"What did you just say?"
I wrung my hands again. If I kept this up I'd have no skin left on my fingers this time tomorrow.
"I think I have magical powers," I repeated.
It's usually a bad sign when someone says something like "I think I have magical powers". It sounds too similar to, "I see dead people." When you hear that phrase, it's usually a good idea to go running in the opposite direction as fast as you can, because the person you are talking to is either crazy or possessed.
But like I said before, I'm not crazy. I know what I saw. It was magic, and it was real.
Arthur didn't seem to think so. He stared at me long and hard. There was a crease reminiscent of the Mariana's Trench etched into his forehead.
"I know it sounds crazy," I added, as crazy people usually do, "but I swear I'm telling the truth."
My words only seemed to confirm Arthur's suspicions that I'd finally gone loony. "Alright, that's it," he declared. "Grab your stuff, I'm taking you to the hospital."
"What? No!"
"I'm not arguing with you about this, Ethan."
"I don't need to go to the hospital, Arthur, I'm perfectly-"
"Don't you dare say 'fine!'" He waved a finger in front of my eyes. "Listen to yourself. You're clearly hallucinating."
"I'm not hallucinating-"
"People don't have magic powers. Magic isn't real."
"It is real. I can prove it to you!"
"I'm not listening to this." He turned and dumped the rest of his football gear on his bed and then thrust my crutches at me. "I knew you hurt yourself last night when you fell, don't even try to deny it. I'm taking you to see your doctor whether you like it or not." He opened his desk drawer and rummaged around for his keys.
It was a stupid move, but I've never been known for my common sense. I pointed my fingers at the football helmet on Arthur's bed and flicked my wrist.
The helmet flew through the air with the force of a speeding bullet and smacked Arthur in the back of the head. He crumpled into a heap on the floor and the helmet rolled to a stop at the base of his closet.
I immediately felt a wave of guilt crashing over me. Apparently my abilities were magnified when I'm upset about something. Filing this information away for later when my roommate wasn't concussed or at risk of decapitation, I hurried to his side.
"Arthur? Are you okay?"
He groaned and raised a hand to rub the back of his head.
"What... the... hell...," he muttered, looking up at me cross-eyed.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to hit you so hard," I said earnestly.
"Did you just throw that at me?" He sounded deeply offended, which I found ironic, given how many objects Arthur has projected at me so far this year.
"I used magic," I said. "See, watch." I pointed my fingers at the helmet again. It wobbled slightly, like an awkward hermit crab uncoiling from its shell, and then rolled into the closet, where it disappeared amongst the forest of Arthur's dangling pant legs.
There was a very long, thick silence in which Arthur stared at the closet in disbelief and then turned to gape at me. I sat patiently on my haunches.
"Explain," Arthur eventually said.
"It's a long story," I started.
It began earlier this morning not long after the power came back on, much to the shock of everyone in Smith Hall.
YOU ARE READING
The Institution
FantasySocially awkward Ethan Montgomery never expected his freshman year of college to be easy, but he has to admit that even by his low expectations things are getting quite out of hand. Because that’s the way things tend to go when you’re juggling newf...
