I don't know what time it is when I wake up, but the sun's high in the sky by the time I'm stepping out of the shed. For once, it hasn't snowed- these eighteen on the ground are the same eighteen inches from the night before. I decide to grab a spoon and a can opener and take a walk through town. I make my way down Gopher Road going west, past houses and past the crate and barrel factory, to the grocery store. I see the grocer there, and too late. Poolcheck asks me how the expedition went the night before.
I shrug. I don't know what Roderick and Dagwood's story are, so I have to be very careful not to say anything that would conflict with them. That being said, we should probably meet up at some point to make sure we're not both telling different tales. "It was annoying, actually." I shrug. "But we got though it."
His eyes are tired "Well, I thank you anyway- and Parsifal, and the others," he gestures around the room "take anything you want, half price!" This is less generous than it sounds: Downe went up on all his prices nearly 100% after the snows set in.
So I buy a can of tomato soup at half doubled price. I open it up on the way back, warm it with my hands and drink it straight from the can as I walk. Good eats, huh? I decide to take a bit of a detour through a gap cutting through to Town Square, then up Main Street. Gravity Falls appears to be resting- not many people are out, and even the wind is giving it a break.
I get back to the Gleeful house just as I'm finishing my breakfast. I let all the liquefied tomato concoction that's going to fall on my tongue, then lick my lips. I notice Gompers watching me with questioning, coin slot eyes. "Here ya go, buddy. Knock yourself out." I toss the can his way and he picks it up in his teeth. Thus is our regular morning ritual: I buy a can of something for breakfast, eat it, and Gompers gnaws on the can for the rest of the day. The back yard is more or less a Civil War battlefield, only instead of prostate 18-25 year old men, the casualties of war are smashed and chewed on soup cans.
"There you are!"
I don't expect to see Mr. Gleeful there, in his coat and boots, so it kind of surprises me he calls out to me. He's on the porch, but the short man closes the distance between us quickly.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?" I ask.
"Never waste the sunlight! Besides, it's almost three in the afternoon."
"That answers one question," I say to myself more than him.
"Come join us, Mr. Mischief."
"I-come again?"
Mr. Gleeful wants me to come to breakfast. After I get over the initial shock of this I follow him in, weary of some kind of trap. Mr. Gleeful has made it very clear in the past his cold feelings toward me. The thing is, you never forget having a gun shoved in your face. But the miner sits me down at the small kitchen table. Laid out in front of me is a veritable buffet of goodies- mashed potatoes and canned peaches and buttermilk and salt pork. "Is it my birthday?" I ask the air. Actually, my birthday is in March, but Gleeful doesn't know this.
"We just thought you could have something a little more nourishing than those awful canned soups you eat all the time." Mr. Gleeful said.
"Oooh," I said softly. "Well, thank you for the generosity." There is a question in my eyes as I look at Mr. Gleeful. Since when does he do anything kind for me?
"You ate already, didn't you?" The voice is right around pubescent- no longer boyish and sweet, but not quite a man's voice yet. It squeaks comedically. The voice belongs to Gus- out of bed and with color in his cheeks. I blink and look him over as if he might be some kind of ghost and, after deciding that he's not, nod satisfied, to myself.
I haven't answered his question. I don't say anything but smile sheepishly. Red liquid colors my teeth.
Mr. Gleeful still insists that I eat, and I look at the food questioningly, wondering whether it's worse to appear rude or accept something probably laced with poison. If it's poisoned, the Gleefuls have some sort of immunity, because Gus is eating with, well, gusto.
I finally decide that life is short, and if gets a little shorter, that's not a big deal, in the grand scheme of things. I dig into the potatoes, finding them to be more than adequate. Though it is a bit worrisome. My body has had a near constant supply of condensed food and hooch, to the point where if I died at any moment, I would probably never decompose due to all the salt and alcohol in my system. I know I'm making fatal changes to that chemical balance with this new fangled thing called real food.
And, whaddya know, it actually isa trap. Gus and his dad want to know all about the adventure in the forest, and I can't leave- not now that I've accepted Mr. Gleeful's home cooking. I tell a very bare bones tale about finding the gnome forest more or less wrecked, and having to take a detour to the Man Cave. Skip a bit to the part where the manotaurs invite us in. Skip again to the part where Ricky and Mabel start singing to get the manotaurs to leave them alone. Then some awkward skirting about so that none of us have to talk about Mabel Trembley or her fate. Then I bring the story to an end.
