Diary of a Teenaged Mimic

Dear Diary,

I didn't get much sleep last night. I think that defeats the purpose of wanting me to take a day of rest or whatever Devotions are supposed to be, but I gotta keep reminding myself, no matter the skin tone or friendliness of the folks I'm dealing with, a lot of them are, functionally, entitled rich folks.

So I got back and got ambushed in the entryway by Marshall duBois, Sister Trease the House Mother, and Headmaster Miles.

Sister Trease had brown skin with slightly lighter brown eyes and slightly darker brown hair, what I could see of it poking through the edges of her habit. Beyond that, she had the most unfortunate face I'd ever seen. Not deformed or anything, just masculine, and not in a good way. I guessed she compensated by keeping her cosmetics and habit perfect; nobody naturally had eye shadow or lips that color. I mean, nobody I'd seen so far. At any rate, she glared at me like I'd just shat in the entryway.

Headmaster Miles, on the other hand, wore a beatific smile, the kind of thing you'd expect to see on Mister Rogers or a kindly grandmother. He had skin just a touch lighter than Trease's, his eyes a brown dark enough to get mistaken for black. He wore a charcoal gray suit in the same style I'd seen worn by guys riding past in open topped carriages. He held a clipboard loosely in one hand, I assumed the door guard's list of comings and goings.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself, child?" snipped Terese in a tone of voice usually reserved for misbehaving toddlers and pets.

Before I could cudgel my alcohol fuzzed brain into formulating a coherent answer, Headmaster Miles cut in with, "Now, now, Terese. I'm sure she felt she had a good reason for going out." When he turned to meet my gaze I lost any comfort I'd gotten from his support. This guy didn't need to get loud or snippy or red faced to let you know you'd disappointed him. "That said, we really would like to hear your reason."

"Uh... Devotions?" I regretted it as soon as the word left my mouth. The Marshall rolled his eyes and looked away from me, the Headmaster shook his head in gentle reproof, and after a shocked gasp, Terese barked out, "Do not be flippant with us, child! Diana requires nothing outside of these walls for her Devotions!"

DuBois opened his mouth to say something, but I beat him to it with a snapped, "I never said Diana's my Patron."

"So you lied to Sister Siobhan? Typical Bag." Trease might be brown skinned, but her attitude was pure entitled Karen.

"Racist much? I said I wanted Mondays off. She's the one who wrote down Diana."

The Headmaster nodded sagely, like I'd said something wise rather than mouthing off some half-drunk bullshit. "It is the most common assumption, as there are few followers of any other moon goddess here in Phileo City. Yet there is still the issue of you leaving your room on your day of Devotion; I overlooked your outing last week, since you might well be procuring the materials for your shrine, not knowing the school would provide them had you asked."

"Mighty white of you. I still don't wanna be locked in a box."

Headmaster Miles didn't even acknowledge the first part of my statement, "You've shown no other signs of claustrophobia." He shook his head, as if clearing it of errant thoughts, "still, that is all a tangent. If Diana isn't, which moon deity is your Patron?"

Before I could answer, Trease spoke over me, "Why bother, Miles. She's clearly just going to lie to us again."

This bitch really got on my nerves. "The man asked me a question, Sister." While she spluttered at my tone, I turned to Miles and said, "Loki."

"See! See! This guttersnipe can't help but try to lie her way out of everything. I vote for immediate expulsion."

"I'm not lying, and why would I be expelled?"

"Because you're lying guttersnipe Bag trash who doesn't belong in these hallowed halls!" She stepped toward me, stiffening as if she intended to do more than just scream. Before she'd taken a second step, the Marshall laid a hand on her shoulder, stopping her as surely as if she'd been anchored to the spot.

"Calmly, Trease. I believe the Headmaster was about to say something."

She swallowed her next bout of bile and nodded, taking half a step back to cede the floor to the Headmaster.

"That is an extraordinary claim, Tabitha. As for expulsion, refusing Devotional time is an offense which can be punished by expulsion. Staying out after curfew without permission or reason is another, should it be repeated too often. Finally, moral turpitude is an acceptable reason to expel a Cadet, and given that you're clearly inebriated, that might apply, depending on how badly you've besmirched our institutions reputation while drinking in uniform."

"One, these are the only decent clothes I've got. Two, I wasn't refusing Devotions, I was with Loki all day. Three, I wasn't besmooching anybody today, I just had a few before he walked me back."

