[ WP ] When magic is highly dependent on clear wordings , a precise incantation , having a speech impediment is a lot more serious .

*I am broken. I am defective. I am a massive liability. * 
 
 I can try and talk myself out of it, tell myself those are just my irrational thoughts, but they happen to be true. I am useless here. A minority within a minority. it does n't matter how hard I study, I will never be able to achieve anything here. 
 
 `` Hey, Mr. Brood-y, what's wrong?'' Myron asks, throwing his books down on his twin bed and hanging up his uniform blazer on the coat rack by the door. 
 
 `` A-no-n-n-othing. I'm f-f-in-ne.'' 
 
 `` Yeah, yeah, do n't hurt yourself.'' He does n't mean anything by it. I'm used to being rushed, mocked, and teased. My insensitive roommate is hardly anything new. 
 
 `` How w-w-w-as cla-s-s?'' I say to break the silence. 
 
 `` Ugh. Boring as hell, man. Listen, I'm going out later tonight, you, uh, wan na come with?'' 
 
 I shake my head. Myron is fine, but his friends are the best magicians in this school. The only thing worse than Myron's teasing is his friend's pity. I'd rather wallow alone. 
 
 `` Your l-l-loss.'' My roommate teases. He slaps me on the shoulder before leaving the dorm room. I give him a few minutes to get away before I slip out, too. 
 
 
 The park is nice. Quiet, lonely, and never occupied. I spend most of my free time here. It's dilapidated and disgusting, but it has a charm to it. 
 
 `` You did n't come to class today.'' A stern voice says from behind me. 
 
 `` S-sir! W-w-what are y-you d-doing he-re? It-t's the middle of the night.'' 
 
 `` I could ask you the same thing.'' He says, sitting down next to me on the rusty bench. 
 
 `` Why'd you cut my class today, Ross?'' Is he really asking? Is he really waiting for an answer? Somebody *wants* to have a conversation with me? 
 
 `` L-l-last week-k. Do n't w-want a repeat-t o-o-of that.'' 
 
 `` Oh get over yourself. Students screw up. Teachers give them a C or a D, and then everybody moves on. Self pitying is n't on the schedule.'' 
 
 `` S-sir, I-I-I did n't'screw u-up'. I'll n-n-ever be a magician without risking harm to m-myself and-d o-others. I-I do n't e-even know w-why I go to this damn school.'' 
 
 `` You go to this'damn school' because you're a magician. And no shit you risk harming people with your magic. It's magic, for Christ's sake! It's dangerous by nature! How the hell do you think I lost my hand? It was n't a cooking accident, that's for sure.'' 
 
 I do n't know what to say. Nobody, in my entire life, has ever once tried so valiantly to convince me I'm worthy of anything. Why now? Why Mr. Q, the bitterest, strictest guy I know?'' 
 
 `` I s-s-uck.'' 
 
 `` You do n't suck, you stutter. Accept, adapt, and then move on.'' 
 
 For once, my speechlessness is out of sheer amazement. 
 
 `` Come on, we'll talk specifics in the morning. You need to get back to your dorm before you get in trouble. Go on, get out of here!'' He shue's me away from the park, towards campus. I simple do as I'm told, dumbfounded. 
 
 From the mouth of the biggest asshole I've ever known, my new life motto plays on repeat. 
 
 Accept. Adapt. Move on. 

