Chapter 4 - Aptitude Test
I did my best to avoid paying any attention to Klaus at school but wherever I looked, traces of him followed. Whether on the scoreboards, in the mouths of people as they drifted by, or simply in plain sight, he was always there. Though there was nothing more aggravating than seeing him surrounded by so many people who revered him, I had nowhere to place my anger.
It bottled up inside me, building up day by day, and threatening to burst from the pressure. My mother had considered it to be a good thing, healthy rivalry, but it was much more than that. There was no rivalry between the two of us. It was simple. He had what should have been mine. His luck was enough for two, yet greed prevented him from sharing the privilege of being the favourite.
All of my pent up frustration went towards my studies. For weeks I worked endlessly to focus on my education, training so that I could recognise my body as my own. There was a civil war taking place within me, and I could not extinguish the flames that would occasionally break out. Gradually I started to notice changes, but they weren't beneficial in the slightest.
In contrast to the ever-popular Klaus, the number of people around me were gradually reducing. At first I paid no mind to it, knowing how fickle relationships at this age are. However, when the soft murmur of conversations around me was replaced by hushed whispers, I learned of the fragility of routine. While it takes continuous effort to maintain daily routines, a small hiccup can alter everything until it is no longer recognisable.
Others were no longer engaging me in the same way, only greeting me if we crossed paths. Previously, I would have welcomed this change with open arms, frustrated by the company of strangers feigning kindness. But now, the threat of becoming isolated gripped me and brought with it bouts of nausea that continue to worsen.
I try to ignore the changes, afraid of what they might mean. Yet the harder I try to avoid them, the more blatant they become. They stare at me, daring me to challenge them even once. The sound of laughter has never felt so appalling.
Every giggle taunts me for my inadequacy.
"Max!" The instructor was staring at me in disbelief as I quickly attempted to focus on the present.
"Would you be so kind as to explain why you did not attend the magic aptitude test?"
I could sense a hint of frustration in his voice, nestled between disappointment and sympathy.
"I ... I was unwell. My apologies, this will not happen again." With my head hanging low, I wondered what the purpose of any of this was.
Despite my constant efforts to outdo Klaus, or even just myself, I knew that some things were not meant to be. Had I been anyone of value, I would not have been here. Rather than a world centred around Klaus, I would have been somewhere that acknowledged me as myself. I would have been in a world where I was the axis that others revolved around, and I would not have struggled in the way that I have. Yet that is not the reality. Instead, I have expended all of my energy on something as utterly useless as trying to make a name for myself.
To become someone so unlike myself was a far fetched dream but I was happy that I had a dream at all. In contrast, dull habits had solidified their place in my daily routine. The further I was from my ideal, the closer Klaus appeared to his. The comparisons I made were only harming me and yet I could not bring myself to stop. They fed me with motivation that I could not find through otherwise healthy means. I could not will myself to move through positive emotions, becoming complacent when spite and resentment no longer fuel me. Although I was pleased with the minimal interaction I had with Klaus lately, I could not help but tune in to every new piece of information regarding him. My life was no longer my own.
Before long, it was time to take the magic aptitude test with the late-comers. The test was indicative of a person's future, such that results largely deemed a person's position in society. In simple terms, it calculated our value in society and the world more broadly.
Referring to it as a test feels somewhat inaccurate. A test creates the assumption that one could work towards achieving a good result, that it would somehow be impacted by the effort we put in. Instead, the test indiscriminately measures innate magical talent before receiving adequate education to refine magical skills. The talent could be separated into three main categories: type, control and capacity. Out of the three categories, only control over magical abilities had potential for improvements, as it is something we can learn and master. On the other hand, type and capacity do not generally change over the life course, and yet are given greater importance.
It appears innate talent is far more interesting and reliable than hard work.
Feigning nonchalance, I calmly approached the stage when my name was called. Reaching my sweaty hand out, I cautiously rested it on the large iridescent stone, hoping that by some miracle I could escape the mediocrity I was bound by. I waited with bated breath, staring at the stone with so much intensity that I burned the image into my eyes. My patience betrayed me. The stone remained unresponsive for a few moments before, very slowly, filling with a plum-coloured liquid.
Although I was unsure of what each result meant, looking around me I could tell I had not escaped my unreasonably ordinary life.