He sat on the edge of his seat outside Ms. Denner’s office that afternoon, legs tilted toward the door, two journals and a binder stacked on his knees, waiting.
He knew the things he had told people all week, that she would only want to talk to him about his Path, but he couldn’t help but hope.
Whomever she was speaking with, their meeting had run late. It was twelve minutes past four when the door finally opened and a boy he recognized but didn’t know the name of stepped out of her office.
He had red hair that reminded him of his dance partners and wore what looked like an altered version of their school’s uniform, one that was more suited to a stage.
Where had he gotten it from? Had he made it himself? Were they allowed to do that?
The questions bubbled up but Micah didn’t really care. He moved to stand, but the secretary told him to wait a moment longer.
“Ms. Denner will see you shortly.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
The door clicked shut and the clock ticked on.
Great. More waiting.
He suppressed a sigh and looked down the hall, then frowned when he saw the guy sit down at the far end of the opposite row in the hallway.
He was sticking around? Why? To speak with her again? About …?
Micah had seen him in some courses and the gym, for practice. He was yet another fire mage from what he had seen. Maybe that was why he was here, because Ms. Denner had offered him personal advice?
That makes sense, makes sense … he nodded to himself.
But what if?
His paranoid mind focused on his fancy uniform and the fact that he had been invited to speak with Ms. Denner on the same day as he had.
He hadn’t seen him in any of the dance lessons but maybe he attended the other course?
What if he was a competitor for one of the spots?
Whatever the reason for his attendance here, he sat with his arms crossed and an annoyed look on his face. It wasn’t exactly the picture of good news.
The clock ticked on.
“Stupid clock, right?” Micah chuckled. “Always … annoying when you have to wait out here.”
The guy glanced at him and something … shifted. He only noticed because he paid attention to detail in his line of work. The light swayed like the dance of a flame, except the hallway was lit by smooth crystal lamps and the windows in the distance.
A trick of the light? An aura effect? Surely, he wouldn’t have one yet but … Ryan did and he had gotten his early. Micah supposed anything was possible.
Maybe he was one of the more advanced students, in which case that could be good if she wanted to speak with both of them on the same afternoon.
The guy didn’t answer him. He just frowned, glanced up—at the clock?—and clucked his tongue for some reason.
Great. So he wasn’t friendly, then? Whatever, Micah was used to it. He angled his legs back toward the office and resisted the urge to bob his knee or hide his left shoe behind the chair leg.
I don’t like this one.
… Hm?
His brows creased and Micah leaned closer to the door, thinking he had overheard a snippet of a conversation within but … it was quiet. The clock ticked on.
Doesn’t he seem weird to you?
Hmph. Well, he does to me, always hanging around, being all human-like … I want to poke him.
The guy hissed something and Micah turned back. Had he said—
He froze.
A man stared at him, his face an inch away from his own, a finger raised toward his cheek.
He looked middle-aged, large, with broad shoulders and deeper red hair—fiery. His beard swayed in the corners of his vision like it wasn’t entirely real.
For some reason, he was dressed in a formal black suit.
Micah rammed his elbow into his nose and followed up with a left hook.
He didn’t even realize why he was doing it until he registered the shimmering aura of an oven’s worth of heat around its silhouette. It shimmered, too, as if it might flicker out of existence at any moment. It had certainly flickered into existence. The hallway had been empty a second ago—or it hadn’t been and that thing had been staring at him, hidden from view.
Whatever the case, it was not human.
But it groaned and stumbled back from the impact, a hand raised to its nose in pain, and that was an exploitable weakness.
Micah dropped his journals onto the next chair over and shot up to kick it in the nuts when the other guy jumped up and stormed at him with his arms out.
“Hey, hey, stop!” he shouted. “What the fuck are you doing?!”
Micah breathed, sweat stinging on his skin. Huh?
“My nose!” the thing groaned.
The guy glanced back—so he could see it, too?—but then said to him, “You can’t just attack someone for no good reason. What is wrong with you?”
“Attack … someone? That thing was right up in my face—“
“I was just looking!”
“So you punched him?”
“Yes!”
“My nose. Oh, I think it’s broken. Hey, is it broken?”
The guy looked back and grimaced. His … friend? … was tilting its head back as if it had a bloody nose and trying to peer down at it.
It looked weirdly younger than it had a moment before, closer to someone in their late twenties than their forties. Less broad, less imposing, with a shorter beard.
“No, it’s not broken,” he scoffed. “Get a grip, man. You’re acting like you’ve never been punched before.”
