Fire and Lightning

One In A Thousand

"It's just another fantasy-adventure story," said Mrs Orvis. "There are hundreds, if not thousands, of others like this. The King of the Gems. The Chronicles of Prynia. War of the Crystals. We've heard it all before. How is this story going to be any different?"

Ryn rocked back on the balls of his feet, taking the criticism like a gut punch. He looked down at the scribbled notes in his hands. He had thought that it would make for a pretty good story, actually. He gathered his defence.

"Well Miss, the thing is, I like those books." In fact he loved them, but he wasn't about to confess that in front his classmates. "So I don't think there's anything wrong with writing a story like that. In fact, if I could write a story half as good as any of those, even if it was similar, then I'd be proud. There's no problem with paying tribute to your influences if your influences are already great in the first place."

He dared to look out at the class for Carlotia. She sat in the second row between Stayce and Lilia. The early Summer sun played through her hair as she rested her head on a hand, a blank expression on her face. She looked...bored. She wasn't even looking at him. Ryn deflated.

"Yes, well, thank you Ryn," said Mrs Orvis. "I hope you enjoy writing your little adventure story over the Summer. Enwit save me from lust-struck teenagers," she added in a mutter. "You may sit down. Next!"

"Wait!" said Ryn. "You didn't let me finish! It'll pay tribute to the greats, my story, yes, but it'll also be different!" He kept his eyes on Carlotia as he extemporised. "There'll be a hero who starts in his sleepy hometown—sure, I'll grant you that is quite standard—but then it'll be attacked by an evil empire, and he'll escape, and gain magical powers, and meet a great hero who teaches him sword-fighting, and he'll...he'll rescue a beautiful princess who'll travel alongside him towards some common goal, and they'll have to overcome many obstacles together, and then they'll fall in love, and—"

"Next!" Mrs Orvis repeated. "As I say, Ryn: Entirely pedestrian and derivative. You may sit down."

Ryn didn't mind any more. While he had been talking he had caught Carlotia's eye, and she looked at him now and—eventually—smiled, a wide grin lighting up her lovely features.

He took his seat at the back of the class, bathed in a warm fuzzy glow.

"Oi!" said Alix Corumson.

Ryn started. He had sat in Alix's chair, and on Alix, by accident.

He apologised, took his own chair and went back to what he had been doing before he had been called up to give his report of what he was going to write about for his Summer Holidays Writing Project: staring at the back of Carlotia's beautiful head.

One after another Ryn's peers went up to the front of the schoolroom and gave their accounts of what they were going to write about under the merciless scrutiny of Mrs Orvis and the palpable indifference of the rest of the class.

Kris was going to write an extended analysis of different crop rotation methods—the sort of thing that Ryn's father would probably much prefer that he worked on, rather than fantasy-adventure stories.

Selphie was going to write her own compressed version of the history of steam travel, with special focus on its adoption by the wealthier parts of Efstan two centuries ago, which sounded interesting enough, Ryn supposed.

Jaynie was going to write a commentary on current Morekemian-Dokanese relations including predictions about how the relationship between the two powers might develop in the next ten years, and what it would take for the latter to come out from under the might of Imperial authority and taxes.