Your Future Hasn't Been Written Yet
by K. Stonham
first released 14th August 2022
Thursday was... Thursday was weird. And given that he was comparing it to a week which had contained a literal time loop (Monday), revealing the existence of trolls and magic and Akiridions to all his classmates (Monday again), having a lecture in his school by Blinky (Tuesday), and having Aja and Krel kidnapped and their team's subsequent takedown of Area 49-B (Wednesday), Jim felt justified that calling Thursday weird was indeed noteworthy.
He wondered just what Friday might bring.
"So, any idea what this assembly's about?" Toby asked, plopping down next to Jim on the gym bleachers. Steve and Eli sat behind them, Mary and Darci in front. Their own little cluster of wierdness-touched teenagers. Only Aja and Krel were missing; Krel, presumably, still recuperating from his injuries, and Aja, probably, fretting and fussing over her brother.
Jim shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine."
"I don't... remember this the first time around," Claire said doubtfully, taking her seat on Jim's other side.
Toby scoffed. "We didn't get involved with Aja and Krel's stuff until much later on, the first time. Oh, wait, did I say 'we'?" he asked rhetorically. "I mean me, because you guys were off heading to New Jersey, leaving the Tobster all alone here in Arcadia Oaks."
Jim grimaced. "I'm sorry...?" he offered weakly.
"And isn't it a good thing we did?" Claire asked Toby. "I mean, just think what might have happened if you weren't here, Toby!"
"Yeah, I guess."
"Besides," Jim pointed out, "we didn't leave you all alone. Aaarrrgghh stayed here with you."
"True." Toby's grin broadened as he thought about his other bestie.
Claire leaned back, resting her weight on her hands. "Anyway, Toby, walking all the way across the country with a bunch of trolls, and a boyfriend who's still going through a species crisis? Is exhausting. I can't recommend it."
"Hey," Jim protested.
"All right, everyone!" Coach Lawrence barked from the half-court mark of the gym. "Settle down! We need to get this started."
Claire straightened up, leaning forward again, interest on her face.
"So, uh, let me just turn this over to Señor Uhl," Coach said, waving his fellow teacher forward as he himself moved away to the side, where he got into line with the other teachers. Jim studied that line of adults, trying to read their body language and figure out what was going on. None of them seemed really happy, he noted. Miss Janeth, in particular, seemed upset. But then, she was the drama teacher...
"I am sure," Señor Uhl said, his voice carrying across the quieting crowd, "that many of you noticed, and speculated on, the ambulance that arrived at our school yesterday."
A murmur of student voices and nods answered him.
"Unfortunately, it is my duty to tell you that Principal Levit was taken to the hospital yesterday, following a heart attack."
Another wave of murmurs. Uhl waited for them to die down.
Uhl's expression twitched, a gamut of emotions briefly running across his face before he got himself under control again. His voice was shaky as he continued, "We have... received word that Principal Levit passed away last night, following another attack."
The bleachers exploded with noise.
"What?" Jim asked dumbly, feeling surprised.
"Wait, you mean Principal Levit died again?" Toby asked, obviously just as surprised. Jim blinked at him. Toby wasn't more concerned that their principal had been probably murdered?
"But this time it was that bounty hunter instead of... well." Claire looked at the two of them; Jim and Toby looked at her. They'd never actually /confirmed/ it, and couldn't now, but Principal Levit's disappearance and Strickler's rise to the position of principal had always been extremely suspicious. To put it mildly.
"Or maybe it was Kubritz," Jim had to put in. "I guess it doesn't really matter, now." Though if it had been... he wondered how Douxie's curse would take care of things. Did the curse account for stuff Kubritz had already done, or only what she would do, going forward? Though, either way, he had a feeling she was in for a world of misery. The habits of years, or a lifetime, were really hard to break. And he didn't know if she'd be motivated the way Strickler had been.
"Quiet down, quiet down." Uhl shushed the students, his hands making flattening gestures as though he could control the student body through body language alone. But it seemed to work; after a moment the volume dropped back down again, and he continued. "The school board has designated an interim principal while they search for a new one."
"Wonder who it's going to be be," Claire murmured. Her phone was in her hands, texting Aja and Krel the new developments.
Jim's gaze, though, stayed fast on the gaggle of teachers over to the side. If Uhl was going to be the new principal, he would already have said so, right? And Strickler was tugging on the cuffs of his jacket, like he was about to make a presentation. His face was grim, determined. But also... a bit flustered? Even if Jim hadn't already known his stepfather-to-be wasn't involved with Levit's disappearance this time around, that expression alone would have alerted him. "I wouldn't even make a bet," he said.
"Aw, man, again?" Toby complained, following Jim's gaze.
"Please allow me to introduce Principal Strickler," Uhl said, and, like Coach Lawrence, moved back to the sidelines while Strickler walked forward, taking center court.
