Wizard (Troy Sanders Book 1)

3: Sanders Lost and Sanders Gained

Paternal, I repeated in my mind, as in father’s side, as in father who never once showed up to check on me or send me birthday gifts, as in... I’m sure you get the picture now.

“How?” I gasped out, the only thing I could do in that moment.

“I gave birth to your father, that’s how,” he replied, not even bothering to check how insane that statement sounded.

He pulled out a picture from his hat and gave me. The man in the picture and I really looked exactly alike; we had the same sandy brown hair, sturdy curved jaw and other easily observed features. I could easily pass for his identical twin if we were to be of the same age and had the same eye color; his were brown to match the hair.

“That’s your father, Oliver,” Blake explained.

“Look here, old man,” I said to him, passing back the picture as rudely as I could, “you can’t just show up here after seventeen years of disappearing and expect us to welcome you with open arms because of a picture. Now if you don’t mind, get-”

“Troy, enough!” Mom suddenly cut in before I could kick Blake out of the house, her stern voice and glare telling me not to utter another sound. “I know that you’re overwhelmed right now but I have never taught you to be a brute. Now, you’re going to offer your grandpa Blake a seat while I get him a cup of lemonade and we’ll all be civil. I mean it.”

I could have ignored her and went right ahead to kick the old man Sanders out. But Mom was not a bad or weak woman and I didn’t want to give her that kind of reputation in front of Blake- Strange that I cared what he thought, I know.

Anyway, I complied with the instructions, sitting and keeping mute until our “guest” had stated his business.

“Actually, reconnecting wasn’t the only reason why I came,” he said after taking a sip of lemonade. “There's an important matter that we need to discuss in relation to Troy’s future, and that of the Sanders family at large.”

Of course, I should have known it, it was always about selfish interest with these people. Thing is, I had expected it all along, but that fact did nothing to inhibit the wave of anger and disappointment that coursed through me as I heard him make that statement.

Anyway, I kept my cool and motioned for him to continue.

Clearing his throat and shifting on his seat like an attorney about to deliver a bad news he added what happened to be the most vital part of the entire statement, “Thing is, we Sanderses come from a bloodline of powerful wizards.”

Alright, I knew we were supposed to be discussing but I couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled through me as what he had just said sunk in- Seriously, grandpa, magic?

“Great one, Grandpa Blake,” I said to me, still laughing, “next you’re going to be telling me that Merlin is not just a myth, right?”

“But it’s really not,” he replied with all seriousness.

The second wave of laughter that hit me was even greater than the first; there was something definitely wrong with him. Magic and Merlin, seriously speaking, could a more ridiculous statement be made?

“That’s just part of it,” he carried on flawlessly, not showing if he was offended or not by my ’“this is so ridiculously funny giggle” moment. “The major concern here is that there was a spell our ancestors cast on the lineage to prevent us from being able to perform magic until we could control it, but you somehow managed to break it. That’s how I tracked you here in the first place.”

“What!” I exclaimed, the remainder of the laughter on my face immediately wiping off. Believe me, it was enough having wizard ancestors and magical prevention spell. But for me to actually be able to perform magic? Now, that was more than I could handle right now.

Blake, not having really minded any of my reactions before, suddenly pulled a paper out of thin air and handed it to me. It was an admission form for one Firewalt’s school of magic.

“No,” I said immediately I got a good look at the paper, there was no way I was just going to up and leave home for some Hogwarts hogwash magic school that I didn’t even know if it really existed; and the common “I just pulled a paper out of thin air” trick he just pulled wasn’t convincing anyone magic was real, least of all me.

“It’s the only way to help you control your powers before you actually hurt someone, or even worse, yourself,” he explained, his look really begging for me to understand.

At that moment, I thought back to this morning; the watermelon and Bella’s car, they had both gotten destroyed when I seemed to be under some sort of emotional stress. I looked to Mom for help, pleading that she would rule everything out as a crazy man’s talk.

Instead, she took that “this is a really complicated matter” breath that I was desperately hoping she wouldn’t and said, “Perhaps we should pick this up again after dinner.”

And that was how old man Blake Sanders got invited to dinner; and brought all his craziness with him there too.

Dinner felt like a funeral ceremony. It had never actually a time for us to chat before but the silence was even more depressing that night. Mom’s favourite dish of fried rice and chicken tried its best to liven the table as we ate but even it soon got dragged into the depression.

“How’s the food?” asked Mom after a while, she probably was trying to break the invisible ice that had settled all over the table.

I didn’t respond, not that I knew what to say in the first place, but I heard Blake reply, “It’s heavenly, my dear.” Big liar, that old man. I was very sure he was as depressed as I felt.

“Anyone up for dessert?” she asked again, leaving to get the ice cream before either of us even had the chance to respond. I tried to follow her but she kept me rooted to the seat with one hand. Apparently, her plan was to make way so that Blake and I could talk- not cool, Mom!

After we were left alone, Blake made some hand gestures and I saw a blue light surround the lemonade jug, lift it and pour a refill into my cup. Then, it set the jug gently back on the table before dissipating. I knew he was trying to entice me with the thought of magic but it wasn’t working.

“I’m still not going to your Firewalt’s school of magic,” I said to him, finally giving up the charade.

“It’s not my school of magic, Troy,” he replied, “it’s the Firewalt’s school of magic, the best of our time.”

He placed his hand on mine in a show of affection and for some unfathomable reason, I let him. I’ve got say his hands were surprisingly soft for that of an old man, I could only imagine how many magic spells he had to perform to accomplish that.

“Let me show you something,” he said and placed a paper in front of me. It was my French assignment paper, all done and no longer torn!

I was so overjoyed that before I knew it, I went in for a really tight hug. I was very sure we both enjoyed it but being who we were, we quickly disengaged and he pretended to concentrate on his wristwatch and I on the tablecloth.

“All I’m asking for is a year and if you don’t want it after that, I’ll respect your decision,” he said to me, standing up to take his leave. “But don’t take too long, please. Summer’s just around the corner and that’s when the school opens. Do have a pleasant evening.”

With that, he left, leaving me with Mom who had actually been listening from the kitchen.

“So, what’s it going to be?” she asked as we watched Blake’s car drive away from the front of the house.

“I don’t know, Mom,” I replied truthfully, the turmoil within me going up another notch at the thought of the decision to be made, “but I fear that whatever I choose, my life will never remain the same.”