“Wizard versus swordsman, if you could only be one which would you be?” His brown eyes, behind his glasses, narrow, and he smiles. “I’d be a wizard.”
Not a one of us would have guessed the other. Max has always been a wizard—clever and conniving… an aura of evil genius wafts around him, much like a body scent leaving a trail of chemical compounds that smell like ozone and willfulness. When it comes to Max, we say words like evil and diabolical in hushed whispers and exhales and thank our lucky stars he is good and kind. His brain is a vast vault of excerpts extracted word for word from books, detailed memories both good and bad (so watch out!), and stats, lots of stats, including those of all the Pokémon. All the Pokémon.
“Swordsman,” says Bear. Of course. This too is hardly a surprise. Bear is average height, but broad, with heavy, thick limbs, heavy, thick brow, big strong hands. He is Max’s father, similar outer with a completely different inner—opposite in many ways and this is one of them.
One wizard.
One swordsman.
We sit around a table out to eat. All eyes turn to Bobby.
Oh Bobby—the weight of the decision is too much for him. He can’t decide, “If I’m a swordsman can I have a magic sword?”
“Absolutely not,” says Max. He makes a definitive cutting motion with his hand. “No way. No magic.”
“Why not?”
Wizard, swordsman, wizard, swordsman. One to the other and back again. I can see the turmoil behind his eyes. He wants to be both. He is both. He is gentle and kind and big-hearted and big—just a big, big boy. He is fiercely moral and kind and just and will speak-up to anyone he doesn’t believe is doing the right thing… even teachers (which has landed him in trouble more than once.) He loves cuddly things and hearts and plush animals and real animals. When he’s eighteen and lives on his own he’s going to have a cat (provided, of course, the lease allows it, he says.) He likes Pokémon too, but unlike Max, he’s partial to cute ones not the super evolved monster-types.
“You have to choose,” says Max. “One or the other. Only a wizard can have magical items.” Max lays out the rule and shrugs. He knows Bobby can’t go against a rule.
“A swordsman, I guess,” Bobby says reluctantly. He slouches down in his chair missing a magic sword he’ll never get and isn’t allowed to have.
“What about me?” I ask. “What do you think I would be?”
“A wizard, of course,” says Bobby.
“Duh,” Max agrees. His wizard eyes meet mine. We recognize the sameness in each other.
Here we sit. Delineated.
Wizard.
Swordsman.
Swordsman (reluctant-type).
Wizard.
wizard versus ... 