The Gleefuls are very tickled by my city slicker reactions and descriptions of the manotaurs, so of course, I ham this part up. "Huge! Big as a truck! What do they even eat?" I pinch my nose with my thumb and index knuckle "And don't even get me started on the smell!"
"The best thing is, if you go back to California, no one will believe you!" Mr. Gleeful says with a laugh.
I shrug "I could take always take a photograph."
By Mr. Gleeful's expression, he had not considered this.
Mr. Gleeful excuses himself from the table, and I discreetly let out a breath. I lean across the table and look at Gus. Just get a look at his face, his complexion, the way his hair falls.
"You alright, Billy?" He raises an eyebrow.
I nod. This is awkward. I put my elbow on the table and cup my chin in my hands. "How are you feeling, kid?"
"Perfectly fine." He scratches the back of his neck "Honestly, I can hardly remember anything about being sick. I fell asleep at some point and then later I woke up." He shrugged "I guess I was bad off, because the doctor seemed pretty worried. But I'm fine now! Why?" He frowns "You weren't worried about me too, were ya?"
I cross my arms "Me? Worry? Pft. You're outta your mind, kid! Yeah, I was worried. Worried I'd have to find a new tailor. Honestly! Worried!" I roll my eyes.
Gus smirks "Awww, Billy, you were worried! It's okay, my marshmella!" He teases "Don't fret your pretty little head anymore about lil ol' me!"
I put my elbows on the table and interlace my fingers between them. Putting my chin on my fingers and battering my overlong lashes I coo "Garsh, Gus, do you really think I'm pretty?"
He snorts with laughter. Yep, the same old Gus. But I have to press him some more. Find out what he remembers. "So ah, do you remember that happened before you fell asleep?"
Again the boy shrugs "It kind of blurs into each other…I mean my fever dreams and reality. One minute I'm out on the bed, feeling like I'm dying, the next I'm riding a four-armed fish named Aoshima…?" I smirk at this. I will always and forever be envious of other people and their dreams. Other people have dreams about doing crazy, impossible feats. Why, I once knew a guy who dreamt he had eaten the Statue of Liberty in an ice cream cone and it had turned him into a pink dog who could sing opera. And after telling me this he turned to me and acted like this was normal. He gets all that when he sleeps, and I get a hill of beans.
In any case, it seems that Gus doesn't remember what got him as sick as he got. Good. No need to dwell on that.
"You were there to." He adds.
"Oh. Yeah?" Or maybe he actually does remember? "Well," I try to save, with a shit-eating-grin "of course you would dream about me. It was about me being the bees knees, wasn't it?"
"Actually, I dunno, you were different…" he says, forking his salt pork.
"Different? How?" I cock my head.
Gus rubs his head "I can't remember that well. But you seemed, more cruel? Eh," he rubs the side of his plate with his thumb pad "Once you made Aoshima disappear, and I was falling to my death…" He shrugs it off, then smiles impishly. "Don't worry, Billy, I won't hold it against ya!"
I cross my arms and look at him wearily "I sense an 'if' coming on."
"If you break up with Ricky Northwest."
I'm genuinely surprised by this, and I just sort of give Gus a blank look. Is he really still stuck on my girl? One would think he would get a reality check and figure out that nothing would ever happen between the two of them.
Gus sighs, and says "Just kidding, Billy."
Besides, I don't think I could break up with Ricky if I wanted to; I never have the chance. She's almost always in the mansion, and when I go to the door, the servants tell me the Northwests are not seeing guests. In those rare moments when she does leave the house, she's accompanied by her father, or her brother, or one of her father's staff. I cannot, of course, have a decent conversation with one of them nearby, and of course giving us our space is not something I can request. I do make a point of greeting her when I see her in public places like the grocery store or the post office, but I don't get much further than a greeting before whoever is accompanying her is nudging her in another direction.
It's because of her father. I know it is. Somehow, he figured out who Ricky's secret boyfriend was- if she had been trying to keep me a secret at all. I don't know why he wants put up a wall between Ricky and me now. Maybe dealing with the gnomes and the manataurs- both who could have caused potential harm to Ricky in different ways- made him extra protective of his little girl. But Northwest must know that I'm different. I am a human being, after all! I'm on their side!
