[[I sat down and wrote this during lunch today. It is very long-winded, first person character study and I don’t expect anyone to trawl through it, but it was quite enjoyable getting into Jasper’s head. You can tell I got carried away. The structure/punctuation breaks down, making it difficult to read, but that’s because he’s not so good at writing (Khyamarah’s tutoring should straighten that out )]]


Ophus 29th [Part 1]
This is not my idea, it was my counsellor’s.

Neither was the counsellor my idea, but I don’t have much of a choice.

After a thoroughly unproductive first session, Mr. Wren suggested I stay indoors tonight and write down my thoughts and feelings.

He avoided using the word ‘diary’ but you could tell that’s what he meant. I’ve never kept one before because it’s the kind of thing wistful nine-year-old girls do, and mine would just show how I can't write well for any length of time. But Wren asked me to bring it with me the next time we meet, and then he’ll probably go right ahead and read it out.

If so: Wren you’re a poxy erse, and I know you have a thing for my mother.

I'm not sure how to begin, so I'll tell you a story which I’m sure demonstrates just how moony I am and will make Mr. Wren feel like he’s not wasting his time.

It happened when we were down in the stacks last night. Me and Jack and Minnie, who I don’t see so much anymore now they’re both majoring in quantitative magic – yeah they’re real smart and boy do they know it. They’re dating, too, but I’ve known them since we we’re kids and they don't act different around me.

We were getting sloshed in Stolley’s Tavern. They were telling me a story about something or other but I was only half-listening, beginning to regret drinking for almost five days straight. I sort of passed the cheery stage and went straight to the blurred vision and nausea. There were tons of people in there, as usual, and it was hot and most of my clothes were on the floor in the dirt but I didn’t have it in me to care.

Then some jerk starts wailing and laughing and he’s right beside me, and aggravating me because he’s drunk and happy and I just feel rotten. And suddenly I hear Oddy yelp. He’s down by my feet but he jumps up and looks sore at me, and I see that this big oaf stepped on his tail or something. And I got up and try to get his attention but the blood rushes to my head and I almost topple over. Then the guy leans in to steady me… actually steadies me… and then I hit him.

I sock him in the jaw. It’s the first time I’ve ever done anything like that.

I don’t mean to say that I was proud of it but I was surprised at just how hard I’d hit him. Then I yelled something in his face and Minnie and Jack took me under the arms and dragged me out of there. I called for Oddy but he was already fretting at my heels - whimpering. Jack just kept saying how lucky I was that it was a wick I’d hit and not another galdori. Minnie was even laughing a little and then they both cracked up. But to be honest I didn’t care who I’d hit. If it was the principal standing there I would have done the same.

They set me down on the bench in the freezing cold. Just sat me down right there when they could see I’d left my coat in the tavern. I held out my hand for Oddy but he stood back, watching me like I was an impostor or something – and when I looked up Jack and Minnie were doing the same. They weren’t laughing anymore.

“Tell me what’s happening to you, Jasper.”

Jack looked grave, looked like he was my clocking counsellor.

I’m telling you now, Wren, he could well put you out of a job. Even though my fist ached and my head rang I decided I’d tell them both about my dad. To be honest, it was all I'd been thinking about that night.

But I didn’t expect them to understand.

Ophus 30th [Part 2]

Mr Wren didn't ask to see this, which is just as well. He asked about it though, and I said that yeah, I guess it was kinda fun writing down my thoughts. He asked "Why so?" And I said because I was turning it into a kind of story, with a cliffhanger and all.

So he said to carry on writing like that - like a story. And I'm thinking, "Why not?"

So here's what I told Jack and Minnie:

Our Passive came down on a moa early the day before. I was summoned to help Oscar take care of a litter of sick banders, although I didn’t know that at the time. Dad had been bedridden for almost a week with food poisoning and the passive had come to tell me my old man had collapsed. So I got home as fast as I could, but he was busy upstairs talking to my brother and didn’t want to be disturbed.

I sat downstairs with mother, on chairs at opposite ends of the room, and I noticed a glass of something tucked away at her feet and a slippery expression on her face.

“You’re father isn’t speaking to me.”

“Me neither, I was trying to tell him about getting Oddy-”

“He’s acting like a fool.”

Just talked over me like I’m her clocking scrap.

I sighed, and it didn’t occur to me what an odd thing that had been for her to say. Thinking about it now, maybe I misheard. All I could think at the time was: antagonism with her or with my dad and brother upstairs? It hardly made any difference, so I left the room.

I didn’t want to barge in on them, but there was something in my dad’s behavior that made me want to know what they were talking about. He had food poisoning but how come I’d never seen or heard him throw up?
I cast Auditory Assault so that I didn’t have to risk sticking my face up against the door. Now this part I don’t remember so well but I heard the name of a human that lived in a small house nearby, who did odd jobs for the university - and that my dad hired to take care of the banders from time to time.

“Well Pahl was gripping my arms and shrieking at me. And he was as strong as an ox, son. I couldn’t move my hands, couldn’t speak a spell for all his shaking.”

“Dad!” Said Oscar.

“Son of a bitch punched me in the gut…”

Oscar cursed real loud and almost burst my eardrums. Nothing could have stopped me from crying out, and I knew then that I’d blown my cover. Sure enough, Dad stepped out onto the landing.

I just sat there like a hingle caught in a bander’s gaze. He looked at me, then stepped over to the banister to check if mum was watching, but she couldn’t have been, because he came towards me, dragged me up by the shoulders and threw me into the room. Pretty strong for a sick old man.

“What the clock are you doing? Don’t you have any respect?”

We were both red in the face. I tried not to feel ashamed. I hadn’t done anything wrong. It was their fault for keeping me in the dark, like they always do. I’d had enough of it. So I did the stupidest thing possible. I yelled back at him.

“Respect for you who can’t hold his own against a civvy?”

He came down on me before I could draw breath – which is just as well as he’d only knock it back out. Cracked me below the eye, then recoiled like he’d been struck by a viper.

“Just close your head.”

I was on the floor and touching my cheek because it felt like he’d broken it. Funny - all I could think about was how this was going to look for the ball.

Dad asked me how much I’d heard. I told him and he seemed to relax a little. I still don’t know why. It was pretty bad, pretty embarrassing what I heard. I guess there was more – he did have a ton of bruises on him, when he showed me.

He told us about the sick puppies, so me and Oscar left the room to deal with it. When we were alone, Oscar started telling me how dad was jumped by three humans because he had refused to sell them a pair of hunting wolves – or he wouldn’t lower his prices for them because they were poor. This really made me mad because even though dad has a dangerous temper on him and we never got along, he didn’t deserve to be beat on like a dog.

Oscar was smiling at me so I asked him what was so funny. He wasn’t laughing, but he looked pretty clocking amused. He leaned in close like he was going to tell me his true name,

“I’m going up there. Are you coming?”

My face throbbed and I wasn’t really thinking straight. I didn’t know what he meant, or perhaps I just didn’t want to hear it.