by Nissa Leder
“What do you say, Wren?” Olivia asks.
“I say ‘lead the way.’” With so much information being thrown at me, a distraction is exactly what I need.
Olivia claps her hands as she bounces off the bed. “But first, we need to change.”
Just like Beck said, everything in my suitcases was already here, somehow magically unpacked and in my closet and dresser waiting for me, along with at least five other changes of uniform.
I slip into a tight, corduroy dress that buttons up the front. It’s dressy enough without being formal, since I have no idea what type of party I’m about to crash. Then I touch up my lipstick and pull half my hair into a messy bun.
When I leave the bathroom, Olivia is running her fingers through her hair in front of the full-length mirror mounted on the wall. She’s wearing a flowy dress with a bold gold floral print across the deep purple fabric.
About an hour after he left, Micah meets us back in our room and we head to the party. Olivia carries her heels in her hand, and I keep my steps soft.
“Just so I know what I’m getting into, what kind of party are we crashing?” I ask. From Micah’s warning to “be very quiet” before we left our room, it must be something we aren’t supposed to be doing.
“An upper-class party,” Micah whispers. He’s wearing slim-cut gray dress pants, a light blue collared shirt with rolled-up sleeves, and a black and white striped tie. “Supposedly hosted by the school’s secret society.”
“If a freshman like you knows about the society, it can’t be very secret, can it?” Olivia asks, her voice bouncing off the walls of the empty hallway.
“Shhh.” Micah brings his index finger to his mouth in typical shushing fashion. “It isn’t like they’re putting up signs with their name on it. But rumor has it, they host an opening night party every year to scout for new members.”
“And I take it freshmen aren’t usually invited,” I say.
“Aren’t ever invited. Which is why we’re crashing.” Micah walks faster. “If we don’t get caught on the way there by talking too much.”
Olivia and I share a glance and a giggle.
I’m thankful to already have friends who I think I’m really going to get along with. I’d been hoping for a fresh beginning where I could start over. Be whoever I want. That sort of cliched thing. I knew my parents were alums, but I never would have guessed that before stepping a foot into Wicklow, people would already know about me. Finding out not only does magic exist, but I’m going to learn how to wield it, is ridiculous enough. But also learning that my parents are apparently semi-famous and my grandfather, who I’ve never met, is president is a lot to take in. And it means that I’m not quite as anonymous as I’d hoped.
We make it out of the East Wing and turn north. At the end of another long hallway, we take a staircase two flights up to yet another hallway. Finally, Micah stops at a door. Nothing about it looks special, and I can’t help but wonder if whoever told him about this party did so as a prank.
Micah knocks three times, pauses, then twice more.
As if being written in fire, the word “password” appears on the door.
“Molten toad,” Micah mumbles.
The door handle turns, and the door swings inward.
We step inside to a room full of students, all chatting amongst each other with drinks in their hands. Chandeliers twice as big as the ones in the hallway hang every ten feet, radiating a yellow glow. A dark-stained hardwood floor with wide planks spreads across the room and shiny metallic gold wallpaper covers the top half of the walls, sitting above white wainscoting.
Everyone’s dressed pretty formally. The guys are all in suits, and over half the girls are in floor-length gowns. Olivia’s dress blends in, and Micah’s suit fits in perfectly, but I feel a bit underdressed.
“Let’s separate for now so we aren’t as noticeable.” Micah weaves into the crowd.
“I’m going to go get something to drink. I’ll find you in a few.” Olivia smiles before walking away.
I stand there, unsure of what to do. It’s not like I’ve never crashed a party before. Two weeks ago, Zane and I stumbled upon a wedding reception in the park. Free drinks and dancing for three hours. But in this new place, I’m more nervous than normal.
As more students enter the room, I move to get out of their way, then follow some of them around the outside of the room until I find an opening to wait in.
