"That's not how you do it," Paco told me that a long time ago, when we all used to get together to practice magic. We always went after class to an abandoned building so no one would see us or bother us. "Look: you have to do it like this," Paco opened his hand, and the pebbles on the floor rose and floated in the air. "You have to let it flow; if you hold back, you'll never do magic."
He then closed his hand, and the pebbles fell to the ground.
"I did one time," I lied.
"Oh, shut up," Juan stopped practicing his spell and told me that. And who asked that asshole? The only spell he ever practiced was one where he joined back all the pieces of a torn sheet of paper. What was the point of that shit?
"I did," I lied again. "One time I was at home and moved a pen, and my hand was even shining."
"That pen moved like this," Paco used that spell again to lift the pebbles on the ground.
"Don't you get tired of doing just that?" Juan asked.
Paco used Juan's spell to join all the pieces of paper, and then he smiled at him as if to say "your fucking-useless spell is just so easy to do."
Juan didn't have anything to say, and that's why he just flipped him off.
Jorge was there too, but he just laughed. He was very tall, and he almost never said anything. Still, I liked him.
"Shut up." Paco told Jorge and pretended to wrestle with him. Jorge just laughed.
Paco then left Jorge alone and started jumping around and casting imaginary spells.
"I wanna do some like really strong magic, so I can destroy like buildings and baaam! Boom! Baam!" He kept jumping. It's not that hard to cast those spells, but what use they have if the hero always uses that fucking power of friendship that always wins?
"And what's the point of that?" asked Juan. "Imagine: you heal people with spells, you become a millionaire."
"That's so lame," Paco said. "It's way cooler to go to a war and beat everyone with your powers because you're really strong and everyone loves you."
"I want a magic like that takes you somewhere else," Jorge always said that. "Anywhere is fine, but somewhere else."
"But that's not even possible," Juan always said that; "it's not in the book."
I think I've told you this before, but the only magic book in the library was Basic Magic Course for Kids Vol. 3. We always rented that book and practiced with it.
"Yes, it is. Yes, it is," Jorge said, and he was right, but we didn't know at the time. He got angry with Juan and tried to punch him, but Juan always stepped back and dodged. "You can do anything with magic."
"Yes, you can," I said as I watched Jorge throw punches at Juan, and Paco trying to calm Jorge down. "With magic you can fix everything so no one gets mad at you anymore. I'm gonna go around the world fixing everyone's problems with magic, and I'm gonna teach them magic, and my parents won't have to work anymore."
Suddenly we heard a horn, and Paco let go of Jorge and ran off. We followed him.
He went outside, and there was his brother. He was about 15 years old and had an old but heavily modified car, one of those with big wheels that barely fit. He was wearing a crown, the symbol of the Kings gang, the one that ruled the town at the time.
"Look" Paco opened his hand and, using the same spell as always, lifted some dirt. "I can do magic."
"This is my magic," his brother pulled out a gun he'd tucked into his pants.
"Wow! I want one!" Paco walked closer and tried to grab the gun.
"Hey," his brother pushed him, "don't touch it."
Juan and Jorge also came over to see that gun. I didn't. In that town, any dumbass carried one, and the biggest dumbasses were the ones who needed it the most 'cause they were absolutely nothing without it.
But, as I've already told you, there are always other gangs. Always.
We found out shortly after. After school, we went to the library to rent the only magic book they had, as usual.
"Don't you get tired of that?" the librarian always asked us the same thing. "Why don't you kids get a book that's a little more useful or fun?"
"There are books that tell you how to appear somewhere else?" Jorge asked.
"If they were, I wouldn't be here, son," she answered, and Jorge smiled.
We left the library and ran to the abandoned building, but we stopped on a street filled with people. This was a shitty little town, and there were never that many people on the streets.
"Paco, get outta here!"
"Don't let that kid get any closer!" Some adults said that and tried to stop Paco, but he ran between them, and we followed. Since most of the people on the street were adults, we couldn't see what was ahead. We ran and ran and suddenly we heard Paco screaming at the top of his lungs, and we thought someone had done something to him, so we went there to help him. Several men were taking him away, and he was screaming and writhing. And that's when we saw him: his brother hanging from a traffic light. He was the first dead man I've ever seen. The rope around his neck was pulling him so tight that his face was purple and crooked, his eyes were closed, and his mouth was a downward line. His crown was taped to his head.
I don't know how to say it, but he didn't look dead, but like he was just sleeping with a bad posture.
Maybe that's why I wasn't scared or anything. I saw it as if it weren't real, like one of those Halloween decorations.
Paco shouted again, and we ran to where he was. There were people hanging everywhere with their crowns stuck to their heads.
The men who grabbed him released him on another street, and Paco ran away while screaming and crying.
He never went back to school, and I never saw him again. Knowing him, he probably joined a gang. If he joined the Kings, then he ended up hanging like all of them.
And if he joined the gang that killed all the Kings, then I did end up killing him.
But let's not get ahead of ourselves.