The Rithmatist

us. Got that?”
    The soda jerker nodded.
    “He’ll pay,” Melody said, gesturing to Joel.
    Joel handed over the half-dollar. He got a couple of pennies in change.
    Melody gestured to a table, and Joel followed her. They sat down, and he tried to hand her the change.
    Melody waved indifferently. “Keep it. I absolutely hate carrying small coins. They rattle about.”
    “How much money do you have ?” Joel asked, looking down at the coins.
    “I get a dollar a week from my family,” Melody said, pulling out a full golden dollar, about two inches in diameter.
    Joel gaped. He’d never held a full dollar before. It was complete with a glass face on either side to show the gears inside, marking its authenticity.
    Melody turned it over in her fingers, then took out a small key and wound the tiny gears. They began to click softly, spinning around and around inside the glass face.
    A dollar a week, Joel thought with amazement.
    “Here,” she said, rolling it across the table to him. “It’s yours.”
    “I can’t take this!” he protested, stopping the dollar before it rolled off the table.
    “Why not?”
    “It wouldn’t be right. I…” He’d never held so much money before. He tried to give it back, but Melody snapped her pocketbook closed.
    “Nope,” she said. “I’ve got like fifty of those back in my rooms. I never can figure out what to do with it all.”
    “That’s … that’s amazing!”
    She snorted. “Compared to most of the students at this school, that’s nothing. There’s a kid in one of my classes who gets ten dollars a week from his family.”
    “Dusts!” Joel said. “I really am poor.” He hesitated. “I still can’t take this, Melody. I don’t want handouts.”
    “It’s not a handout,” she said. “I’m just tired of carrying it. Why don’t you use it to buy your mother something nice?”
    That made him pause. Reluctantly, he put it in his pocket.
    “Your mother looks like she could use a break,” Melody said. “She works a lot, doesn’t she?”
    Joel nodded. “A lot .”
    “So where does her money go? To pay for your education?”
    Joel shook his head. “The principal gave me free tuition when my father died.”
    “Your mother has to get more compensation than just room and board,” Melody said, nodding to the server as he brought their order. Joel felt daunted by the mound of frozen cream topped with sliced cherries and whipped cream. And his was only two-thirds the size of Melody’s chocolate behemoth.
    She dug right in. “So, where does your mom’s money go?”
    “I don’t know,” he said. “I never thought about it before, I guess.” He fingered the dollar coin in his pocket again. So much. Did Rithmatists really get that much money from their stipend?
    They had to fight for a decade at Nebrask. They could stay longer if they wanted, but so long as they put in their ten years, they could retire from the battlefront, only to be called up if needed. That happened rarely—only once in the last thirty years, when a large breach in the circle had occurred.
    For those ten years of service, they were given a stipend for the rest of their lives. Joel didn’t know the exact numbers, but if Rithmatists needed more money, they could work for the springrail companies. Those had contracts from the government allowing them to use chalklings—drawn with the Glyph of Rending to let them affect the world, and not just chalk—to wind the enormous springs that powered the rail line.
    Joel knew very little of this—it was one of those things Rithmatists didn’t discuss with others. He wasn’t even certain how chalklings could push. They did, though, and the work paid Rithmatists very, very well.
    “The money seems like a pretty good reason to be a Rithmatist,” he said. “Easy income.”
    “Yeah,” Melody said softly. “Easy.”
    Joel finally took a bite of his ice cream. It was way better than the stuff the cooks at Armedius served. He found it difficult to enjoy, noting how Melody had begun stirring hers about disconsolately, eyes downcast.
    What did I say? he thought. Had their discussion reminded her of her lack of skill? “Melody,” he said, “you really are good at Rithmatics. You’re a genius with chalklings.”
    “Thanks,” she said, but didn’t perk up immediately. That didn’t seem to be what was bothering her.
    Still, she soon began digging into her sundae again. “Chocolate,” she said, “is the greatest invention of all time.