This persists for two more days. It's not just that I have to talk to Ricky. I need to speak to Northwest, too. How can he know my secret is safe with him? At the very least I get to talk to the Pines and we can finally get our stories synchronized.
On the second night, I'm sleeping curled under five layers of wool blankets, when I hear a sound come from the shed doors. I sit bolt upright I bed. There is a crack under the door through which I can see a shadow moving about. I'm quiet as I slip from the bed, even using the inch-of-air trick to make my footsteps completely silent. I grab a shovel from the corner and make my way to the door.
I stand for about five seconds, trying to divine what is going on that other side of the wall. How nice it would be to have eyes everywhere; to just KNOW things! I bet you would be the smartest guy in the world. Some movement by my feet- something is being slipped under the door. Delicate fingers push it in, then I can hear the weight of the person on the other side shifting. They're getting up. Their shadow through the crack under the door goes away, leaving the thing they pushed down there entirely illuminated.
I'm curious to see what it is, but I am more concerned with the person outside. How do I know I won't be attacked as soon as I let my guard down? I crack the door open and put an eye to it. I gaze out into the empty yard. I glance the frozen ground. It hasn't snowed in days, but it hasn't been warm enough to melt, either, so its hardening into a dirty white crust. I finally see movement- a figure making their way to the back door of the Northwest house. They are wearing a dark cloak, but when they open the door from within, I get a glance of a round face and straight brown hair. The Northwests' maid, Wendy.
I let the door close and latch it from within. Now I pick up the folded piece of paper pushed beneath the door. It's folded into a 2"x2" square, so I go about unfolding this. Once unfolded, there is a short, simple message that reads "Lookout Point, 3:30 PM tomorrow." Below is a simple device- an A and an N written together, so that it either looks like an A with an extra vertical line, or an N that's been crossed through. Ricky's signature.
Will this winter never end?!
I have come to a conclusion. Hell is not hot. Heat is good. Heat is movement and life and coffee and tea and hot cocoa. Hell cannot be hot. Hell is cold. Hell is winter. Hell is Canada! Tell the scientific community! Canadians are demons incarnate!
These are my thoughts as I make my way, walking, up the twisting, mountain road to Lookout Point, my hat covering my ears, and my scarf tied every which way I can think of to get it to cover my face and neck. It's times like this that I get to really think about where my life is going. Seventeen years old. Even more broke then when I got here. Everyone in Gravity Falls knows my name, or at least, my stage name, but that is literally less than a thousand souls. I know every face, not because I'm extremely friendly, but because there are not that many faces to know.
If I was smart, I would get out. So then, why don't I? Am I really so hung up on Ricky? She's a great girl, and a lot of fun, but there are a lot of fish in the sea. My job isn't the greatest, even though it does give me a lot of freedom in what I do and how I do it. So what's keeping me here, I wonder?
I reach the point. No one's here. Ah, well. It can't hurt to walk a few more steps. Out to the drop off. Close enough so that I can see the town cradled in the valley below. In the light of day, I can see a lot more than any night. The houses and trees look like toys, especially next to the Old Greasy- the big redwood tree that grows off the center of town. The two water towers like bastions standing over everything. I see where two waterfalls feed into lakes, though ironically enough I'm at the wrong angle to view the hulking Lake Gravity Falls.
A rumbling engine and the sound of tires on gravel. A smile comes to my face and I turn around. The Lincoln Model L makes a turn in the car park and comes to a stop. Ricky opens the front door and gets out to talk to me, but I run to the car "Better idea- let's talk inside!" I call to her. I get to the passenger side door and try to open it, but the door stays where it is. My brain is frozen and sluggish enough that I don't realize right away that the door is locked and kind of stare at it for a good three seconds wondering why it won't work.
Ricky whistles to me and tosses me something. It's a key. "I've got to have a smoke." She says "You wanna join me?"
"I'd rather de-thaw if that's not a problem," I say, already putting the key in the lock.
"It's thaw."
"What?" The passenger door is already open. What minimal heat is in the cabin is escaping. Hurry up, Ricky!
"It's thaw," she says again "the word you want. To de-thaw would be…to freeze something again after you've brought it down from a frozen state. Or something like that." She shrugs and lights her cigarette, then looks back at me "What?" She asks, because I'm smirking.
"I told you all that edjumacating was turning ya into a robot."
