The week went by quickly enough. Virginia was proud of me for using red magic to torch all the monsters, while Ellen of course favored the traditional approach of teleporting the monsters into the cells. "You really didn't think of that?" she had asked me when I explained that I didn't realize that that's what the cells were supposed to be used for. "That doesn't seem like you at all."
I had just shrugged it off at the time and blamed it on the fact that I had been going to red magic the entire week before the test. It was a good enough excuse, a believable one, but an excuse all the same. Still, I didn't need to draw my roommates into my existential nonsense. In fact, I didn't even tell them that Professor Grabiner had offered me private lessons with him. I didn't know how they would react to it. I knew some of the teachers gave private lessons during the summer, when there was much less classwork, but not during the school year. I was pretty sure Professor Grabiner didn't even offer private lessons as a rule – he couldn't stand being around students. He hated them. So why did he want to be around me? Why was I special? Because I had stood up to him? Or was there something else?
As it turns out, though, I didn't have much to worry about. Professor Grabiner was no friendlier to me than he was in class, so it didn't bother me as much. The thing that did bother me, though, is the fact that we weren't really doing any blue magic. We weren't even really doing any regular magic. We were doing something that I could only best describe as memory exercises. For example, one day he put together a Rubik's Cube and then made me try to unsolve it exactly the way he had solved it. I wasn't quite sure what it was supposed to prove, but he sat there and watched me the entire time, arms folded across his chest as I struggled to turn it this way and that. I couldn't tell from his expression whether he was sulking or annoyed at my lack of progress. He never said anything. He seemed content to just sit there and watch me silently.
The only person who did know about my private lessons with Professor Grabiner was Tommy, and that was simply because he had followed me there after one of my classes. For some reason, he couldn't, or rather, refused to understand why I would even consider going to private lessons with the professor who had made me miss the Halloween dance. I went to the Halloween dance last year so it wasn't as big a deal to me, but I supposed it was Tommy's first dance at the school, and having his date bail on him at the last second for detention was kind of a blow. Regardless, he still tried to persuade me to hang out with him and skip going to private lessons. He was not happy with what I chose.
The second week of December brought upon the annual Secret Santa tradition of gift-giving. Last year I had gotten Virginia and due to a major snow storm, we had all stayed in the gym and made cards for each other. I made Virginia a purple card and decorated it with warrior girls swinging swords and shooting arrows, which she absolutely loved. This year, though, the forecast seemed clear, so when I walked up to the bowl on the stage, I was excited to see who I would have to shop for. Would I have to get books for Ellen? A magical amulet for Virginia? A whoopee cushion for Donald?
I closed my eyes and grabbed the first piece of paper that touched my fingertips and pulled it out of the bowl. The paper slip tucked firmly in my hand, I went back to my seat and unfurled the slip of paper and read the name to myself.
Hieronymous Grabiner
I stare at the letters, trying to make sense of it. It's a joke, right? Surely it must be some sort of joke. I try to dispel it, to see if it was charmed, but no luck. There was no mistake: Professor Grabiner was my Secret Santa.
"You get me?" Virginia's head pops over my shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of the small black letters.
"No!" I quickly fold up the piece of paper in my hand, crumpling it up into a tiny little ball.
"Aww, who'd you get?" Virginia asks. "Come on, tell me."
"That is not the point of a Secret Santa," Ellen huffs. "You're just going to have to wait until next week to see if she got you."
"From the look on her face, I'd say she didn't," Virginia observes.
"Not now," I hiss. "When we get back to the room." Virginia and Ellen exchange glances, but don't say anything. We talk about other things, like Sports Club, until everyone finally finishes picking a name before we head back to the room.
"Well, what is it?" Virginia asks as we sit on our respective beds. "Who the heck did you get that's making you wig out like this?"
There's a knock on the door. "Who is it?" I yell loudly.
"Donald," he calls back.
"Okay, you can come in," I say. The door opens slightly and he comes in, but his grin disappears when he sees our faces.
"Am I interrupting a secret meeting?" he asks.
"I don't know," Virginia says with a pointed look in my direction. "Just waiting for Tori to spill the beans on who she got for her Secret Santa."
I gulp. It's just a name, but for some reason I have trouble getting the words out. "Grabby."
"No way," Donald says, but I unfold the paper and hold it out to them. "His first name is Hiero-hiero-hiero-"
"Hieronymous," Ellen says quickly, pronouncing it perfectly on her first try.
"How did I not know that?" Donald laughs.
"Wait, you got a teacher?" Virginia asks. "Is that even allowed?"
"Maybe Professor Potsdam wants me to thank him for the private lessons he's been giving me?" I wonder aloud.
"Private lessons?" Ellen asks quietly. The room is suddenly a lot quieter than it was a minute ago.
"Did I not…" I hesitate. "Happen to mention that at all?"
They all sit there quietly. "Why is he giving you private lessons?" Ellen asks after another awkward moment of silence has passed.
"I'm not sure," I say. "It's not even really lessons; it's more like memory games or something."
"Maybe he thinks you have brain damage," Donald teases.
"Oh if he does, then I think you should be there right alongside me," I tease back.
"Well, have you asked him?" Virginia asks.
I pause. I had considered asking him, but this was Professor Grabiner we were talking about. I could ask, but I wasn't exactly guaranteed a straight answer if I did. "Well, I can ask him when I give him his present."
"What are you going to get him?" Ellen asks.
"Something interesting," I reply.
"Like…?" Virginia asks.
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. "A blue snow cone."
I can hear Ellen's voice say, "What?" but it sounds very far away, like she's shouting it to me across the gymnasium. I feel extremely dizzy all of a sudden, as a weird itching sensation starts to take hold in the back of my brain. I think I can hear someone talking, but it comes out in a rush of vowels and syllables. I'm aware of how they all must be looking at me, and so I quickly bite the inside of my cheek to help me stay in the present. I don't stop until the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.
"Hello, earth to Tori," Virginia says, waving a hand in front of my face.
"Sorry," I say quickly. The inside of my mouth is sore now, and they are all looking at me with concern plastered all over their faces. "Just trying to think of something out of the box."
"What about a book?" Ellen asks.
"Something sarcastic, like Elementary Magic 101," Donald suggests.
"Or, How to Have a Conversation like a Normal Human Being," Virginia offers.
"Or maybe I should ask Professor Potsdam," I say quickly.
Last year I had suspected that Professor Potsdam had rigged the Secret Santa, especially because I got Virginia, Virginia got Ellen, and Ellen got me. If I got Professor Grabiner's name this year, it was only because Professor Potsdam wanted it to be so. But why did she want me to give him anything? Why did she care? Was it because of the private lessons he had been giving me? Was it because she felt like I should repay him for yelling at him weeks ago? She had never confronted me about it directly, but she had to have known…
I scratch the back of my head where the itching sensation had crept up moments before. There was nothing there now but a dull ache. Even still, thinking it over, I could dissect the words in my head. Nine words, followed by a girlish giggle. It sounded like my voice, at least, I think it did, but when would I have ever said them? And to whom? And why couldn't I remember? I repeat the words over and over again in my head, trying to make sense of them.
But have you ever had a blue snow cone?