“One, two, three, four and one, two, three—Turn.”

It wasn’t his Skill that counted this time. Micah moved in tune with his instructor’s voice as the group turned a messy circle on the dancefloor.

They wore dress shirts and pants, jogging pants, gym shorts, slippers, shoes, and polished dress shoes. It was a haphazard collection and a haphazard performance.

He still tried to enjoy the movement, the music with its odd echo, the feeling of another person’s hand in his, skin to skin.

Dancing could be fun if you didn’t take it too seriously, if you got lost in it, or if you did take it seriously and were rewarded for your efforts—almost no matter what you did. But so many things pulled on his head and attention, they threatened to pull him out of orbit.

Chin up, elbow up, back straight, don’t look around too much. Other people can see everything you do.

He turned his gym shoe without looking, placed it on polished laminate, and threw his arm out.

Myra’s feet, Myra’s hand, check her eyes to make sure you’re not doing anything too wrong.

She looked content enough as she twirled in front of him, considering how much shorter than her usual partners he was.

Take her hand, continue to move, don’t bump into any other couples—

One, two, three, four, and one, two, three, his mind counted when their instructor was busy with something else.

Truthfully, it could have been peaceful even with all the overflowing thoughts. He did enjoy these lessons, but—

“THOMAS!”

Micah nearly jumped.

“Lift your hand back up or I will smack you, man!”

There was that.

“Keep up your space, people! You can grind on each other any other time but this party! If you want to flirt, take it outside. Not in my classroom!”

Their instructor liked to yell and the things he yelled were embarrassing, but even so, their small gym inside the Guild building was packed. Three dozen small conversations threatened to overshadow the music.

“Don’t slow down. Pick up the pace, people. How hard can it be?”

It wasn’t, but if the couple ahead didn’t move, they couldn’t just bump into them. The entire circle would slow down until there was a pile-up.

He seemed unconcerned with the issue. “Ugh. You all look like a bunch of bumbling goats. You’re supposed to glide across the dancefloor!”

You’re the goat.

Mr. Campbell. He was in his late twenties and offered lessons in their school districts’ community center. The school had hired him to prepare the students for an evening among high society and despite being loud, strict, and calling them names, the girls seemed to like him.

Micah didn’t. He had no idea why. It wasn’t like he disliked strict teachers, but every time the man raised his voice, he nearly flinched as if he had made a mistake. He’d made more than enough before getting this far after all and any new shout could be directed at him—

“Micah!”

Case in point.

He nearly stepped on Myra’s foot and had to pull aside to avoid bumping into her, but they were out of sync with the rest of the circle anyway.

“Stop slouching! What, were you raised by wolves?! Keep your back straight! I won’t tell you again! We rise with both feet.”

He demonstrated with impeccable form. Heads turned to watch. Most of them were girls.

Micah didn’t get it. He was used to climbers’ by now and the man’s muscles, tight clothes, and the way he moved as if every step was practiced all looked weird to him.

But he still nodded in passing to show he’d gotten the message. Myra helped him find their way back into orbit and he got a few more seconds of enjoyment before the next person screwed up.

“At least, you’re not stepping on any toes anymore,” she mumbled when they were out of sight.

He sighed. “Thank you.”

“I meant that as a thinly-veiled complaint.”

“Oh.” He nearly slouched again.

Mean.

Why was he even friends with her again? She was only nice to people who did well. He wanted to practice with Lisa. At least, she was as bad as he, but Micah was trying. He was giving it his all and couldn’t practice with people who would slack off the moment their instructor looked away.

It was just hard. When the count continued and music swelled, the students flowed and were expected to rise. An elegant, sweeping motion with a spin and sometimes a dip led by the guys came next.

Micah had to stretch up on his tip-toes like a kid trying to reach something on a high shelf to do it right, because Myra was so much taller than him and …

… he couldn’t reach any higher than that.

He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t do anything about it. His left side naturally slouched a bit and it sucked.

At least, nobody noticed this time but he still hated this part.

“Alright, alright,” Mr. Campbell shouted with a clap, “take five. We’ll start from the top and switch. No excuses this time, I expect you all to find new partners!”

