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“Matt, understanding?” Nelson sat down next to Matthew in the sixth years’ common room and put his book and notebook on the table, suggestively pushing them Matthew’s way – not suggestively in a flirty manner, but in a ‘let me copy your answers’ manner.
“Matthew, do you understand?” Matt corrected his classmate, which earned him an eyeroll.
“Matthew, if you don’t let me copy your answers, I won’t save your ass in playtime tomorrow.”
Matt sighed and snipped his fingers, making his notebook float over from his dorm room.
“You know, the point of understanding is understanding, right? Copying answers won’t get you anywhere.”
“The point of playtime is to play,” Nelson retorted, “not to hide in a cave until the bugle sounds again.”
“And then not get out because there’s a hellpincer between you and the school,” Damian, another classmate, added with a laugh.
“In my defence: hellpincers are huge,” Matthew said and the other two laughed harder.
“I soloed my first hellpincer in year 2,” Damien bragged. “Took off my glasses, looked at it and BAM, stone.”
“My curse is just more suited for being a scout and avoiding danger,” Matthew said and Nelson shook his head.
“Mine too, I’m a bloody chameleon, but I use it to get close to my enemies and surprise attack them, not to find a cave to hide in. Why don’t you learn some offensive magic? You’re a smart-ass, you can easily learn to shoot fire or something rad like that.”
“Why doesn’t a ballerina just learn karate? She’s strong and flexible, she could easily do it,” Matthew countered “But yeah, sure, you copy my homework, I get my ass saved in the Plagueround. Symbiosis, it’s fine… We’ll all graduate.”
“Ballerina,” Damien scoffed. “Balletthew.”
“It’s pronounced bal-lay.”
They weren’t really bullying him, Matt knew. He knew what real bullying was like. This was more teasing, or annoying, and he was teasing and annoying them back, but they did help each other out. He couldn’t quite call it friendship either. Symbiosis was a pretty accurate way to describe his relationship with Nelson and Damien. Just like the bird that cleaned the crocodile’s teeth didn’t really have a strong friendship with the crocodile, but it still opened its mouth for the bird and didn’t eat it. Not that birds and crocodiles really did that, but it was a nice analogy all together, because birds were smart and crocodiles were strong. Birds could also fly, something Matt was slowly becoming better at. And that was just way more interesting and exciting to practice than shooting fire. Anyone could learn to shoot fire. A match and a spray can could shoot fire. It was boring.
It would also make him too strong, and he didn’t want that. In all honesty, he didn’t want to graduate. He wouldn’t fail any of his theoretical courses, his teachers would never believe it if he suddenly stopped understanding understanding, or English, or science… but nobody batted an eye if he sucked at playtime, because he did. And yeah, he let himself be saved, but it was quite clear to his teacher that he was saved and didn’t get out by himself. He could probably take on a hellpincer, but people didn’t need to know that. Because if he graduated, where would he even go? University, probably? Live in a dorm with a normal guy, get discriminated against for being a skinny twink with floating eyes? At St. Churnley’s, he was relatively normal, at least compared to, for example, Heinz, the boy made of beans who could only say “Mister Beans!” and seemed to be destined to become dinner at some point. Out in the normal world? He was a freak and he’d have no place to call home either. His conservative parents weren’t all too happy with who their son had become. During the past few summer holidays, he had managed to stay over at classmates’ places, went to summer camps (which weren’t always catered to cursed boys, sadly) or, like last summer, had found a paper round that paid him just enough to afford a cheap hotel room. It wasn’t nice or homey and the idea of living like that forever – working a more or less invisible job in the early hours and hide away for the rest of the day – was horrible to him.
So he hid from hellpincers and let the other kids carry him out of the plagueround, seemingly scared, because he was scared, just not of hellpincers.
“What does this say?” Damien asked, bringing Matt’s thoughts back to the here-and-now. He glanced over.
“Occult”
“You should write clearer, I thought it said Oiiiill-,” Nelson complained.
“Why would I write Oiiiill-?” Matthew shook his head and read the full sentence aloud: “The oiiiiill- theory suggests that maledictus Anglicus first manifested-”
“That says ‘Anglicus’?” Nelson interrupted him.
“Of course it says Anglicus, what other word would even fit that sentence?”
Nelson shrugged
“You should write clearer. This is like you getting lost in the Plagueround and instead of getting you out, we just make owl sounds to guide you, you know?”
“I don’t make my homework for you two,” Matt sighed. “Learn to read, my handwriting isn’t that bad. And otherwise, learn to interpret. The words ‘occult’ and ‘Anglicus’ are literally in the question. Context clues.”
The door opened and some of Matthew’s eyes automatically glanced over to see who was coming in. Most of his other eyes followed when he saw that it was Oliver with the fourth-year who was tutoring him in crafting.
