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Grace Schuler
Sun Aug 9, 2015 02:21

Stupid Detention.
Stupid Files.
Stupid Ri.
She would have added Stupid Blackwell to the list, but she didn’t dare. So she stuck with thinking bad thoughts about Mister Sundbee instead. The guy was a wizard wasn’t he? What kind of stupid wizard doesn’t have an automatic filing system for his papers? Or a computer. Even Poppa knew how to turn on a computer. She had tried to explain it to Sunderbee. He’d given the standard adult “Hm” and continued with his work, filling out more papers that would have to be filed. And so she was stuck looking through paperwork (and not even being paid, you know?!) while everybody else was out there trying to put her plan into action and probably screwing it all up.
By the third day – Third day. How excessive was that? – Mister Sundbee now had her filing pictures. Most of these were pictures of the school, by some guy named Artist. Whoever he was, titles were not his thing, every other picture was titled Rendition or Impression.
There was something. A picture of the bridge. And some scribblings. More on the back. Grace looked over to Mr. Sundbee’s desk. He was busy dictating a letter to someone more stuffy than him who would probably ignore it. Only without the probably. She took out her wand and whispered “Engorgio. No wait.” she whispered. Too late. The page promptly grew three sizes. She managed to shrink it back down. Then, in accordance with her wishes, it floated up, changed into many brilliant colours, shot sparks from the dried ink and finally began to tear itself up.
“No,no,no,no!” She looked around for something, then grabbed the kettle of tea that manager always kept near at hand. She bashed the paper until it stopped moving. It was only then that she noticed Mr. Sundbee. Sitting in his chair. Watching her.
“Ms. Schuler?”
“Ehm.” Grace looked at the kettle in one hand, the paper in the other. “Ants.” Mr. Sundbee held out a hand, and she began to hand him the kettle “The paper, Ms. Shuler.”
“Yes sir.” Grace mumbled, putting on her best Ooops. that happens a lot. Sorry. face.
Whether or not he bought it she couldn’t tell. He did however repair the paper and watched while she filed it away.
She waited until he turned back to his work before deciding to do things the old fashioned way. She removed one of the papers from the wastebasket and a pen from her pocket and scribbled what she could from memory.

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