"Oh yeah? And here comes the robot uprising!" She fires back, chucking a snowball in my direction. I hop in the cab and close the door just in time for the icy projectile to smash right into the glass. She had good aim this time, just not good timing. As the ice crystals slip down the glass, I see her out there, in her scarf and coat, one annoyed hand on her hips, the other cradling the cigarette, he eyes narrowed. I coyly wave and, haughtily, she turns her head and blows smoke into the air.
By the time Ricky finishes her cigarette and comes back to the car I'm reclined on the front bench seat with my head on the passenger side. She opens the door and startles when she sees the fireball hovering in the air above the steering wheel. I sit up and grab the fireball from the air, absorbing it. "Sorry, did I scare ya?" I ask, trying to sound genuine.
Ricky seems to be considering this question. She says "It's toasty in here."
"Yeah, and you're letting the heat out! Hurry up and get in!" I beseech.
Ricky does so, shutting the door behind her. "I should have known you have an ace up your sleeve." She says. Car heaters are notoriously lousy.
I bring my nose close to hers "They're a magician's sleeves, Doll, whaddya expect?" We kiss one, twice…then she pulls away.
"Billy…" she opens her eyes, leans her forehead against mine "that's what we need to talk about."
I give a pleading smile "Oh come on, Ricky! I haven't even talked to you for two days. Let's just-" I move in for a kiss, but she turns away.
She takes my hands and leans back in the seat. "I know. And I'm sorry." She says "Father's been keeping such a close eye on me. Won't even let me leave the house by myself."
"I noticed that!"
"I had to sneak out while he was at one of his club meetings." She rolls her eyes. "I bribed Wendy. He'll only be gone for two hours. Look, this might be the last time I see you before I go back to school. We have to make this time matter."
My eyes widen "What? When are you leaving?"
"Two days."
"And your dad- he's not showing signs of letting up?"
"He'll come around." She pulls her knees up by her chin "But it will take more than two days."
"Well that's just-!" I make a fist which erupts into flame. Blue turns red for a moment. Blue is control, power. Red is a loss of control- emotions overcoming you. I hope Ricky understands what the colors mean because I am, for the moment, tongue tied with my frustration. Here I thought Ricky and I were going to come up with some solution to our situation, but all she wants to do is talk business! I wave the stupid red fire away. "It's a drag, savvy?!"
While my hand is engulfed in flame, she gets this odd, faraway look on her face and watches the fire. When it's gone, she nods at my words and takes the offending hand and pulls it toward her. Since it's my right hand, it's on the other side of my body from her, so I end up doing this weird twist. "Eh, Ricky?"
She blinks, as if coming out of a dream. Her eyes meet mine. "Does it hurt when you do that?" She asks.
I purse my lips. I've already revealed so much to her by accident, it's not like I can dig myself any deeper. "No. Fire never hurts."
"Never?" She's surprised, but not disbelieving. "But how is that possible?"
I take my hand back gently and offer her my left so that I don't have to twist in my seat. She takes this with delicate fingers and traces the lines of the palms. "Have you ever learned about witches in school?" I asked "Real witches- like the trials in England and New England?"
"Yes…"
"They told ya that witches couldn't drown, but you could burn 'em at the stake and kill 'em. Do you know about the Ordeal by Cold Water?"
"Tie a person up," Ricky said "throw them in the water…if they sink, they're a normal human. If they float, fish them out and kill them some other way." She nodded. "Pretty barbaric- the things we humans will do to each other."
I shrug "Sounds like the fun to me. Unless you're the one being tied up and thrown into the water…"
She cocks her head "Please don't tell me you're being serious."
I smirk, but it fades the more I look into her eyes "Fine. I won't tell ya, then." She purses her lips. To distract her, I go on "That's not the point, though. The point is, all those people that wrote about witches- they must notta been witches themselves. If they had been, they wouldn't have mixed up those two."
She examines my palm "Does that make you a witch, then?"
I open my mouth, chuckle uncomfortably "Well-"
"A warlock?" She looks into my eyes.
"Maybe."
"Maybe? You don't know?"
I shrug "When I find someone else in the world that can do what I do, I'll call myself whatever they call themselves."
Ricky accepts this logic "Witches, warlocks…those are impossible!" She says.
I chuckle "Yeah! And so are manotaurs!" I point out.
"Alright, you win!" Then she frowns "But why didn't you tell me?" She asks. Her eyes are pained.