“Evening, Oliver,” he said, mostly so it didn’t seem weird that his full attention was on the duo. Oliver was nice enough, but not quite the reason he was staring though. The fourth-year, Frank, was way cuter than a boy two years his junior had any right to be. Matt didn’t intend to act on his feelings, of course. It’d be weird, right? He was 16 and Frank was only 14. Not unheard of, but it felt like too big of an age gap. Plus, if his plan of failing playtime didn’t work out, he’d be graduating at the end of the year, so if somehow things would work out between him and Frank, he would have a boyfriend who was about to spend two more years at boarding school. Not a great idea. Still, Frank was really attractive and it was hard for Matt to keep all of his eyes looking away. Instead, he made sure that he had one eye vaguely looking in Oliver and Frank’s direction as the two got to work drawing something. With his other eyes, he just looked at random things in the room. One at Damien and Nelson who were still copying his homework, one at some other classmates who were playing a card game, one at a random plant… but his main focus was definitely on Frank and Oliver and he felt a bit of jealousy as he watched Frank help his classmate out with crafting.
“Mister Hinks, can you stay for a moment?” Mister Glachan, the steward of understanding, asked as the class was putting their books back into their satchels.
“It’s playtime, sir,” Matthew answered.
“I assume that means yes?”
Matthew hesitated for a moment and then nodded, feeling like he was caught.
They waited for the voices of Matt’s classmates to die down as they descended the staircase and finally closed the door of the tower behind them. Glachan sat down on the edge of his desk, leaning back on his top two arms as he crossed the other four.
“I’ve heard you hid from a hellpincer,” Glachan said. There wasn’t much judgement in his voice. Matt liked that about him. The steward of Control would’ve used a very different tone for that same sentence, he was sure.
“I did.”
“Why?”
Matthew sighed. Was this the moment to tell the truth? He didn’t really want anyone to know about his plan to fail the year. They might get angry at him. Then again, if anyone would understand him, surely it would be Mr. Glachan, the steward of understanding, right?
“Do you know about my home situation?” Matthew asked. He was pretty sure he had told the hexmaster about it, and probably also Glachan at some point? But that was a few years ago, so he might not-
Mister Glachan nodded sympathetically.
“I don’t know what I’ll do after graduation,” Matthew said. “So I…” he took a deep breath. Honesty was often the best policy, right? “I am failing on purpose.”
“We figured,” Glachan answered, still no judgement in his tone. “And by ‘we’ I mean me, the other stewards and the hexmaster. We’re worried about you, Matthew.”
“You should be,” Matthew smiled with his mouth, but the rest of his face didn’t follow. “I’m worried about me too.” He felt tears well up and leaned his head slightly forward to make sure they’d fall towards the school-tie he used as a blindfold. “I don’t want to leave… I’ll be on my own.”
“Do you want a hug?” Glachan asked, spreading the four arms he had crossed. Instead of answering, Matt just walked towards him and embraced him. Tears kept coming and Glachan luckily gave him plenty of time to cry.
“They don’t like me being a… a… gay freak,” Matt sobbed. “But I can’t just pop my eyes back in and marry a girl. I mean, I can, but…”
“No, you can’t,” Glachan said in a reassuring tone. He loosened the embrace and held Matthew at arm’s length, steadying his shoulders. “But you’re not alone out there. We are a minority, yes, but we’re not alone. There’s always at least a few hundred ‘freaks’ walking around, most of them in London. So if you’re scared of being on your own, you don’t have to be. And you’re so bright, you shouldn’t have to fail high school. In all fairness, I doubt we’d let you fail, even if you pretend to be weak. We’ve seen you grow for over 5 years now, we know your true power.”
“I’m always scared,” Matthew sighed. Glachan’s words did calm him down a little, though. London was probably a good place to be. He could study there and of course he wouldn’t be the only cursed boy… cursed man? He was almost a man now!
“You’re too intelligent for your own good,” said Glachan. “But how about this: I’ll help you figure out your life after school and you’ll show us what you got in playtime, yes?”
“And? Not if?”
“It’s not conditional, Matthew. I want you to succeed. We all do.”
“Apart from Moley,” Matthew mumbled, but the smile on his face had changed from a cynical one into a genuine one. Mister Glachan didn’t even try to deny it, which Matthew appreciated.
“Now, are you ready to take on a hellpincer?” Glachan asked. Matthew nodded and for emphasis took a piece of paper from the teacher’s desk and set it on fire with a simple spell. Anyone could throw fire, really. Well, anyone with any talent for magic.
Matt thanked Glachan, gathered his stuff and was about to descend the stairs – he wasn’t quite confident enough in his flying to just step out into the middle – when Glachan stopped him again.
"By the way, Matthew, I’d appreciate it if Nelson and Damien did their own homework next time, okay?”