(Miss Janeth, Jim noted, turned her face and weight into Uhl's shoulder as he reached her. Her shoulders shook. He looked awkward, but put his arm around her and patted her back nonetheless.)
Strickler cleared his throat and looked up at the waiting crowd. "These are," he said, "sad circumstances. And it is understandable that many of you may wish to speak to someone. Our school counselor, Miss Hardy," he said, gesturing to the red-haired woman, "is ready and willing to talk with anyone who needs her. My door, and that of all my fellow teachers, is likewise open to all of you." His gaze found Jim in the crowd. Their eyes met for a second; Strickler gave the tiniest of nods, then his gaze wandered on as he continued speaking. "During this difficult time, I hope to 'rock the boat' as little as possible. I know many of you find comfort in routine and structure, and I hope we may provide that. The details for Principal Levit's funeral service have not yet been finalized, but as soon as they are, we will make that information available to any students who wish to attend."
James Lake, Jr., was, without a doubt, the most surprising student Waltolomew had ever taught. And given that his teaching experience stretched far, far longer than his colleagues knew about, he felt that was saying something.
He was not surprised, however, when Jim presented himself at the principal's office door within five minutes of the final bell ringing. "Do come in," Waltolomew invited, still metaphorically neck-deep in triaging Frederick Levit's messages, responsibilities, and benighted filing system. He hadn't even touched the computer yet, and wasn't looking forward to it.
"You look like you've had a rough day," Jim said, sitting down in one of the chairs before the principal's desk.
Waltolomew snorted. "To put it mildly. The bureaucracies of my... after school activities pale before the redundancies of government-sponsored academic institutions."
"Or maybe it's just that you haven't gotten the hang of these ones yet," Jim said, sounding surprisingly benevolent.
Waltolomew looked up at the young divine king.
Jim shrugged. "You've always seemed to manage all your plotting with... well, I'm not sure I'd call it 'grace'. Confidence, maybe? So you've always given off the impression that you can handle anything."
"Not anything," Waltolomew murmured, thinking of a family dinner that had started with him bound by blue magic, and ended with the tentative beginnings of this mad alliance he now found himself in. At the time, taking down Gunmar had seemed a fool's dream, and yet now here they were, within arm's reach of that goal. He could only hope that Jim's next goal, of defeating the Arcane Order's fell wishes, could go as well.
"Maybe it's just that you've got too many new irons added to the fire today?" Jim suggested. His smile turned to a frown. "How did you handle that, anyway, back when you had to use iron tongs to stir the fire, or whatever?"
"Only a simpleton grasps a hot iron without something to protect his hand," Waltolomew informed him blandly. He felt something lighten as Jim's smile returned.
Waltolomew ruthlessly shoved the feeling down before he could examine it. He didn't want to know if he was already caught in the young king's web of fealty, or if this was something... paternal.
He would have plenty of time to scrutinize his own emotions later. After Gunmar was dealt with. After Levit's blasted inbox was dealt with. After...
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Jim asked unexpectedly.
Waltolomew paused. Looked at the boy. "How much do you know, precisely, of what happened yesterday?"
Jim shrugged. "Somehow Area 49-B found out about Aja and Krel and came here to grab them. They teamed up with an alien bounty hunter named 'Birdie,' of all things, and succeeded." His mouth thinned to a line. "Once we realized Aja and Krel were missing, we hacked the school surveillance, formulated a plan, and went after them."
Waltolomew's eyebrows inched toward his hairline with each successive sentence. "And...?"
Jim's grim expression became one of feral satisfaction. "49-B's not going to be a problem any more," he reported. "Neither is the bounty hunter."
"My word." Changelings had kept well away from the alien containment facility for many decades now, ever since one had been exposed and captured by the fanatics there. So taking it off the chessboard should seem like a relief, but...
Waltolomew eyed the boy sitting before himself. A group of teenagers had taken down an entire government facility. In one night. And Jim was recounting it like it was nothing.
One of those blasted pop music earworms ran briefly through Waltolomew's mind: I came in like a wrecking ball~.
He shook his head, dislodging the song fragment like it was a stray pixie. "My word," he said again finally. "It sounds like you had quite an evening. I assume this is related to why the Tarrons called in sick today...?"
Jim scowled. "Yeah. Aja's okay, but... Krel got tortured. A lot. He's going to be fine, though!" he hastened to reassure. "He just needs a couple days to heal up before he can come back to school."
Waltolomew nodded, making a mental note. "Shall I consider Principal Levit avenged, then?" he asked, with another glance at the computer.
Jim nodded. "I don't know if it was the bounty hunter or Colonel Kubritz who... killed him," he said softly, "but yeah. They're both neutralized."
"Excellent diplomatic doublespeak," Waltolomew complimented.