Mine are too. It wasn't like I was trying to hurt her. "Ricky, did we not just talk about the Ordeal by Cold Water?"
"It's the twentieth century, Billy!" She nudges me on the shoulder "People don't drown witches anymore. Warlocks. Whatever."
"Of course they don't," I snark "they got rid of em all in the sixteen hundreds!"
The smile, which had only been halfway there in the first place, melts entirely from her face. She purses her lips. "Oh, I think I get it." She clasps my hand "Life must have been pretty scary for you, all your life."
I snatch my hand away "Now listen, Ricky, I don't want your pity."
Ricky blinks at me. "What, pity?" She folds her hands on her sides "I don't pity you. I actually feel like I don't even know you." And cups her hands on her knees "I did, and then that was taken away from me. Billy," she has that fierce light in her eyes again "was any of it true? Anything you told me when we came here before?" She gestures to the outside of the car, to lookout point. This was the place where we smoked, where we made love, and where we talked to each other for hours on end. "You told me your mother left when you were five. Was that true, or was that a lie to make me pity you? Oh wait, you don't like pity!"
This is harder than I expected. I lean my elbow on the window, as if trying to push through the glass to freedom. My fingers are on my forehead gripping my hairline. "I haven't been forthcoming about a lot," I admit, "but I told a lotta truths."
"But you told a lot of lies too, right?"
I look back at her. I nod. "Of course. I had to make my stories make sense, without magic."
She flops into the seat, standing plank straight with her knees together and her hands folded on her lap. "I just don't know what's a lie and what's the truth any more." Translation: I might never trust you again.
I roll my head back and stare up into the interior roof of Ricky's car. Not exactly a majestic skyscape or anything. I blow air out of my cheeks moodily.
"Look. Pops did kick my Mom out when I was five. And it had a little ta do with what she taught me- about magic." Not her eyes widen as she realizes the weight of that statement "Yeah. Pops wanted me to be a normal kid- normal as possible. Mom wanted me to reach my 'full potential'," I say making air quotes. "So she started teaching me at a young age, all this stuff about spells and hexes.
"But that was only part of the story. Pops kicked her out a few days after she hid this."
I reach down into my shirt, find the amulet, grip it and pull it out. I display it for her to view. "Pops gave this to me. Got it from a friend in Colorado. It helped me. But my mom didn't want that."
She narrows her eyes and cocks her head "What do you mean, it helped you?"
"I used to have this problem with my magic. I couldn't control it. I was a terror, actually," I shrug "not that I remember. But I guess Pops was prit-ty afraid of me." I grin. "This actually acted as kind of a dam for my powers. It would stop them from doing whatever they wanted, so I was in control."
"Can I see it?" She requests. I'm surprised by this request but I nod, getting the rest of the chain up over my head. I hand her the necklace and pull my arms away. Then I gasp, just a little gasp, in surprise. Suddenly, by back is against a wall. Not a normal wall. A wall that's alive, and buzzing with motion. It's a wall of energy shoving against me.
"You alright, Billy?"
I blink. I can still feel the wall. It's not shoving quite so hard. That's weird. I nod and, after a second, say "Yeah…just got a chill, I think." The heat has dissipated in the cab. "Do you mind if I uh-"
"Oh! Well, I suppose not. But don't let it catch." She puts her gloved hands on the seat lovingly, as if stroking it "She's my baby. If you hurt her, I'd have to kill you. Preferably by Ordeal by Cold Water." She says wickedly.
"Yikes! Alright, alright! I won't hurt the precious baby." I create a fireball and set it floating between us, equidistant from the canvas roof and the leather seats and the dash, which has some wood in it. Ricky backs away nervously. Oh, right. Being on fire hurts for most people, doesn't it?
She inspects the amulet the same way she inspected my hand. I take a look at this- the hand that is. Not that there's much to see. You can't tell from my palms that I might or might not be a warlock. I have a lifeline and a heart line and marriage line just line everyone else. The only thing that bothers me about my hands is that I have three fingers and a thumb. I know it's not a big deal, but come on, I'm seventeen years old and I have these kiddy hands! I mean, my pops has six fingers on one hand. Ya think that would count for something!
"Ouch!" I hear from the other side of the cab.
