by Elena Lawson
“See you tomorrow.”
He turned and walked away, leaving me to call after him awkwardly. “Thank you, Elias!”
Elias hesitated, almost turning back, before he ducked into a classroom, closing the door firmly behind him.
Heaving a long, exaggerated sigh, I hauled my tired feet up the never-ending stairs. Nearly out of breath by the time I reached the top. I vowed for the umpteenth time to get myself into less pitiful shape.
427. I scoured the hundred doorways and narrow inlets and halls. Counted through numbers that didn’t seem to have any logical ascending or descending pattern. Instead the numbers were scattered about. There was 345 right next to 501, and 200 just around the corner from 111. It was madness.
After what could have easily been a half hour of grumbling through the labyrinth of rooms, I finally found it. I checked and double-checked the now-smudged room number in the corner of the page. Yes, this was definitely it.
I shouldered open the door, assaulted by the sickly sweet smell of perfume and the smooth crisp scent of clean cotton.
The room was larger than expected but I guess anything looked big when compared to the back of an old caravan, or a two-man tent.
It was easier to tell which side of the room belonged to me. It was bare, gray, and a little sad looking. The other side of the room on the other hand had several pieces of artwork, modern, hanging haphazardly all over the wall. The bed was covered in a fluffy pink duvet and way too many pillows.
At the end of the bed pushed against the wall was an old white vanity, restored and painted with what looked to be gold foil. Moving closer, I saw its surface was littered with expensive looking creams and make-up. And tucked in the sides of the ornate mirror above were pictures of a pretty blonde girl with warm, sparkling brown eyes and a winning smile. Pictures of her and her friends and other people who I assumed were her family—including two golden-haired little brothers.
The girl I was meant to share my room with seemed to be the popular type—but on closer inspection, I found that none of the pictures were taken at the Academy. At least not that I could tell. I wondered if her popularity in the human world transferred over to AAA…
I’d never really had friends. Leo and Lara would say I was an old soul and always seemed more comfortable around adults than children my own age. And besides, when you moved around as much as we did it was impossible to make any lasting relationships.
I turned back to my own side of the room. Crisp white sheets and a threadbare plaid throw blanket were neatly folded at the end of the worn-looking mattress. A small nightstand with a single drawer squatted to the left of it, and above that perched a small window in the rough stone wall of the exterior of the building.
I went over to get a look outside and found the ground over thirty feet below.
The grounds were well kept, with flagstone trails snaking around the academy and what looked to be a garden off to the right. But beyond the borders of the grounds there was nothing but forest. Peaks even higher than the one the academy sat on reached for the sky off in the distance.
Sunset cast an ominous orange glow over the scene, and the only sounds to be heard were birdsong and the chirping of crickets. Even I had to admit it was beautiful in a haunting sort of way.
Blowing out a breath, I spun to find a polished navy steamer-style trunk sitting at the end of my bed that I hadn’t noticed before. On top was a heavy looking piece of cardstock paper with one word scrawled across the front, Harper.
Strange, I thought.
No one else knew I was here, did they? I lifted the notecard, flipping it over to see there was a sentence written on the other side.
These should get you started. Good luck.
C.W.
I remembered seeing the very same initials on a nameplate atop the Council delegate’s desk. But what could he possibly have sent me? And why was he so keen to try to ‘help’ me?
Discarding the note onto my bed, I unlatched the top of the trunk and heaved it open. My nose wrinkled at the musty smell inside. But its contents were far from being old or worn. It was all brand-new.
Neatly folded in the trunk was an Arcane Arts Academy uniform. A stack of blouses, all embroidered with the triple A emblem of the school on the breast. Below them was a kilt-like skirt or two, a couple of navy colored blazers, one burgundy red sweater, and two sleeveless pullover vest things.
Digging toward the bottom I also found a pair of simple white tennis sneakers, undergarments, and even a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a bore-bristled hair brush with what looked like a hunk of bone for a handle.
Great… everything a budding witch needed… just missing the pointy hat and broomstick…
I huffed a half-hearted laugh, dropped the things back inside, and let the lid fall shut.
With a groan, I kicked off my flip-flops and fell onto the mattress, the springs creaking and groaning in protest to my weight. The metal coils poked into my ribcage.
My eyelids felt instantly heavy, and I struggled to hold them up. I couldn’t remember ever being so completely exhausted in my entire life.
4
A clattering sound had my eyes snapping open. Immediately closing them again when they were assaulted by white morning light.
Moaning into my pillow, I turned my head slowly, squinting into the room and remembering all at once everything that had happened the day before. I was not on my tiny sleeping mat in the back of Leo and Lara’s caravan, nor were we in one of the dusty motel rooms we sometimes stayed in as a sort of treat.
My guardians would know by now where I was. They likely did a locator spell to figure it out. But even though I asked them not to come looking for me, I was a little surprised to find that they really hadn’t.
They were probably happy for me. I could picture them—staring in mild surprise at the spot on the map where the scryer would’ve landed. Looking at each other with a mix of shock and relief.