“Not in the nose!” it shouted and shrunk another inch before his eyes. Its gruff voice sounded sick toward the end and its suit began to droop on its diminished frame.
Micah blinked. That was fascinating.
It spoke in a nasal tone, “Ow, it hurts. How is he even allowed to do that? Shouldn’t that like, be against the rules or something? How can he punch me?”
Still with an embarrassed grimace, the guy turned around. “Yeah, how can you punch him? How can you even see him?”
Micah frowned at the odd pair. He pointed. “Does … does its appearance depend on your perception of it?”
“Don’t dodge the question.”
“Yeah!”
“What even is it?”
“A spirit,” Ms. Denner said and they turned. Arms crossed, she leaned against the doorframe and watched the three of them.
Spirit? Micah thought. As in, spirit-spirit?
He thought of the handful of lessons Lisa had given him, the importance of manners, and regret crawled up his spine—until he noticed the young adult with a scraggly beard in an oversized suit glaring at him, holding its nose even though he really hadn’t hit it that hard.
He couldn’t help but agree with the other guy. Get a grip, man. That twerp was supposed to be a fabled spirit?
Ameryth unfolded an arm and gestured between them. “Micah, this is Hugh. Hugh, this is Micah Stranya.”
“Fuck you, Stranya!” it cursed and sounded more like a rebellious teen than an adult.
For maybe the first time in his life, Micah felt the urge to punch someone for no good reason other than not liking them.
“Fire spirits …” their principal sighed and then it all made sense. The way it flickered too quickly to perceive and the aura of heat around it, his urge to punch it like trampling out a fire …
She gestured on. “I believe you two should already be acquainted?”
“Uhm?” Micah was too distracted by buzzing questions to even attempt to remember his name.
“Brian,” he said. “You tried to steal our [Enchanter], remember?”
“I did a what now?”
“I told you something was weird about him!”
“Oh, shut up,” Brian said and kicked his shin.
In a casual tone, Ameryth leaned in and asked, “What did you do?”
“I might have hit it?” Micah said.
She blinked. “Why?”
“Because it was suddenly there, right up in my face, and it clearly wasn’t human so I reacted.”
She nodded with a look of consideration and spoke in a more authoritarian tone, “I’m going to speak with Mr. Stranya now. You two wait here. Both of you. Use this time to cool your heads.”
Before they could say something, she headed back inside.
Micah rushed to gather his things, feeling as though he’d been admonished instead of them.
Only when he stared at her back as he steeped inside did he realize, Fire spirit. Pyromancer. ‘Cool your heads’.
Pun intended …?
“How many times do I have to tell you about personal space?” Brian hissed in the hallway behind them. There was a mumble and he raised his voice, “I don’t care if they can’t see you!”
Then Micah closed her office door behind him and the sounds from outside cut off.
“Has something kept you on edge, then?” Ms. Denner asked him.
“Huh? I mean, uhm, I’m sorry, ma’am?”
She walked around her desk and brought a water bottle out of her closet. “There is a common horror story passed around among climbers. I’m not sure you would be familiar. A climber returns home from a long expedition. Their spouse or child wakes them up in night and, thinking they are being attacked, the climber stabs them with a dagger they keep under their pillow.”
Micah froze.
An afternoon breeze brushed past him from the open windows. The fire crackled as it burned.
“I have been woken in the middle of the night by strangers,” he said, “and I do sleep with a knife nearby, ma’am. This was different.”
He thought of Enon. He thought of when he had first met Kyle.
She began to pour a glass. “Was it?”
“Yes, it’s like … if a strange man suddenly dropped [Invisibility] right next to you, ma’am, how would you react? Respectfully. And that person wasn’t even human.”
Her expression softened and she set the water down. “I know. It’s just a story, Micah, but it is something to keep in mind. As much as we train to fight monsters, we cannot allow ourselves to hurt other people by accident.”
“I understand that.”
“Good. Now, please, have a seat. You didn’t answer my question.”
He sat down with a look of visible confusion. Question?
Thankfully, she caught on. “Has something put you on edge?”
Oh.
His foot inched forward as if to hide underneath the desk. He stopped it. His eyes still flickered down and when he looked back up, he noticed hers had followed his.
Any other time, he might not have noticed, written it off, or wondered, but he had a better understanding of her worldview now. She’d noticed.
Honestly, a lot of things had him on edge lately, but Micah told her what she would want to hear. “I went to the hospital yesterday for a check-up for my leg.”
“The one you broke?”