I watch the people standing a few feet in front of me. Two girls, both with long, auburn hair, talk to a tall guy. His blond waves remind me of some stereotypical Californian surfer, even though his light gray pants and navy blazer scream preppy.
One of the girls runs her hand down his arm. The other adjusts her hair, pulling it from one side of her neck to the other. He nods as they compete with each other to tell some story about their recent vacation on a yacht.
The guy tilts his head back as if struggling not to yawn. He catches me watching from the corner of his eye.
Shit.
I look away, turning my body toward the group talking behind me.
Thirty seconds later, I hear someone approaching.
“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” a deep voice says.
I turn to see preppy-surfer-guy smiling down at me.
“Nope, I don’t think we have.” Where are Olivia and Micah? Standing alone draws more attention to us than if we had each other to talk to.
“You know, eavesdropping is considered rude in most social circles,” he says.
“Trust me, I zoned out the second Princess One mentioned how many hours a day she spent tanning on the deck.”
“So, you were listening.”
I lift my hands. “You caught me.”
Something across the room catches the guy’s attention. “Duty calls. Perhaps I’ll see you again later.”
“Perhaps not.” I shrug.
He laughs and shakes his head as he saunters toward the entrance.
Whew. At least he didn’t ask any questions.
Five minutes pass by, and still no sign of Olivia or Micah.
I scan the room until, near the back corner, I spot Beck talking to his friend Kaz.
With a huff, I head straight toward my brother. When I reach him, I slug his arm. “I can’t believe you didn’t warn me about anything.”
Kaz laughs into his fist as Beck stares down at me.
“Did you just hit me?” Beck asks.
“You’re lucky I aimed for your arm.” I fold my arms over my chest. “Maybe I can understand letting me stumble onto the fact that our family has magic. But Mom and Dad are some sort of heroes? And our grandpa is a president? A little heads up would have been nice.”
His glare softens. “I couldn’t tell you about the magic. I had to listen to a forty-five-minute lecture from Mom when I got home on my first school break last year, drilling it into my head that if anyone whose magic is being held for them by the school learns they are a Sorcerer, things can go very badly. If I told you anything, you could have gone mad.”
“Okay, fine. But what about our parents?”
“How was I supposed to tell you about them without telling you about the magic? I planned to find you tomorrow. I didn’t realize you’d hear about them or Grandpa from someone else already.” He rubs his arm. “How’d you learn to hit so hard?”
“I’m just strong,” I say. “But I guess we’re even now. Anything else I need to know?”
“Not that I can think of,” Beck says. He tilts his head to the side and furrows his brows. “Wait, how are you here right now? This party isn’t for freshmen.”
I shrug with a smirk. “Oops.”
Kaz stiffens and kicks Beck’s shoe.
Preppy Surfer Guy approaches us with two glasses of what appears to be wine in his hand. Great.
He dips his chin.
When his gaze drifts to me, one corner of his mouth turns upward. “I thought all that eavesdropping might have made you thirsty. ”
“Thank you.” I reach out to take the glass but he pulls it back.
“First, I think I’ve at least earned your name.”
I clench my jaw and bring my arm back to my side. “You haven’t earned anything.”
“It’s Wren,” Beck says.
I glare at him. He doesn’t tell me anything about what to expect at Wicklow, but suddenly he has no problem blurting out my name to whoever this guy is.
“I’m Sebastian.” He reaches out the wine again, but I ignore the gesture. “I don’t remember seeing anyone named Wren on the guest list.”
After a deep exhale, Beck’s shoulder’s relax. “That would be because she wasn’t invited. Excuse my little freshman sister. Sometimes she forgets her manners.”
I slug Beck’s arm again in the exact same spot as before. “Oops. I seem to have misplaced my manners.” What has gotten into my brother? He’s talking like some cult member.
“A freshman with the guts to crash. I like it,” Surfer Boy Sebastian says. “Welcome to Wicklow, Wren.”
“Thanks.” I give a sarcastic smirk.
