White Haired Magician

“That was handy,” Scott swung around on the wheelchair. The ramp, her mother had created disappeared without leaving a mark. Like all brown-haired humans, her mother had great control over the earth and could shape it according to her will, “Goodbye, mom!”

“I love you, Scotty,” he saw tears dew in her eyes, and he sighed.

“I love you too.” Scott swung around on the chair and steeled himself to go through the door and learn magic, They’ll teach me how to control the air around me. he thought as he rolled the chair through the door.

The school lobby was monumental– the lofty ceiling was supported by thick round pillars intricately carved. The cacophonic chatter of the students echoed endlessly through the lobby fanning his anxiety a little, I’m the only Silver-haired who cannot control the air. he thought. He looked around and found familiar faces giving him a sympathetic smile, Yes, I know. he thought with rising anxiety.

“Well, well, well.” A red-haired boy with freckled skin and a large tooth walked up to him. He cracked his knuckles and lit a small fire between his fingers, “Look who’s here.”

“I’m not scared of you, Evans,” Scott said, trembling in his chair.

“You should be Wheelchair,” Evans said, bending over him, “Your mom isn’t going to protect you here.” he grinned and spat on Scot’s face, “See you after the class, Wheelchair.”

Scott wiped his face with a cloth and turned his chair towards a sign that represented Air, Air, probably worse than Evans. he sighed. The sign led him to a large ornate steel door that opened into a balcony. Scott wheeled around and found a corner near the rails. Below, he could see Brown-haired learning how to control the earth and shape it according to their will. A barrel-chested boy yanked a square slab with the tip of his fingers and slammed it into a wall throwing chunks of rock all around.

“Good Morning.” a silver-haired woman walked into the class with a broad smile. She was wearing a red cloak that fluttered behind her, Is she controlling that.

“Good Morning.” the class wished her back. Scott sighed and shrunk in the chair, trying to stay away from attention.

“Ah,” the silver-haired teacher perked, “Scott, come forward.”

Scott sighed, They already know. and pushed the chair towards the front. Familiar faces mixed with the stranger ones measured him as he rolled away. A cripple can never control air, their eyes seemed to mock him.

“Class,” the teacher said with a plastic smile, “this Scott! Everyone, please be nice to him.” What was that? Scott looked at her from the corner of his eyes, You just invited them to beat me up!

The next one hour crushed all hopes Scott had and left him a broken kid with white hair. The teacher taught them about the basics of controlling the air, “Breath slowly. Your magic may originate from your hair, but your breathing controls it.” Scott tried to control his breathing, but the lung cancer that he defeated made it difficult.

“Move with flexibility and fluidity.” the teacher explained, “Air is flexible, and to control it, you should too.” Yeah, right. A cripple in Wheelchair can move with flexibility.

When the class was over, Scott silently rolled through the steel doors into the lobby and found Evans waiting for him, “Hello, wheelchair.” Evans said, fanning a fire between his fingers.

Scott ignored him and continued to roll in no particular direction, I need to get away from him. he thought. Evans jumped in front of him and stopped him with a leg pushing against his knees, “Let me go, Evans.” Scott said firmly. Anger mixed with fear bubbled through his veins.

“What’s the hurry, Wheel Chair?” Evans smirked.

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Doesn’t matter, weakling.” Evans punched Scott in the middle of his face, and he splurted blood. A small group surrounded them, and Evans fanned a small fire between his fingers and ignited his white hair. The smell of charred hair and scream of agony filled the lobby, So no one’s going to stop this maniac from killing me? Evans signaled a friend, a black-haired boy with a smug look on his face. When Scott met the boy’s eyes, anger and fear erupted and left him unconscious. The pain that he felt from the fire burning his skin subsided, and darkness swallowed him.

---

“It is not possible!” Scott heard a faint voice. He slowly opened his eyes and found a coterie of teachers standing next to a large window. Where am I? he raised his hands and touched his scalp. The bastard burnt me. he winced in pain.

“He’s not one of the Airbenders.” a different voice explained.

“But he has Silver hair.” Scott looked around and found himself sitting in the Headmaster’s office. The desktop was made of marble, and the paintings that adorned the plain white facade of the wall were abstract and regal. Is that me? Scott could have betted he saw his face in one of the paintings.

“No.” the voice continued to explain, “He’s not Silver-haired! He’s White-haired.”

“Like that makes a difference.” Scott guessed it was the principal talking.

“There is,” the voice, which Scott realized was his teacher’s, “Look at that video from the camera.”

The headmaster bent and stared into the screen, “His hair was glowing.”

“Of course.” The headmaster sighed, “That idiot Evans lit the boy up.”

The teacher sighed with frustration, “Look at the video,” she tapped on the screen, “It was from before the incident.”

The headmaster looked at him. He smiled, realizing Scott had come to his senses, “How are you feeling, Scott?” he asked.

“I’m good.”

“But his hair isn’t glowing right now.” the headmaster pointed out.

“His hair glow in Infrared spectrum.”

“No.” headmaster looked at them in the term, his jaws dropped, and confusion twinkled in his eyes.

“Yes.” the teacher said, “He’s the first one in over 400 hundred years… The first one who can control the space.”

“What?” Scott blurted out, “I can control space?”