Read Online Quiet Magic by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller - Free Book Online
Authors: Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller
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straight into the boy's angry eyes, "you will not be
allowed to light any candles in the cafeteria at lunchtime, or at
any other time."
"So." The single syllable carried a
wealth of scorn.
Rob winced.
Jeffrey turned away and began to
rewrap his sandwich with precise, economical movements. This done,
he retrieved the parchment and twisted the mint green and blue
candle within. Then he placed it all--candle, apple, cake,
sandwich, and linen napkin-- back into the bag and rolled the top
closed. The milk carton he lifted after a moment and offered to
Rob.
"It would be shame," he said coldly,
"to waste it." He began to stand.
Rob laid a hand on his knee. The boy
stiffened; froze.
Rob cleared his throat. "One more
fact. One--no, two--more rules," he said waited for Jeffrey's
nod.
It came, a bare dip of the pointed
chin. Rob moved his hand; pausing a moment to order his
thoughts.
"I am what is known as a guidance
counselor," he said. "I also teach, in a pinch, but what I
primarily do is talk to children who go to this school when they
get in trouble or have problems. My job is to help them figure out
what the problem is, explain the appropriate rules and see that the
rules aren't broken--yes?"
Again, that uncivil nod.
"Yes. If the rules continue to be
broken after they are explained to the child, it is my further
obligation to call in the child's parents or guardians, explain the
rules to them and insure they see the child obeys." He paused
again, this time for breath.
"Another rule of the school is that
everyone must eat lunch. That is so that no one makes himself ill
by becoming excessive hungry. Now that you know this rule and the
reason for it I ask you to please eat your lunch and drink your
milk. I'll go down the hall while you eat and explain to Miss Lyle
that you will be late returning to class."
Jeffrey sighed. "I eat with a candle,
that is the rule of my family. It is--my mother told me--what keeps
us a family. Since I may not light my candle, I cannot eat." And he
set his jaw and gripped the bag tightly, eyes unwaveringly on those
of the man before him, who nodded.
He had expected nothing else. The boy
had a strength of will that was riveting, nearly
compelling.
"You will appreciate," he told
Jeffrey, "that I have no choice but to call your
family."
"Please feel free," the boy replied
without even a blink.
Rob considered a moment; grinned at
the thought of lighting a candle while sitting beside a fishing
pole.
"Jeffrey, I wonder if you could do me
a favor." He raised a hand to fend off the anger--quick, deep,
intelligent anger--that flared in those eyes. "Yes, I know you
don't owe me a favor. But I would like you to consider one,
please."
"What is it, then?"
"I wonder if you would walk with me
back to your class, and eat your apple and drink your milk as we
walk. You don't have to light a candle to have a snack, do
you?"
"No," said Jeffrey slowly, "I don't."
He bit his lip, unrolled the top of the bag and dug within. "All
right. As a favor. To you. You hear what I say, at
least."
"Thank you," said Rob, momentarily
wondering what favor might be required in return--and
when.
The apple was quickly eaten. The
carton of milk was empty soon thereafter as Rob walked Jeffrey back
to his classroom and saw him situated at his desk in the back of
the room and returned to his own office, still walking
slowly.
Jeffrey's folder had not yet reached
the filing cabinet; Rob lifted it from Mrs. Jenson's in-box. The
secretary raised a coy gray brow at him. He shrugged and murmured
something about a call to the boy's family. He shut the office door
behind him.
The boy's home number was written in
purple ink on a slip of pink paper clipped to the front of the
folder. Rob dialed and listened to the phone at the other end ring
once...twice...three times.
"Hello! Yes? What is it?" The voice of
an older man, slightly and mysteriously accented.
Rob cleared his throat. "Good
afternoon, " he told the voice, though he doubted
allowed to light any candles in the cafeteria at lunchtime, or at
any other time."
"So." The single syllable carried a
wealth of scorn.
Rob winced.
Jeffrey turned away and began to
rewrap his sandwich with precise, economical movements. This done,
he retrieved the parchment and twisted the mint green and blue
candle within. Then he placed it all--candle, apple, cake,
sandwich, and linen napkin-- back into the bag and rolled the top
closed. The milk carton he lifted after a moment and offered to
Rob.
"It would be shame," he said coldly,
"to waste it." He began to stand.
Rob laid a hand on his knee. The boy
stiffened; froze.
Rob cleared his throat. "One more
fact. One--no, two--more rules," he said waited for Jeffrey's
nod.
It came, a bare dip of the pointed
chin. Rob moved his hand; pausing a moment to order his
thoughts.
"I am what is known as a guidance
counselor," he said. "I also teach, in a pinch, but what I
primarily do is talk to children who go to this school when they
get in trouble or have problems. My job is to help them figure out
what the problem is, explain the appropriate rules and see that the
rules aren't broken--yes?"
Again, that uncivil nod.
"Yes. If the rules continue to be
broken after they are explained to the child, it is my further
obligation to call in the child's parents or guardians, explain the
rules to them and insure they see the child obeys." He paused
again, this time for breath.
"Another rule of the school is that
everyone must eat lunch. That is so that no one makes himself ill
by becoming excessive hungry. Now that you know this rule and the
reason for it I ask you to please eat your lunch and drink your
milk. I'll go down the hall while you eat and explain to Miss Lyle
that you will be late returning to class."
Jeffrey sighed. "I eat with a candle,
that is the rule of my family. It is--my mother told me--what keeps
us a family. Since I may not light my candle, I cannot eat." And he
set his jaw and gripped the bag tightly, eyes unwaveringly on those
of the man before him, who nodded.
He had expected nothing else. The boy
had a strength of will that was riveting, nearly
compelling.
"You will appreciate," he told
Jeffrey, "that I have no choice but to call your
family."
"Please feel free," the boy replied
without even a blink.
Rob considered a moment; grinned at
the thought of lighting a candle while sitting beside a fishing
pole.
"Jeffrey, I wonder if you could do me
a favor." He raised a hand to fend off the anger--quick, deep,
intelligent anger--that flared in those eyes. "Yes, I know you
don't owe me a favor. But I would like you to consider one,
please."
"What is it, then?"
"I wonder if you would walk with me
back to your class, and eat your apple and drink your milk as we
walk. You don't have to light a candle to have a snack, do
you?"
"No," said Jeffrey slowly, "I don't."
He bit his lip, unrolled the top of the bag and dug within. "All
right. As a favor. To you. You hear what I say, at
least."
"Thank you," said Rob, momentarily
wondering what favor might be required in return--and
when.
The apple was quickly eaten. The
carton of milk was empty soon thereafter as Rob walked Jeffrey back
to his classroom and saw him situated at his desk in the back of
the room and returned to his own office, still walking
slowly.
Jeffrey's folder had not yet reached
the filing cabinet; Rob lifted it from Mrs. Jenson's in-box. The
secretary raised a coy gray brow at him. He shrugged and murmured
something about a call to the boy's family. He shut the office door
behind him.
The boy's home number was written in
purple ink on a slip of pink paper clipped to the front of the
folder. Rob dialed and listened to the phone at the other end ring
once...twice...three times.
"Hello! Yes? What is it?" The voice of
an older man, slightly and mysteriously accented.
Rob cleared his throat. "Good
afternoon, " he told the voice, though he doubted
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