The Magickers Read Online Free Page B

feet, slowly. The sun and grass called from outside. The soccer tryouts fairly screamed. Sam passed by again, jogging around the end of the field. He looked out the window with a longing so intense it hurt somewhere inside of him. Average, ordinary Jason—but out there he could show them what he was made of. Tough, long legs for speed and cornering. Quick eyes. The ability to angle downfield and wait for a pass. A kick at the goal. A noun is the object of the sentence. . . .
    Jason blinked, as Mrs. Cowling’s soft answer to Tommy penetrated his thoughts. A whole year of this and Tom “No Neck” Spears whose head was shaped like the football helmet he wore nearly year round had no idea what Mrs. Cowling was repeating to him. Jason stifled another groan. He’d be here all afternoon if she wanted him to wait until Tommy understood grammar. The asphalt just outside the windows rippled in the afternoon heat looking like a slick black sea. Beyond it, the green grass of the athletic fields lay like paradise. He sighed.
    She gave him a look past Tommy’s ears and put her hand on the boy’s thick shoulder. “Just a moment, Tommy. Jason, I’ll be right with you. Take a look on my desk and see what you think?”
    He shifted.
    â€œWell . . . okay. Sam’s waiting for me. Soccer tryouts and everything.” He thought of distracting her. All he could think of was the soccer sign-up table, dressing, warm-ups, stretches.
    â€œI suppose you have your heart set on that camp,” she repeated, her eyes behind her spectacles big and owlish. Her fluffy brown hair puffed out slightly on its own.
    â€œI’m going with Sam. If we make it. Which we will.”
    â€œI’ll be right with you, then.” She turned her back on him, not seeing his disappointed fidget as he drifted to her desk.
    She was not the English teacher they’d started with at the beginning of the year. That had been Mrs. Ervin, but she was going to have a baby and had left in February. He’d gotten along all right with her, but Mrs. Cowling was another matter. They’d gotten along great. She was fun in the classroom and shared a lot of neat things she brought in for them all to look at and, even better, she liked to read almost as much as he did.
    He leaned on her desk, impeccably clean, as always. He’d never seen a teacher without piles everywhere. If there was something on her desk, it was always a neat something to touch, examine, ponder about. Once she’d brought in a miniature sarcophagus with a fake mummy inside and everything.
    Today, a crystal ball sat on the battered wood top. He reached for it without thinking, and turned its coolness over and over in his hands. He looked into its clear, colorless depths. Could he see his fortune in it? Could anyone? He turned it again. A wave of color rippled through it and he looked around to see if he had sent a prism of rainbow light on the walls anywhere. Nothing.
    The crystal ball warmed to his touch. He cradled it. Give me luck, he thought. For soccer! He stared into it and saw a warped image of himself. Scratches across the nose, lopsided mouth, eyes peering curiously.
    Jason held the ball closer. How could it reflect like a mirror? He narrowed his eyes to examine the crystal ball better. A dark shape welled up inside. Grasping, a five-fingered hand seemed poised over his reflection, about to snatch him up. He blinked.
    His hands trembled slightly. The dark hand shifted, turned, sailed about and became an immense black-winged bird that soared through the inner Jason, and then everything went clear—
    â€œJason?”
    He jumped. Mrs. Cowling caught the crystal ball as it sprang from his hand. “Did you see anything?”
    â€œI . . . I . . . I’m not sure.” He shut his mouth firmly.
    Her mouth twitched. “This is what I had for you.”
    She picked up a bound notebook from the desk. It had been resting under the ball. He