by Nissa Leder
“Welcome to the St. Wicklow. I’m Ms. Ballard, head of the new student department. I’m sure you all have a million questions, most of which will be answered during the orientation process. Wicklow Academy is a school of traditions. Of legacies. Everyone here today has come to our university after the generations of your family before you. Our program is not a fit for everyone. In fact, very few qualify.”
“Is this some game show or something?” the girl next to me asks. “If there’s a point to all this, I hope she makes it soon.” Her words are a little bitchy, but I share the sentiment.
“Most of you on this boat have lived your entire lives with the Ordinaries,” Ms. Ballard continues.
The girl next to me tilts her head toward me as intrigue highlights her face.
My expression doesn’t change, and breath stalls in my lungs. I’m about to finally find out what everyone in my family keeps hiding.
The woman steps out from the cover of the podium and extends her arm. Her wrist turns so that her palm faces the ceiling. With a smile, a ball of fire grows in her hand. “Everyone here today has magic. Or rather, will soon enough.”
I have magic?
Of all the crazy scenarios that have popped into my head the last few weeks, having magic surpasses them all.
Excitement buzzes through the room like electricity. Gazes of disbelief and hope meet as we all absorb the truth bomb she just dropped.
I scan the area around Ms. Ballard. Mom and Dad have always scoffed at magic shows on TV, pridefully finding the flaws in all the acts. No matter how hard I stare, I can’t find wires or anything to suggest that the fire in her hand was an illusion.
But it has to be, right?
She returns to the podium. “First thing’s first. You’re probably thinking this is some elaborate prank, but I assure you, it’s not. When you were babies, your families elected to have your magic blocked. Their jobs in the Magic Protective Society required blending in with the Ordinaries, and as such, they decided to raise you without your powers.”
I search the room until I find Elaine. When she sees me looking at her, she nods. Her earlier snarky expression is gone. Now, she looks almost nervous. Had she figured out the secret our parents had been hiding?
“It’s a lot to take in, and probably hard to believe. Knowing about your powers when they’ve been blocked can cause problems. Which is why we’ve waited until you’re with us to reveal the truth of your nature. ” She reads from a sheet of paper. “Elaine Astor, please come forward.”
Elaine swallows as her peachy skin drains two shades. With a self-encouraging nod, her shoulders relax, and she heads toward the front.
Ms. Ballard brings a tray of syringes out from behind the podium and sets it on top. She takes one and removes its lid. “The process is simple. I’ll inject the potion into you, and your magic will reawaken. It will take some time for your power to settle, so you might experience a headache or nausea.”
Elaine stands next to the podium and faces the rest of us as Ms. Ballard takes her arm.
“Just a quick prick.” Ms. Ballard pokes the needle into Elaine’s skin, shoots the liquid into her, then removes the syringe. “All done.”
After Elaine returns to the crowd, the next student is called.
We’re just supposed to trust this lady we just met? What if she’s injecting us with some trial substance that either turns us into mindless robots or gives us cancer?
I can’t help but peer at Elaine every few seconds. She hasn’t collapsed or turned a freaky shade of green. Then again, cancer doesn’t happen that fast.
Elaine catches me staring and rolls her eyes. Okay, so she isn’t catatonic. Unless the serum’s effects are delayed.
Three students later, Ms. Ballard calls my name.
Unease washes over me like cool mist. My boots suddenly grow heavy as my eyes lock on Elaine, searching for any sign that I should bolt out of the room and take my chances in the sea.
Her eyes widen as they meet mine and she mouths, “You’ll be fine.”
Normally, a promise like this from Elaine would bring me nothing more than a laugh. Definitely not reassurance. But in this crazy situation, somehow her words give me the courage to move.
Sounds blur around me as I step forward and turn to face everyone. Ms. Ballard says something in my ear, but all I hear are mumbled words. She takes me by the wrist and bends my arm before poking the needle into my skin and releasing the serum into me.
