Free Spell Robbers by Matthew J. Kirby Page A

time for bed.
    Ben lay awake for a while, hands folded behind his head. He couldn’t sleep. He kept thinking about his mom. How she’d come home to an empty apartment, make who-knew-what for dinner, and after that she would have … Then it occurred to him. What she wouldn’t be doing.
    She would not be packing his lunch for the next day.
    With that thought, Ben felt like something had jumped on his stomach. He kept himself from making any sounds, but he couldn’t stop the tears or the pain. This was wrong. Peter was wrong about the League. They might be better than the Dread Cloaks in some ways.
    But that didn’t make them the good guys.

    Morning started with breakfast in the same dining room, a solid mass of scrambled eggs in one server, a pile of very thin, almost translucent bacon in the other. There was juice, milk, and coffee, and a toaster you had to stand in line to use. Sasha sat with Ben and Peter, her sleek black hair pulled into a braid, the blue streak peeking in and out of it. She didn’t say much, and Ben didn’t know if it was because she was still upset, or if she just wasn’t a morning person.
    “What are we going to work on today?” Peter doused his eggs with Tabasco.
    “More of the same.” She sipped her coffee. “But it might be a good day to go over some basic history.”
    Peter stretched out the next few syllables. “Basic like Columbus sailing the ocean blue?”
    “Not quite,” Sasha said.
    “There is something I’ve noticed, though,” Peter said. “The League seems to do everything with paper. Where are all the computers?”
    “The microprocessors in computers work because of quantum mechanics,” Sasha said. “All the actuation going on around here fries them pretty quick, so they don’t bother with them. Cell phones and TVs don’t last long, either.”
    Agent Spear walked into the room a short while later, before they’d finished eating. He glanced around at everyone, and then said, “He’s here.”
    Ben looked at Sasha.
    “Mr. Weathersky,” she said.
    “He’d like to speak to everyone,” Agent Spear said. “We’re convening in the main training room in ten.” Then he left.
    Sasha looked at their plates. “Hurry and finish eating.”

BEN got down low and scooped heaps of egg into his mouth. Peter picked up a piece of bacon between two fingers and crunched. They each took a last swig of juice and followed Sasha from the dining room down the hallway to the Big Top. A portable podium now stood at one end of the room, while ranks of chairs covered the floor. Sasha led them up to one of the front rows. They took their seats and waited.
    Within minutes, the room had filled. Ben started counting, trying to figure out how many agents and junior agents and recruits there were, but gave up. He guessed a couple hundred, at least.
    The room filled with a thumping sound as Agent Spear tapped the microphone. “Please take your seats.” He waited a moment. Ben sat up straighter in his chair. “Thank you all for coming. It is a rare honor to have a visit from the director of our agency. He certainly doesn’t need any words of introduction from me, but I’d like to say a few, anyway. Like me, some of you can recall how it used to be. The League had fallen on hard times when Mr. Weathersky took up leadership. Corruption. Dwindling numbers. Poor recruiting methods. The gangs and crews and crime families were stronger than ever. But Mr. Weathersky pushed back the tide. He cleaned up the agency. He strengthened us and made us into what we are today, a League I am proud to belong to. Please join me in extending a very grateful welcome to Mr. Weathersky.”
    The room applauded, and Ben joined in as a man stepped up to the podium. He was tall and broad, like he might have just walked out of a comic book. Ben couldn’t tell how old he was, but his white hair was peppered coal black, and deep wrinkles sprouted around his eyes. He wore a pale gray suit, and with the simple act of