He nodded. “There were complications during the recovery. It healed too quickly and now my right leg is slightly longer than my left. I had my shoes adjusted this morning.”
“Oh. I did not know that,” she said and sounded genuine. As always, Lisa had been right when she said their principal didn’t know everything. “I’m sorry to hear that. Were you given a prognosis? How bad is it?”
“There is a good chance it won’t get worse and I might grow out of it. No guarantees but … even if I don’t, there are other options. Skills, others or my own, potions, that sort of thing. It won’t be forever.”
He said it and convinced himself of that in the moment. He was an [Alchemist]. He would brew the potion; stab the needle into his bone himself if he had to.
There was no way he was letting this be. And if it got worse, there was no way he was getting surgery again.
Ms. Denner smiled and sat. “I’m glad to hear that. So you had your shoes adjusted. Have there been any other complications we should know about in the meantime? Have your courses been going well?”
“Oh, uhm … yes?” He panicked a little. Of course, there had been complications but he didn’t want her to make a big deal out of them or think less of him.
He hadn’t been sure before but now his shoe certainly had him on edge, because how was he supposed to handle this?
Confidence, he told himself. Whatever else he thought or did, people always said that was key.
“I mean, we haven’t been doing much since the exam and I wasn’t fully aware of the problem beforehand but … I learned to compensate? It wasn’t that much of an issue at all, is what I mean to say, except in very special circumstances.”
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“And getting your shoes fitted will help in all of those circumstances?” she asked him and leaned in, eyes full of doubt.
Micah opened his mouth, closed it again, and hesitated.
Don’t lie.
It was easy to fall back into bad habits.
“No, but it will help in most, in time,” he admitted. “Of course, I’m going to have to get used to it, but I’m putting a lot of effort into practice. Like our dance lessons. And I’ll have the entire summer break to get used to everything else, like fighting. I doubt it will be a problem at all come next year, ma’am.”
She sat back up, considering. “I’ll have to take your word for it, but we will revisit the issue when you return in the fall.”
“Okay.”
“And you will inform your teachers, either way. Next week, as soon as possible, not next year.”
He deflated a little, but he’d known he would have to do that. “Yes, ma’am. I have a doctor’s note …”
“That’s also a perfect lead-in into the reason I wanted to speak with you, Micah.”
“Oh, right, I brought my notes?” he offered and held the stack up for her to see.
She did look interested—and he wondered which emotions he could have seen in her face if he could have looked—but she shook her head.
“It’s good you’re still taking notes so thoroughly, but we can go over those another time. It’s not what I asked you here for today and I wouldn’t want to keep your fellow student outside waiting.”
Brian? Micah involuntarily glanced back. So there was a reason he was still sticking around?
“I wanted to speak with you about your future at this school.”
His voice was small. “My future?”
He raised his journals up a little as if they could distract her, but she had already said no, so he lowered them again and put on a shaky smile.
When she said something like that, all of a sudden, Micah wanted to leave, give up, hide in his room, or distract himself with something else.
His attendance was fine, right? They weren’t kicking him out, right? His mind went to the worst places.
He couldn’t leave and didn’t want to interrupt, so he bobbed his knee instead.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I assume you are planning on applying for a scholarship in the new school year?”
He dug his fingers into his journals and watched her bring a file out. “Yes, ma’am. Is there a problem with that?”
“Unfortunately, yes. I have your final grades here and I can save you the time, effort, and weeks spent wondering and tell you right now: unless by some miracle many of our scholarship students drop out or give up their spots before the start of the new school year, it is highly unlikely your request will be accepted. Your grades aren’t good enough.”
“Oh.”
It was the same thing as his appointment yesterday. Hours spent waiting, ages spent worrying and pushing back thoughts, only to be told a harsh truth a few minutes into the conversation.
Just like that, he had to restructure his entire future plans. Shopping for items or nice clothes? All of his alchemical conveniences? Experiments? Hanging out with his friends this summer, in the Tower or otherwise?
The fewer people he went climbing with, the fewer ways he would have to split his loot.
Maybe he could ask Lisa and Ryan bait hordes with him again? That was a reliable way of earning money … not that he wanted to be a burden.
No, he couldn’t even be a burden for long. Both of them would be gone for weeks at a time during the summer break, off to spend time with their families, and Ryan had his scout camp.
He would be alone.
But … but that was fine. He was used to it. Maybe he would push his other Classes or … could he make it cost-effective enough to make a monster lure to emulate Ryan?
Hell, he could just run around himself to gather a horde and use a stamina potion to be ready in time—
Just like your first time in the Tower?
