Wizard (Troy Sanders Book 1)

4: Uneasy Lies the Head... That Has Magic?

I laid down on my bed that night but couldn’t sleep, a consequence of the fact that the decision I had to make still weighed heavily on my mind. What was funny though was that a part of my mind already knew exactly what to do but that wasn’t making the whole process any better. Guess knowing wasn’t the same thing as exerting, huh?

Looking at it from a logical point of view, there was actually no reason why I should decline. Mom could take care of herself all summer; and she was definitely going to be a lot more busy than usual in light of the regional youth female basketball competition coming up. In fact, that meant that my staying home wasn’t going to do her any good, that coupled with the fact that I had no place to go or friend to visit was almost like a neon sign announcing “Go to Firewalt, Troy!”

Guess the real question now was that was I really Sanders family wizard material? ’Cause if Grandpa Blake was to be a judging point, the family must be made up of some exceptional wizards. And even though I had been denying it to myself all night long, the thought of possessing magic was really starting to appeal to me more and more as the seconds ticked by.

And in that moment, I made up my mind as I turned off the light and welcomed the long eluded sleep. Tomorrow, I was going to face all of my demons; and if I survived them, then it was off to Firewalt next week.

The next day couldn’t have gone any better. I got my assignment to Miss Trask as soon as I arrived in school. And judging from the look on her face, I was sure that it wasn’t “F for French” for me. I hadn’t seen Bella all day long but I left an apology note and twenty bucks in her locker; the twenty bucks was actually for her destroyed makeup when she cried yesterday than the car though- Sorry Bella but the car is way above what I can afford. I hope you understand.

On the not-so-good side, the coach didn’t budge on the issue of allowing me back on the team, not even when I told him that I was going to have a chat with Mr. Foster about him letting me redo the project. Anyway, I had already decided it was for the best; we couldn’t all be football superstars, now could we?

All that remained now was to serve Mr. Foster’s detention and then I could go home to wait for Blake; with my affirmative ’“I’m so going to your school of magic, grandpa” response, that is.

Everyone had always talked about Mr. Foster’s detention being the absolute worst but I never believed it. Well, until now.

I had been in detention before, mind you; that was one of my constant extracurricular activities. But there was never one like this.

What gave his detention its reputation was actually the inclusion of a depressing horror called classical music and a stack of science textbooks so high it could start another school library. I hadn’t even opened one and I was ready to jump out the window.

I wish I could control my magic right then, maybe I would have been able to manipulate him to let me go; or at least stop the horror show. But then again, I’d watched some crazy movies where the evil teacher was actually an even more evil wizard in disguise; couldn’t say it would be all that surprising if that turned out to be true about Mr. more-evil-than-evil-itself Foster over there.

Just as I was about to tell myself that things couldn’t get any worse, Mr. Foster suddenly said to me, “Mr. Sanders, say hello to your detention buddy,” and looking up, I came face to face with no other person but Roy Henderson sporting nothing but a wide grin on his face. Oh yeah, Troy, you're so dead.

Thirty minutes into detention and Roy was still staring at me with those killer’s eyes. Even when I pretended to concentrate on the t*****e textbook in front of me just to tune him out, I could still feel his eyes boring invisible holes inside me from the side.

My time of death finally came when Mr. Foster decided to step outside the classroom for a while.

“Can I come with you, sir?” I suddenly found myself asking a lot quicker than I thought even possible for myself.

He looked at me over the rim of his glasses and replied in that crazy boom box voice of his, “Do I need to remind you Mr. Sanders that this is not a social gathering?”

“What I meant was that I needed to go to the bathroom and since you are going out now, it’s only logical that we step outside together, right?” I replied again, surprising myself once more with my quick thinking- Guess you get a lot smarter when your life is on the line.

However, Mr. Foster only gave me one of his well-known scrutinizing looks in response. “I’m your science teacher, Mr. Sanders. I know how a person who needs to pee looks like,” he replied after a while. “And son, you don’t have that look.”

Wait, what? How the hell was a person with a peeing issue supposed to look like?

Unfortunately for me, Mr. Foster wasn’t in the mood to explain himself- so much for being the impacter of science knowledge- and I could only watch as he stepped out of the class.

Realizing that my lifeline was out, I quickly stood up and put two desks between Roy and me. “What’s going on, Sanders?” he asked, getting up and looking as if he wasn’t planning my demise. “You look like you’re about to be sentenced to death or something.”

“Of course not, Roy,” I replied, and pretended to check the sturdiness of a desk, and then another away from him. Two can play the game, right?

He suddenly moved towards me and I moved farther away; still keeping the “two desks” distance. I looked at the door and an idea suddenly came to me; one that would hopefully save my life once and for all.

First, I made sure that he was close enough to me before I made to move to the left. He followed my direction but it was a feint and I quickly retracted the movement and dashed for the door on the right. The plan would have been a success if not for those damn football legs of his. He grabbed me before I had the chance to get to the door.

“Think you can escape me, duck?” he asked, giving me a devilish smile, one with promise of great pain to come.

“Why don’t you just leave me alone, Roy? I never did anything to you anyway!” I shouted at him, trying to sound tougher than I felt.

“Oh, this isn’t for me, Troy,” he replied, “it’s for Bella.”

Bella. Of course I should have known those two were in on it together; an apology note and money would never be enough to sway a demon like that girl.

I tried fighting back but he was too strong. I pushed and pushed but all to no avail. He shoved me against the wall and began to crush my windpipe, seeming almost like he was actually intending to kill me.

“Get off me!” I shouted and all of a sudden, a really large encyclopedia flew off the shelf in the far corner of the room and hit him on the head. He jerked away from me- more in surprise than in pain actually- as he looked around to be sure before turning back to me.

“How did you do that?” he asked, the surprise making his voice come out in gasps.

“I didn’t do anything,” I returned and put on my best poker face.

He was about to begin pressing me for the truth when the door suddenly swung open and Grandpa Blake walked in, all calm and glorious I might add.

“Come on, son,” he said. “Detention’s over.”