The music continued, but the couples broke up. Myra unceremoniously let go of him and left through the growing crowd.

His hand felt so empty then.

He went the opposite way for his water bottle and wiped the sweat from his brow. It was late and the room overcrowded, but he was still surprised how much he sweat just from dancing in circles.

He drew some essences from the water and a draft near the door to create a pocket of cool around himself and circled around to find Lisa.

His mistake was taking the short way around as, before he could get too far, Mr. Campbell appeared in front of him, a few of his teacher’s pets waiting off to the side to speak with him.

Rumor had it some kids had even gotten the [Dancer] Class.

“Micah,” he said.

“Uhm, yes, sir?”

“You’re still slouching. What’s up with that? You’ve improved a lot since we started, I’ll admit it, but posture is important. How are you still struggling with this?”

“I … don’t know?”

It was a lie, but it didn’t matter what he said. The man had his own idea of what was up.

“It’s because your head’s not in the right space, that’s why.” He stabbed a finger at his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter if you have the rhythm or steps down if your torso is flapping around like a leaf in the wind.” He demonstrated, overexaggerating. “It’s the same as combat, I imagine. You don’t fight with your arm alone and let your body do whatever it wants, do you?”

“No, sir.”

“Then don’t do that here. You have to keep your entire body in mind. You should know that by now. What will it take to get the idea into that skull of yours?”

“A break, sir?” he asked, throwing the man off his rhythm. It was a half-truth, but he kept his hands still even while his mind shouted at him to do something—anything—with them.

No. Just act natural.

His eyebrows went up fractionally.

“It’s just, it’s been a long day, sir,” Micah seized the moment, “and I’m still recovering from the exam, so I’m exhausted—”

It must have been the wrong thing to say. “Well, of course, dancing is exhausting!” the man interrupted him.

Micah nearly winced. Seriously, he was standing right in front of him. He didn’t have to be so overenthusiastic.

“What, do you think fighting monsters is the only thing that’s physically demanding? After a day in the Tower, will you tell your enemies you need a break? No! You need to keep up.”

“I know, I know,” he said. He did have a point. “It’s just, my back hurts when I move it wrong and— But I’ll do better by next week! I promise. You’ll see, sir.”

Lies.

“You better. Now, go find someone other than Lisa and Myra to dance with for once.” He gave him a little push and Micah nodded, shuffling away.

He found Lisa waiting for him a few steps off to the side. “Special attention from the teacher?” she asked. “That sounds like good news to me.”

His eyebrows went up and he looked around with a confused look on his face. “You mean me?”

Apparently, she didn’t get what he was doing right away. “Yeah, you. He spoke to you just now.”

“I wasn’t sure you were talking to me. I wasn’t sure you would show up at all.” She had been avoiding them ever since the exam.

Now, her expression changed. She looked in part hurt, in part annoyed and said, “Don’t do that.”

“Sorry, but—”

“Yeah, why did you show up?” Myra asked as she walked up and Lisa sighed.

Micah frowned. So she wouldn’t hang out with him alone?

“With your two left feet, do you really think anyone is going to invite you to a party?”

“If I wanted to, Myra, I could just go there, unlike you.”

“Oh, so since you can’t cut it, your patron has to bail you out. As always.”

Micah sighed and briefly, stared daggers at Myra from the corner of his eyes. Shoo, shoo.

He wanted to tell her to leave so he could talk to his friend but … he wasn’t sure that was such a good idea. This, the two of them going at it, was something familiar that always managed to bring a smile to Lisa’s face. Maybe it was better to let her have that.

“Hey,” he still interrupted their bickering before he could stop himself, “we’re still good for going climbing during summer break, right?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Lisa said. “Definitely.”

He hesitated, unsure if he should say it because he did feel bad but … “So we have to plan that out sometime soon, right? Maybe at your place?”

They did need to talk.

Ohh, she mouthed and looked … almost disappointed? He wished he could wear his glasses to know for sure. Her body language could be so weird sometimes.

But she said, “Yeah, we can do that,” and Micah sighed.

“Which floor do you want to go to?” Myra asked and their conversation picked back up.

“All of them.”

“All of them?”

