what classes are available to me, how the school is arranged, how to navigate the island, and that I can’t leave without special permission. It’s all pretty straightforward and just a tad bit obvious. Level one is learning basic control of your ability, level two is fine-tuning, level three is practical application. Level four is for the ones who wish to work with their ability, like people who want to join the InT or teach at one of the schools. The teachers then parade in one after another asking me to do all sorts of stuff. It’s four hours of “float this”, “move that”, “summon this” and “catch that”. They check my ability to move heavy things, to move tiny things, to catch things that were in motion, to set things in motion, and so on and so on. When they start testing from how far away I can pick up an object the teacher from yesterday buds in and tells them not to bother, I fetched cokes from the village. Admittedly that is the furthest I can remember going, but once you’ve got the principle of it down and don’t need to see to know where you are, it’s pretty straightforward. The last teacher to come in is the one who showed me the tower. He comes in and takes his seat across from me, but he doesn’t give a task like the others. Instead, he asks:

“Do you have anything you want to show me you can do?” I consider him for a moment.

“What would that be?”

“Anything you’re proud of, anything you don’t think most transporters can.” I think about it.

“I can make a car drive on its own. Something like that?”

“You can what?” Sasha’s mother asks astounded. I pretend she’s not there.

“Yes, something like that,” the teacher agrees. “I heard you do blind locating too? I guess that’d be necessary to make a car drive on its own, but is it something you could show me?” I sigh. Here we go with the “move this” banter again.

“What do you want me to move?” I ask. He looks around for a second before pulling a single thread off of his jacket and placing it on the table.

“Move this, but without touching it.”

“I haven’t touched a single thing all day,” I inform him in annoyance.

“That’s not what I meant. You can’t mentally touch it either.” I look him in the eye for a second.

“Fine.” I close my eyes and flip my wrist. The table turns over. I sense his head looking down and know that he’ll be looking at the table hovering just above his feet. I smile and throw myself back on the couch with my feet on the armrest. I throw the table up in the air and hold the lamp out of the way. I throw it upwards three times like I’m playing with a tennis ball. I hear the other couch squeak and footsteps coming towards me. I listen carefully to him stop by my head. I keep flinging the table up and holding the lamp out of the way, but I also feel around to locate him more precisely. The heat of a human body makes them easy to locate, so I have him in no time. I lock onto his clothes so he can’t feel me. I don’t move it, I just keep track of it. I throw the table up again and feel his sleeve move towards me. I move my head out of the way so his hand misses.

“Very good,” he says. I know, I know, I’m a stupid showoff. I’ve always hated that in others, but right now the only connection I have with my family is my name, and around here my name means having to show off. “Now stop moving your hand,” he tells me. My eyes open and I let the table drop back down to its original position and the lamp swing back.

“That can’t be done,” I tell him. “Everybody uses their hands, everybody makes some movement.”

“Not everybody.” He smiles.

“I don’t believe you.”

“My grandmother didn’t,” he tells me. “Your movements are your weakness if you want to be the best you have to work on that.”

“Whoever said I want to be the best?”

“Your Langdale pride did,” he tells me, and after my little exhibit here and in the classrooms I have no right to contradict him.

“It is decided then,” the headmaster says. “She will be attending history and theory lessons, and have practical with you Professor Holt.”

“Room 640, at 8AM,” he tells me.