Jim grimaced, like the words themselves tasted nasty. "So. Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked.
"Paperwork-wise, I'm afraid not." Waltolomew paused, though, as an idea came to him. "Levit was very proud of having won the chili competition at the state fair."
"Wait, seriously?" Jim asked, leaning forward, his eyes widening. The culinary connection seemed to draw forth a sudden interest in the late principal that had been lacking while the man was alive.
Waltolomew nodded. "I shall have to check with his family regarding the plans for his funeral and wake, but... if it should happen to dovetail with their wishes, could I perhaps depend on you to recreate his triumphs?"
"Absolutely," Jim swore.
"Thank you." Glancing toward the office door and seeing no one waiting outside, Waltolomew asked, "May I inquire where your shadows are? Mister Domzalski and Miss Nuñez appear to be in absence."
Jim's expression turned wry. "They're down in Trollmarket, training. Blinky was not happy with us all disappearing on him yesterday."
Blinky must have somehow been able to psychically sense when Jim had finally taken his phone off airplane mode, because it rang not three seconds later. "Hey, Blink," he'd said, answering it.
"What have you been doing rather than training, Master Jim?" demanded his friend, teacher, and father. He sounded worried. Jim internally winced - he'd have to apologize, make it up to him.
"Uh, taking down Area 49-B?"
There was a moment of silence. "On a school night?!"
"I'm supposed to be having our stage magic club with Douxie right now," Toby complained.
"Focus," Draal cautioned him. "The skeltknath is a tricky weapon to fight."
"Yeah, and we know Gunmar doesn't have one," Toby countered. "Aren't you supposed to be training me to deal with the Decimaar blade?"
Draal snorted, amused. "Simply because the bulk of his army, according to your reports, are mind-slaved golems, does not mean that all of them are. And before they were lost to the Darklands, this was a weapon many Gumm-Gumms favored."
Toby sighed. "All right. So how's the skeleton-gnat work?"
"Skeltknath," Draal corrected him. "Observe." He paced a bit away, then drew out the multi-edged weapon. It had five sword-like blades held in parallel.
"It slices, it dices," Toby murmured.
A smile quirked up the corners of Draal's mouth. "Indeed." He did something with the hilt-Toby couldn't see what-and the blades shifted, moving into new positions so that Draal was now holding five separate blades, radiating out from around his hand like beams on a kid's drawing of the sun.
"Whoa," Toby breathed, impressed.
"What the freaking flip?!" Steve demanded.
Eli, for his part, was just plain staring, his jaw dropped.
"Oh, that's not all it does," Draal purred. He did something else again with the skeltknath, and one of the blades dropped off, into his waiting other hand. He hefted it, then hurled it across the Forge.
The blade chunked into the solid stone of the wall, sticking, at least six inches deep.
Toby gulped. He could imagine all too well that blade sinking into his head.
He was never taking his helmet off again.
Draal wandered over to the wall. Tugged the blade free. Clicked it back into place on the hilt as he walked back to them, and with a twist of his wrist, slid all five blades back into alignment.
Eli, Toby noted, was looking about as green as he felt. But Steve...
"Whoa," Steve breathed, eyes shining. "Can I have one?" he begged.
Draal looked at him flatly. He seemed unimpressed.
"Please," Steve immediately tacked on.
"No," Draal told him. Steve started to pout; their weapons master held up a hand. "Master one blade," he said, "and we shall see. You must work your way up to the five."
"Awesome!" Steve punched the air.
"Let me see one hundred strokes," Draal told him. "And then we will work on blocks."
With enthusiasm, Steve set to, while Draal turned back to Toby, and settled into stance, raising the skeltknath before himself.
Swallowing, Toby raised Eclipse.
Claire sat in Blinky's library. To her left was a stack of four books; to her right, another two. In front of her was opened another, which had to be at least as thick as her hand was wide. Absently, she munched chile-lime corn nuts while reading about shadow beasts.
Douxie thought she had it in her to be a master wizard, but Claire just didn't know. There was so much to learn, and she felt like she'd barely scratched the surface of things. A glance around Blinky's library led to the obvious conclusion that it would take years, maybe decades, maybe centuries, to get through what was here. And the thought of trying to remember all that information made her head hurt.
(On the other hand, if Merlin was right, and he usually insufferably was, she would have those centuries...)
The thought of Merlin soured her mood. She knew three master wizards, and two of them were utter pendejos. Did she really want to join those ranks?
(She could hear a mental counterpoint that sounded like Douxie: "If you don't, Claire, that ratio remains the same." To which she kind of wanted to respond, "Shut up, Douxie.")
"Ugh," she said aloud.
"Problems, Fair Claire?" Blinky asked, looking up from his own tome.
"Yes. No. Maybe." Claire glared at her book, realizing she wasn't going to get much further. Not right now, anyway. She looked up at Blinky instead. The troll's six brown eyes were wide, concerned. "Blinky, do you think I should try to become a master wizard?"
