It wasn't uncommon to be sick in Bloors Academy, it was cold and drab. But bone academy was warm and welcoming, so it was impossible to be sick. At least that's what Tancred told himself as he shuffled into the halls.
He didn't even feel sick, no nausea, or stomach aches, just sneezes and headaches. The problem? Every time he sneezed, thunder struck. But he wasn't sick, no. It was probably just dust.
Settling down in history, Tancred quickly became bored, and began using stiff breezes to mess around with his books. "Tancred Torroson!" The teacher barked. "If you would please open your book to page fifty-three so we could begin?"
Tancred did so, and put his head on his arm, reading the page quickly. The history teacher, though very good, had a flat voice, and as he droned on, Tancred felt his eyes grow heavy.
"Tancred Torroson!" The teacher yelled, waking the stormy boy up. "It's lunch time. Your going to be late!" Seeing something in the boys face, he asked "are you okay, Tancred?"
Tancred nodded and just shuffled his way to the green cafeteria. Spotting Emma and Lysander, he waved and walked over to them. "Hey Tanc" Lysander grinned, and then noticed there was no food tray in his friends hands. "You know that Cook is making Apple Crumble, right?"
Tancred just looked forlorn "not hungry" he mumbled. Lysander and Emma exchanged shocked looks. This was unheard of! "Are you feeling alright Tancred?" Emma joked, placing her hand on his forehead, before whipping it away. "You're burning up" she hissed.
"M' Sorry" Tancred slurred, as the room began to tilt dizzyingly. Far away, he could hear Emma shriek, and Lysander call for the matron that replaced Charlie's great aunt, but he was too tired to do anything more than summon a brisk breeze to cool his suddenly hot body. He gratefully let darkness overtake him.
When Tancred woke up, he was greeted by the sight of seven worried faces staring down at him. Charlie, Emma, Lysander, Olivia, Fidilio, Gabriel and even Billy, sat around him in the infirmary. "Hey guys" Tancred said, smiling at them.
"Don't you 'hey guys' us, what were you thinking? Why didn't you tell us you were sick?" Emma demanded. "Sorry MOM" Tancred spat. Everyone reeled back, shocked at his bitter tone. "Don't mind him" the new matron, a jolly woman said. "Mood swings are common symptoms of having a stroke."
"A stroke?" Olivia asked, surprised. The new matron nodded, before briskly pushing the visitor away to look at her ward. "Slight fever, and clammy" she felt Tancred's forehead, before pulling away and writing something down. "We'll keep you in for two more days, and then your parents can come to pick you up early."
"Pick me up early?" Tancred exclaimed, alarmed. He sat straight up in bed, much to the alarm of his friends."Take it easy, Tanc" Fidilio cautioned. "No, I'm fine!" He insisted, swinging his legs around, then, before anyone could stop him, he raced out of the infirmary.
Tancred was aware that he was wearing his pyjamas, but because everyone was in class, no one saw. "Tanc, stop!" Lysander, Emma and Charlie cried as they tried to catch up to the stormy boy. But Tancred, who was an extremely good runner, managed to keep ahead of them. Aware of the corners of his vision turning black, Tancred bent his head and kept running.
He wasn't aware of the drumming, or the ghostly figures appearing in front of him. He didn't see one of Lysander's ancestors reach out and grab him until it was too late. Struggling, Tancred attempted to break free. But while it was possible for one to attack one of Lysander's spirits, as they could not hurt you without being solid, Tancred's vision was turning completely black, and he couldn't tell what to aim at.
Charlie, Emma and Lysander stopped in front of the ancestor Lysander had summoned. All three of them were worried for what they saw. Tancred's skin was nearly pure white, and his usually spiky hair was flat against his head. His lightning blue eyes were glassy, and seemed to be looking at absolutely nothing.
The ancestor handed the now unconscious boy over to Lysander then vanished. Tancred muttered something intelligent, and along the lines of "muh" before passing out once more.
For the next three days, Tancred Torroson was in a coma. Lysander and Emma stayed by his side at all times, taking turns to read Tancred's favourite book, Narnia, to him.
By the third day, the weatherman came by. "Not again" he has sighed after seeing his son on the bed. "Not again?" Lysander asked, surprised. "When Tancred was eight he discovered his ability" the man gave a chuckle that sounded like thunder. "And he caused havoc with it. But after that, he had a stroke. It usually happens if he overexerts himself."
"He did keep mentioning using his powers to fly" Emma remembered. "He probably tried to do that. That probably did it."
"I didn't try, I succeeded" a raspy voice said. Spinning around, Lysander, Emma and The Weatherman saw Tancred sitting up in bed. "Tanc!" Emma exclaimed, pulling the boy into a hug, and then hitting him. "How dare you not tell us about having a stroke when you overexert yourself?!"
Tancred leaned back, and rested his head against the backboard of the bed. "Dad, what are you doing here?" His voice, though raspy, was also slightly slurred, making it hard to hear what he was saying. He tried to sit up once more, but wobbled slightly, and fell back with his eyes closed. "Well?" He asked, making them all jump.
"Well, when your son puts himself in a coma trying to fly, the school has to ring you up" Tancred's father boomed. "Once again, I didn't try, I succeeded!" Tancred grinned, then frowned. His hair, which for the last three days had been flat and limp, a sight no one who saw him got used to seeing, slowly raised and crackled with electricity as he concentrated.
Then very slowly, a small breeze brushed a card on the table and sent it toppling. "Tancred!" The Weatherman snapped. "You shouldn't do that! You can't overexert yourself!" Tancred grinned. "I' fine dad" he yawned as he turned over and fell asleep.
Tancred's dad stomped out of the room, muttering something about 'he will be the death of me.' In two weeks time, Tancred was all better, and was sending papers flying everywhere.