I wait for a rush of power, but nothing happens and I’m not sure to be disappointed or relieved.
“All done.” She touches my shoulder and smiles at me.
As I step away, a shiver slithers through me, tingling from my toes up through my legs all the way to my fingertips. By the time I’m back with the other students, all my doubts have dissolved.
I can’t explain how I know, but magic now burns in my veins. I’m sure of it. Like a colorblind person seeing reds, blues, and yellows for the first time, the world around me is different. I never knew something was missing, but now it all feels right. I have magic.
But I have no clue how to use it.
Three
After everyone has been pricked by Ms. Ballard, and all of our magic is restored, we’re ushered into the other room with everyone else.
Elaine and I end up walking side by side.
“So, everyone in there already had their magic?” I ask as we linger on the outside of the room.
Elaine crosses her arms as she peeks in. “Yep.”
“How long have you known?”
“That Wicklow is a school for Sorcerers? Since yesterday before the party at your place.”
I’d been right. Elaine had known the secret everyone else was keeping from me. But I hadn’t guessed she just recently learned the truth. I’d figured she’d always known.
As if suddenly remembering she hates me, her nose crinkles. “I’m going to go make some friends.”
After she’s disappeared into the crowd, I mumble, “Nice talking to you, too.”
I shouldn’t expect anything but snarky comments and bitchy glares from Elaine. Just because we’ve both ended up at Wicklow doesn’t mean the past will suddenly disappear, and I don’t think we’ve exchanged a friendly conversation in the last four years. Actually, compared to usual, today’s conversation is a miracle.
High school had been easy. I’d grown up with mostly the same students since kindergarten. For better or worse, everyone knew me then. This is the first time in a long time where I can blend in, and I have to say, it’s exciting.
I make my way to the outside of the room where a bar has been set up. The nerves swirling through me have left me thirsty.
“Chardonnay, please,” the girl in front of me says.
“They actually serve alcohol to freshmen?” I don’t know why, after everything I just found out, this surprises me.
As the bartender pours her drink, the girl turns to me. “Eighteen is the drinking age in our world. You must be one of the students raised as an Ordinary.”
Her long platinum hair reaches her waist with the last quarter dyed lavender. At least, I’m assuming it’s dyed. Who knows, maybe in the magic world people spell their hair different colors. She reaches out her hand and I notice her fingernails match the tips of her hair. “I’m Olivia.”
“Wren. Nice to meet you.”
As I shake her hand, her expression changes. “Wren Jacobsen?”
“Yes.” My chest constricts. Maybe I’m not as unknown as I thought.
“We’re roomies!” She leans in and hugs me before taking her wine from the bartender, who turns his attention to me.
I exhale and my torso loosens again. Roommates. That’s all.
“Sauvignon blanc, please,” I order.
“What are the odds we’d meet on the way to school?” Olivia shifts the wine to her right hand and locks her left elbow with mine.
“Apparently, decent,” I joke.
After the bartender hands me m
y drink, Olivia guides me into the mass of freshmen filling the room. I’d say there’s around a hundred or so, give or take.
“When I told Mom who I’m rooming with, she mentioned you live with the Ordinaries. Is it true your parents had your magic blocked when you were a baby?” Olivia leads us to the back corner of the room toward a guy leaning against the wall, playing a game on his phone.
“Um, yeah I just found out magic even exists.”
The guy notices us approaching and slips his phone into his blazer pocket. “Looks like you’re already making new friends. Pretty soon you’ll forget all about me.” He mock-frowns.
“She happens to be my roomie.” Olivia leans her head on my shoulder. “And you just spent the last week at my house. I won’t forget about you for at least a month.”
“So, this is the infamous Jacobsen in our class.” He pushes himself from the wall. “I’m Micah. Olivia’s best friend.” He grins at her.
“Infamous?” I ask. “What do you mean?”
“Everyone knows about your grandpa.” Micah’s gaze volleys between me and Olivia, confused.