Someone hollers at Sebastian from across the room and gestures for him to come over.
“Looks like I’m needed elsewhere again,” Sebastian says. “Enjoy the party. I won’t tell anyone you crashed. It can be our secret.” He winks before walking away.
“Arrogant much?” I say. “Who is that guy?”
“That’s Sebastian Barington, head of the Mystics,” Kaz says.
At first, I stare blankly at him. Then I put it together. “The secret society?”
“Yep.” Kaz grins at me. “You’re not even here an entire day, and you’ve already made your way onto his radar. Impressive. Maybe we could learn something from your little sis, Beck.”
Beck shakes his head. “I don’t know if crashing his party is the best way to end up on his radar.”
“At least he knows her name,” Kaz says.
Out of everyone to notice me, Surfer Prep ends up being not only the host, but head of this infamous Wicklow society. I can’t help but laugh. “So, I take it you’re both here to find yourself an invite to this secret group.” I can’t help but question just how secret it really is.
“Yes. They only take around ten students in each class.” Beck smooths out his jacket. “But being a member lasts a lifetime.”
“Maybe I’ll put in a good word,” I tease.
Finally, I spot Olivia and Micah waving to me across the room.
“I’ll let you two get back to your strategizing, or whatever it was you were doing before I interrupted.”
As I head to my friends, I catch Sebastian’s gaze.
He lifts his glass of wine and toasts me, but I ignore him and keep on walking.
Four
“Wren, get up!” a voice says, startling me awake.
I hug the fluffy comforter to my chest as I roll over.
Olivia stares down at me, her hair twisted into a long braid and her face covered in makeup. “I thought you were getting out of bed when I got into the shower.”
I blink as my eyes adjust to the brightness of the room. “What time is it?”
“Seven forty-five. Classes start in fifteen minutes.”
This lights a fire under my ass. I throw my blankets off my body and practically leap out of bed. “Shit.”
“Yeah, shit,” Olivia says with a laugh. “First-year classes are on the first floor in the West Wing.”
I fling my nightgown over my head, no worry of modesty, as I rush to the closet and search for the uniform I wore yesterday in just my undies.
The door to our room swings open. Micah steps inside, and when he gets a full view of my naked chest, his entire face turns tomato-red.
I grab the first piece of clothing I can reach and cover my torso.
“Haven’t you heard of knocking?” Olivia asks.
“I…” Micah stutters as he covers his eyes with his hands. “Class starts in like ten minutes. I figured you’d both already be ready. Haven’t you heard of locking your door?”
“You two go ahead. No need for you to be late because I don’t know how to wake up on time,” I say, trying not to laugh. Micah is far more embarrassed than I am.
“You sure?” Olivia asks, her glare still focused on Micah.
“Yeah, I’ll be right behind you.”
Olivia walks to Micah and grabs his arm. “C’mon, you perv.”
“I didn’t know she’d be changing.” Micah lets Olivia guide him to the hallway.
Once the door is shut, I slip into the uniform as fast as I can and hurry to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Within ten minutes, I’m out the door and speed-walking down the hallway with my still-sealed welcome packet in my hand. I rip it open and pull out my schedule.
Period one: Potions and Herbs with Professor Abbey - Room 105
Since I’m not wearing a watch, and I left my cell phone charging in the room, I have no clue what time it is. When I make it to the bottom floor of the West Wing, the hallway is empty, which I don’t take as a good sign.
Thankfully, the rooms on the right start at 101. Two rooms later, I’m at 105. The door’s already shut. With a deep breath, I open the handle and step inside.
Twenty pairs of eyes shift their attention to me. I smile and look to the front of the room, where a woman, who I’m assuming is Professor Abbey, is staring at me.
“I’m so sorry,” I say.
“It’s okay, dear,” the woman says. “Welcome to class. I was just introducing myself. I’m Professor Abbey, your Potions and Herbs teacher for the semester. Go ahead and find a seat and you can start off the student introductions.” She smiles.
