He found him at the lake.
The lake was a memory, a piece of his childhood untainted by pain. It had been a few hours from his house by car, a fixture of his summers. He always got to bring a friend, and he and that friend would swim and splash while one of his parents looked on, monitoring him to ensure that he didnāt simply fall asleep and drown. Whenever he needed a lake, it was the first lake that came to mind. Spreading its silvery looking waters and the copses of pine and birch that surrounded it was surprisingly easy for a geographic feature so large. Sometimes when he added geography, it was more akin to airbrushing a background, but with the lakeā¦ it always seemed more real.
Scott was sitting on a small dock made almost entirely out of driftwood. He was wearing a bathing suit, relaxing. His bare feet dangled in the water, scissoring gently, but his attention was cast upward, where the endless eggshell blue sky stretched into an imposing bank of angry-looking clouds.
It didnāt even take a thought for Theo to change into a bathing suit as well, baggy and modest, black with thin white stripes spaced a few inches apart. There was no rippling, no melting, no morphing. One instant heād been wearing cargo pants and a t-shirt, the next trunks and a different t-shirt, more appropriate for the warm summer day that either he or Scott had conjured. He could never be sure which anymore. Scott seemed to have just as much control of their surroundings as he did, these days. It was almost like he was learning, the same way he had in life. Just seeing Theo do it meant that he could do it too.
āIt looks like thereās a storm coming.ā Scott spoke without looking back at him. The dead boy raised his hand, flicked his wrist. A stone, small and flat, which hadnāt been there before went arcing at the water, hitting once and then skipping nearly a dozen times before its momentum and spin petered out and it sank.
Theo dropped down to sit beside him, leaned into him. Scott didnāt pull away. He never had. He never did. āThatās a bit ominous, donāt you think?ā Theo asked it teasingly, and in unison they gave Scottās trademark reply to the question. āItās your dream.ā
Theo looked skyward as well. The clouds were a dirty looking gray sheet slowly being drawn toward themā¦ only it wasnāt slow, it only seemed that way. They were so distant that he shouldnāt have been able to perceive their movement at all. He was distracted when he felt familiar fingers brush the skin of his back, his stomach. Scott was pulling his shirt off. Either of them could simply have willed him to be shirtless, but where was the fun in that. āCāmon,ā Scott said, hopping to his feet once heād exposed Theoās pale torso. āLetās swim before it starts.ā
Smiling, Theo nodded and stood as well. He bent his knees, as if preparing to cannonball into the lake, but then sidestepped behind Scott and tried to shove him in. Almost as always, Scott was too fast. He slid one leg back and twisted, grabbing one of Theoās arms and jerking him forward so that he tripped over Scottās other leg. Rather than let him fall though, Scott kept hold of his wrist and swung about, digging in his heels. Theo wound up hanging backwards, laughing, the soles of his feet on the very edge of the dock, waiting for Scott to let go. He looked up at the boy he loved as he raised his free hand to give him a defiant middle finger. He frowned though as the world around him seemed to ripple, to shake. That was when Scott let go, and Theo fell.
Reality intruded on his dream of the lake. Theoās eyes did snap open, and in the hypnopompic aftermath of the other Scottās wake-up call, he felt more annoyed than intense. It died away though, the vivid dreamscape giving way to the Arcana-bound bus that he had boardedā¦ he glanced at his watchā¦ not so long ago. Heād been one of the first on it, and now heād be one of the last to disembark. He could have played with the dreamtime a bit, but he didnāt want to leave himself too disoriented.
Even if the other Scott had lingered, Theo wouldnāt have said anything. He stared, watching him go, then did a quick assessment of the others left aboard. No one, it seemed. He eased himself to his feet and made his way down the aisle between the rows of seats. Soon enough he was outside, grabbing the single large duffel bag that housed all of his personal effects, which mostly consisted of clothes, and not very many of those compared to the wardrobes most of his peers sported. He was in dark brown cargo shorts today, and a gray ringer tee that heād intentionally bought a size too large in order to hide the lean muscle heād been packing onto his frame. Heād always had strong legs, well-shaped calves, so he didnāt mind wearing the shorts quite so much. They were baggy as well, and fell to just below his knees.
Making a show of having some difficulty with the massive blue duffel bag, he swung it over the opposite shoulder of his backpack and āstaggeredā toward the school. He didnāt do anything more than nod to the few lingering outside, if there were any. He didnāt really care. His eyes were unfocused as he trudged deliberately into Arcana and frowned at the cluster of bodies massed around the list. Maybe he should have tried to get to it first.
Something seemedā¦ strange. He overheard bits and pieces of conversations. When he spotted Jessica hugging Morgan, asking her to show her to their room, it clicked.
They werenāt being boarded with other Noctrem students.
They were being put with Arcana students.
Heād been mildly worried about this whole process. There were a few Noctrem boys who he would have preferred not to room with, and a smaller few more who he knew without a doubt would have proven disastrous to pair him with.
If heād been mildly worried before, he was now on the verge of anxiety. Heād never been lucky, not once in his entire life, and he was fully expecting the same ill-luck now. Iām going to end up with him, he thought, his teeth practically grinding themselves flat as he let his eyes search out the dreaded potential roommate in question.
Relief hit him like a ten pound sledge-hammer. Landon wasnāt bee-lining him. He seemed to be waiting for something. That meant the worst possible scenario hadnāt come to pass. He would have done anything and everything in his power to get his room changed, if things had shaken out that way. Drawing a steadying breath, he dropped his bag heavily and waited for the crowd to thin a bit more before he moved forward to investigate the list. He didnāt find his name until nearly the bottom. Zac Barnes and Theodore McCaffrey. And nobody he hated too much was anywhere near him. In fact, the two people he wanted to be as distant from as possible were in the same room.
āThere goes my luck for this year,ā he intoned blandly, simply thinking aloud. He couldnāt have asked for a better roommate. Really, as he thought about it, Zac was the best roommate he could have been given from the pool of male Arcana students. For the first time in weeks, Theo actually lookedā¦ well, not happy, but not detached or miserable, either. He returned to his bag and lifted it with an entirely theatrical grunt, throwing out a hand to steady himself against the wall. He probably should have gone to speak with Zac, but that would have brought him past Landon, and near Colby. It was far too early to deal with either of them. He knew the way anyway. Zac could catch up with him. Without another word, the oneirokinetic teen headed off toward the dorms, to the room numbered eighteen, specifically. His progress would be slow, thanks to the show he was putting on with his duffel, but hopefully heād manage to escape unscathed in the excitement and confusion, neither of which he felt himself.