“We have to hit as many as possible while we still have the chance, right Micah?”

He nodded with a small smile and listened for a moment but excused himself soon enough and took a sip of his water.

Because then again, he did need to find a new partner soon. Sure, he could wait until the last minute and awkwardly ask the nearest girl to dance with him, but that was a sure-fire way of getting paired up with someone who didn’t care—or nobody at all if someone was absent.

More than once, he’d been stuck waiting on the sidelines with some other guys because there weren’t enough girls to dance with, and he had seen it happen the other way around, too.

He wandered the crowd, dodging around the odd still-dancing pair, and searched for someone who looked approachable.

Bright red hair drew his attention, tied up into a sloppy bun with a floral scarf. A lock had slipped out and hung down the side of her head, but it looked nice.

Micah needed a moment to remember her name, but she was another one of the few who had skipped grades to attend this year. “Saskia?” he tried.

She had finished talking to a friend and stood in a bubble alone, but that friend stopped leaving when she greeted him back, “Micah.”

Shoot.

He tried not to focus on the friend. “Uhm, you wouldn’t happen to have a partner for the next song already, would you …?”

“Uh, no?”

“So … would you … want to dance with me?” he asked. It was only one more round, guessing by how long the course had been going, and she needed to find someone, too, right …?

She stared at him with a hint of a smile. He stared back, focusing on the freckles of her nose and sheen of sweat instead of her eyes.

There was a pause and he didn’t get the sense it was because she was considering her answer. Some girls did that. Some panicked as they tried to find a way of getting out of the question or letting him down easy. But others …

He got the sense they enjoyed it? The suspense. Especially when their friends were watching.

Brent said it was because they were playing hard-to-get and that some guys enjoyed it, too. The ‘chase’, whatever that meant.

Micah thought if you both wanted to be together and there was nothing standing in the way—like being too busy or not being good enough yet—whether it be for something as simple as a dance lesson or getting together, like on a date, why drag it out? Wouldn’t you get more enjoyment out of each others’ company than whatever emotion the suspense got you?

And if not, what was the point of trying?

Either way, it was torture.

Thankfully, she didn’t make a big deal of it. Her smile grew and she said, “Sure. Why not?”

He smiled back in relief and held up his bottle. “Great, then I’ll just put this away and be right back?”

“I’ll be here.”

He took another sip along the way, buzzing happily, and dallied a bit before he went back so he wouldn’t wait so long for the music to start.

It distorted on his way back as their instructor reset the needle and called out for them to find their places.

This is better, he thought as he took Saskia’s hand, placed his other hand on her shoulder, and lifted his elbow up to support hers. She was closer to his own height, closer to the height of the person he actually wanted to dance with, but who didn’t attend because she could probably already dance better than he ever could.

It still wasn’t perfect, he knew as they began and he needed to wrangle his leg, but it had gotten better every day until maybe, he might not have to have lied to their instructor at all.

Maybe it could all work out.

He forgot his bottle in the gym.

The locker rooms emptied quickly. Most guys had come from previous arrangements and would head back to their more familiar dorms to wash up for dinner.

Or not. Some just stunk up until bed, and even then.

But gossip was the only thing that kept them and that could continue into the halls, so when Micah remembered to fetch it and came back, most of the others had left.

Normally, he might walk back with Lisa until they had to split up toward their dorms, or he would tag along with someone if she was absent, but she had been avoiding him lately so …

He hesitated.

The gym was still open, which wasn’t too weird. The school kept the gyms open most of the time so the students could distract themselves from the fact that they couldn’t enter the Tower. There were schedules for teacher supervision if they wanted to use equipment or try out anything dangerous.

He guessed he’d just thought Mr. Campbell was the type to lock up behind himself.

Slowly, Micah pushed the door open. The man had turned off the lights and taken any crystals he’d brought with him. The gym was dark and silent. But even the record player still stood on its table off to the side and something like it was expensive.

What if someone broke it or stole it? Was Mr. Campbell still around?

He poked his head out the entrance doors but only caught the back of a pair leaving at the end of the corridor.

He wouldn’t be in the girls’ locker room. There was no other place for him to be. Had he forgotten the record player then, or did he always leave it here? Was it his or the school’s or guild’s? Micah had never stepped into the gym early enough to see him set up or arrive.

