“Quit arc’n,” Joey protested, trying to stuff pencils and biros back into his bag. It was real rough when they’d all been tossed up the ceiling and were skitting around like spidies. “S’not like I can just wag off, this dreamo’s gonna poof any min!”
“I’m tryna put it down!” his little sister shrieked back, her previous upset flipped to panic eyes. It was right clear year one at the Kiwi school hadn’t gone sharp, as she still could barely control herself enough to not do an accidental takeover of all the forks when she didn’t wanna set the table and made ‘em spoony instead. Or an accidental dump of the shoerack when Dad kept tryna drag her on walkabouts. Or an accidental float of both their gear when they had to go back to school. Joey wasn’t keen on any of it.
(Really if Dad’d thought to learn Mum about magic earlier, then maybe she woulda gotten over him being an idiot earlier, and when Paige started wildin’ they coulda just done some indie school or whatever, and she wouldn’ta kept wildin’. Or maybe it wouldn’ta helped one nick. Still a good train thought to ride on, cos then he had someone to blame for the fact his stuff was way overhead. The frustrating part was he knew zact how to magic it back down, but couldn’t, because underage magic rules plus his wand was already packed up blah bleh blah.)
Helpfully their dumbo dad picked that min to roll by, and after a hot flash of Language he magicked all the gravity back. Well, maybe he’d just magicked their stuff to go down and let gravity alone, but Dad was an astrophysicist - the longest word Joey’d ever bother sayin’, pure outta respect for the fancy suit dudes he’d met on bring-your-sprog-to-work-day years ago - and yeah a lil respect for Dad going round them in thongs too as even sprog-Joey had known that was brave - so it seemed right that he might go straight after the science bits. Grabbing a random handful off the floor, Joey shouted “Ta” over his shoulder and bolted from the room, making it down the hall and grabbing his kit just in time for a hook to yank his guts over his head. Or so it felt, anyways.
As he’d been running mid-yank, he landed on one foot and wobbled around before flopping over, landing with some thunks (from the books in his kit) and a yelp (when the books thunked him). Ace way to start fourth year. Huffing hair outta his face, the half-Asian boy ditched the rest of his kit in the hall and slunk to the red fire.
The opening wordy bit passed in the normal pause’n’listen, clap’n’stop way. All the while, Joey was fidgeting or just crackin’ his fingers. His guts, now right way up, were already grumping and he was ready to bog in on a whole kraken if given a chance. Finally they were clear to do so, and on spottin’ a plate of classic burgers he jumped up to call the elf over, in the process spilling biros and pencils from his robes pocket all over the floor. “Ugh, I’m jack of it,” he complained to no one in particular, dropping back down on hands and knees to scoop ‘em all up again (and making croc eyes at a set of pens with pink glitz that musta been Paige’s he’d gotten by mistake). While scooting forward to grab a coupla rollers, he bonked head-first into another student. “Ow, bloody heck, sorry mate.”