Senior year isn't any harder than my previous years as St. Bosco's have been, but it's a thousand times more exhausting.

I'm doing worse than ever in my classes, hardly able to focus because of the twin axes hanging above my head. Ms. Cross meets with me regularly to discuss my progress in my private lessons with Mr. Donovan, but she never asks me for my decision. I think she's waiting for me to bring it up myself, but I determinedly avoid the subject every time I see her.

The lessons with Mr. Donovan are going... well, not good, but better. I've been throwing everything I have into them, and he's been willing to stay late every day, giving up time with his family until I feel as though I've made at least a little progress that day. I don't usually return to my room until seven or eight in the evening, a now cold dinner waiting for me; and half the time I'm so exhausted that I fall asleep, fully clothed, on my bed without eating it.

On the plus side, I've been so drained of magic every day that I haven't cast a single spell unintentionally in a month and a half.

El still hadn't come up with any practical alternatives to Mexico or being held back.

“All I can think of is that you need something bigger than a wand,” she says for the hundredth time. “Something with more carrying capacity, you know? Right now you're trying to siphon an ocean through a straw. You need a fire hose or something.”

“Fire hoses aren't exactly known for their controllability and finesse,” I tell her.

“Yeah, but it's better than just drowning everything in magic like you're doing now. You could work your way towards a wand from there.”

“So what's the magical equivalent of a fire hose then?”

“Well, that's the problem. There isn't anything, at east nothing still in existence that we could get our hands on. Some powerful magicians throughout history have used rings or staffs, but hardly anyone makes staffs anymore, and those that do essentially just make them like bigger wands. Physically bigger, but no difference between how much power you can channel through it.”

“So nothing. You've got nothing.”

“Nothing yet. But it's only November, and there are still seven months left of school for me to figure something out.”

I love Astrology, but Astronomy makes me wish I was dead. I keep getting As on my tests and homework for Astrology, but the Fs and Ds I'm getting on Astronomy days are dragging down my grade to a truly pitiful level.

“You can do this, Adam,” Ms. Perry says quietly as she hands back the latest test, her sheet of white-blonde hair falling like a curtain between me and the rest of the class so the big red F on the top is concealed. “You just need to study a little more. You're a smart kid, and I know you can grasp this stuff if you just put in a little more work. I can give you some remedial worksheets which might help you grasp the concepts you're struggling with.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I mutter, sinking low in my seat in the hopes that maybe I'd melt right through the floor. With my remedial practical magic classes after school, I don't have time to devote to even more studying. I barely have the time or energy to get my regular homework done as it is.

At the sound of the bell that signifies the end of class, I stand up and start packing up my things.

Felix Roth, who sits in front of me, slings his backpack over one shoulder and half turns, so he can make eye contact without looking at me full in the face.

“Need tutoring, Wolfe?” he says.

He must have overheard Ms. Perry. I feel my face flush.

“Shove off, Felix,” I growl, and I shove past him. I can feel him staring at my back as I go, but I don't look around. It's better just not to engage.

I don't get far though before Ms. Perry stops me and motions for me to wait a moment as the rest of the class leaves.

“I'll be late for Contemporary Magical History,” I tell her warily, glancing at the clock over the door.

“This will only take a moment, Mr. Wolfe, and I'll write you a note if I have to. You've really been struggling in this class, but your Astrology work is great. I know you're not just slacking off, so I really want to give you the help you need to pass this class. Is it the work itself that is too challenging, or is it something in your personal life that's keeping you from reaching your full potential?”

She gives me a searching look, and I break the eye contact to stare at the whiteboard behind her, filled with physics equations and terms like “declination” and “ephemeris”.

“I know that you've been under a lot of pressure recently,” she says, her voice dropping low, “what with all this Council nonsense. I'm a Reformer myself, and I believe the way the Council, and its supporters, have been treating you is unfair and unacceptable.”

I don't respond. What could I say except for “Yeah, duh”?

Ms. Perry sighs. “I shouldn't be discussing politics with a student. But I want you to know that I support you, Adam, and everyone who wants to make sure that justice is done by you. And that includes making sure you receive justice in my class. I don't want to penalize you with failing grades because you have more problems to deal with than the average person will ever face in their lives. If I discount Mr. Roth's scores, I can curve the grading scale which will help improve your grade somewhat. I can also allow you to retake tests and correct and resubmit your homework. And of course I can provide you with remedial worksheets to help give you practice for some of the more difficult concepts. If you can come here after 6th period a couple of days a week, I can even give you some one-on-one tutoring. Does that all sound like something you would be willing to do? I'm willing to put in the extra effort to accommodate you, if you're willing to put in the effort to meet me halfway.”

I make a motion somewhere between a nod and a shrug. “Uh... yeah, yeah I could try that.”

I appreciate what she's trying to do, but this would mean that now, on top of my regular homework and tests, I'd have to retake every test and redo every piece of homework for this class. Honestly, I'm almost rather just fail and be done with it. I'd have to cut back on the hours I worked with Mr. Donovan just to accommodate the additional workload.

Still, it's obvious she wants to help me, and I can't refuse to her face.

She gives me an encouraging smile and I leave, making it to third period just before the bell rings. El has saved me a seat, and I spend the entire class avoiding looking at Felix Roth.