Huh.

He was alone.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

He turned a lamp on. The flame cast a filthy yellow light through the glass, which he took and breathed up like a plume of ash along the walls, hoping it would thin out. It didn’t.

Ugly.

He spun away from it all toward his flickering shadows ahead and went for the table out of curiosity.

He began to limp. Stopped. He pushed up on his leg, fell, and rose again. He got too close and curved, heading along the wall away instead, no idea what he would even do with it if he got too close.

Music would be too loud, right?

He ran. He limped again without meaning to. Stopped. Micah took a moment to catch his breath and swayed on the spot.

Make a doctor’s appointment.

He didn’t want to.

On a whim, he danced alone in the dark, hands up to an invisible partner, moving to an imagined tune.

One, two, three, four, and one, two, three— Spin. He leaned into it until he stumbled with a smile. That was something he couldn’t do that during lessons.

On the first day, he had been atrocious. His rhythm had been off, his posture even worse, the placement of his feet—he’d limped, danced out of orbit, and worse, stepped on his partners’ toes.

It had been funny until it hadn’t.

But he’d improved over time. He’d practiced and ironed out the worst of it. Nobody noticed the little wrinkles and cheats he used to appear normal.

Nobody but their stupid instructor. He hadn’t caught on to why yet, but it was only a matter of time until he did.

Until everyone does.

During the party, all eyes would be on them, the students, for a few minutes. Maybe if Micah practiced enough, he could get through those minutes without a problem …?

And then? After the party? He would still have to go to the hospital if he got through it all. Not just because he was falling back into old habits—bad habits—but because he was a climber now, dammit. He couldn’t ignore … this.

He stopped and made sure he really was alone. Being caught dancing would be embarrassing enough, but this?

He pushed up one foot, let himself fall again, swayed and spun toward the nearest wall.

There, he plopped himself down, straight back against cold stone, and stretched both legs out in front of him.

He waggled them with a frown, placed a hand on his left shin, and pushed.

“C’mon.”

It didn’t work. He wiggled back on his butt but the only space he covered was space he created with the movement. He was sitting right, press up against the stone, so why …?

“C’mon,” he said and pushed with both hands, harder, but his palms slipped along the fabric until he knocked against his kneecap. “Please.”

Why wasn’t it working?

He continued to press, grabbed his leg with both hands and pulled, but that didn’t do anything.

He pushed his knee down until it strained his tendons and that almost helped, but his right knee still had a bump compared to his left and it wasn’t perfect. It would still look different. They would still notice ...

“Please, no.”

This was all wrong, it wasn’t his flesh, his skin. He smacked his leg, willing it to change, dug his fingers into the meat of it, and—

Froze, unable to move, unable to hurt himself like that anymore.

Micah was simply trying to make his toes line up. He’d lied to himself all this time and written it off as his leg acting up, but there was no point to that anymore. He couldn’t deny it forever.

His right leg was longer than his left one.

He gasped out a laugh as he finally leaned forward. His tears fell on his pants as he raised his knees up and hugged them. “Fuck.”

----------------------------------------

“This sucks.”

Nobody commented, but their eyes flickered over across the room.

Shelves of materials crowded them in the old workshop. A small step led to the shop proper below, with rows and shelves of example wares on display instead and the counter near the door. The street was busy outside.

The elderly shoemaker kneeling in front of him glanced up and finished tying his shoe for him, then gave his leg a pat and said, “That should do the trick. Try walking around on it.”

Micah sighed and did as he was told, stepping down the ledge between two rows. He walked on a normal shoe on his right and a thicker sole on his left.

It … helped. A little. He was used to overcompensating by now so it felt weird walking around on a thicker sole. Wrong, somehow. He didn’t like it, but it did help.

“Good?” the man asked, and the question stood reflected on Ryan and Prisha’s faces as they waited off to either side of the threshold.

“I guess,” he mumbled. “I’ll have to get used to it. Unlearn some stuff and … Yeah. It works.”

He could stand firm now and not sway on his foot. In time, it would help with his other movements and he shouldn’t have any problems with his leg anymore, but … still.

