Fairstone turret and him shooting an arrow at the headmaster.
Yitch shakes the drawing. “I asked you, do you recognize this?”
“Yes, but—but I didn’t mean anything by it. Every boy in the school draws stuff like that.”
“So you admit you have seen this drawing?”
“Yes—but—”
“Do you know where this drawing was found, Wenerly?”
Pard lowers his gaze as it hits him, Shit, the west wing, I missed it .
“Speak up.”
“I don’t know, headmaster.”
“It was found near my precious Nero.” Yitch’s lips twitch, and he looks over Pard’s head and stares at a portrait of himself holding the fat tabby, a gold chain around the cat’s neck. Yitch dabs the corner of his eye with a red silk handkerchief. “My poor, poor Nero, only a monster would hurt that loving creature.” His face transitions from sadness into a scowl, and he glares at Pard. “What did my Nero ever do to you, Wenerly ?”
“I-I—”
Yitch pounds his fist on his desk. “What did my Nero ever do to you!”
“Sir, I didn’t—”
“I have witnesses!”
Yitch’s words hit Pard hard. Blaine and Nox and Sully told—I’m so screwed . “I don’t know, headmaster.”
Yitch sinks back in his velvet-cushioned throne. “I saw you, Wenerly, over a year ago on the Fairstone grounds. You and your little light show. I know exactly what you are and what you did to my Nero. I took precautions in case of just such an event. And now I may have all the concrete proof I need, but I can’t expel you until the council convenes and renders the final decision when all the evidence is presented. Until then you are confined to class, the dining hall, and your room. Now get out of my office. The sight of you turns my stomach, leave.”
Pard sighs and turns around, not looking at Yitch, his eyes lock on the birch floor in shame, he moves forward with choppy steps. His foot touches the edge of the Yitch lineage rug, and he catches himself before stepping on it. Pard jumps to the right, well away from the rug, and then walks along the wall, not wanting to offend Yitch and make his situation any worse. He moves forward, the lonely walk to the door taking an eternity. Pard is lost in his thoughts, unsure of what he will do or where he will go once he’s kicked out of Fairstone. His heart sinks further thinking how disappointed his parents would be in him.
“Watch out!” Yitch says, leaping out of his throne and pointing at Pard.
Pard bumps into the end of a mahogany display case resting against the wall. “Shoot—” Pard’s sweaty palms press flat against the glass as his body folds over the top. His disheveled reflection peers back at him off the surface, and right in front of his nose, inside the display case, resting on a flat white marble block, a gold locket embossed with a leafless Ida tree.
THE LOWER LORD OF THE NORTH
Pard races through the corridor and away from Yitch’s office.
Ding, Ding —
The Fairstone bell tower chimes.
Nine, dang it, I’m supposed to be in Professor Videl’s class. Pard dodges a group of older boys, each of them quickly jump out of his way to avoid contact, and then they stare at him with uneasy eyes, apparently also hearing the rumor that Pard can electrify them if they get touched.
Pard shakes his head, and is caught between worrying about getting to class on time, his trial, the students thinking he has a killer touch, his expulsion, what Yitch thinks or knows what he is, even though he doesn’t know what he is, and why his mother’s necklace, or at least a necklace that looks like his mother’s, is now displayed in Yitch’s office. Pard bares down on the math class door ahead. Well, on a positive note, the boy’s of Fairstone think I’ll electrocute them, at least I’ll get to class almost on time, so at least I have that going for me.
Pard pushes open the door leading into Professor Videl's math lecture hall and slips inside the room.
All eyes in the back half of the room
Yitch shakes the drawing. “I asked you, do you recognize this?”
“Yes, but—but I didn’t mean anything by it. Every boy in the school draws stuff like that.”
“So you admit you have seen this drawing?”
“Yes—but—”
“Do you know where this drawing was found, Wenerly?”
Pard lowers his gaze as it hits him, Shit, the west wing, I missed it .
“Speak up.”
“I don’t know, headmaster.”
“It was found near my precious Nero.” Yitch’s lips twitch, and he looks over Pard’s head and stares at a portrait of himself holding the fat tabby, a gold chain around the cat’s neck. Yitch dabs the corner of his eye with a red silk handkerchief. “My poor, poor Nero, only a monster would hurt that loving creature.” His face transitions from sadness into a scowl, and he glares at Pard. “What did my Nero ever do to you, Wenerly ?”
“I-I—”
Yitch pounds his fist on his desk. “What did my Nero ever do to you!”
“Sir, I didn’t—”
“I have witnesses!”
Yitch’s words hit Pard hard. Blaine and Nox and Sully told—I’m so screwed . “I don’t know, headmaster.”
Yitch sinks back in his velvet-cushioned throne. “I saw you, Wenerly, over a year ago on the Fairstone grounds. You and your little light show. I know exactly what you are and what you did to my Nero. I took precautions in case of just such an event. And now I may have all the concrete proof I need, but I can’t expel you until the council convenes and renders the final decision when all the evidence is presented. Until then you are confined to class, the dining hall, and your room. Now get out of my office. The sight of you turns my stomach, leave.”
Pard sighs and turns around, not looking at Yitch, his eyes lock on the birch floor in shame, he moves forward with choppy steps. His foot touches the edge of the Yitch lineage rug, and he catches himself before stepping on it. Pard jumps to the right, well away from the rug, and then walks along the wall, not wanting to offend Yitch and make his situation any worse. He moves forward, the lonely walk to the door taking an eternity. Pard is lost in his thoughts, unsure of what he will do or where he will go once he’s kicked out of Fairstone. His heart sinks further thinking how disappointed his parents would be in him.
“Watch out!” Yitch says, leaping out of his throne and pointing at Pard.
Pard bumps into the end of a mahogany display case resting against the wall. “Shoot—” Pard’s sweaty palms press flat against the glass as his body folds over the top. His disheveled reflection peers back at him off the surface, and right in front of his nose, inside the display case, resting on a flat white marble block, a gold locket embossed with a leafless Ida tree.
THE LOWER LORD OF THE NORTH
Pard races through the corridor and away from Yitch’s office.
Ding, Ding —
The Fairstone bell tower chimes.
Nine, dang it, I’m supposed to be in Professor Videl’s class. Pard dodges a group of older boys, each of them quickly jump out of his way to avoid contact, and then they stare at him with uneasy eyes, apparently also hearing the rumor that Pard can electrify them if they get touched.
Pard shakes his head, and is caught between worrying about getting to class on time, his trial, the students thinking he has a killer touch, his expulsion, what Yitch thinks or knows what he is, even though he doesn’t know what he is, and why his mother’s necklace, or at least a necklace that looks like his mother’s, is now displayed in Yitch’s office. Pard bares down on the math class door ahead. Well, on a positive note, the boy’s of Fairstone think I’ll electrocute them, at least I’ll get to class almost on time, so at least I have that going for me.
Pard pushes open the door leading into Professor Videl's math lecture hall and slips inside the room.
All eyes in the back half of the room
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