The girl possessed a defining trait of aloofness, which was accentuated by her radiant, flaxen tresses and whimsical unicorn backpack. As they traversed the corridors together, her gaze would evade him, as if he were intangible. With a peculiar and unexpected gesture, she made her way towards the Toyota, where her parents sat anxiously in the front seats.
Could it be that she was headed towards the same destination as him? The Arcanum? If so, someone needed to caution her.
Many individuals, particularly those from families with a history of magic, misguidedly believe that the Arcanum is a test of exceptionalism. However, as Fin's father had stated, "It's the children with no magical relatives you should pity most. They're the ones who think it's going to be like it is in the movies. It's nothing like the movies."
At that precise instant, Fin's father abruptly arrived at the school's curbside, abruptly interrupting his son's line of sight with Sophia, as he brought the vehicle to a screeching halt. Fin, with a slight limp, made his way towards the entrance and exterior, but by the time he reached the luxury vehicle, the Williams' Toyota had already rounded the corner and vanished from sight. This effectively precluded any possibility of warning her.
"Fin," his father said, as he emerged from the car and leaned against the passenger-side door. The man's mane of unruly, jet-brown hair - which mirrored Fin's own - was beginning to gray at the temples, and he was attired in a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches, despite the sweltering heat. Fin often found himself comparing his father to Sherlock Holmes in the classic BBC series; and was not surprised when others were taken aback by the absence of a British accent. "Are you prepared?"
Fin shrugged, as he grappled with the overwhelming uncertainty surrounding the situation. How could one possibly be ready for something that had the potential to completely alter one's life, if approached incorrectly? Or conversely, if approached correctly. "I suppose so," he replied noncommittally.
His father opened the door of the Duesenberg with a flourish. "Proceed," he commanded.
The interior of the Duesenberg was as immaculately maintained as the exterior. Fin was taken aback to discover his long-abandoned pair of crutches haphazardly tossed in the rear seat. He had not required them for years, not since his fall from a jungle gym had resulted in a twisted ankle - on his unmarred limb, no less. As his father smoothly slid into the car and ignited the engine, Fin gestured towards the crutches and enquired, "What is the purpose of those?"
"The more impaired you appear, the more likely they are to reject your application," his father responded in a somber tone, casting a quick glance over his shoulder as they pulled out of the parking lot.
"That seems dishonest," Fin protested.
"My son, people resort to dishonest means to gain an advantage. You cannot resort to dishonesty to achieve a disadvantage," his father retorted.
Fin rolled his eyes, content to allow his father to maintain his own perception of the situation. All Fin knew for certain was that he would not make use of the crutches unless absolutely necessary. He did not wish to argue about it on this particular day, when his father had already deviated from his usual behavior by burning the toast at breakfast, and snapping at Fin when he had expressed his dissatisfaction with being forced to attend school for mere hours before his dismissal.
As his father meticulously manipulated the gearshift with an intense grip, Fin's gaze fixated on the natural spectacle of the trees beyond the window, their leaves gradually transitioning to a brilliant yellow hue. He attempted to recall every detail he had learned about the elusive Memora and the enigmatic Masters who bestowed their coveted apprenticeships. The recollection of his father's initial disclosure about this mystical realm flooded his mind, he remembered the day clearly. He had been seated in one of the ornate leather armchairs in his father's study, nursing a bandaged elbow and a split lip from a recent altercation at school. He had been in a state of defiance and not in the mood for any lectures, but the solemn expression on his father's face instilled a sense of fear in him. His father's ominous tone of voice only added to the ominous atmosphere, it was as if he was about to deliver a dire diagnosis. But the reality was far from it, the "sickness" was an innate potential for magic.
Finnick had curled up in a defensive posture as his father spoke, his mind transported back to a traumatic incident from his past. He was all too familiar with the cruel taunts and bullying he had faced from his peers due to his physical disability. Typically, he had been able to assert himself and convince them of his strength and resilience. However, on one fateful day, a group of older boys had ambushed him behind the shed by the playground on his way home from school. They had physically assaulted him, hurling insults and trying to break him down. Finnick had learned that most bullies backed down when confronted with resistance, so he had attempted to strike the tallest of the group. This proved to be a grave mistake. Soon, they had him pinned to the ground, with one of them sitting on his legs and another punching him in the face, demanding that he apologize and accept his role as a "gimpy clown." Despite the severe beating, Finnick had defiantly spat out the words, "Sorry for being awesome, losers," before losing consciousness.
As he opened his eyes, the receding figures of his tormentors could be seen darting away in the distance, their flight prompted by his powerful retort. Fin was taken aback by the effectiveness of his rejoinder.
"That's right," he exclaimed, rising to his feet. "You better run!"
As he surveyed his surroundings, he was struck by the sight of the playground's concrete surface, which had split apart in a dramatic fashion. A deep fissure extended from the swings to the shed, bisecting the small structure in two. He realized that he had been lying directly in the path of what appeared to be a miniature seismic event.
While he found the occurrence to be the most incredible thing that had ever happened to him, his father held a vastly different opinion.