The Unskillful Thaumaturge

XXXVII

Lillian felt a sharp poke to her side. She groaned and rolled over, her mouth pressing into the pillow, then felt the poke again. Prying open her eyes, she noticed Daria's face hovering over hers. Sighing, she sank her elbows into the bed and pushed herself to a seat. "What is it?"

"I just thought I'd wake you up," Daria answered. "It's nearly ten."

"I didn't know I could sleep that late," Lillian muttered. After the mysterious events of the previous day, she had had trouble falling asleep, spending a solid ninety minutes tossing and turning under the blankets. She eased herself out from under the covers, letting her legs dangle over the edge of the bed. Her shoulder-cropped red hair stuck out at all angles, forming a halo around her half-closed eyes. She pushed off with her hands and slid down to the floor, landing with a thud. Wincing, she clapped a hand over her right ankle.

"What happened?"

"I fell last week and twisted my ankle."

Daria grimaced. "Are you okay?"

Lillian waved her hand dismissively. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just shouldn't jump down from the bed like that." She stumbled over to the bathroom and closed the door. Daria pushed her glasses up her nose and flipped over one of the pillows on Lillian's bed.

A minute later, Lillian re-entered the room wearing jeans and a dark blue top that brought out her eyes. She yawned. "Where's Leslie?"

"Getting breakfast."

Lillian didn't respond, instead pulling out a sheet of paper. She scribbled down some words down, using her right hand, and, shaking her head, scratched them out.

"Do you need a notebook or something? I've seen you do that about ten times in the last week."

"No, it's fine, I'm just trying to figure something out."

"What are you figuring out?"

"A problem." Lillian carefully omitted the fact that it was not a physics problem, but a mystery-type problem.

"I thought your physics homework was due on Fridays."

"It's an extra credit problem," Lillian lied.

"Must be hard."

"Yeah."

There was silence for several minutes while Lillian continued to scribble down clues and connections.

"You must not have slept much last night," Daria remarked.

"What do you mean?"
"I could hear you tossing and turning."

"I have a lot going on."

"You must," Daria pressed.

"I told you, Daria, a lot of it is confidential. I'm sorry, but however much I want to tell you, I just can't reveal that. But thanks for the support."

❦

Dakota was sitting in one of the spinning chairs, scribbling anxiously when he heard heavy breathing and footsteps near the door. Instantly, he spun around, raising his hands protectively in front of his face and peeking through his fingertips to identify the intruder.

"What are you doing?" Ashley asked, annoyed.

"I- sitting here thinking."

"About what?"

"Nothing," he squeaked.

Ashley walked over and picked up the piece of paper he had been writing on, holding it in front of her face. "What is this?"