They would think I was lucky to be sent to a place as renowned and prestigious as the academy. The fact that I was here was probably the only reason they didn’t come after me… afraid to ruin my chance to study in the only academy for witches in the United States of America.
I’d have to find a way to get a message to them. To explain it wasn’t my fault, and that I was sorry. Soon, I told myself.
Another clatter had me rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, dragging my tired and aching bones into a halfway sitting up position. Was she trying to wake me up? No one made that much noise unless it was on purpose.
A pair of eyes the color of steeped tea stared at me through the mirror above the vanity across the room. One perfectly plucked eyebrow raised and two rows of straight white teeth smiled. The girl set down her powder brush, turning to me with a face only half made up.
“Oh, hi!” she chirped, sitting up and rushing over to introduce herself.
I pushed myself the rest of the way up and swung my legs over to put my feet on the ground, hissing when the soles of my feet connected with ice-cold tile. She shook my hand, buzzing with positive energy. There had to be coffee somewhere in here. No one woke up with that much energy in the morning.
“I’m Bianca,” she said, cocking her head while doing some sort of little curtsey thing. “When my uncle told me I was finally getting a roommate, I could hardly believe it. I mean, it’s been great having a whole room to myself for a full year, but this is going to be so much more fun!” The girl clasped her hands together, practically bouncing with excitement. Her soft blonde curls bounced with her.
“Oh, I’m so rude,” she continued, her brows pulling inward. “I forgot what he said your name was. I would’ve asked you myself, but you were out cold when I came in from dinner, and—”
“It’s Harper.”
“What?”
“My name. It’s Harper,” I answered her, brushing the hair away from my face. “Who’s your uncle?”
“Headmaster Sterling,” she said like it was the most obvious thing in
the world, biting her bottom lip as though suddenly nervous.
Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes, I flopped back onto the bed. Great, the headmaster of the academy totally put me with his niece on purpose. He must have. Probably to keep tabs on me. I wondered if she volunteered, or if she even knew she was his spy.
Bianca’s expression darkened for a moment, a drawn look glazing over her eyes before she blinked and pasted a smile back on her face. She went back to her vanity and sat down hard on the cushioned stool in front of it. Bianca continued blathering on about something, but I wasn’t really paying attention anymore.
A fat white rabbit with long, floppy ears and beady red eyes stared at me from atop her pillow across the room. Its tiny nose twitched as it watched me, looking wholly unimpressed by what it saw. I swallowed. It was obviously her familiar. There was no other reason for her to have an animal in her dorm room. It wore a little silver collar around it’s neck, and squinting, I thought the heart-shaped name-tag said Blanche. It was fitting, I supposed.
“… but then he said that you were new and you didn’t even have a familiar yet, or all that much experience so it would be good if you roomed with someone like me who…”
Where were earplugs when you needed them? My head throbbed as if I’d spent the night digging into Lara’s wine stash instead of passed out by seven o’clock. I shoved aside the embarrassed flush attempting to take root and fester in my chest. Like I needed to be reminded that I was seventeen and still hadn’t found my familiar.
Rising from the bed if only to escape Bianca’s endless chatter, I dug through the trunk at the end of it, pulling out simple black slacks, a white blouse, and the cozy looking burgundy sweater. Grabbing the bone-handled hairbrush and toothbrush as an afterthought.
“Bianca, was it?” I asked, interrupting her spiel about how great her uncle is. “Can you tell me where the showers are? I didn’t see them last night.”
There were no other doors in our dorm room except for the one I entered the night before to come in, so obviously there was no bathroom in here—which meant bathrooms would be shared. But in all my wandering trying to find the elusive room 427 I hadn’t seen anything that looked even remotely like a lavatory.
“Oh, there’s no time for that! Class starts in fifteen minutes.”
She must’ve seen the panic in my eyes because she turned and said, “Sorry, I guess I should’ve woken you sooner,” with a sour look on her face and caught her bottom lip between her teeth again.
I dropped the clothes onto my bed and lifted the brush to my tangle of red hair, mumbling crap, crap, crap, under my breath.
Dragging the brush through the knots with one hand, I dug around in the covers for my lost headband with the other, finding it lodged near the bottom corner of the bed.
Fifteen minutes. Alright. That’s not that bad. No time for a shower, but I could still manage not to look like a total bum, right?
Turning, I caught my reflection in Bianca’s mirror. Gasping at what I saw.
Christmas incarnate… It was Leo’s very apt description of me. He said it one Christmas when I was just a kid, and the nickname stuck. I saw that fiery little girl again now. A mass of long wavy vermillion locks framing an ivory face and large bright green eyes.
Maybe it was cute when I was a kid, but now my eyes were bloodshot, and my skin just looked pale and sallow. There wasn’t time to fix it, not if I wanted to be able to at least pee before going to class.
Grateful I still had a hair elastic around my left wrist, I pulled my hair into submission, winding it into a round messy bun on top of my head. Then I pulled the headband into place to hold it all together. It would be the best I could do without a good heavy-duty conditioner.