Nothing about today is how I imagined it. I’d prepared myself for surprises, sure. The secrecy around Wicklow had to mean something. But this? First magic? Now apparently, somehow my family is famous in this world?
“That’s strange because I’ve never met either of my grandpas.” Mom’s father died when she was a kid. Dad doesn’t speak to his, and as far as I know, hasn’t since before Beck or I were born.
“Well, this is awkward.” Micah runs a finger through his hair and scratches his head. “He mentioned his granddaughter was attending Wicklow on the news a couple of weeks ago.”
“You watch the news?” Olivia cuts in.
“Mom does.” He shrugs. “She’s always going on about how it’s our duty to be informed citizens as if people like us have a say in anything.”
“Jacobsen isn’t an uncommon last name. It’s probably someone else,” I say.
As soon as we get off this boat, I’m finding Beck. I get our parents keeping stuff from me. But how could he?
“Unless there’s another Wren Jacobsen, then you’re the granddaughter of Lucas Jacobsen, the Sorcery President.” Micah's hands fall to his side.
The ringing of a bell cuts off our conversation before Ms. Ballard’s voice plays over the speaker system, instructing everyone to make their way out to the deck.
I’m thankful for the interruption. As we head outside, thoughts jump around my mind like a bouncy ball off the pavement. I’ve never heard Dad talk about his father. The few times Mom has mentioned him, Dad’s given her the darkest glares I’ve ever seen him give anyone. My parents might have been MIA for a lot of my life, but whenever they’ve been around, they’ve always gotten along flawlessly. In fact, Beck and I joke that they’re so perfect for each other it’s freaky. So anything that earns Mom a nasty stare from Dad is serious.
I assumed there was some falling out and left it at that.
But president of a magical world I never knew existed? That’s about as far away from any prediction I’ve ever had.
When we make it out of the room, Olivia and Micah walk to the ledge.
In the distance, a huge castle-like building surrounded by forest appears. The rich green hues of the trees stand against the bluest of blue skies like some picture from a fairytale.
A wave of nerves washes over me as something in me hums. Deep in my core, my muscles twitch. Could the magic in me be stirring?
Micah glances at me with a grin. “Welcome to Wicklow, Wren Jacobsen.”
As I follow the line through the huge courtyard, I half expect to wake up in my bed, back at home with Beck impatiently waiting for me to get ready.
But another part of me, somewhere deep in my core, is slowly accepting this new life as real, and that part can’t wait to see more.
A cobblestone path outlines a circular patch of freshly-mowed grass. Willow trees hover over benches, and a stone fountain sits in the courtyard’s center. The floral scent of rosebushes swirls through the air as we approach the staircase leading to a set of teal wooden doors decorated with wrought iron accents.
The few of us who just learned about magic wait in line in the foyer for our welcome packets. Even though she got hers mailed to her last week, Olivia waits with me. Since most of the students have known about the magic world for years, the line moves fast. Soon enough, I have a large white envelope in my hand as Olivia and I make our way to the East Wing of the academy.
Although the outside of the building looks like it could be pulled from some eighteenth-century history book, the inside has been updated to be more modern. My boots click against the marble floor as we walk down the hallway to our room. Chandeliers hang from the arched ceiling, which hovers at least fifteen feet above us, if not more.
“I can’t believe this is where I’m going to live. I expected some small dorm building with old carpet and bad lighting,” I say.
Olivia stops in front of the door labeled 247 and pulls out a brass key from her skirt pocket. “Wait until you see the bedroom. I’ve been excited to move in since I toured last fall.” She sticks the key into the lock and turns it, then opens the door.
There are two canopy beds, one against the left wall, the other against the right. A sheet hangs over their tops and is tied to each post, fairy lights flickering beneath the transparent material. Large throw rugs cover most of the floor.
“I call this bed.” Olivia falls back onto the off-white comforter of the bed on the left.