At 'with Loki all day', Trease's face went pale and she tensed up. When I admitted to having a few drinks, she shrugged off duBois' hand, stepped forward, and slapped me across the face. Given that I'd taken at least two SquadBall hits to the face, her open handed slap barely fazed me, and wouldn't have done even that much had I been sober.

"Trease! Return to your rooms at once!" I'd not heard the Headmaster's angry voice before, apparently, but what it lacked in volume it made up for in sheer outraged authority.

The Sister stiffened. "Why?"

"We do not strike Cadets, Sister."

"She isn't even a Cadet. She's a floozy in uniform, about to be expelled!"

Headmaster Miles' voice returned to its former calm yet firm tones. "That remains to be seen, and until such time as she is formally expelled, you will treat her as a Cadet. Now, return to your rooms, unless you'd like me to start looking for a new House Mother for the Ladies' dormitory?"

Trease huffed and puffed, resembling nothing so much as an outraged water buffalo, then turned and stomped off in the direction of the girls' dorm.

"Now, Cadet, you've made some extraordinary claims. Care to show us some proof?"

I thought half a second, then said, "doors locked?"

He nodded, understanding my meaning immediately. "Yes, although there are multiple Spells and Skills that could bypass those locks."

I snorted. "I'm in fuckin' Remedial Mana Shaping, remember?" Then I turned around, almost losing my balance as I did so, and walked over to another of the half dozen doors. I pushed it open with a now familiar crunch, stepped out, stepped over to yet another door, crunched it open, and walked back over to where the Marshall stood, trying unsuccessfully to hold in his laughter.

"That's... interesting, but not proof that you are in fact a worshipper of Loki."

I spun to face him, only turning a little too far. "Hey, hey, hey! I didn't say I worshipped him. He and I have an understanding. He's my Patron, I'm his," I shrugged. "Devotee, I guess."

"While your ability to bypass our very expensive locks is, as noted, impressive, it is not proof you are a follower of Loki, nor that you have spent the past two Devotional days with him."

I shook my head, suddenly wanting nothing more than my bed and an end to the bullshit. "Yo, Loki, could you provide Miles here some proof?"

My Patron's voice filled my head, and from the looks on their faces, the Headmaster's and the Marshall's as well. "While listening to her pull off a perfect deception by telling you the truth in such a fashion that you would never believe her has been hilarious, I would be a poor Patron indeed if I did not even acknowledge my... devotee. Tabitha Diaz has spent her past two Devotional days attending to her duties to me, which should be all you need to know."

Once the echoes in our heads died down, Marshall duBois let out a hearty guffaw. "Looks like she's got you there, Miles."

The Headmaster slowly closed his eyes, then raised a single hand to rub at his temples with his thumb and pinky. With his other hand he waved in the direction of the Ladies' dorm. "Just... get to your room Cadet. You've got class early tomorrow."

I stumbled back to my cell, staggered around Marie's cart, and collapsed into my bed fully dressed.

Marie woke me in the morning, a weird cocktail of emotions fleeting across her face when I opened the door. Frustration, surprise, and relief were the ones prominent enough to get past my hangover. I gave her cart back and thanked her; she brushed her fingertips across mine as I pushed the cart out of the room. Then she left, enigmatic as always.

I got to breakfast late, telling the others between bites that I'd answer questions about my disappearance tomorrow.

When I got to Remedial Mana Shaping, the moment my ass hit the seat the teacher greeted me with, "Good Morning, Cadet Diaz. Marshall duBois tells me you need help learning the basics of the Status spell?"

"Uh, yeah. Can't make it go."

They nodded, their expression radiating calm reassurance. "Show me what you've learned so far, so I might know where your failure points lie."

I squinted at them, my headache telling me 'failure' and 'lies' were subtle digs, but their face betrayed nothing. I shrugged. "Okay." I lifted my right hand, pushed my mana just a bit out until I saw it glow, then whipped it around in a triple circle. "See? Fancy light show, no Status."

They stared at me, shock and horror clear on their face as they whipped their hands around in two different complex patterns. The desks and chairs around me scraped across the floor as they and the students in them got pushed away from me, and a shimmering globe surrounded me.

"The fuck?"

The instructor took a deep breath before responding. "I apologize for the caution, Cadet, but putting enough raw Mana into the air that some of it spontaneously decays into light is dangerous, to put it mildly. I'm fairly certain that as it is your own personal Mana, it is unlikely to harm you, but if it grounded out in one of the other Cadets or myself, I can guarantee no such thing."

