The Unskillful Thaumaturge

I

Lillian sighed and slid into a chair next to the boy with the flowers, who was engaged in staring at them as if he wanted to tear them up. The tops of the flowers morphed slowly into the flights of an arrow as the vase refolded itself into an arrowhead; he lifted the arrow into the air and fired it at Amandi. She blinked and it transformed into a feather just before crashing into her head.

"Anyone else want to lose their instructions?" Amandi asked, faking an innocent smile as the class hurriedly shook their heads. "I didn't think so. Please get started on your lab and I'll grade your prelab assignments." She brushed the feather off of her desk and it fell to the ground immediately.

"Maybe I'd like her a little bit more if she wasn't so mean to you and Daria," Flower Boy hissed, opening Lillian's lab instructions to the first page. His messy blond hair flopped over his bright blue eyes as he began to read.

"I don't know why they chose her for the lab," Lillian agreed. "Why are you even in here anyway, Brandon?"

"I don't think I need this class but I'm also not sure I can test out of it," Brandon replied. "I'm not so great at illusionistics or transfiguration."

"Oh, come on," Lillian retorted, "you're good enough at telekinesis and barriers that you shouldn't have to do either of those for the class. Me, though? I'm going to fail this class." She looked over what her tablemate was reading. "See? Same old stuff about mental doors and visualization. It just doesn't work for me. Leslie even tried to hypnotize me once, and that didn't work either. I just can't visualize."

"Are you sure about that?" Brandon asked. "I'm sure with some professional help you could do it. Maybe you should talk to Professor Kern or Dr. Hests or someone."

"That's what Leslie said. She set up something with Dr. Hests but even she wasn't able to teach me how to do it."

Amandi cleared her throat a bit too loudly to be unintentional, and Lillian and Brandon returned to the prelab.

"What are we supposed to do?" Lillian said as softly as possible, running her fingers through her hair.

"Lift the book on the end of the desk about five inches up and turn the cover green without changing the content," Brandon replied. He blinked and the cover turned an ugly shade of mustard yellow. Shaking his head, he tried again. This time it was turquoise. The third time, Lillian could barely stand to look at the neon green cover. Brandon lifted it into the air and set it rotating.

"Okay," he continued, not taking his eyes off of the book. "You're supposed to measure the distance from the table."

Lillian lunged for the caliper as Brandon kept the book hovering in the air. She carefully separated the ends until the digital screen gave an exact measurement of the distance, 4.91 inches.

"Raise it a little bit," she suggested. This time she measured 5.03 inches.

"Close enough." Lillian jotted down the value and Brandon sighed, letting the book drop to the table. He opened it and began reading. "Same content," he observed. "That's good. Oh, by the way, can we get done quickly? I have to go to work later."

Lillian nodded and began concentrating on the book. Just like she had always been told, she visualized it rising into the air and hovering there, but the book stubbornly sat glued to the table. She tried again, and this time the book actually lifted, about five inches into the air. She nearly gasped, but then spotted Brandon, who appeared to be concentrating hard again. Another failure. How long would it take for her to learn even simple telekinesis?

"Grab the caliper," Brandon ordered, eyes locked onto the book.

☙❧

"Want some lunch?"