Midnight

“Of course,” Rubic said, nodding quickly. “Thank you for coming in. Omen, would you see your parents to the gate? There’s a good lad.”

13 (#ulink_369b7b3d-634b-56f8-a13e-768506604e08)

“I’m sorry about that,” Omen said to his parents as they walked away from Rubic’s office. “I know how busy you are.”

“We are very busy,” said Emmeline, examining everything that they passed. “Please tell that teacher not to call on us again.”

“I will,” said Omen, though he knew he wouldn’t.

“Where’s Auger?” Caddock asked. “We were hoping to see him before we left.”

“I’m not sure,” Omen said. “I can pass on a message, if you like.”

“We don’t have a message,” said Emmeline. “We just wanted to see him. Never mind.”

“I could show you around,” Omen suggested brightly. “If you have time, like. If you’re not rushing back.”

“We are rushing back,” Caddock said.

“Oh, OK. I’ll walk you out, then.”

They walked on, Caddock a few steps in front. Silence descended.

“How are your classes going?” his mother asked eventually.

“Good,” Omen responded. He wondered for a moment if they’d heard about his failed test. But no. His parents were formidable people, but they weren’t omnipotent. “Really good. They’re all going well. Even maths, and I’m terrible at maths.”

“Are you?”

“Um, yes. I’ve always been terrible at maths. Remember?”

“Of course,” Emmeline said in a tone that let Omen know she didn’t, not at all. “And that’s going well for you, is it?”

“Yep. I mean, I still don’t understand most of it, but I don’t think that’s too important.”

Caddock looked back. “You don’t think understanding maths is important?”

Omen shrugged. “Not really. As long as the numbers fit, that’s the only thing that matters, isn’t it?”

Caddock sighed irritably, a sound Omen knew only too well. “Understanding a subject enables you to master the subject. What you’re doing is skating along the surface of your education, Omen. It’s time you committed. It’s time you took it seriously.”

“OK,” Omen said quietly.

“Auger takes his studies seriously,” Caddock continued. “Wouldn’t you like to be like that?”

“I suppose.”

“There you go again. Humming and hawing. You’ve got to be more decisive. You can’t go through your life like this. Be definite. Do something. Commit to something.”

“I’ll try.”

Caddock turned and Omen had to stop quickly to avoid bumping into him. “You’re not listening to me at all, are you?”

“I am.”

“You’re hearing me, you’re just not listening to me.”

“I’m going to be late,” Emmeline said, glancing at her watch. “Omen, do something with your life, will you? Auger volunteers for things; he gets involved in extra-curricular activities. He puts the work in at school, but he also has so many outside interests. Be more like that. Now we have to go.”

“OK,” said Omen, watching them walk on without him. Then they turned a corner and they were gone and, as usual, he was left feeling curiously empty.

He didn’t know what to do so he went walking. He should have been used to it by now, his parents’ ability to rob him of himself. In the same way that Ispolin had seemed diminished around them, Omen became lesser in their presence. Smaller. Even more insignificant. He wished it had gone on longer, their defence of him. Even though he knew their outrage was actually about Ispolin’s assault on the family name, he had enjoyed listening to their words. It had almost been like they cared. It had almost been like they approved of him.

But of course they didn’t. Their approval was reserved solely for Auger who, Omen admitted, more than deserved it.

Not for the first time, though, he wondered what he’d be like as a person if he’d had his parents’ approval. Would he be more confident? Would he be more popular? Would he be more daring?

Miss Gnosis was setting up a table outside the dining hall, a table with a blank clipboard resting on it. He liked Miss Gnosis. She’d made him rethink his attitude towards Necromancers. Sure, her discipline was death magic and she wore black like all Necromancers, but she was bright and fun and a really good teacher. Plus, she had red hair and she was in her twenties, and she still had her strong Scottish accent.

“Good morning, Omen,” she said. She pursed her lips and turned her head slightly, looking at him from a new angle. “Everything OK? You look a little down in the dumps.”

“I’m fine. I was just … No, I’m fine.”

“I heard about Axelia.”

“Seriously?” said Omen. “Even the teachers have heard?”

“Staffrooms are sad places unless we have something to gossip about. Guys like you, Omen, they get the girls later in life. You just wait till you hit your twenties.”

He blushed, and tried to hide his smile by nodding to the clipboard. “What’s this about?”

Miss Gnosis held it out. “We’re collecting food and blankets for the Leibniz refugees. Would you like to sign up? We’re going down to the camp on Monday to distribute whatever we’ve got, and we need all the help we can get. You interested?”

“Would … would this count as, like, an extra-curricular activity?”

“It’s practically the definition of the word.”

“And signing up for it, that would be a commitment, wouldn’t it?”

“It certainly would.”

“Yes,” said Omen, and paused. Then he said, “Yes,” again, more forcefully.

“Good man,” said Miss Gnosis.

“I’ll do it.”

“All right then.”