eye. She was standing across the road, leaning against a wall and looking directly at me. I rose so quickly I almost knocked over my bourbon and Coke. She winked at me and walked briskly away.
I sat back down and turned my attention back to Dad and Martin. She may have given me a false phone number but she had also tracked me down. Perhaps I could learn to track her down just as easily.
* * * *
Mondayitis had come with its usual doom and gloom, made worse because it was a particularly wet and miserable morning. Tony and Garry met me at my house as they usually did and we all walked to school together.
School turned out to be as intellectually stimulating as ever. I’d already sat through English with Saunders and the bloody Heart of Darkness and was now enduring a Maths class. Maths should be outlawed in the afternoon.
I was bored and the subject matter didn’t appear to be offering much in the way of entertainment. That was okay, I could make my own entertainment. I’d had this stunt up my sleeve for about a month but I just needed the right moment to attempt it. This looked like it.
I took the small screwdriver that I’d always kept in my pencil case to my calculator, gently removing the four small screws that held the back plate on. I had to do it discreetly, using my books to cover what I was doing. Fortunately Mr Cromby was in the middle of a lecture about something to do with angles so he wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing.
With a small clunk the calculator came apart and the rubber mat that held the keys and the battery pack were exposed. Using a small cutting knife from my pencil case, I gently cut the plastic numeric mat and very carefully placed the keys back in order, except backwards. The nine key was now in the position of the one key and vice versa. It took me several minutes to get the calculator back together and, jiggling to make certain it was okay, I turned my attention back to the class. Mr Cromby still hadn’t noticed my lack of attention and had just about finished his lecture.
“Mr Cromby!” I tentatively put up my hand. “I can’t seem to get the same result.”
If truth be told – I had no idea of what the equation was, let alone what the result should be, but I would bet that it definitely wouldn’t be the answer my calculator would give.
“Sit down, Devon.” Mr Cromby sighed wearily, waving me away.
Damn it! Mr Cromby wasn’t going to fall for it. He must have spotted my expression or seen me tampering with my calculator. It was of course possible that he just simply knew me far too well after three years of teaching me to fall for anything.
Well, at least it had kept me entertained for a half hour or so.
The rest of the class passed with too much preamble – of course I couldn’t do the actual work now. I’d tried at first but the mental math of figuring out where the keys on my keypad should be made the calculations even harder. I had just about given up when the class bell rang.
“Fix your calculator before next class too, Devon,” Mr Cromby called as I walked out the door.
I couldn’t help but grin to myself. Mr Cromby might not be the flashiest teacher but damn the man was smart. I’d have to come up with something more devious next time.
“What’s wrong with your calculator?” Garry asked as we entered the hall.
“Nothing much,” I smiled back, passing it to him. “What’s nine plus nine? Try it.”
“Two?” Garry murmured. “How’d you do that?”
“Magic,” I smirked as I enigmatically waved my fingers about in his face.
“You’re an idiot!” He smiled and threw my calculator back at me.
I had a free period that afternoon which I spent in the library looking up any reference to magic that I could find. Unfortunately other than fictional references to magic users, magicians and sorcerers, I came up with very little.
I somehow doubted that figures such as Gandalf, Harry Potter or Merlin would be useful as role models
I sat back down and turned my attention back to Dad and Martin. She may have given me a false phone number but she had also tracked me down. Perhaps I could learn to track her down just as easily.
* * * *
Mondayitis had come with its usual doom and gloom, made worse because it was a particularly wet and miserable morning. Tony and Garry met me at my house as they usually did and we all walked to school together.
School turned out to be as intellectually stimulating as ever. I’d already sat through English with Saunders and the bloody Heart of Darkness and was now enduring a Maths class. Maths should be outlawed in the afternoon.
I was bored and the subject matter didn’t appear to be offering much in the way of entertainment. That was okay, I could make my own entertainment. I’d had this stunt up my sleeve for about a month but I just needed the right moment to attempt it. This looked like it.
I took the small screwdriver that I’d always kept in my pencil case to my calculator, gently removing the four small screws that held the back plate on. I had to do it discreetly, using my books to cover what I was doing. Fortunately Mr Cromby was in the middle of a lecture about something to do with angles so he wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing.
With a small clunk the calculator came apart and the rubber mat that held the keys and the battery pack were exposed. Using a small cutting knife from my pencil case, I gently cut the plastic numeric mat and very carefully placed the keys back in order, except backwards. The nine key was now in the position of the one key and vice versa. It took me several minutes to get the calculator back together and, jiggling to make certain it was okay, I turned my attention back to the class. Mr Cromby still hadn’t noticed my lack of attention and had just about finished his lecture.
“Mr Cromby!” I tentatively put up my hand. “I can’t seem to get the same result.”
If truth be told – I had no idea of what the equation was, let alone what the result should be, but I would bet that it definitely wouldn’t be the answer my calculator would give.
“Sit down, Devon.” Mr Cromby sighed wearily, waving me away.
Damn it! Mr Cromby wasn’t going to fall for it. He must have spotted my expression or seen me tampering with my calculator. It was of course possible that he just simply knew me far too well after three years of teaching me to fall for anything.
Well, at least it had kept me entertained for a half hour or so.
The rest of the class passed with too much preamble – of course I couldn’t do the actual work now. I’d tried at first but the mental math of figuring out where the keys on my keypad should be made the calculations even harder. I had just about given up when the class bell rang.
“Fix your calculator before next class too, Devon,” Mr Cromby called as I walked out the door.
I couldn’t help but grin to myself. Mr Cromby might not be the flashiest teacher but damn the man was smart. I’d have to come up with something more devious next time.
“What’s wrong with your calculator?” Garry asked as we entered the hall.
“Nothing much,” I smiled back, passing it to him. “What’s nine plus nine? Try it.”
“Two?” Garry murmured. “How’d you do that?”
“Magic,” I smirked as I enigmatically waved my fingers about in his face.
“You’re an idiot!” He smiled and threw my calculator back at me.
I had a free period that afternoon which I spent in the library looking up any reference to magic that I could find. Unfortunately other than fictional references to magic users, magicians and sorcerers, I came up with very little.
I somehow doubted that figures such as Gandalf, Harry Potter or Merlin would be useful as role models
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