No. No, the lure was new. That would help him get more experience, which factored in.
He would have to find an affordable recipe while he still had time to waste because he was stuck in this stupid fu—reaking school. And he had to go over the rest of his to-do list to adjust his plans.
Studying over summer break to catch up. How much did that matter if he didn’t have a scholarship to study for?
Perfume— Scratch that. If his grades weren’t good enough, he probably wasn’t going to be invited to the party after all.
Fuck.
Dance lessons, he could also quit then.
Spirit food, armor, his herb garden? Could he afford that? Maybe he could sell it to someone in the workshop to make some of his money back …
It’d be a waste. He shouldn’t have spent the money before he knew what his final grades would look like. He should have done more to calculate them beforehand. Stupid.
What else?
“Micah?” Ms. Denner said and her voice shook him out of his thoughts for a moment. “Are you still with me? I wasn’t done speaking.”
“Oh, of course. I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said and tried to collect himself. “And thank you for the warning.”
It really would save him a lot of time, even if everything sucked now.
“I was going to say, despite that, our school still and always ever will strive to assist its students in their endeavors. You are one of the students who shows the most promise for what we are trying to achieve here. That is why I invited a few former colleagues of mine to inspect our school during the Sports Festival, to convince them of the value of our future generations.”
Huh?
Micah stopped bobbing his knee. By the glimmer of mischief in her eyes, he knew she was sharing or about to share good news but … he had no idea what she was saying. His mind was a little too preoccupied with a minor existential crisis to process things.
“Fortunately, I succeeding in convincing a few of them. We, the school, cannot offer you a scholarship next year, but I can introduce you to someone to give you the opportunity at receiving a sponsorship. Assuming, of course, that would be something you are interested in?”
“In … a sponsorship?”
Like, from a retired climber or patron of the arts type sort of deal?
“Yes. A friend of mine expressed an interest in sponsoring two promising students at my school. You could be one of those.”
And the other? Brian, then. Why them?
He sucked in a deep breath and froze for a moment as he considered it. It was a little daunting, imagining some rich stranger he didn’t know giving him money … because?
He didn’t really know how this was supposed to work, what would be expected of him. He didn’t know where to start asking questions, but he did know what he would have to do if he said no.
He thought of his list. He could give up on his plans and focus on scraping together enough money to get through the next year … or he could say—
“Yes.”
Micah wanted to dance. He wanted to have fun with his friends. He wanted to level, get stronger, experiment, explore.
If not him, the sponsorship would just go to another student, right? He didn’t want to lose his spot. His grades might not be good enough for a scholarship, but he could prove his worth another way.
He wanted to be worth preserving, too.
“But uhm, I have questions?”
“Save them.” Ameryth smiled but it faded for a moment in favor of a more serious expression. “In a moment, I will invite Brian in to join us. As a warning, I won’t mention your grades or current financial situation unless you want me to. We will only discuss what this opportunity will entail. Do you understand?”
So that was why she had spoken to them separately at first? Micah nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
It made him wonder about Brian’s financial situation and grades, but he honored her wishes not to go down that rabbit hole. There were other things to wonder about with those two weirdos anyway.
He turned and watched as she let them in.
The fire spirit glared at him, older again. Brian strode past it to the other chair near the desk. It must have taken that as its sign to ignore him because it headed for the fireplace instead and leaned on the bricks to scratch the neck of the other fire spirit in the room like one might pet a cat.
“Water?” Ms. Denner offered them, now that they were together.
“No.”
“Uhm, yes, please?” Micah asked.
She poured him a glass and Micah glared right back at the fire spirit in the corner of his eye as he drank. Even the littlest things, with intent, could an insult to their ilk, he knew. It was all about symbolism, the essence of the action.
The thing made a face at him.
“Micah,” Ms. Denner said, slightly appalled, “don’t act childish.”
He nearly choked and mumbled, “Sorry,” as he set the glass back down.
“So can we get this on the road, please?” Brian said. “I would like to know the details of this opportunity, starting with who this colleague of yours was, ma’am.”
His words were polite enough, but his tone suggested he was adding them out of necessity rather than any belief in manners.
Thankfully, their principal was a bit of a character herself, because he only gave him a stern look that made Brian sit up a little and said, “‘This ‘colleague of mine’ is a potential candidate for being anointed a Guest someday in the future. Take this seriously.”
Brian properly sat up at that, eyes wide and interested.
Micah frowned. “He’s not human?”
