Waiting For Sunrise - The Books Of Beginning AU

20. A Group Of Buffoons

Michael was making up the linens on his cot when he heard a voice calling his name. He turned around and there was Rafe, winding his way through the sea of beds to where the thirteen year old was. Michael smiled as the older boy approached.

"What's going on?"

"Miss B told me to go put some of her older, more outdated spellbooks in storage. I figured since you enjoy reading and magic lessons so much, you might wanna have a look at them," Rafe replied. 

Michael's smile widened. "I'd love that!"

"Great," Rafe said, holding out a stack of four books. "When you're done with them, just bring them back to me and I'll put 'em away."

Michael nodded absentmindedly, his attention turning to the books. He ran his hand over the well worn cover at the top of the stack. He was eager to dive in, to learn new spells and casting teqniques, to explore the magical world that he had technically always been a part of, but had been kept away from for too long by circumstance and Mrs. Crumley.

Forty-five minutes later, the boy was so immersed in the different hand motions for jinxes, hexes, and curses, that he didn't even notice the clacking of boots on the hardwood floor, heading right for him. Nor did he notice the humming of the approaching girl, who proceeded to peer over his head to look at what he was reading, her breath rustling his chestnut hair.

"Whatcha doing?"

Michael startled, his heart hammering as the book fell from his hands and he whirled around to see a grinning Abigail sitting herself down beside him. Michael panted, the trembling in his hands quickly subsiding.

"You startled me," he said, accusation creeping into his voice.

"Sorry," Abigail said, though she didn't sound particularly sorry. Then again, she rarely ever did. Abigail, much like Michael's own younger sister, radiated confidence to the point of recklessness. Often their brash attitudes exasperated him, but sometimes, he couldn't help but envy their fearless exteriors. He had often thought that if he could be half as brave as Emma was (not that he would admit to her just how much he admired her courage) he could die happy.

Michael sighed. "What are you doing, Abigail?"

The dark haired girl grinned widely. "Can't I just come see what my friend is up to?"

"Abigail, you're a very cunning person, and I respect that, but I'm not naïve enough that I can't tell that this is probably one of you and Emma's many schemes," Michael said. "So just tell me what's happening and spare me the dramatics, please."

Abigail rolled her eyes. "Way to see through the bullshit. Okay, you got me, I'm avoiding working on cleaning by talking to you."

"I don't think Rafe or Miss Burke will be happy if they find you out," Michael pointed out.

"It's their faults more than anyone," Abigail shot back, "after all, they was the ones to teach me all the techniques of a thief and a con and a magician. And two of the most important tools in our arsenal are hiding in plain sight, and, of course, distraction. It's kind of an art, y'know?"

Michael snorted, pushing his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose, an action that was half habit and half scholarly pretentiousness. "I'm not sure I'd call distraction an art form, no."

"Well that's just because you haven't seen it done fine and proper," the girl countered testily. "Allow me to explain with all those facts you're so fond of. There's a classic move used by us Savages when we go out working the streets in pairs. One a' us causes a big disturbance or distraction while the other either waits in the shadows or hides in plain sight. When a person or even a bunch a' people are distracted by whatever the first thief did, the other dips in and grabs their valuables in the midst of the chaos. It's an old standby for a reason - it works."