He turned back and carefully took the step, which was embarrassing enough, but it would have been worse if he tripped on his first try because he’d misjudged the size of his shoe.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Prisha make a face at Ryan to nudge him into action and the guy said, “It’s not forever, right? The doctors said you will grow out of it.”

“Maybe.”

They had said there was a chance he might grow out of it.

He didn’t know why he had pushed it up for so long. After going to the hospital, he’d been seen after a few hours of waiting as a follow-up to his earlier treatment. The meeting had lasted a few minutes and the doctor hadn’t seemed too surprised.

“In that case, you can count yourself lucky,” the shoemaker said as he got up and wiped his hands on a cloth. “This is more common than you might think, especially among climbers, but there are people out there who suffer their entire lives without growing out from it.”

He could imagine. He just didn’t want to be one of them, not even for a little while. He hated having to wait until his next appointment without being able to do anything.

The problem was, apparently, that his broken leg had healed well. Too well. And now his left leg had to catch up.

Depending on whether or not it could—because the rest of his body was still growing, including his right leg—would determine if he grew out of it, it stayed the same, or got worse.

And in the meantime …

He stared at himself in a mirror mounted on the wall. It looked so obvious to him, that one of his soles was just a little bit larger than the other. Couldn’t they make it less obvious?

His clothes suddenly looked stupid, too. Mason was right. They looked cheap, worn out, the wrong size and … seeing him reflected in the mirror behind him, Micah realized he looked like a shitty knock-off of Ryan.

He tried to think of something that might suit him better and could only think of Vladi and Shala, the two guys who were his age at school whom he hung out with often enough to know they had good taste. But that was them. What did he like?

His eyes looked sunken, his skin stretched across his frame. He could probably use a haircut, too.

He didn’t know, but he did know, This isn’t who I want to be.

“It’s barely noticeable,” his sister lied. She must have thought he was still stuck on his shoe which now, he was again.

Why couldn’t his stupid leg have healed right?

“Right, Ryan?”

“Yeah. Barely noticeable. Unless you’re a weirdo who watches other people’s feet in public.”

She chuckled and Micah tried out a smile.

Maybe they weren’t lying. His sister was—probably—somewhat stylish for someone who lived in Westhill, and Ryan was awesome nine ways out of ten.

Micah didn’t even know how to dress himself, so what did he know?

… He didn’t even know how to dress himself, what did he know? Everyone probably thought he looked like an idiot.

“Is it alright?” Prisha asked him. “No complaints? Nothing else you want? If you think something is wrong, it would be better if you said it now.”

“I think …” Micah mulled it over, “I want to go clothes shopping, and item shopping, and I want to eat something.”

He had to eat a lot to make sure he would grow properly. He was trying to make food for his spirit now, at the very least he could also take care of his body.

She chuckled and stepped over to shove his head. “You’re such a girl.”

“Am not!”

Guys had meal plans. Every climber loved shopping.

Louder, Ryan echoed him, “No, he’s not,” and they looked at him. “You’re manly, big, and strong and all that, right?”

“Exactly!” Micah smiled and pointed as if to say, See? Even Ryan is backing me up here.

She rolled her eyes.

“But they do fit?” the shoemaker asked and Micah nodded, not wanting to waste the man’s time with their nonsense.

“Yes— I mean, I think so, sir. Thank you.” He moved his toes around a little and tilted his feet to the side to test the limits.

“Good. You mentioned two more pairs and a possible third? Gym shoes, a sturdy pair of climbing boots, and a pair of formal dress shoes?”

He nodded, a little daunted, but headed for his bag. Ryan lifted it up for him and he smiled in thanks and turned back.

“And I might have to get the size adjusted from time to time? Or buy new shoes when I need them anyways.”

“We can do that here. Easily. Bring them in if you feel like something is off or need any repairs. We can do the measurements, too, so you don’t necessarily have to have had a doctor’s appointment beforehand. In case you want to save time? I know how busy students are.”

“Yes. Thank you, sir.”

At least, someone got it.

He handed him the bag and the man headed for his workbench, saying, “It’s not a problem.”

