Micah’s heart was beating way too loudly, and he felt like he hadn’t taken a proper breath all morning. He stood in front of the classroom, fiddling with a small bag that he held in his hands. The room was loud with the high-pitched clamor of sixty excited children stuck in an enclosed space, and yet he didn’t look up to take it in. He just kept staring at the cloth and his leftover bandages. That way, he wouldn’t have to check if anyone was staring at him. They had to be, though, right? He was standing in front of the teacher’s desk, suddenly back after disappearing for a week, with a bandaged left hand.

He sighed a trembling breath.

This is ridiculous! his mind shouted. He’d faced down wolves in the Tower and hadn’t been this afraid.

Well ... he’d been more afraid, actually, and they weren’t actual wolves, they were monsters that looked like wolves … but … uhm, Micah wasn’t even sure if that was worse or not, now that he thought about it. Probably worse? Ryan told him that the Tower monsters got bigger with each floor. The ones he had faced were only a bit bigger than himself. How big were actual wolves? If the Tower had infinite floors … Micah briefly imagined a wolf the size of a house.

He quickly shoved that thought aside, choosing to check on the teacher’s desk behind him instead.

Mr. Brecht was there already, but he hadn’t started class yet. He was still sorting out his briefcase, probably looking for today’s material for the different age groups, or maybe getting out the homework they’d handed in. Could also be that he was just looking for his chalk. All it meant to Micah was that there was still time left before class started.

He glanced up to Ryan’s row and the group of children that had gathered around it. The boy was chatting amiably, boasting, really, and they were all listening, except for maybe his benchmates who were stuck in the middle of it. Eventually, Ryan must have noticed him staring. He caught his eye and gave him a brief smile before going back to chatting. Micah smiled back, but he doubted Ryan saw it by then. Not that he wanted to interrupt.

Ryan was boasting about his level up and new Skill, after all. It drew in at least a dozen listeners. The guy even threw in some stories about the Tower for his sake, which would earn him stern glances from parents in the market later, especially since another group of the younger children seemed to be spying on him from a few benches over. Another half a dozen down.

That still left forty or so students who were staring at Micah off and on again, sitting in the cliques before class started, whispering, laughing, sharing stories? Suspicions? Micah tried to hide his left hand behind his bag a little better. He ran his thumb over the cloth, felt the glass and the ornamentation of the flask inside. He tried not to fiddle with the bundle of leaves, or they might crumble and make a mess.

When the teacher placed his bag on the ground, chalk in hand, most of the children noticed right away. Micah included. The others said quick ‘byes’ to their friends and went to go find their seats. As a student, you always knew what your teacher was up to after all. After up to six years, of course you would get used to their habits. And chalk in hand meant class was about to start.

Micah sighed in relief.

Even so, there were some outliers that took longer than the others, and Mr. Brecht cleared his throat and looked at them pointedly. Only then did the children speed off to find their seats. Some even did it reluctantly, as if testing how far they could go. Why? Just hurry up to your seats already! Micah wanted to shout, but he doubted he could have, even if he tried.

For some reason, Ryan got up, too, and sat down near the back again, where Micah usually sat.

Huh. Micah guessed they were bench-mates now. Cool.

“Good morning, class,” their teacher called.

“Good morning, Mr. Brecht,” they echoed.

“I hope you all had a productive weekend. As you can see, Mr. Stranya has returned to join us, safe and sound. He has something to share with us this morning, too, so pay attention and maybe you’ll learn something. Micah, if you would,” he said, gesturing in front of his desk.

“Eh, Flower Boy got a Skill?” someone asked. Lang, was his name, right? He was one of the older boys who always picked an alleyball team against Ryan.

Micah ignored him and followed his teacher’s invitation to step closer. Suddenly, he had no more bench to hide behind. He tightened his hands around his small bag. At least, he had a plan.

Don’t look at them, Ryan had told him outside before heading in. Just look at the far wall or over their heads, or at the aisle in between the desks. You can look at me, too, if you want, but I’ll be grinning like an idiot.

Micah checked. He was.

Ugh. He looked at the steps instead and tried to ignore his classmates. That helped a little. It was only half of the plan, though. Well, a third. Practicing what he was going to say beforehand was the second third.

“Uhm, hello,” Micah croaked and swallowed. He spoke up again, “I got the [Alchemist] Class a bit ago, and my first Skill.” He didn’t specify anything beyond that, and looked to his teacher, as if asking if that was all. Of course, it wasn’t, Micah knew that, but it didn’t stop him from checking.

“Congratulations, Micah,” Mr. Brecht said happily and started clapping, and some of his classmates echoed him. Then the rest of the class joined in, and Micah was left standing there, not knowing what to do with his hands while he waited for them to finish. It wasn’t the first time that Micah thought celebrating Skills was something awkward. It was one tradition he would rather do without. But they did clap, some more enthusiastically than others, some only because they had to, Ryan still grinning like an idiot.

“Congrats, man,” Lang said. He seemed nice enough, but Micah kind of wished he hadn’t spoken up so much. It set the mood for others.

“Can you make a potion?” a girl in the back called.