I’m normally a back of the class type of student, but I sit in the first seat I can, which is in the middle of the front row.
Everyone is still staring at me.
Oh, right. I’m supposed to introduce myself.
“I’m Wren Jacobsen,” I say.
Whispers echo through the room. Apparently, they already know about my family, too. Lovely.
“Thank you, Wren.” Professor Abbey shifts her attention to the girl next to me, who stands up.
“I’m Bianca Pruit.” No one says anything, which seems to bother her. With a clenched jaw, she sits back down.
“Next,” the teacher nods to the guy to Bianca’s left.
I zone out as everyone shares their names, instead focusing on calming my speeding heart rate.
Being late to my first class isn’t quite the impression I wanted to start with, but at least Professor Abbey didn’t seem to be bothered by it.
Once everyone has introduced themselves, she moves toward the chalkboard at the front and writes Potions and Herbs in elegant cursive.
“Many of you probably came to Wicklow most excited to learn how to wield your magic in the form of spells. Learning to float an object through the air or create the elements in the palm of your hand are exciting things, but don’t underestimate the power of a strong potion or the usefulness of the right herb.”
Enthusiasm fills her face as she talks. Despite wearing no makeup, I can’t help but notice how pretty she is. Her strawberry blonde hair is pulled up into a ballerina bun, and she’s dressed in a modest high-neck sweater tucked into a long pencil skirt. She can’t be more than thirty. Maybe even younger.
“The Academy’s focus is to train all of you to be Protectors, the Sorcerers who work in the Protection department to keep this country safe from those who envision a different world. But not everyone will become a Protector. Some of you will become teachers like me. Some will become Healers. Some will work in other government departments. The best thing you can do for your future is take every class seriously, and that starts with this one,” she says.
If what Micah said about my parents stopping Dark Sorcerers is true, they must be Protectors, which is likely what they’ll expect me to become, too. Hiding a whole world from me my e
ntire life, then expecting me to follow in their footsteps is a very Jacobsen thing to do.
Professor Abbey gestures to the room. “The seats you sat in today will be your seats for the semester, and the person at your table will be your partner.”
Looks like I’m stuck in the front row.
“Guess that makes us a team,” I say to Bianca.
“Yay,” she says. “I get the idiot who was late to her first class as my partner.”
A wave of heat washes over me as my mouth snaps shut. What has her so bitchy?
“Guess so,” I say as I turn back toward the front.
The rest of the period Professor Abbey reads over the syllabus and then excuses us for our second-period classes.
I pull out my schedule again to see that next on the list is Combat in the gym. Since I have no clue where it is, and I’d rather not have to pull out the map and look like a complete moron, I ask Professor Abbey.
“The gym is on the first floor of the East Wing. Better hurry or you’ll be late twice,” she says with a wink.
I weave in and out of the student-filled hallway, doing my best not to bump into anyone. I’ve already managed to make an enemy in Bianca. No need for any more.
Once I make it to the end of the West Wing hallway, things clear up. Ahead, I see Elaine.
Normally, I’d purposefully keep at least twenty feet back to avoid any contact with her, but somehow the familiar face lures me.
I jog to catch her. “Hey, Elaine. How’s it going?”
At first, she looks annoyed, but then her expression softens. “Just trying to make it through this first day. I’ve never cared to be Miss Popular, but being around a bunch of people I don’t know is strange.”
“I know what you mean,” I say.
“That’s hard to believe. You fit in everywhere you go. Plus, everyone already knows you here. I’m a nobody, as usual.”
“I feel like everyone knows more about my family than I do,” I confide. “It’s actually pretty freaky.”
A group of students waits ahead in the middle of the hallway.
“Welcome to Combat,” a male voice says, but I can’t see who’s talking. “Everyone can head into the locker rooms and find your assigned locker. Your clothes for class will be inside. Get changed, then exit into the gym and we’ll get started with class.”