He took one look and began to write a receipt for when Micah could pick them up, then headed for the front counter when another customer stepped inside. They greeted each other and the man asked a question. The shoemaker stepped aside to help him.

Micah awkwardly pressed down on his oversized sole as he followed them to the front and tried not to grimace, but when he got to the counter it came to the issue of paying and … then he had an entirely different thing to grimace about.

He suppressed a sigh as he stared down at his coins. So much for shopping or good food. If he kept this up, he would run out of money soon. Entirely.

And he still wanted to buy an actual pair of glasses.

His sister snuck up beside him, one hand in her pocket, and he glared at her. “Move the hand and lose the hand, Prisha.”

“What?”

“Your hand.” He nodded at it. “What’s in your pocket?”

She glared at him and slowly brought her coin purse out.

“I knew it! Put it back. I don’t only want the only times we hang out to be when I need money.”

“So you do need money?” she asked, focusing on the entirely wrong part of what he had said. “Look, I can just—”

She went to open it and he leaned over to snap his teeth at her wrist like a wild animal.

She stumbled back and groaned as he chased her off. “Micah! You’re such an idiot, you know that, right? What, did you get knocked in the head in the Tower, too?”

“I was, actually,” he said and happily dropped his coins in the tray, “multiple times. I would not recommend.”

“Me, neither,” Ryan said. “He threw up.” He noticed her expression and added, “But the doctors cleared him after the exam so we assume it wasn’t too serious?”

“Oh, well that’s just great.” She turned on him and her amusement and frustration faded. Her expressions he could read and …

Oops? She was so supportive, it was easy to forget that his sister wasn’t such a fan of the Tower after all. Maybe mentioning his injuries was pushing it too far?

“It’s fine,” Micah assured her. “I’ve only been inside the Tower like, twice in the last year and—”

“Now you’re going to go every day of the summer.”

“Not every day,” he interrupted her. “And those two times were only bad because we had to do our best for our exam. We’ll be more careful now.”

Not much more careful as he had to push himself to earn money, explore the Tower, level, and … maybeshowoffinfrontofAnne … but he would be a little more careful.

His sister looked doubtful, but then the shoemaker returned with an apology, and he turned away.

Micah brushed the man off, collected his receipt and change, and thanked him before heading out into an early summer day.

A day filled with people.

He held the door open for the other two and waited to fall in line behind them, a bit off to the side as they headed down the street.

His shoe felt like a swollen brick on his foot.

“So … shopping?” Prisha asked.

“Huh? Oh, uhm, not today …? I have some other stuff planned and if we’re going all the way back to Westhill, I’m not sure I’ll have the time.”

Let alone the funds.

“I was going to ask,” Ryan said, “I’m meeting up with Marcus and some of his friends later this afternoon for archery training. I was wondering if you wanted to come? You could get some practice in for that [Aimed Shot] Skill of yours.”

Prisha turned on him. “New Skill?”

“New Class,” Micah said, “but uhm, I would love to? Some other time? I still have that meeting with Ms. Denner today. I wanted to spend some time in the workshop on my spirit food and tidy up my notes. In case she asks about my Path, it’ll be best if I have something to show.”

He also didn’t want to butt in on Ryan’s scout time.

“Right.”

“New Class? Spirit food? A meeting with your principal?” Prisha asked. “You need to drop by more often. It feels like a miracle I found out about your leg at all.”

“Our principal does that for a lot of students,” Micah said, “whomever she can offer personal advice to. The spirit food, uhm … I’m trying to learn wind magic?“

“Why? And that relates to spirit food how?”

“I can turn potions into fog and it could help me manipulate that fog to attack enemies or aid allies. But—since I don’t have a spellcasting Path it’s easier for me to use my spirit instead of mana and just like any body, healthy meals can help a developing spirit grow.”

“Huh. So you are learning something at that ‘school’ of yours.” She made air quotes at him.

“Yes!” he insisted. “Yes, I am. We have nothing but time to learn theory because of stupid rules mom helped argue for.”

She smiled. “Yay, mom.”

“Boo, mom.”

“So no shopping, but we are hitting the market before we get back. If I can’t treat you to something here, at least we can cook something great at home.”

