Going Your Own Way, but with Magic

Chapter 12

Mr Bates makes tea, sets it down between us, shuts the door with a knowing look. I hold my hands in my lap, Jamie bites his nails, we both avoid eye contact. Some of the excitement has worn off. I'm not a single teenager fighting alone, but two teenagers don't exactly have great odds. He is looking at me expectantly and I realise he thinks I have a plan. He thinks I have a plan. He thinks I know what I'm doing. Well, I better figure it out fast.
"How much magic can you do?" I don't mean it to sound like a challenge, but it does.
"A good amount. I know all the basics from my...training, and it's fairly polished. I specialised in healing and botany." I'm not asking him what any of that means.
"Anything useful in a fight? No offense." The no offense doesn't make it any less offensive. Why have I lost the ability to talk?
"Yes, quite a lot. I don't specialise in combat, but everyone trains in it." There is something clever to say here, and I can almost see it. 'Can you make a person want to kiss you,' maybe.
"Can you make a teacup float without spilling any?" Amazing. The one line sure to sweep any man off his feet. Can you make a teacup float without spilling any, Jesus Christ.

Watching him do magic is nice. His face, usually worried, completely clears. He looks right through me. His power doesn't surge, it gathers. It is soft and green and it makes even me feel calm. It's not violently out of place as mine is – it blends in seamlessly. The air catches ever so slightly and then my teacup floats up a good foot. It sets itself back down and I have to sit on my hands to stop myself from clapping.
"Oh...wow."

After a lot more awkward silence, we finally get on to planning. "We still can't do it alone." Someone had to burst the bubble. He doesn't look worried.
"We can organise. And I think the spellcasters in the group will come round eventually. They're not bad people. They don't want to become the Elders and a lot of them are bitter towards normal people as well. They've had a host of really fun childhoods." Sounds about right.
"Could we- She's got to, like- go shopping at some point. Or something. She has to leave the house sometimes. If we go there, we could find her when she's not at home? So we're not fighting on her terms, at least." It's a stupid plan but he's nodding like I said something clever and insightful. I am not going to blush. I am not.
"Where will we stay, though?" I thought our plan would get at least out the door.
"Mr Bates will help," I reply. The worst part is that he definitely will. He will be all too eager to help. He can vicariously live out his dreams of being magic and a superhero through his surrogate daughter. The words leave a bitter taste in my mouth.

It is very hard to avoid eye contact when sitting opposite each other on a train.

He looks overwhelmed by the city and I stop myself from linking arms with him. He's following me. This would be less of a problem if I had any idea where we're going. I settle on outside the block of flats. He recoils when he sees them, and all the colour has drained from his face. I can feel the magic, a film of smoke over everything, but his reaction is strange.
"What's wrong?"
"Sorry, I- my parents have a house here." Small world, huh? I keep my mouth shut because whatever I say, it's going to be stupid. "Not- they don't live here." Okay. Okay?
"I know we're kind of no-personal-questions-ing, but-"
"No problem. I have have...omitted...a few things. That you might want to know." Well, you had a good run of it. Cute boy's a serial killer, at least you didn't get too attached. Actually, maybe his parents are serial killers. Hopefully it's the second one. Then we can keep in touch. "My parents have money. Like, a lot of it. Like, four houses money."
"Huh?"
"I learnt magic at a school. An official one." The most promising sons of the best-established families. "I left. We don't talk anymore. My parents and I, I mean. We don't talk." He stares at his nails.
"You fucking idiot." Compassion and gentleness, Max. Incredible.
"What?"
"Your parents. Are alive and rich and they probably wanted you and you're ignoring them! You fucking idiot!" My voice is dangerously close to breaking. There are tears, and my voice is going funny. I am not crying. I am not going cry now, in front of him, at something so stupid. I will not cry. I am crying. I don't want him to see me cry. Turn around and run. I want to look back and see if he follows. I don't.