X
". . . but by using the conjugate you can prove the identity," Ms. Rivers droned on. I tuned her out and gazed mindlessly at the book open on my desk. My gaze drifted to the graffitti on my desk: "If ur bored draw a face:", "The Big Wahooni sux", "Let X equal malignancy", "I ".
After a moment I realised what I'd just read: "Let X equal malignancy". What did anyone who sat here know about malignancy? This school in Quirm was supposed to be totally mundane. Boring. Nothing Malignant.
I'd come here to escape all that. Ever since I was about four years old I've been unusual. "That's okay," you're thinking, "People should be themselves." I wasn't just unusual, I was different and not only that, I was strange.
Other kids didn't want to play with me. My teachers said I was bunking classes. They had to eat their words when I scored 'A's an every exam. Besides, I wasn't bunking. Not exactly. I just didn't want them to notice me, so they didn't.
Eventually Mother moved me to another school. I got shunted about from class to class until I landed up in Miss Susan's class. That was where the malignancy business started. I heard Miss Susan talking to somebody after class.
The next day I asked her about it. Apparently I shouldn't have heard it. She told me to forget it. Yeah, right.
From then on I set out to find out what she was talking about. Just because she was the only teacher I'd had who could actually make me learn, didn't mean I trusted her.
Eventually, of course, I found out. I always do. This time was a little harder; quite a lot harder, actually, but I did it. I didn't like what I found. The whole Death's granddaughter thing was pretty freaky too.
Anyway, that's why I moved here: The Quirm Academy for Young Ladies. And here it is again: malignancy. Somebody's playing around with malignancy. That's about the stupidest thing I can think of. Even if she was just doodling on her desk, whoever she was.
"Class dismissed," said Ms. Rivers. I stood up and walked out.
I couldn't concentrate for the rest of the day. Not, that I normally do, but normally I have a choice. I wasn't doing much, or not until I saw the rat. The rat was unusual. For one thing, no one was screaming as he scampered past. For another it was carrying a scythe. The biggest clue was probably the fact that he was, shall we say, skeletal.
I was about to make the acquaintance of the Death of Rats.
"SQUEAK."
"Why didn't you bring Quoth, like for Miss Susan?" I asked.
"SQUEAK."
"Well, yes, but it would have been nice."
"SQUEAK, SQUEAK"
"Alright, I'm coming. Have you given any thought as to how I'm going to get there?" I stepped out of my seat and followed Death of Rats out of the class. Nobody noticed, obviously.
Outside was a large white horse. The horse was unusual, but what was more unusual was the skeletal figure sitting on the horse.
"What do you want?" I asked. I admit it was quite rude, but he hadn't been exactly the quintessential gentleman.
"AH," said Death, "I DIDN'T KNOW YSABEL HAD A SISTER."
I listened to everything Death said - not that he said much. Finally he got to, "YOU MUST GO – "
I – very politely – cut in. "I'm dreadfully sorry, but I have an extremely important history lesson in five minutes." It wasn't so much that I wouldn't have liked to have an adventure, as that he just assumed I would do whatever he said. Nobody tells me what to do.
That's what I told myself, but Death's last words kept coming back to me: "YOU ARE MORE LIKE YOUR COUSIN THAN I WOULD HAVE EXPECTED." It's not that I don't respect Miss Susan – who is now apparently my cousin – but I don't want to be a copy of her. Get real! Susan is obsessed with being normal. I gave up on that long ago. I can do better than normal. Even if I had a choice I wouldn't be normal.
I still might've ignored Death's visit if I hadn't heard Ms Nott and Ms Rivers talking about Unseen University in Ankh-Morpork. If the wizards had noticed the increase in malignancy it had to be pretty serious. This wasn't just a case of which way the toast landed on the carpet.
By lights out that night I had realised that Death was right. I had to do something about that X. I might be playing into my newfound granddad's hand, but there was no way I could just watch the end of the world. I hate to admit it, but even I have a conscience.
I tossed and turned for a while, but I knew I had to start sometime. If the world was being overrun by pure evil, I might have left it to someone else or at least waited 'til after breakfast. Malignancy is much worse. In small doses it means your toast lands butter side down on the carpet. If you don't think that could get bad, imagine a really big piece of toast. The Great Riot of '42 began when a milkman's cart was overturned. That was some serious malignancy right there, even though they didn't realise it at the time.
History wasn't going to help the here-and-now. I got up quietly and walked out of the dorm. I needed to check out that graffiti on Ms Rivers' desk again. If I was lucky I'd just be able to scrub it off and malignancy would return to normal. I don't suppose Death would have needed me if it was that simple, though. I had a feeling that this would turn out to be something particularly human. I was going to have to return to normalcy.
The "Let X malignancy" was even stranger than I'd thought. When I started scrubbing at it – quite half-heartedly, to be honest – it only became more deeply engrained. It was getting darker all the time too, even seeming to suck the light out of the air around it. It's not really that surprising when you think of all the values people give to X. I muttered some nasty things about the carving under my breath and turned around to walk out of the class.
As I went through the door I nearly tripped over a chair that I was pretty sure hadn't been there before. Malignancy was getting bad. I wasn't so naïve as to think I was the only one having problems. I was just the only one who knew where they came from.