"Huh?" I glance at my fireball. Pretty much staying where I put it. The heat from it has made a significant change in the temperature of the cab, and one almost feels comfortable enough to take off one's coat. Almost. Not quite yet. "Ricky? Did it burn ya?" I ask.
She shakes her head "Shock. From your necklace."
"Amulet." I correct her. "Must be static electricity. From my shirt."
"So, what happened with your mom?" She nudges, casting me a glance.
I lean back, and glance out the window, to think "Well, as I said, she hid that from me. Glaumed it offa me while I was sleeping."
"What happened? Did not having it make you sick?"
"Eh, I was five." I remind her. "I don't remember feeling bad but, well…"
"You were five," she says with a nod.
"I did burn the house we were living in down, and that was frowned upon."
Ricky's jaw drops and her eyebrows shoot up. Despite myself, I'm amused by her expression "Oh yeah." I grin "I guess even back then, I was the little Hell-raiser. Pops sure was mad. And then one of the fire fighters pulled Mom's jewelry box out of the rubble, with my amulet in it, and he lost it."
"Were you hurt in the fire?"
"Yes. I lost an eye."
"Really?!" Now she looks like she might loose both eyes- like they're going to pop out of her skull! "One of those is glass?!"
"Of course not! I'm just kidding!" I laugh, bracing myself against the passenger side door "You shoulda seen your face, Ricky!"
"Watch it- I'm not done being sore!" She simmers.
"That's what she said!"
"Billy!"
"Alright, alright! Sorry, Doll." I don't know why, I'm just in such a good mood all of a sudden! I feel like I've been let out of the hoosegow. I feel like a want to go for a run. I never want to go for a run. "No- nobody was hurt. It was just our stuff that was destroyed. And our home. And a cat I hated anyway. But we were fine. But after that, Pops told Mom to leave, and to make sure she didn't find us, he took me away. To California."
Ricky looks down at the stone, the corners of her mouth going down "That's a sad story, Billy."
"Huh? Oh. I guess." The starts to shake under my seat. "What?" I exclaim, trying to get a crude grip on the seats. The car tilts as one side of tire leave the ground, then the others. "What the heck?"
"Woah!" Ricky exclaims, looking out the window, then "Oh! Cat's pajamas!"
A note a couple of things. One, that the horizon behind Ricky is in a different place than it was before. Two, that the amulet in her hand is glowing.
"How are you doing that?!" I ask.
The car suddenly drops the few inches it has risen with a Boom!Ricky looks at the amulet "It wasn't me. It was this thing."
I snatch it back, perhaps a little too eagerly. I rub the stone with my thumb pad. "Oh, oh, oh!" I exclaim "I think I get it! See, it doesn't just stop my powers." I squeeze it "Sometimes, I want to do something and I'm not sure I can, so I give this a squeeze," a small grin grows on my face as I do just that "and," the car rises beneath us, more steadily this time, not tipping to either side. I have been doing this longer than Ricky has. "It must be some kinda sponge! It's been absorbing my magic this whole time! And now anyone can use 'em!" I hand it back to Ricky "You can use 'em!"
She pushes my hand, with the amulet chain in it, back toward me "I don't want it, Billy. I don't need your magic."
But I insist "Come on, Ricky! Don't you wanna make this into a flying car?"
"It's not flight," Ricky corrects me "its levitation. And no. You need it, Billy! You just said so."
"Actually," I drop the chain on her lap and fold my hands behind my head. I recline "I feel great!" I point at the amulet "I don't think I need that thing anymore. I'm a stupid kid anymore, yanno! I know what I'm doin'!"
"Are you sure, Billy?"
"Of course I am! Hey Ricky, I got it- you're a college wise-head. Why doncha do some kinda experiment? Find out just how much you can do with that that thing. I mean, is it just floating and fire, or can ya make multi-bears?"
"What do you expect me to do, Billy, hunt down a bunch of bears so I can try?"
"Sure! Great idea, Ricky!"
She chuckles, taken by surprise "I don't what's gotten into you, but your good mood sure is contagious!" She picks up the amulet and rubs her chin, studying it "Well," she says "if you really want me to try, I'll see what I can do in my spare time. Don't be disappointed if I don't make headway though, Billy- they keep me really busy at school. And I don't think I'll be publishing any papers about the practical effects of magic- they'll ban me from campus!" She looks into my eyes "You are sure about this, right Billy?"
"I told ya! I feel great!"