“You shouldn’t assume that about every one of our Guests, Micah,” Ms. Denner told him. “It’s rude.”
“But is he human or not?” the fire spirit spoke up from the peanut gallery.
She sighed. “Bastian is human. But yes, I would have to admit, he is what some might consider to be a little odd. He’s certainly lived an odd life.”
“Bastian?” Brian asked. “Bastian as in, the Enchanter, the Spring Knight? He’s the towerborn one, isn’t he?”
“Something like that, yes.”
Micah stared, but they seemed serious despite how casual they were about it. He’d heard stories about crazy women who wanted to give birth inside the Tower, for good luck or whatever other reason, or climbers who had been on expedition for so long they conceived inside the Tower and later gave birth there, but that was like Westhill’s version of a horror story about climbers and Tower culture. A myth. He hadn’t thought that might actually ever happen.
It did seem crazy.
They didn’t seem to care. “And he wants to sponsor us?” Brian asked, looking a little smug even.
“He certainly expressed an interest in meeting the three of you, yes, but that does not guarantee a sponsorship.”
“The three of us, you say?” The spirit spoke up again. “I get Brian and I, we’re awesome, but I have to doubt his judgment if he wants to meet him.”
“Hugh—” she started.
“He stinks.”
“No, I don’t. I smell better than you,” Micah said. “You smell like rotten eggs, you old fart!”
“Burn on a cross!”
“Drown in a river!”
Ms. Denner snapped, “Stop it right now, both of you. You need to put your little scuffle from earlier aside. If you can’t get along, I’ll tell Bastion this won’t work out. He expressed an interest in helping two students. They can be any two students I recommend to him, they do not have to be you. Am I understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Micah immediately said and looked down, huddling up in shame. Why was he ruining his chance here? He glanced back at the spirit. To hate it? That wasn’t worth it.
It scowled and looked away, but the fire elemental it had been petting bit its finger and scrambled back on the ashes with its hackles of blue flame raised.
It winced and looked at her. “Yes, ma’am.”
She looked at Brian and for a moment, he frowned as if to say, What did I do? But then he shifted in his seat and said, “Yes, ma’am.”
Micah looked at her, expecting the issue to be resolved, but she still looked angry. He didn’t know if he had ever seen her angry before.
“Listen, this will be the first time Bastion has sponsored a school or students. He has never done it before. Your behavior will determine whether or not he continues to offer his patronage to more students in the future. It’s not just about you, but about your successors, our school, and everything it stands for in regards to the future. If at any point I get the sense you three won’t respect that, I can call this off and introduce him to two students who I know will.”
“We will respect that,” Brian said. “We’ll be on our best behavior around the man, Ms. Denner, for as long as it matters.”
“Yeah, what he said,” Hugh mumbled.
Micah didn’t really feel the need to tell her that. She knew him. She should know he would do that.
Just to be safe, he nodded eagerly.
“Good. Then you can start now by apologizing to each other.”
Oh.
Oh, but … why?
They didn’t have to get along to behave around each other, right? And Micah didn’t really want to apologize to that thing. He hadn’t done anything wrong.
But he could see she was serious and he didn’t want to screw this up, so he sighed internally and slowly turned in his seat to look at it.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
“For?” Ms. Denner asked.
Twist the knife in deeper, will you?
“Hitting you …?”
I guess.
“And uhm, saying harsh things.”
Not that you didn’t deserve it.
“Hmph.” It turned away. “I’m not apologizing.”
Fucking fuck. Why was it that every time Micah was forced to apologize to someone against his will, the other kid always weaseled out of it?
But it was Ms. Denner he glared at, because she better not let it get away with this like adults so often had.
“Dude,” Brian hissed in her stead. “Stop acting like such a brat.”
“I don’t see the point. I’m not sorry. I meant everything I said.”
“New idea.” The guy swiveled around. “We’ll just never let Hugh and this Bastion guy meet each other.”
“That won’t work. He wants to meet Hugh as well. He has to apologize.”
It crossed its arms. “No.”
“C’mon, man. Think about it. A human you don’t know wants to meet you. Isn’t that interesting? And all you got to do is force out an, ‘I’m sorry’.”
It didn’t react.
He stared for a moment, then jerked. “Well, do it!”
It made a sound like the crackling of fire in the back of its throat and threw its hands up, saying, “Fine. I’m sorry. Happy, now?”
No? It hadn’t even looked at him when it said it.
But Ameryth sighed and rubbed her temple. “Far from it. But it’s good enough for now.”
Really?!