Snatching up my clothes, I rushed behind a privacy screen to dress. Stripping off my baggy tank top and ratty shorts.
“What class do you have first?” Bianca called from the other side of the screen.
“History.”
Or at least that’s what I thought the timetable had said.
“Me too!”
Convenient.
I wondered if her uncle had anything to do with that, too. I was willing to bet our timetables probably shared several similarities.
Bianca dutifully waited for me to finish getting ready, hopping from one foot to the other by the door. The bell rang, sounding more like an air-raid siren than an alert to make your way to class.
I could tell Bianca was resisting the urge to tell me to hurry up. She looked like she was in pain. Her pretty made-up face was pinched. As soon as I stood from tying my new shoes, we flew out the door and through the hallways.
There were a few other stragglers meandering their way to class, and I was grateful none seemed to notice the new girl being near-dragged down the stairs. I assumed Bianca was a student who was never late for class. How could she be? The niece of the academy’s headmaster, no—I was certain she would be expected to make a good example for the other students.
The thought had me thinking maybe I was wrong about her. Maybe, like me, she was forced to play a role she didn’t ask for, and to wear a smile while she played it.
But then again, she could also be one of those self-appointed class president types. Happy to do as Uncle Sterling asked and spy on her new roommate. Time would tell.
We hit the bottom step as the second bell sounded, my bladder protesting not having been able to relieve itself.
Bianca shuddered at the siren that meant she was officially late.
I sucked in a breath. I supposed I had slept through breakfast as well since Bianca pulled me straight into a classroom filled with students. The door closed behind us all on its own.
Bianca dropped my hand and ran to take a seat at the front of the class. Shocker.
There was only one other empty seat—at the very back in the right-hand corner.
I kept my head down, trying not to pay any attention to the soft whispers and stares of the other students in the classroom as I walked quickly past them to the back. Knowing it would be best not to hear what they said.
Try as I might to block them all out, it was impossible not to notice how the other girls looked. Hair gleaming, with flawless skin and wrinkle free blouses.
Privileged was the only way to describe them. They’d probably scream if they knew they attended the same school as someone who regularly shopped in thrift stores and ate hot dogs from carts in the street. Maybe they’d petition to have me expelled…
Now there was an idea.
Taking my seat in the back, I peeked up from under my lashes, noticing how the guys’ uniforms were almost the exact same as the girls.
And none of them wore a deep burgundy tie like Elias had the day before.
Skimming through the bodies in the classroom, I considered the backs of several of the male students’ heads before deciding, no, Elias was not in this class. They all seemed too young. He must have been in one of the fourth or fifth year classes. Damn. It would’ve been nice to see a friendly face.
As though he’d read my thought and come to the rescue, the door swung back open and he strolled in. His head bent as he studied something on a clipboard. His thick hair flopped down over one eye.
I beamed at him, ready to wave him over to sit next to me once he looked up, but then…
“Good morning, Mr. Fitzgerald,” Bianca said, and I saw the corner of the sweet smile she threw him as she turned her head.
Elias nodded to her, setting down the clipboard he had been studying on the desk at the front of the class. He removed a worn leather satchel from his shoulder and inclined his head to her. “Miss. Matthews.”
No.
Hell no.
A shiny new nameplate sat at the front end of his desk facing all the students.
ELIAS FITZGERALD
Professor of Arcane History
My throat went dry.
Mr. Fitzgerald lifted his gaze to regard the rest of the classroom. “Good morning, class.”
> A few of the other students returned his greeting, though most remained quiet, pulling out notebooks, and textbooks, and pencils from their desks. I heaved a sigh when I found my own desk contained the same things and I wouldn’t have to ask Mr. Fitzgerald for them.
I shifted in my seat, trying to sink below the heads of the students in front of me.
Of course, he found me anyway. His haughty stare hesitated on me for an instant before he cleared his throat and went back to taking documents out from his briefcase to start the day’s lessons.
A teacher? Really?
I crossed my arms, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
Just my luck.
5
By the time lunch finally rolled around I was starving.
My stomach was in knots, and I almost walked into a wall on the way to the dining hall, eliciting a string of giggles from a trio of girls as they strolled past me in their shortened kilts.
When was the last time I’d eaten? I tried to rack my brain for the answer, but the last meal I could consciously remember eating was breakfast yesterday morning. Before the whole fiasco with the jewelry thief.
The mouth-watering aromas of hearty chicken soup, fresh cucumbers, and roast beef wafted down the hallway, propelling me to go faster. All thoughts of handsome teachers and annoying roommates and classroom screw-ups vanished from my mind. I had one single focus.
Food.
Stumbling through the double doors, I found the hall to be enormous with high ceilings and tall stained-glass windows stretching from floor to ceiling along the far wall. Depictions of the various phases of the moon arched over a beautiful garden scene cast in hues of blue and purple.
Tables laden with all manner of food and drink stood in front of a pass-through window that I assumed led to some sort of cafeteria kitchen.
If it weren’t for the ache of starvation in my gut, I could’ve marveled at the beauty of it all day. Instead, I ran to join the line of students forming on the left side of the table.
