Brandon Sanderson - The Rithmatist

Joel shrugged.

“Draw me a line one third the length of the slant length,” Layton ordered.

Joel drew a line. Layton measured it. “Accurate,” he said, “to the millimeter! Can you do a circle with that radius?”

Joel did so, drawing a wide circle on the board. Layton measured the circle by getting out a string. He whistled. “Joel, these proportions are perfect! The arc on your circle is almost as exact as if it were drawn by a compass! You should have been a Rithmatist!”

Joel glanced away, shoving his hands in his pockets. “About eight years too late for that,” he muttered.

Layton hesitated, then glanced at him. “Yes,” he said. “I guess it is. But, well, you mean to tell me you sat there in class all this time knowing how to do this?”

Joel shrugged.

“You must have been bored out of your mind!”

Joel shrugged again.

“I can’t believe it,” Layton said. “Look, how about we do your summer elective as a trigonometry study?”

“I know trig already,” Joel said.

“Oh,” Layton said. “Algebra?”

“Know it,” Joel said.

Layton rubbed his chin.

“Look,” Joel said. “Can I please just pass geometry? I have plans for summer elective. If I can’t make them work … well, I’ll do calculus or something with you.”

“Well,” Layton said, still regarding the board. “Really is a shame you’re not a Rithmatist.…”

You’re telling me.

“Did you learn this from your father?” Layton asked. “I understand he was something of an armchair mathematician himself.”

“Kind of,” Joel said. Layton was new to the campus, having arrived at the academy just a few months back. He hadn’t known Joel’s father.

“All right,” Layton said, throwing up his hands. “You can pass. I can’t imagine spending three months trying to train you in something you already know so well.”

Joel let out a deep sigh of relief.

“Joel, just try to do your assignments, all right?”

Joel nodded eagerly, rushing back to get his books from his desk. On top of them were the two books that belonged to Professor Fitch.

Maybe the day wasn’t a loss quite yet.

Joel left Professor Layton’s lecture hall, stepping out onto the grass. A girl in a white skirt and a grey sweater sat outside, back to the brick wall of the building, sketching idly in her notebook. She looked up, curly red hair bouncing as she inspected Joel. It was Melody, one of the Rithmatists in the class.

“Oh, is he done with you?” she asked.

Joel nodded.

“Well, you’re still in one piece,” Melody said. “I guess that’s a good sign. No bite marks, no broken bones…”

“You were waiting for me?” Joel asked, frowning.

“No, silly,” she said. “Professor Boring asked me to stay and talk to him once he was finished with you. Probably means I’m failing. Again.”

Joel glanced at her notebook. He’d watched her all semester, imagining the complex Rithmatic defensive circles she was drawing. On the pages, however, he didn’t see Lines of Warding, Forbiddance, or even any circles. Instead, he saw a picture of unicorns and a castle.

“Unicorns?” he asked.

“What?” she said defensively, snapping the notebook closed. “The unicorn is a noble and majestic animal!”

“They aren’t real.”

“So?” she asked, standing with a huff.

“You’re a Rithmatist,” Joel said. “Why waste your time drawing things like that? You should be practicing your Rithmatic lines.”

“Rithmatic this, Rithmatic that!” she said, tossing her head. “Protect the kingdom, keep the wild chalklings at bay. Why does everything have to do with Rithmatics? Can’t a girl spend some time thinking about something else once in a while?”

Joel stepped back, surprised at the outburst. He wasn’t certain how to reply. Rithmatists rarely spoke to ordinary students. Joel had tried to talk to some of them during his first few years of classes, but they’d always ignored him.

Now, one was talking to him. He hadn’t expected her to be quite so … annoying.

“Honestly,” Melody said. “Why do I have to be the one to deal with all of this?”

“Because the Master chose you,” Joel said. “You’re lucky. He only picks fewer than one in a thousand.”

“He obviously needs better quality control,” she said. Then, with a melodramatic sniff, she turned and pushed her way into Professor Layton’s classroom.

Joel stared after her, then shook his head and crossed campus. He passed groups of students running toward the springrail station. Classes done, it was time to go home for the day. But for Joel, campus was home.

A group of students he knew stood on the quad, chatting. Joel strolled up to them, half lost in thought.

“I think it’s unfair,” Charlington said, folding his arms, as if his opinion were the only one that mattered. “Professor Harris was furious when she didn’t show up for her final, but the principal brushed it off.”

“But she’s a Rithmatist,” Rose replied. “Why would she want to get out of the test anyway?”

Charlington shrugged. “Maybe she wanted to get a head start on summer.”

Joel had been paying only vague attention to the conversation, but he perked up when they mentioned Rithmatists. He moved over to Davis, who—as usual—stood with his arm around Rose’s shoulders.

“What’s this?” Joel asked.

“One of the Rithmatist students, a girl named Lilly Whiting,” Davis said. “She skipped her history final today. Chuck’s missing a gear about it—apparently, he wanted to take the final early so he could join his family in Europe, but he was refused.”

“They shouldn’t get special treatment,” Charlington said.

“She’ll probably still have to take the test,” Joel said. “It’s not like their lives are easy. No free periods, starting early each day, staying in school through the summer…”

Charlington frowned at him.

“Trust me, Charlie,” Joel said. “If something took her away unexpectedly, she’s not off lying on a beach having fun. She might be in Nebrask.”

“I suppose,” Charlie said. “Yeah, you might be right…” He paused, fishing for something.

“Joel.”

“Yeah, Joel. I knew that. Well, you might be right. I don’t know. Professor Harris was sure upset. I just think it’s strange, is all.”

A few other students reached the quad, and Charlington joined them, moving off toward the springrail station. Joel could vaguely hear him begin telling the same story to them.

“I don’t believe it,” Joel said softly.

“What?” Davis asked. “About that student?”

“About Charlington,” Joel said. “We’ve been in classes together for three years, and he still forgets my name every time we talk.”

“Oh,” Davis said.

“Don’t worry about him,” Rose said. “Charlington doesn’t pay attention to anyone who doesn’t have a chest worth staring at.”