By then I was actually pretty tired. Everyone knows adventures aren't really fun, but you tend to forget that when you're busy. I trudged up the stairs hoping I'd have some inspiration about what to do next. Death hadn't said much to me, except that malignancy was increasing and I needed to fix it. No hints like "Turn to page 72" or "Remember to use your Malignancy for Dummies book". I was on my own. Which, to be fair, is what I'd wanted.
Surprisingly enough, inspiration did strike the next day, during library period. It struck me on the left shoulder in the form of Quirm Academy's yearbook. Somewhere in one of those yearbooks was the girl who'd written "Let X malignancy". One of the older ones, probably, since even I could see that the carving wasn't anything like new. It had probably taken a while to start working, but now it had momentum. Toast can do a lot of damage if it hits hard enough.
I started working through the yearbooks with the one that fell off the shelf. I was fairly sure I'd recognise anyone who'd been messing with malignancy. She wasn't likely to be a nobody.
I was quite surprised when I found Miss Susan. I didn't know she'd gone to the Quirm Academy, but there she was, in between a dwarf and a troll. Maybe she wasn't quite so normal when she was younger.
I got through three of the yearbooks before maths, but I didn't find anyone really significant. I spent half of maths staring at my desk. It took me ages to realise what an idiot I'd been. There had been someone significant in those yearbooks: Miss Susan. She certainly knew about malignancy.
If Miss Susan had made that carving I'd have to rethink my opinion of her. I wouldn't even know how to start something like that. Mind you, it was actually pretty stupid to make it. Even I know not to mess with malignancy and I only met Granddad yesterday. It would be pretty cool to try though, if it was controlled.
My thought process was interrupted when the maths class was invaded by a swarm of bees. There was total chaos and nobody could hear a word Ms Rivers said, since Lucy Petersen was screaming her head off.
I gave up trying to think and descended into the disorder of the rest of the class. I'm almost as good as Nancy Schepers at messing with the teacher's mind. It was entertaining until I began to think about Miss Susan again.
Miss Susan used to take us on field trips. Not ordinary field trips though: she told all the adults they were imaginary, but we knew better. We found sand in the classroom for days after we visited the desert and Tim never found his new watch after he left it in the mountains.
If Miss Susan could move a whole class around like that, I must be able to do it to. I only needed to move myself, so it should be simple. It took me a few tries to get it figured out – most of the night actually and I was about to give up when I finally managed – but I got there eventually.
I know light moves slowly and that's why we have day and night – everyone knows that – but I was still surprised to find it was early afternoon in Miss Susan's classroom. I was very glad her class had already left.
Miss Susan looked up from her desk. "What are you doing here, Kelsey?" (Wherever Mother got that name from, I can't stand it.) "I thought you went to school in Quirm."
"I did, Miss Susan, but I had to come and ask you about what you wrote on the desk. About malignancy."
"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" That voice shouldn't work on me, since I can do it myself. I politely ignored Death quite well, I thought, but I couldn't ignore Miss Susan. It was more to do with the fact that she was, well, Miss Susan, than anything else.
"Well, it's a bit complicated. See, Death told me that I had to sort out this malignancy problem – you must have noticed it – and I think it, well it must be that carving. Let X equal malignancy."
"KELSEY, GO BACK TO THE ACADEMY. STOP FOOLING AROUND WITH THINGS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND."
"Honestly, Miss Susan, I. . . DEATH FOUND OUT THAT YSABEL HAD A SISTER. MY MOTHER." For the first time I can remember, Miss Susan looked surprised. Not shocked or taken aback, but I could tell she hadn't been expecting that.
"You had better explain properly then. Something certainly needs to be done about this malignancy. It's becoming dangerous."
"I remember that experiment," said Miss Susan, "It wasn't a carving, I only wrote it onto the desk. Lightly, in pencil. I'm not stupid."
"Well, it's a carving now. I think it's been gaining momentum."
"Even if it is a carving, all you need to do is scratch it out."
I hate admitting to anything, but having got this far I had to say, "How do I do that?"
Miss Susan didn't laugh – she would never laugh at one of her students – but I'm sure she thought it was funny. She made me practice carving on one of the desks at the back of the classroom. Well, not made, really. I did agree to it. About an hour later, with Miss Susan's knife in hand, I was ready to face anything. Well, almost anything. Certainly an old school desk.
The carving had almost cut right through the desk by the time I got back. If I'd been an hour later I don't know what would have happened. Miss Susan might, but I'd have to admit I don't know if I asked her.
I stood over the desk, raised the knife and began to score down the carving. I heard the knife scratching on the wood. The first score had almost no effect, so I raised the knife and began again.
And Again.
And Again.
I stood over that desk for nearly an hour. Eventually I had cut all the way through.
As I drew the knife out of the desk a scream reverberated around the classroom. It was followed by a higher one, then a lower one, then another and they kept coming until I could hardly stand it. Then it was finished.
That's how I saved the world. If you can call it that. I still visit Miss Susan occasionally. I mean, she is family. I've actually learnt quite a lot from her. More than I thought. I still think she's obsessed with being normal, but she's not bad, for an adult.