That was an idea Micah could get behind. “Ooh, then can we hit the Bazaar instead? You wanted to learn how to cook monsters, right? I can help.”

She made a face. “I was thinking something mom and dad might eat if either of them drop by for lunch?”

“Oh. They come in for lunch?”

“Sometimes?” She noticed the look on his face and swayed into him. “You know they’ll want to see you, right? Once they hear about your leg.”

He scowled. Yes, he knew. He could already imagine what they might say.

“It won’t be so bad. They were supportive when you first broke it, remember? And they’ll be proud of how you handled it already. Going to the doctor and getting your shoe fitted … It does fit, right?”

“Yes,” he hissed.

Why did she keep asking him that? He ground his heel into the stone on his next step and the shoe did fit. Not that it made wearing it any less embarrassing.

She watched him and, when she realized he wouldn’t say anything more, turned away. “And you, Ryan? Do you want to come?”

“Uh, sure? I have time … I could use a break from my studies anyway.”

“Studies? I thought your exams were over?”

“No, uh, not that. We actually found a spell—”

“We found a spellbook,” Micah beat him to it. That was something he was more than happy to talk about.

“Cool?”

“Lisa bought it from us to give to her cousin as a present, but she’s letting Ryan study it before she has to leave for … home.”

It felt weird saying that. Like a lie, but not as bad because it was for someone else? Except ‘not as bad’ was still bad. He didn’t like it.

“Which spells are you learning?” she asked and Micah couldn’t help but wonder, what if she had asked a follow-up question about ‘home’ instead?

Yeah, he definitely didn’t like it. He wondered how Anne handled this sort of thing, but she hung out with Lisa all the time and had never shown any problems talking about her.

If she could do that, be a good friend, Micah could learn, too.

“[Dancing Lights],” Ryan was saying.

Prisha tilted her head. “I thought you had a …” She gestured at her arm.

“His wristband?”

“I lost it during the entrance exam.”

“Oh, I remember now.”

“But only because he was trying to get a perfect score,” Micah said, “so that was uhm … not ‘worth it’,” he chose his words carefully, “but there was a reason for it? I mean, uhm—”

If it were him, he would think the ‘reason’ was that he hadn’t been good enough. He didn’t want Ryan to think that but didn’t know how to steer away from the thought.

“It might soften the blow?”

Ryan shrugged, disinterested, which was odd because he remembered how worked up about it he had been back then. They had spent ages looking for the item.

If it were him, he would still have been worked up about it. It had been expensive, too.

“It’s great you can learn it for yourself now without having to rely on an item?”

“Yeah,” he said and his sister turned back to him, but Ryan went on, “the book is kind of nature-themed, too, which is good for me. The spells build up on each other. It starts with [Firebolt] which is simple evocation, but I got the spell from a level up so I’m rereading its chapter to better understand the rest.”

Micah knew his sister. She looked like she was listening only to be polite but caught on the last bit. “You’re rereading [Firebolt] to better understand [Dancing Lights]?”

He nodded. “It’s evocation but with a duration charge and requires attention to manipulate. It’s more like, the lessons sort of build on each other.”

“How many spells does it have?”

“Six.”

Micah watched them with a smile. He walked closer to the side of the street and a step behind, away from the people, so he doubted they noticed. It was nice to his sister and Ryan getting along.

“The third is [Reinforcement] which teaches you how to make mana … corporeal? Physical? It’s hard to describe, but it leads into the spells that follow, [Conjure Thorns] and [Thornwhip].”

“Do you know how to use a whip?”

“I’ve never even tried, but I doubt I’ll get that far anyway. If I learn [Reinforcement] in time, I’ll count myself lucky. I’m more interested in the sixth spell, which is the hardest. It combines the lessons from all the previous ones, [Lightning Bugs]. I doubt I’ll learn it in time, either.”

“You can always continue to study on your own, even after you lose access to the book.”

He nodded. “I will, but that’s a topic for another day and I’ve studied enough spells for one week. I’d rather think about food. What are we cooking?” He smiled.

“Uhh, I was thinking a hearty home-cooked meal for a change. Some baked chicken breast, croquettes or maybe a casserole, steamed vegetables, and red cabbage with a bit of hunter’s sauce?”

