Page 20 of Self Studies

The two boys stopped talking and looked at me.

“It’s part of the class; nothing’s marked. You have to identify the right ingredients and make the potion correctly,” Derek explained.

I nodded and picked up the recipe. The potion was an easy one to make; there were no modifications or purity requirements. I quickly went through the supplies either Deadeye or Rocks brought back and shook my head.

“Is the water prepared, or do we do that ourselves?” I asked.

“You need to prepare the water?” the third boy asked, also returning with an arm full of Tupperware.

Taller, he set his spoils down gently before making eye contact with me. I tried not to focus on his left eye, which had a disturbing white film over it, accented by bright pink scar tissue that ran across most of his face. I looked away from Deadeye and glanced at Alchemist Blickenstaff, hoping the kid had chosen his own nickname.

“Ah-okay.” I popped my lips and focused. “I need ten cups of water, boiled, ionized salt, and white vinegar. I’ll get our bits and bobs. Do we charge our potion?”

The three boys froze, probably as surprised to hear me telling them what to do as I was, giving them directions.

Derek recovered first. “No, no one in this class can control their magic yet. Alchemist Blickenstaff does that for us.” The kid wrinkled his nose while the other two frowned and looked anywhere but at me.

I nodded. “‘Kay. Then I’ll need a potato as well, ideally.”

The three boys peered at me skeptically. Instead of dealing with them, I stacked up the Tupperware. My fellow students were hyper-focused on their tasks. No one bothered me while I waited my turn to enter the massive chilled pantry in the back.

Alchemist Blickenstaff didn’t make anything easy to find, but there was a pattern to her madness. I loved patterns. Taking an extra moment to check the Saffron container to see if it was unique – it wasn’t – I rejoined the boys with the things we needed to make our potion. Despite their skepticism, they’d set up the table as I’d asked.

A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth—finally, something I could do with confidence.

* * *

“You actually have a potion,” Alchemist Blickenstaff said as she inspected our pot in the second half of class.

Derek straightened. “We do. We even have a catalyst to help you charge it.”

Deadeye held the catalyst out for her like it was a sword. A simple bear, snake, and bird were easily identifiable in the carved browning potato.

Her lizard-like eyes shifted to me. “Aphrodite, we’ll test to see if your potion works on you.”

I froze. My heart started beating in my chest. “There’s no size control.”

Alchemist Blickenstaff raised a slender eyebrow. “None was required.”

I tried to keep the panic out of my voice. “I can’t….”

“Can’t or won’t, Aphrodite?” Alchemist Blickenstaff cut me off. “I do not enjoy being questioned in my classroom. You can drink it now, or you and your entire team can be marked as incomplete.”

“I won’t.” My hands fluttered helplessly. Ignoring the worried looks my new friends gave me, I tried to defend myself. “You need to understand….”

“I need to do nothing!” Alchemist Blickenstaff snapped loudly. “Do as I ask, or I will fail you for the entire class. One fail, pink slip, and they will cut off your head. You must learn to respect authority. It’s part of why you’re here.”

I swallowed. The whispering of students filled the room. It only took me a heartbeat to change my tune. I wasn’t ready to die. It was that simple.

Alchemist Blickenstaff must have read my acceptance in my body language. Thin fingers began pouring the murky brown liquid of our potion into a glass. With one end of the little potato catalyst between her fingers and the other in the beaker, Alchemist Blickenstaff's face went slack as she entered a mage-trance. The air around her began to hum with magic.

I stripped off my hoodie with shaking hands. A few students giggled and made catcalls. Although the room’s cool air felt good against my warm skin, I couldn’t enjoy it.

Squeezing my eyes tight, I let the beginnings of a mage-trance block out the world. Once my fellow students were lines of color and their voices whispers, I began releasing the hardware on my corset. A few catcalls still broke through my concentration. I attempted to hide between Derek and the table.

“Jesus, she looks like Alchemist Blickenstaff,” someone said right behind me. “Skin and bones. Why on earth would she choose to dress like that? Talk about embarrassing, what a freak.”

Burning with shame, I tuned them out, and hid my undressing as best I could. Derek stared too intently at my face as he started to turn the same shade as a tomato. For some reason, his embarrassment made me feel a little better about the situation.

---