Fine. Whatever. Micah just wanted to get this over with. The sooner they moved on, the sooner he could move on in general.
“So why does he want to meet us?” he asked. Meaning: Why would he want to meet it?
… and also himself, he had to admit. Micah wanted to prove his worth, yes, but had the man seen anything in him?
“Because he observed your fights during the summer festival,” she said, “and he was impressed. More importantly, he expressed an interest in you for another reason: Bastion, too, has a [Spirit Guide].”
“Oh,” Micah said, starting to catch on.
Brian looked genuinely surprised.
Hugh, though, took three steps closer and smiled. “Does he now? Who? Ooh, is it someone I know?”
“Lady Shanty, is her title I believe?”
The thing frowned at the ceiling and mumbled, “Uhh, nope. I know of a few Shanty’s, but none of whom would hang around a human. Must be new. Or old.” It made a face.
“Old, more likely,” she mumbled. “If you don’t know her, it’s all the better that you can introduce yourself to her.”
“What kind of a spirit is she?”
“As far as I know, she is of the Vim.”
“Oh,” it mouthed. “Wow. I see.”
Vim?
“Will that be a problem?”
“No,” Brian said at the same time as Hugh did and it shut him up. Brian seemed surprised his friend had agreed so easily, which said a lot about his friend.
What’s a Vim? Micah wondered, but like hell he would ask it that.
Thankfully, Brian asked it for him.
“I’m not an expert, but they are travel spirits, I believe?” Ms. Denner said.
“They are so much more than that,” the spirit corrected her and reluctantly, Micah admitted to himself that it would be an expert on the subject, wouldn’t it?
“They’re complicated. Depending on who you ask, they include spirits of the seasons, of learning, mimicry, memory—”
“All spirits are of Vim,” Hugh spoke and for a second, it stood taller and looked more like a flame than human, its voice sounded deeper and gruffer than before.
It blurred in his vision, but something about that just made it look even more wild and untamed.
It really was a spirit, wasn’t it? In human form.
“The Vim proper?” it said. “They wear their experiences as cloaks. Memories woven into reality. If you set a Vim on fire, it would burn for eons.”
Its eyes shone with a wonder and hunger there, for a dream, a desire, and Micah clenched a fist as he felt the need to exterminate what was clearly a being of destruction.
He wanted nothing more than to punch it in that moment. Who the fuck would want to set someone else on fire, especially knowing they would suffer for so long?
He felt like he was sitting in the same room as an arsonist. Or worse.
“Micah,” Ameryth spoke in a soft voice. “Shanty wanted to meet you specifically. She said you had seen her during the festival?”
Hm? He made a small sound and found it difficult to tear his eyes away. He couldn’t trust it.
“It would have been sometime around your match or during it?”
Wait, when he would have seen this other spirit?
“Uhm …” he mumbled wracked his brain but … nope. He remembered his match against Thomas, the walls of ice and biting cold on a sunny day, but had no idea who she meant.
He let go of his tension and looked at her. “I’m sorry, but I don’t recall …?”
“That’s fine. You can properly introduce yourself when you meet her again.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Right. When’s this meeting supposed to be?” Brian asked. “Because I’ve got a lot of other stuff I need to be doing.”
Micah thought of his own busy schedule and had to agree.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Ms. Denner said and smiled. “I’m sure the date is already penciled in on both your schedules. You already requested it. You will have the perfect opportunity to make a good impression when you attend the Registry’s decade ball this summer, with your fellow students.”
“The— you mean—”
“Ha! I knew it,” Brian said with far more confidence.
“You do still want to attend, right?”
“Yes! Of course! I just thought because of my grades …”
“Good grades aren’t what we want to show off at this event. It’s promising students like the two of you who are our proof of concept for the Registry.”
Brian swiveled around and slapped his hands on the back of his chair to grin at his friend.
“Hear that?”
“You were the one who doubted it.”
“No, I wasn’t—”
Quieter, Micah asked his principal while they were distracted, “And my leg?”
She looked at him, confused. “What about it? Micah, if we ostracized every climber recovering from a lingering injury, the city would starve.”
“So I— we are really going to be allowed to attend?”
Brian turned back around. “Yeah, you’re serious?”
“Quite.”
If the promise of getting to talk to Lisa this morning was like a breath of fresh air, this was like an tailwind that lifted him up and pushed him forward.
He felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest, one less monumental thing to worry about, one more reason to breathe lighter. Things were looking up again.
Sparks flew, glimpses of distorted essences around him, as Micah danced in his seat.