“What Skills do [Alchemists] get?” someone else did.

Mr. Brecht cleared his throat to quiet them down.

“Can you tell us a little about [Alchemists], Micah?” he said, ignoring and including the others at the same time.

Micah nodded.

“Of course. Uhm, we make potions and salves that have all kinds of uses, mostly for healing people, though,” he addressed the man, despite Mr. Brecht constantly glancing at the classroom, as if telling him to turn around. Micah couldn’t really see his classmates, and yet his leg was shaking. He couldn’t get it to stop. There was no way he was turning to face them. “So we make things like healing potions, medicines, and the fire potions that fuel the city’s lamps and stoves.”

“Where were you?” someone called in from the window side.

“What’s up with your hand?”

“Yeah!”

Micah ignored them, and Mr. Brecht gave their row a sharp glance. He probably knew where Micah had been. He’d acted like it when they talked before class, too, even though Micah hadn’t told him. Had his parents done that? Had his teacher heard it someplace else? Did people have nothing better to do than spread rumors?

Micah only had one bandage left, wrapped around his left hand. If it weren’t for that, he could have just said he was sick all week or something like that. Now people knew he had been hurt somehow. They’d pester him about it. Especially since that wound would definitely leave a scar.

“Can you give us a demonstration?” Mr. Brecht asked, and turned back to the class before Micah could answer. “Most potions need to be made in a workshop and require a lot of special ingredients, though. They also have complex brewing processes that require a lot of time. So don’t expect too much.”

Micah was glad that Mr. Brecht had done his homework, but he was kind of stealing the words right out of his mouth. Now he had no segue for himself.

“I can make something,” he mumbled and slowly pulled his flask out of his bag. It was already filled with water and screwed tight. Next, he pulled out a bundle of tea leaves and bundled up the bag into a ball that he stuffed into his pocket.

“I have a Skill,” Micah spoke to his teacher, loud enough that the class heard, but still ignoring them. “It allows me to make potions. I can’t make anything magical right now, but I can still show how making potions works.”

“That would be great,” Mr. Brecht said.

Micah took a deep breath and turned to the class. He held up his bottle.

“Ordinary water,” he said, like some kind of lame street performer. He didn’t trust himself to say any more than that. He screwed the lid off and showed them the leaves. “Tea leaves.”

Then he stuffed the bundle in, put the lid on again and shook the bottle thoroughly for a little bit. It didn’t take nearly as long as that breathing potion had, that Ryan had made back in the cave, and didn’t require nearly as much force. Making tea was much simpler, after all. Still, it took a moment and some of the children snickered at him shaking a bottle in front of the class like some kind of idiot.

“Ha, nice Skill!” one of the boys near the front called with a laugh. “Did you get that practicing under your sheets at night?”

At first, Micah didn’t understand. Then he realized that it was a kind of adult joke that the older boys always like to make. Instead of blushing, he frowned and got annoyed. Being in front of the classroom was hard enough, he didn’t need to get laughed at about things he didn’t even understand yet.

What was that boy’s name again? Billy?

Yeah, fuck Billy.

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Billy?” Micah called back before the teacher could say anything. The water was ready by now so he used [Kinetic Infusion], like an afterthought, and caught a glimpse of the leaves beginning to leak. “Didn’t you have a Skill you wouldn’t tell anyone about. What is it? [Tosser]?”

His words seemed to surprise everyone.

Especially Billy.

“HA!” Ryan suddenly called from the back of the class and laughed. Micah was surprised how genuine it sounded. Others joined in, and Billy blushed and pushed himself back into his seat.

“Micah,” Mr. Brecht hissed at him, before turning to the class. “That’s entirely uncalled for. Enough of that. Behave yourselves. We have an [Alchemist] demonstrating something here, so pay attention.”

Micah tried his best to look properly ashamed when Mr. Brecht looked at him again, but it was hard with that grin plastered across his face. He had only the faintest idea of what the word meant, but he always heard the older kids call each other that, and some adults, too. It seemed to have hit the mark.

He held up the now-dark flask of black tea in his hands.

“Tea,” he said confidently, stating the obvious. “It’s tap temperature, but there’s no need for boiling water or letting the leaves soak, thanks to my Skill. We alchemists use Skills to free the alchemical properties of our ingredients and turn them into potions. I’m not that far along yet, though, so I can’t tell you much beyond that.”

He shrugged for good measure. Some of the kids looked disappointed, but that was good. Disappointment meant they wouldn’t expect too much from him.

“Thank you, Micah,” Mr. Brecht said, sighing a little. “That will be enough. You can sit down now.”

Micah did, walking up the aisles to where Ryan was waiting with a smile. That had gone a lot better than he’d feared.

“Nice comeback.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“But underselling yourself?” Ryan asked while Micah sat down. “That was your plan?”

Micah shrugged. It was better than the alternative, wasn’t it? What did he care if the others knew the truth about him? This way, they wouldn’t expect too much. And the Skill measuring that they always did … well, Micah would just have to find another way to deal with that.

Someone in the row in front of him, Ellie, turned around and whispered to him.

