Tabatha Shipley - A Spark of Magic

A Spark of Magic

Copyright 2021

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means -- whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic -- without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and punishable by law.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ISBN 978-1-7376512-0-8 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-7376512-1-5 (ebook)

Tabatha Shipley Books

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid.

For information, email

T ucked in a valuable private alcove of the crowded hallway, I swipe my hand in a circle along the beige painted bricks and watch the image spawn in the wake of my hand. In a flash Im looking at my tiny blond sister, eating a bowl of oatmeal with one hand while she thumbs something on her phone screen with the other. The blue bowl and the wooden table are both instantly familiar to me, but only by sight. I havent spent enough time there to imagine the feel of the table. My nostalgia is tainted by my years spent here, at the Academy. As I watch, Mom rushes into the room dressed for work in heels and a skirt. Her hands are working at her right ear, fastening an earring. She leans down, kissing Evelyn on the forehead and swiping the phone from her hands in one practiced motion. Finish up, we have ten minutes.

Thats my cue to dial. I swipe the image off the wall and unlock my cell phone. I click on the favorites button with the picture of her dirty blonde hair swept up in a bun and the call starts. It rings only twice before Mom answers, breathless. Angela, honey, how are you?

Im great, Mom. I dont have a lot of time before class, but I wanted to say good morning.

We are just having breakfast, getting ready to head out. Hows school?

I look around the hallway, watch kids rush to get where theyre going. Third period will start any second now. I dont really have time to chat. Of course, thats why I'm calling right now. With the time difference, Mom is getting ready to head out when Im getting to my third period. Were both busy, which means theres not a lot of time for questions. You see, most of what my Mom knows about the school Im standing in is a total lie. I hate lying to her. Same as always, nothing to worry about, I answer.

Grades are good?

Of course. All passing. Grades wouldnt really tell the whole story right now. Im in my final year at the Academy of Magic. Everything I am doing now relates directly to learning to control my spark. No more math, no more science. Our focus is on learning the occupations that are out there, because Ive got one week left before I may be the person who is controlling all of the Magic in the world.

Its so odd that you have to be back up there so soon. You were only here for five days. Thats basically just a long weekend, Mom says. Her sigh is heavy and I feel my shoulders drop lower with the weight of the guilt.

Its only because this is my last year, Mom. All the Seniors are here. We are getting a lot done because no underclassmen are here. That part is true. For this final week leading up to the big day, less than ten teachers and thirty students will be at the Academy. But on January 1 anyone in the world with a Magical spark will be in attendance. The entire school is already buzzing with the anticipation of this big event. Already my Christmas holiday at home seems like a distant memory.

Moms voice drops a little, like maybe shes trying to keep this part of our conversation from my sister Evelyn. Youre okay up there? Safe? she asks.

Im okay, Mom.

I just worry. I hate being this far away from you. That boarding school is so good for you, but its so far away.

I know, Mom. Its almost over. Im graduating this year. Then I can come home. I almost choke on the lie. My eyes water. If things go the way I want them to go, thats not what will happen at all. In a week, I may be the next Magician. Which means living at the Academy for the next decade.

True. Her voice returns to a normal volume. Do you want to say a quick hello to your sister?

I cant Mom, I have to go. Im gonna be late. Talk soon. Love you.

Oh, I love you too. Call us after school, okay?

Ill try. Bye. I hang up quickly and wipe at the residual tears in my eyes even as I step back into the crowded hallway and let the tide carry me toward Dispatch class. I slip inside and drop into a chair at the back of the room. I get my laptop out and booted up before the late bell rings.

At the front of the room, Andres Rodriguez stands up. He is easily the coolest teacher at the Academy with his laid-back rocker style. He dresses like a musician, not like a teacher. Baggy pants, t-shirts, an earring, and Converse are his regular style. His hair is longish and has that intentionally messed up style youd associate with someone who regularly bangs his head around while playing guitar. He is an amateur musician, something he regularly talks about, but his profession is Magical Dispatch. He teaches morning classes, like mine, and works at the Dispatch center, also on campus, in the afternoons. His wife, Selena, has the opposite schedule. Buenos das clase, he greets. Please find the document I have emailed you and connect to the simulation. You may work with partners if youd prefer. Good luck. He props one leg up on the wall behind him and leans back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He smiles. Clearly, those are all the directions were getting today.

I open the document and type into the heading. Name: Angela Terra. Occupation:

The cursor flashes, impatiently waiting. This is a touchy subject. Everyone in The Academy has an occupation already. Its what we train for, what we were chosen for, what we are working toward. Everyone on earth is scanned the day they enter school for the first time. The second they spot Academy potential inside you, that little spark of Magic, they take you up here. If they havent found you by age ten, you dont have the spark. Ive been here since a month before I turned five.

The Academy has a better scan. One that identifies the use for your spark. This scan can tell them exactly where your spark is the most useful. That becomes your occupation. They tell me I have one of the strongest sparks there is. So whats my occupation?

Well, thats complicated.

Every decade the person with the strongest spark becomes the Magician. Just one. The Magician controls all the sparks. The Magician single-handedly controls the safety of the modern world by controlling all of the Magic left on Earth. A new Magician is set to take over on January 1.