I sit on the other bed, its lilac-colored comforter wrinkling under my weight. For as awestruck as I’m feeling, no one would ever guess I was raised in a house with heated bathroom floors and an expensive artwork collection with pieces from all over the world.
I surely wasn’t raised in a cupboard under the stairs.
But right now, as I take everything in, it all feels unbelievable.
“You look like you’re either on the brink of awakening or about to throw up,” Olivia says as she props herself against the pillows. “Maybe both at the same time.”
“I’m just absorbing everything. Magic exists. This isn’t a dream.”
“You’re a fucking Sorcerer, Wren Jacobsen.” Olivia crosses her ankles. “Deep down, you know it’s true.”
“Sorcerer not Sorceress?”
“The magic world was ahead of its time. Sorcerer is totally gender-neutral.” She extends her arm and a ball of fire glows in her palm. It lasts approximately one second before dissolving into smoke. “Okay, so I’m not as good at that as Ms. Ballard, yet. But soon we’ll both be badass Sorcerers, capable of doing so much more.”
“Did I hear someone say badass?” Micah pushes our already-cracked door fully open. “Are you talking about me?”
“One hour at Wicklow and you’ve already forgotten common courtesy,” Olivia says.
“This place didn’t get the nickname Wicked Academy for no reason.” Micah saunters straight to Olivia’s bed and hops next to her.
“What’s that nickname about, anyway?” I scoot back onto the center of my bed and bend my legs to one side. Trying to sit in a plaid skirt without looking shameless is such a pain.
“Well, there are four Sorcery schools in the US. At the end of every school year, the academies compete to win that year’s trophy for the Sorcery Games,” Micah says. “Wicklow has three times as many championships as any of the other four. From what my cousin said, the other schools don’t much care for the students here, so somewhere along the way, they started referring to us as Wicked Academy. Instead of letting it be something other people called us behind our backs, Wicklow students just embraced it.”
“Sorcery Games?” I don’t think I’ve ever felt so clueless in my life.
“Basically, the magical world’s Olympics.” Olivia adjusts her skirt.
“I still can’t understand why your parents would hide all this from you.” Micah shakes his head. “They’re heroes in our
world. I remember watching them on the news when I was about ten. After they stopped the Dark Sorcerers from attacking the Sorcery capital.”
“My parents did what?” I think back to the time Mom freaked when my brother’s pet rat got out of its cage and ended up hiding in an empty coffee pot. Or when Dad tried to surprise my mom with breakfast in bed and managed to start a small kitchen fire. Now I’m supposed to believe that when they weren’t home, they were out fighting evil?
“They didn’t tell you anything about their lives, did they?” Olivia wears an expression of sympathy mixed with surprise.
“Apparently not.” I swallow and push away the feeling of betrayal threatening to turn into tears. Getting emotional on my first day at Wicklow isn’t an option. I’ve never been a cryer, and I don’t plan to start today. “What are Dark Sorcerers?”
Micah answers, “Pretty much through all of history, those of us with magic have kept our world separate from the Ordinaries. Some say it’s to protect ourselves from things like the witch trials. Others say it’s to protect the Ordinaries. But some Sorcerers are against it and think instead of sequestering ourselves from,” he makes air quotes, “‘normal’ society, we should rule the world with our powers.”
“Which most Sorcerers completely disagree with,” Olivia cuts in. “But the ones who want to rebel are always finding new ways to gain more power in hopes of taking over.”
Micah waits until Olivia is done, then says, “Around ten years ago they made their boldest move yet and tried to take over the government building. But your parents discovered their plan just in time and prevented the attack.”
“That’s a lot to wrap my mind around,” I say.
Magic. Dark Sorcerers. Presidential grandpa. Heroic parents. How could I have spent my entire life completely unaware of all of this? Part of me feels like an idiot, the other is angry that so many secrets had been kept from me.
“Well, now that this conversation is turning awkward, it’s a good time to see if you two are up for crashing a party.” Micah grins and looks back and forth between us.