“You had me on the first half,” Micah said, “but that just sounds like cafeteria food.”

“There is no way you’d get that in your school cafeteria.”

“In pieces?”

“They cook in bulk,” Ryan said, “so it’s all kind of … bland and mismatched. It’s still good but it won’t taste nearly as good as something you help us make.”

“You said that exactly right, because you two are going to help. There’s no way I’m doing all of the work alone.”

“Dibs on peeling the potatoes,” Ryan said.

Micah frowned at him for a second in surprise, because he was being awfully talkative all of a sudden where he had been just as reclusive as Lisa all week before, but then he caught on to what the guy had said and protested, “Hey, I’m the one with the knife Skill!”

“And I’m the one who literally doesn’t know how to do anything else.”

“You can chop the carrots,” Prisha told him.

“See?”

“But we’re not spending the entire time back talking about cooking. I want to know what else the two of you have been getting up to lately.”

“We found a Kobold’s hoard during our exam?” Ryan offered, “but we teamed up with a group from another school so we’re going to have to meet up with them soon to divide it.”

“Oh, yeah. It was huge!” Micah said.

“Loot,” Prisha said as if trying the word out, or maybe like she was deciding whether or not to ask about it. Apparently, she made her decision and turned on Ryan. “And how was your exam?”

Ryan winced and rubbed the back of his neck. “It went … so-so. A lot of good, some bad.”

“Really?”

Why was she asking him? Micah wondered with a smidge of indignation. Did she not trust him?

But no, he knew it was because Ryan was being his rare outgoing self and wondered about that instead, why he was talking all of a sudden—maybe he had just needed a week to read a spellbook in peace for a week to ‘recharge’?—until the guy glanced over, looked into his eyes, down at his foot.

Oh.

It was an unspoken question.

Micah nearly missed a step as he followed his eyes down. He had to squeeze around a giant stone flower box on the road and step over a doorstep to keep up.

Ryan was just watching out for him, as always, being talkative to distract his sister in case her questions became too much.

He even started to explain to her how he had screwed up during the exam and a bit of her friendliness faded as her eyes judged him.

Did he enjoy it, looking out for him? Did he see it as a burden? Was he really relaxed and disinterested about the things that had plagued him not so long ago or was his face a lie?

Micah didn’t know. But he wished—oh boy, did he wish he could know for sure if his friend— friends were happy or if there was anything more he could do in the moment to help them.

Because some things didn’t add up and he couldn’t put his finger on what, only sense the faulty sum, but they made him think that maybe, he didn’t know Ryan so well after all, or didn’t know what was going through his head.

Kind of like Lisa’s confession of her home.

And sure, he would rather wait until Ryan was ready to talk if and when there was something to talk about, as she had done—and underneath all the confusion and worry, he was happy about Lisa’s confession—but he also wanted to be someone others could talk to; but he also wanted to have an inkling of what was going on beforehand so he didn’t feel like an ass.

In other words, he wanted to be a good friend.

But he knew he would probably never be able to look at Ryan with his new glasses and that wasn’t really the goal. They were a stepping stone into multiple directions, a better understanding of essences on the one hand … and a better understanding of people on the other.

Hitting a whole flock of birds at once.

He only wished that stone would fly faster because, for now, all he could do was smile back at him in thanks when Ryan met his eye again.

He raised his head up like a nod and continued answering Prisha’s questions.

Micah looked down. His left shoe wasn’t really that much more noticeable, now that he looked at it in the sunlight. Most of his issues with it were only in his head, but …

He still hated it. When he looked down or ground his heel a little too hard into the stone, he felt like his leg hadn’t healed at all, like he was still trapped in that cast, oversized, wounded, slow.

Useless.

But, he did feet better now for being able to look down at all.

“Hey,” he smiled when they turned a corner. “Have you been able to speak with Lisa yet?”

“Uh, yeah. I have actually,” Ryan said.

His eyebrows went up. “And?”

“She said she wanted to go climbing again, as soon as possible.”

“Meaning …?”

“First day of summer break. We could meet up at her place.”

Micah took that in like a breath of fresh air and smiled.