I shook my head to clear it and immediately regretted it. Through the spiking haze, I muttered, "uh, so kinda like radiation; if there's enough that it glows, that's bad?"

"Yes. Very. Now, that's not to say some powerful Spells or Enchantments do not give off light, but in those cases the bulk of the Mana is contained, dedicated to a purpose, and the light is simply a byproduct of the magic's power. But... to have enough raw undirected Mana that it glows? A clear sign of danger."

I slumped back into my seat. "So you can't help me?"

They actually looked offended. "Of course I can, and will. I simply needed to shield myself and your fellow students before we continue. Now, could you do that again?"

I did my little light show again, and they nodded almost immediately. "I see the problem, Cadet. Or, rather, problems."

"Shit. I'm doing it that wrong?"

They shook their head. "Oh, no. Well, you are doing multiple things wrong, but none of them are insurmountable. First and foremost, the Status spell requires both hands. One hand places the mana, the other holds it in place."

I cudgeled my poor brain to get it to remember exactly what Marshall duBois had done, but time, alcohol, and frustration ganged up to deny me. "Could you show me, please?"

They nodded and proceeded to do the whole Spell, one hand fisted in front of them, thumb up, the other tracing a line up about a foot, circling three times, then back down to their thumb.

"Now, try that again."

I nodded just a little, my poor hungover brain not liking that even a little, and did the whole deal, both hands where they ought to be. Still no Status, although the afterimage seemed to stay a little longer.

"Excellent. Your handwork is well within the tolerances of the spell. Now the second problem is that you are using far more Mana than you need to, but I'm not sure that would prevent the Spell from working. The third is that you're moving a bit quickly; but I expect that's related to the final problem; how you're directing the mana. You're just pushing it a tiny bit beyond your finger, correct?"

"Uh, yeah."

"That's the problem; what you need to do is create a tracery of Mana in the shape your finger is tracing. Imagine the air to be parchment, and your Mana is the ink you're sketching upon it with."

I blinked a little at that, but figured they were the expert. I held my left hand up in the thumb up fist like they'd done, put my right index finger on my thumb, and pushed my mana out of it just a tiny bit. It sparked a little, the mana jumping to my thumb until I focused and dragged my finger slowly upward, focusing on leaving a trail of mana as I did so. By the third circle sweat dripped out of my hair, but I forced it to hold still and brought my finger back down to my thumb. The moment I touched finger to thumb I let off on holding it exactly as I'd 'drawn' it, and the whole thing twisted through some other dimensions than the normal three, forming something like a mirror in front of me with the crackle-snap of an electrical short circuit.

In the mirror hovered a pair of pop up boxes like my 'Mimic' boxes, except these two were bigger, shaped more like an information dialog than an interactive popup. One hid mostly behind the other, but I could read the tops of both. I reached out and pushed the one in front to the side, and it switched places with the other. A quick scan of the information showed me nothing I really wanted to reveal to my classmates, and plenty of stuff I felt like I dared not.

"So, it seems to have worked, yes?"

I nodded absently, focusing on the least damning bit of information I could see on either Status box. "Uh, it says here I'm a Juvenile? The fuck?"

"Well, if your Status spell marks you that way, then you are. As I alluded to last class, much of magic is subjective; for whatever reason your own Mana sees you as a Juvenile."

Crap. After I'd gone and pissed off the House Mother, the Headmaster, and maybe even the Marshall to stay in the school, too. "I guess that means I'm not gonna stay a Cadet?"

They blinked, confusion briefly painting itself across their features. "Why would you think that? There is no rule saying a Cadet must be an Adult. Now, given the policies of Phileo City, which are of course followed by its Heroic Academy, you will not be able to graduate to full Hero status until you are in fact an Adult, but there is no reason whatsoever that you cannot begin your training as a Juvenile."

I breathed out a sigh of relief, and they said, "Now, I'm going to keep that protective bubble around you so you can practice your Status spell for the rest of class. Take your time, and see if you can, ah, reduce the amount of Mana you're using, if possible. Carry on, Cadet."

With that they turned to try and help Carruthers, leaving me to my own devices for the rest of class.

By the time lunch rolled around, I was too exhausted to even think about going out and buying a blanket the way I'd planned. After demolishing enough food to stun my jaded ROTC crew, I stumbled back to my room, stripped my sweat soaked uniform off, and collapsed into bed. I fell asleep before my head even hit the pillow.