quiet, this is a library

[lifes_sake]

Cam's in the library, waiting for Renée. "Waiting" here means "browsing until a quarter hour after ostensible meeting time". Renée is supposed to meet him here - on the way home for both of them, him from high school and her from elementary where she teaches kindergarten - but she is rarely punctual. Her co-workers or stray parents or the principal keep her after and Cam does notebooking, does homework, looks at the contents of shelves. It's a fine arrangement.

Today the contents of shelves don't seem so pleased with the setup, and one attacks him when he stumbles into a stack. Specifically, it tumbles onto his head. That's gonna hurt for a while. He picks it up to tuck it away again.

It says, So You Want To Be A Wizard.

Heh. Mis-shelved. This is a nonfiction row. Or maybe it's about stage magic or something? Cam's not going to find any use in that either, he can just about eat dinner without impaling himself on a fork and certainly shouldn't be handling delicate props, but it could be diverting while he waits for Renée and he wasn't finding anything else. He flips it open.

It's more interesting still than that; it's presenting itself like an actual guide to wizardry. This'll kill a whole afternoon with pleasant escapism. Cam checks it out, then turns around and spots Renée coming down the sidewalk. He bags the book and goes out to meet her.

At home, he takes it out of his backpack. The plastic film on it - it did have some, right? Just like every other library book? - is gone. Maybe it didn't have any. He didn't write it down; he's not sure. It doesn't look like a library book now. But it still says So You Want To Be A Wizard and he still wants to pretend to be a wizard for a bit, kill some time, put off U.S. History homework. He flips it open. He reads.

Comments

[pythbox]

"Depends on the plant," sniffs the tree.

[lifes_sake]

"Okay, so you're either smarter than a goat or my meter's off, and I've already decided the conversation I had with a goat sufficed to make me a vegetarian, can you give me a scale here? Dandelion goat oak tree...?"

[pythbox]

"I," says the tree with immense dignity, "have never spoken to a dandelion in my life."

[lifes_sake]

"What can you tell me, then? I've tenatively okayed dairy products, but I'm not actually sure if I can live on those. Are fruits and nuts okay or would that make me infanticidal, is wheat capable of wishing to live...?"

[pythbox]

"Fruits and nuts are made for creatures like you to scurry around and eat," the tree says patronizingly.

[lifes_sake]

"Thanks," he says, ignoring its tone. Maybe trees vary in personality and he can find a more helpful one. "And you've never spoken to a stalk of wheat in your life, I'm guessing?"

[pythbox]

"Of course not," says the tree.

[lifes_sake]

"Because they're not the sort of company you want to keep, or just because they don't grow in this yard?"

[pythbox]

"All of the above," says the tree.

[lifes_sake]

"And you don't care to keep company with wheat and dandelions because?"

[pythbox]

"I don't see what business that is of yours," the tree says haughtily.

[lifes_sake]

"All right then."

There is only one tree in this yard - this is Arizona - but there are some trees down the street, and he can sit in one and "talk to himself" without that being a disaster.

"Hi," he says to the next tree.

[pythbox]

"Hi!" says the tree. This one sounds younger, somehow, and much more friendly. "How're you? You talk, that's exciting."

[lifes_sake]

"I do talk! It is fantastically exciting. I'm doing all right except for an ethical crisis! You see, I only recently realized that things other than humans talk, and now I have to figure out how smart they are and what it's okay for me to eat."

[pythbox]

"Oh," says the tree. "Well, I'm not sure I'll be much help. I don't think you could eat me even if you wanted to. Maybe the leaves," it says, rustling them dubiously. "But I need to keep most of those or I can't eat."

[lifes_sake]

"Not you personally. I just don't know where to find a lettuce farm or a field of rye to talk to. I'm hoping to get some information about plants in general. The last tree says fruit and nuts are for eating, but I don't know about other stuff."

[pythbox]

"Sorry," says the tree, "there just aren't that many other plants around here."

[lifes_sake]

"Okay. Can you tell me if I should be dreadfully appalled by things that are made of wood?"

At least Grace will not need any new pages.

[pythbox]

The tree rustles anxiously. "I don't like to think about it."

[lifes_sake]

"Okay. Boy, I have more work to do than I originally suspected, I guess."

[pythbox]

"What kind of work?"

[lifes_sake]

"Well, I can eat a bizarre diet and not buy wooden things of my own volition, but that doesn't stop anybody else. So I have to learn a lot of magic and find reasonable alternatives to that sort of thing that doesn't kill anything smart. And here I was thinking that I'd just, you know, cure iodine deficiency in sub-Saharan Africa and call that a good day's work."

[pythbox]

"That does sound like a lot," says the tree. "Good luck!"

[lifes_sake]

"Thanks! Have you got a name? You are friendlier than the tree in my yard."

[pythbox]

"Sure! It's—"

The name doesn't translate the way words do; it's a particular pattern of light falling through branches.

"What's yours?"