I Believe in Magic - Phan [#Wattys2017]

Chapter 2 - First Day of School

"Are you excited?" Mrs. Lester asked her young son as she buttoned up his shirt for him for his first day of school.

Phil joyously nodded and she smiled, but his father wasn't as content.

"You remember the rules?" he asked his young boy.

"The other kids don't have magic. Don't show them the magic."

"And?"

"Don't break or fix anything with magic."

"Good boy." He ruffled his son's hair and kissed his head. "You be good."

Phil skipped out the door, his backpack hanging over his shoulder that was nearly as big as himself. School, where one can meet other children, where one can make friends. Finally he could have some social interaction.

Phil's parents have recognized his magic ability. Through difficult lessons, he has learned to control it for the most part. However, this meant he was unable to play outside or be with other people. They barely even showed him to family, worrying that he would break something with his mind.

Phil's mother dropped him off at school. He stared up at the large building where other kids were running and playing and introducing themselves.

"Mummy can I go play with them?" he asked, attempting to go before she answered. She gripped his backpack and held him back.

"Not yet, Philly."

The time had come where the parents of the young new students must leave. Mrs. Lester took in a horrific breath of nerves and knelt to see her son at his eye level.

"Be good, now," she told him.

"I will! It'll be fine. I won't use the–"

"Don't talk about it either. Just be a kid today, alright?"

"Okay!"

She smiled and kissed his cheek, then stood up. "Have a good day, sweetheart."

"Bye, Mum!" he yelled as he ran to the door.

Phil entered the building and somehow made his way to his own class, where his teacher introduced herself as Ms. Stevens and sat all the kids down on a carpet in a circle. Once everyone arrived, they were asked to introduce themselves by name, say their favourite colour, and something about themselves. Phil sat in anticipation as the boy next to him spoke. Once he finished talking about his love for football and that he wanted to be a professional football star one day, not forgetting to include trivia such as how Americans call football "soccer," Phil's turn approached.

With no fear or nerves at all, Phil happily perked up as all eyes went on him. "My name is Philip Micheal Lester," he said with great joy to announce who he was, "but you can all call me Phil. My favourite colour is blue, and..." His mother's words rang in his head: Don't talk about it. "And I like, um... I love lions. Lions are my favourite animal."

"Very nice to meet you, Phil!" Ms. Stevens greeted him before turning to the next person.

Don't talk about it? Then what do I talk about? It's all I know... Phil thought to himself. He looked down at his left hand. His "fixing hand." He could fix things with it. With deep enough concentration, he could break things with his mind. He still had so little control of it. Once, about a year prior, he had broken the gold chain of one of his mother's necklaces by accident just by staring too long. It had popped right off her neck and fell to her plate during a dinner party. She played it off as cheap metal and put it in her purse.

"I'm sorry, Mummy," Phil has said. "I didn't mean to."

She laughed nervously at him. "Philly, you didn't do anything, sweetie."

But he did. "I can fix it!"

"No, it's okay, Phil. Pay attention to your food."

Later that night, he went through the purse until finding the gold chain necklace. One of the tiny brackets were split open. He held it in his left hand and attempted to bend it in the right way to reassemble the incredibly small pieces of gold. But trying to focus on this and that at the same time proved to be so much for a young boy. Unable to assemble it, he became frustrated, and more brackets became deformed. Phil gasped at the extra damage done and stole the necklace to his room, where he stored it in his drawer – a disturbing reminder of how dangerous he could be.

The day in school passed by surprisingly quick until it was recess. He hadn't made any friends yet. Perhaps this was the best time.

He approached a group of boys, looking bored on their first day, a day meant for excitement. Phil figured he could be an addition to their group. He approached them.

"Hi, I'm Phil! Want to be friends?"

One of the boys in the group of three looked up. "You're the kid who likes lions, right?"

"Yeah!"

They laughed. "Nerd," one said.

A second scoffed. "Go away, you're not cool enough to be with us."

"Oh... Why not?"

"Because you're weird," the third spoke up. "We're already a group. We don't want another person, especially a weirdo."

"I'm not a weirdo."

"Yeah you are!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

Phil stared at the rude boy with a glare. Suddenly, the boy began to sweat. His breathing became heavy. He was tugging at his shirt for air. In an instant, the shirt caught flame and combusted, causing the boy to scream in terror. He ran around until falling to the ground and rolling around to suffocate the embers that were beginning to burn his flesh. By the time he finished eliminating the flames, several teachers had rushed over.

"What happened? What happened?!" they were all asking. "Are you okay? How did this happen?!"

In horror, the boy, tired and still on the ground in fear, pointed to the direction Phil stood. Phil was merely staring down at him, no emotion crossing his face. Deep inside, however, a frenzy of panic arose. What had he done? Did he really set the boy on fire?

"He did it!" the singed child finally announced.

A teacher firmly grabbed him. "How?"

"With his mind!" the boy screamed.

His two posse members rushed over. "He's a freak!" one shouted.

Freak. Tears came to Phil's eyes. He hurt someone. "I did it," he announced. "It was me, I did it!"

"That's ridiculous," the teacher snapped, letting Phil go. "We'll figure this out. For now, just go on playing. You," she said, pointing to the boy who was on fire moments ago. "Come with me, we're going to the nurse."

Once the teachers had left, the two remaining boys stared at Phil for an instant. Phil took a step forward.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!"

They took steps backwards and ran away, out of his sight.

At the end of the day, Phil was picked up by his mother, who asked how it was. He immediately broke into tears and confided the entire scene to her, crying for hurting someone.

"Phil," she spoke calmly, "this really all happened?"

"I didn't mean to, I swear!"

One day of school done, and it's already over. Phil cried again.