“Can you make me a potion sometime?”

Micah’s smile fell a little.

“Bugger off,” Ryan said, and shooed her away with his hand, telling her to turn around. She did, scowling, but eventually, she turned back around again. Her and a few others. They seemed like they wanted to talk to him, but then reconsidered. Others were glancing at his bandages, and then at Ryan, wondering.

Suddenly, Ryan nudged him and pointed to the front, as if telling Micah to pay attention to class.

He rolled his eyes but did as he said. Then the teacher spoke up again, and Micah saw what Ryan had actually meant.

“Now, we actually have a second person who would like to share their calling with us today,” Mr. Brecht said, surprising him. “Ms. Lane?”

Someone else? Micah thought immediately. That was good. Depending on how popular they were and how awesome their Path, or Class, they would draw attention away from him.

Micah perked up a bit to see who it was.

A girl with braided blonde hair got up from the end of Ryan’s old row and walked to the front of the class.

Micah recognized her, though he couldn’t quite remember her name yet. She sat too far away, after all, even if she was part of his own age group.

He glanced at Ryan for help, but the other boy seemed hooked for some reason. No, he even looked nervous. Or excited? Why? Wait … Micah glanced at her, then back to him watching her, and hesitantly nudged him with a smile. Did Ryan have a crush on her?

He just got a frown in response. Well, that didn’t help.

“Camille?” their teacher asked the girl softly.

She seemed to take a deep breath, then, and Micah sympathized with her.

“It’s alright,” she said and looked at the class with confidence. Actually looked into their eyes. Already, she was doing better than Micah had. He saw her look up to their row, where Ryan now sat since today, and her eyes lingered for a moment before they snapped back to the front.

… wait. Did she have a crush on Ryan, too?

All the girls were supposed to fancy Ryan, after all. Micah had almost forgotten about that. Didn’t that mean he had a shot?

This time, Micah nudged Ryan more excitedly. He got an even deeper frown in response.

“I’m a [Mage],” the girl said and stopped, letting that stand on its own.

Huh?

After a brief pause, the class burst into an uproar.

“What?” people called.

“Really?”

“As if!”

“What spells do you know?”

“How?!” That was Micah, calling loudly so he would be heard over the others. He was curious.

“Show us some spells!”

“What level are you?”

“Spells! Spells! Spells!” one row chanted together.

“Quiet! Quiet!” Mr. Brecht shouted and the classroom shut up. He breathed heavily after that, and Micah remembered just how old he was.

He sat back down, feeling a little ashamed. He’d been asking questions along with the rest of them, doing just what he’d feared the other children might do to him, and disrupting class all the while, too.

He resolved to pay silent attention.

“But I’m only level one,” Camille said with a trembling voice and brought out an empty cup from her pocket for some reason. “And I only know one spell.”

“Psh!” Mr. Brecht hissed at someone. They must have been about to speak up. “Please, go on,” he said to Camille.

The girl in front of the class closed her eyes for a moment and seemed to concentrate.

Did [Mages] need to concentrate for their spells? Micah thought he’d heard that somewhere once. And he’d needed to concentrate for [Infusion] to work, sometimes in the beginning, too. She was only level 1 after all. He could barely remember what that had been like.

Just … excitement, right?

It was a different kind of excitement that filled the classroom as they watched Camille stand there, and then finally, she opened her own and casted, “[Summon Water].”

A ball of water seemed to appear out of nowhere in front of her.

Micah shut his eyes immediately and turned away, catching only the briefest glimpse of its essence and trying to forget it. He remembered all too well how he had spaced out after seeing the entrance to the Tower — he’d stepped right up to it without realizing it, trying to figure out how it worked for who knows how long — and how the Tower’s own essence had mesmerized him on his first night as a child. He also remembered a different kind of spacing out that he didn’t want to relive ever again. But most of, he didn’t want to do any of that now, in class.

He did want to see that spell again, though. Someday. He’d have to ask Camille to show it to him eventually if she was willing to. Just maybe not right now. The other children were definitely going to flood her with questions the moment they had break, and Micah didn’t want to be one of those. He could be patient … — he remembered his whole ordeal with the Tower — … to a degree.

The water splashed into the cup all the sudden, dropped by whatever force had summoned it. After Micah heard that, he looked back to see Camille tilting it slightly, holding it up for everyone to see.

“It isn’t much,” she said. “It’s barely one cup for now and it disappears after a while if I don’t make it stay, so you can’t really drink it.”

What? Micah thought then. How was that supposed to work? What if you used the water to bake a cake or drank it and only then ‘let it go’? What happened then? He felt the urge to ask questions, experiment, even though it wasn’t even his own Skill.

“I’m told that every Mage starts out this way though,” Camille went on. “And I’m only fourteen. But, I am a [Mage] and I’m excited to get better.”

She grinned then, and the classroom burst into applause. It was much louder than Micah’s applause had been, much more enthusiastic, and he smiled and clapped along for so many reasons. Then he remembered Ryan and looked over to see if he was just as excited, but the other boy wasn’t clapping at all.

He just gave Micah a nervous smile.

Jitters?