 Who Am I? Ern's 2460FUN
Kale was into this lesson. It was like an art class. But he wasn't the best drawer in the whole world, or even the smallest most remote parts of it. His aptitude for drawing began and ended at stick figures. And even they were wonky cousins of a rich man's stick figure.
STILL!!! Art was subjective. Maybe his cruddy drawings in some way were revolutionary. Or or. Maybe they were just bad. Either way, he was pumped.
And also, if it all went wrong, he had a very real tattoo on his ankle that maybe he could pass off as charm work. Then again. He hadn't exactly told his Dad about the ankle tattoo. Did Professors speak to each other? Gossip? Surely. Adults didn't have interesting enough lives to talk about themselves.
Kale grabbed a marker and started to draw on his wrist. He didn't have a plan. It was mostly squiggles. But they were his squiggles. Once he was satisfied with what looked like a wonky flower, he muttered the incantation under his breath.
Then, he drew his wand and started to trace design. No magic yet. Just practice.
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