Read Online The Magickers by Emily Drake - Free Book Online Page B

across the Hall’s floor. He came to a stop looking somewhat like a sausage stuffed into a fluffy brown roll. The two boys strolled off, shoulders shaking with laughter.
    Henry sighed and rolled out of his sleeping bag. Trent leaned over and gave him a hand up. He looked thoughtfully at the massively fluffy sleeping gear.
    â€œBig . . . ummm . . . bag,” he said.
    â€œDown. Best kind, but once those feathers get air in ’em and get all poofed up . . .” Henry sighed again, and pushed his glasses back into place on the bridge of his nose. He leaned over and began to squeeze his bag down to size. Jason got on his knees and helped him gather the straps.
    â€œNext time, pick on somebody your own size,” Trent said to Stefan’s back.
    The two turned slowly. The square kid looked across the end of the Hall at Henry Squibb. “He is my size.”
    Trent grinned. “I meant intellect.” He let out a hearty laugh before grabbing one strap and helping Henry and Jason pull the bag tight. “What is this thing, anyway? An air bag for a humvee?”
    The three of them couldn’t help smirking, Henry’s round face going red in both humor and embarrassment. “My mom . . .” he sputtered finally.
    â€œMy mom,” Trent said, “would have put a pillow on a skateboard, if she could have figured out a way. And I think she taught my dad how.” He wrinkled his face up ruefully.
    Henry fell over laughing. Bailey trotted up, watched them all silently for a moment, and then joined them. Jason pointed at her. “Trent, this is Bailey, Bailey, this’s Trent.”
    She nodded even as she looked about the cavernous and well-worn Hall. “Thank goodness the bathrooms are modern.”
    â€œSee the lake from there?”
    â€œWannameecha? Oh, yes. Looks nice. There’s racks of canoes and kayaks stacked behind the mess hall.”
    â€œSpeaking of mess hall!” Trent took a deep breath and beamed. “Smells like dinner!”
    Jason could smell a savory scent as well.
    â€œWait’ll you meet the cook. FireAnn. She has this big cloud of red hair and this cool Irish accent. We all had to go pound on pots and pans in the mess hall. She’s got a crew coming in, but they’re late.”
    â€œWhy pounding?”
    â€œWe had to chase the raccoons outta the kitchen.” Trent grinned again, merriment flashing in his dark blue eyes. “She was yelling at them that the slowest one out would be pot pie tomorrow!”
    Jason laughed.
    FireAnn did indeed have fiery red hair, held back by a dark blue bandanna that seemed as if it might burst open. She stood at the back of the mess hall while they sat and ate, and her green eyes flashed with satisfaction as the campers scarfed up every bite and a few came back for seconds.
    â€œTonight’s free night,” Trent said, as he wiped up the last of his gravy.
    â€œHow so?”
    â€œTomorrow they assign kitchen duty, toilet duty, camp duty. And they’ll have us scheduled for classes till the cows come home.” Trent’s thin face considered him. “Never been to camp, huh?”
    â€œFirst time.”
    â€œFor every action there is a reaction and chore,” Bailey said. She dropped her fork with a clink.
    â€œSomething like that,” Trent agreed. He glanced at Jason. “She always like this?”
    â€œSometimes,” Jason said. “Only more so.”
    By the time they left the mess hall, darkness had fallen once again. Little moon stayed out, a thin shivery sliver in the sky. The sound of music carried to them, and they set out in search of it. The smell of woodsmoke filled their nostrils, and a thin, gray funnel could be seen wafting up to the night sky. The melody grew brisker and brisker until they nearly ran to catch up to it.
    The three found themselves in a clearing. Gavan Rainwater stood, surrounded by the orange sparks coming off an immense bonfire,