Blinky blinked. "My word. I had no idea you had such a lofty goal in mind, Claire."
"I mean," she said, "I don't know if I do. I do know Douxie'd be over the moon if I went for it, but..."
"But you're not sure it's what you want." Blinky closed his book and set it down, walking over to stand by her. One blue stone hand, always warmer than she expected, rested lightly on her back. Supportive, no matter what she chose.
Unlike her parents. Oh, Claire might be able to say that they'd never been less than supportive... but she also knew there were paths she'd never dare go down. Blinky, on the other hand, wouldn't care if she dropped out of high school and lived in a cave growing mushrooms. In fact, he'd probably be delighted and pull every book in his library on cave-dwelling and fungi management to share with her.
"Exactly," she confessed, already feeling just a little bit better for having Blinky's care and regard.
He hummed. "Has Douxie been pressuring you on this matter?"
"No," she said instantly, shaking her head. "He hasn't. It's just me. And I know that he'd love having another master wizard around to work with, to teach and talk shop, but... I'm just not sure I want that, Blinky."
"Well, then, perhaps you already have your answer," the troll told her kindly. "The path to master wizardry, as I understand it, is a long and arduous one. And you already have quite a few matters on your plate, Claire."
She sighed, her shoulders dropping. "I know."
"I will also point out," he said, "that 'not right now' is not the same as 'not ever.' If this is something you are truly interested in doing, Claire, for your own sake and none other's, then mastery of all wizardry is something you might pursue after we defeat Gunmar, Morgana, the Tarrons' enemies, and, of course, the Arcane Order."
"Can't forget them," Claire murmured with a small smile.
"Indeed not." Blinky's smile matched hers. "So I would suggest, dear Claire, that you 'put a pin in it,' as your people say, and let the matter lie fallow until the considerable tasks before us have been accomplished."
"Ugh." Krel caught the ball of crumpled-up notebook paper in one hand and tossed it up at the ceiling again. "I am bored," he announced to anyone who might be listening.
"We know," Aja responded from her own bedroom, her voice thick with irritation. He might have, Krel admitted, announced his boredom a few times already. No more than ten times per hour, he assured himself.
The doorbell rang.
Krel struggled to lever himself upright on two elbows, catching the paper ball absently as Aja left her room, Luug clearly whuffling at her heels, and headed for the door. "Mother, who is it?"
"It appears to be two of your school friends," the ship's AI replied.
"Mary! Darci!" Aja exclaimed. Her voice was muffled by the interior walls and suboptimal accoustics of the house's interior. "What are you doing here?"
Krel couldn't quite make out the reply, but a moment later the front door shut and the sound of chattering voices grew louder, until at last there was a rap on the frame of his bedroom door and all three girls stuck their heads in.
"Hey, Krel!" Darci said brightly.
Mary's comment was much more blunt: "Wow, you look like crap."
He rolled his eyes. "Turns out being tortured by an extraterrestrial-hunting sadist will do that to you."
Both girls winced.
Sometimes it was too easy to forget that a certain segment of his friends didn't have the last two years' experience than Krel and eight of the others did.
"Well, at least you can join Jim and Douxie in the torture club," Aja said, stepping inside his room. "Mary and Darci have brought you a 'gift basket', little brother!"
"Why is a container considered a gift on this planet?" he asked as Darci hefted up a basket, beaming.
Mary looked ceiling-ward, something in her expression pleading for patience. "It's not the basket, it's the contents, dummy."
"Oh." Krel blinked. "Is the basket not also part of the gift, then?"
Darci laughed and plopped down on the bed next to him. "It is," she confirmed, fishing around in said container. "We got you some crayons and coloring books, because being laid up sucks."
"Also one of those fractal design things, since you're all sci-fi and techy," Mary put in.
"Stuart tossed in an old Walkman, and Zoe and Douxie ponied up some music tapes they thought you'd like." Mary pulled out several flat rectangular boxes, stacking them on the mattress. "Doux also put in a cipher book he said he thought you'd like. And finally, last but not least..."
"Chocolate!" Mary enthused. "We didn't know what kind you liked, so we got an assortment."
Krel exchanged a look with his sister, then returned his attention to the human girls. "Wait, you mean it comes in more than just chips and cookies?"
Two pairs of brown eyes grew wide. "You mean to tell me..." Darci started.
"You guys have never had a chocolate tasting experience?!" Mary almost shrieked.
"No...?" Krel replied.
Two grins grew wide. "Okay," Mary said, plopping down next to Darci. "Switch to human, both of you. We'll start with this one." She fished a brown-wrapped bar out of the basket. "And work our way up from there."
Author's Note: Strickler's earworm is Miley Cyrus' "Wrecking Ball."