by Lara Chapman
A single file line of girls walks softly into the room. The girls’ eyes are straight ahead, and their steps are perfectly in sync. With the grace of ballerinas they slide into their seats in the row beneath ours. A woman much younger and much less colorful than Miss A sits on the stage.
The same routine is repeated until all six rows circling the stage are filled. It’s obvious now that we’re sitting in groups based on our levels. The Seekers are on the top row, evident from our wide eyes and nervous fidgeting. The girl who escorted us to my room, Heather, is almost directly in front of me, one row down.
Somehow the flames on the candles dim. In fact, I can barely see any flame on the wicks, and we are shrouded in almost complete darkness. A candle on the stage lights, instantly brightening the area. I feel like I’m watching a magic show at the circus. It’s hard to believe this is my new world.
The woman in red who welcomed us at the door practically floats to the stage, then stands behind the table holding the lit candle. The liquids and herbs I noticed earlier are still in their unique containers. Again, I wish I’d worn my glasses so I could see them better.
The woman is illuminated in such a way that is seems more like a dream than reality, and I can’t take my eyes off her. Fair-skinned with shoulder-length nearly black hair so shiny it looks like silk, she reminds me of Snow White.
“Welcome, sisters of Dowling,” she says, her voice soft but commanding and just loud enough to be heard without a microphone. “I am so pleased to see you all. Seekers, let me introduce myself. My name is Veronica Fallon, and I have been Dowling’s headmistress for thirteen years. It was my privilege to welcome each of you today.” She smiles knowingly. “I assure you, this year will be like no other for you.”
Nearly every non-Seeker in the room nods in agreement, some giggling, some snickering.
“But you are not alone. Dowling is truly a sisterhood. And tonight we celebrate the beginning of a new year.”
The headmistress holds her hands over the containers like she’s warming her hands over a fire. As if on cue, every item on the table comes to life. The liquids sparkle and dance, and you can practically hear the herb singing in its dish.
Headmistress Fallon speaks more loudly, her eyes seeming to make contact with each and every person in the room at once. She picks up a small wooden stick—her wand—that looks so much like the one in my family trunk, I half-wonder if Kendall stole it and gave it to her. She raises her hands above her head like a conductor about to begin a symphony, and the flame of the candle in front of her grows to at least two feet. In the sudden brightness of the enormous flame, she speaks.
“Dowling sisters, your powers proclaim,
your right of lineage by Saffra’s name.
A witch can give success in love,
curse or bless through Saffra above.
Speak to beasts and spirits alike,
command the weather, cast out a blight.
Read the heavens and stars of the night,
divine the future and give good advice.
Conjure treasure and bring fortune to bear,
heal the sick and kill despair.
This is your birthright to have and to share,
blessings, my sisters,
may the spirits be fair.”
She lowers her hands, and the flame of the candle lowers once again.
My heart is racing more than I’d admit, and the creep factor has me picking at my fingernails. Flying suitcases, magic candles, martian greetings? Is this really who I am? Who I want to be? What was so wrong with my invisible little life? It might have been boring, but at least it was safe and predictable.
“Your life at Dowling will never be boring, my Seekers.”
Whaaaaat? My head shoots up at the echo of my thoughts. The headmistress is looking at me like I’m the only person in the room. Like she’s reaching inside my brain and snatching my thoughts. Like she’s trying to convince me that being at Dowling is a blessing.
“Dowling will be your life’s greatest blessing.”
I stop breathing and squeeze my eyes shut.
Get out of my head.
Get out of my head.
As I open my eyes, the candles around the room light again, as if they’re on magical timers.
The headmistress finally takes her penetrating stare off me. “As is tradition, we will recite the Dowling Code. Seekers, please listen carefully, as you, too, will be required to memorize and understand its meaning.”
In chorus, the other students and adults in the room speak.
“Delicias fuge ne frangaris crimine, verum
Coelica tu quareas, ne male dipereas;
Respicias tua, non cujusvis quaerito gesta
Carpere, sed laudes, nec preme veridicios;
Judicio fore te praesentem conspice toto.”
“What you just heard, Seekers, is the code all Dowling students live by. Not just within these doors but long after they’ve left our campus. Translated it means:
Shun pleasures of the flesh, lest you be broken by crime;
Seeks things of the heavens, lest your end be an evil one;
Consider your own deeds, and do not seek to slander someone else’s,
But praise them, and do not suppress those who speak the truth;
Always realize that you must stand before judgment.
I almost giggle at the thought of Kendall following any part of that code, especially praising others and speaking the truth. That’s definitely not something she’s accustomed to doing.
The headmistress continues. “There are several rules you should be aware of at Dowling, Seekers. Rules that have consequences if broken. If the infraction is severe enough, the punishment could result in expulsion from Dowling, and even expulsion of your entire family line for future generations.”
She holds up one perfectly manicured finger. “Rule one. No dark magic. There is enough evil in this world without our help. Our purpose is to make the world a better-balanced and more harmonious place.”
A second finger goes up. “Rule two. No cheating. You are all incredibly intelligent, so this should be absolutely no problem.”
Three fingers. “Last but not least, rule three. No stealing. We live in a community at Dowling. We must honor the belongings of everyone in this building. If you need something, ask. But never steal.” Her eyes are serious, almost frighteningly so.
Three rules? Piece of cake.
“It may seem like a piece of cake compared to the rules at your old schools,” she says, “but it is harder than you think.”
Again my eyes bulge when I hear my thoughts repeated by the headmistress. This time she isn’t looking at me.
“Seekers, there are two rituals that must be performed tonight, before you enter your first class and before you begin learning about your gifts. The first is the Self-Dedication Right, and the second is your acceptance of your family’s Book of Shadows. Every other girl in this room had to go through these same rituals when they were Seekers. And now? Now it is your turn.”
Why do I feel like I’m the only one who’s shocked by the things we see here? Have other families prepared their daughters while mine did not?
The headmistress continues, her voice smooth and confident. “Please locate the paper under your seat.” Under my seat? I didn’t see anything there before, but who am I to second-guess how things work at witch school?
Seriousness blankets the room. The giggling and whispering heard earlier is gone. The room is stone-cold silent.
“Prepare to commit yourself to the Dowling coven with a deep, cleansing breath.” The room inhales and exhales in unison.
Satisfied we’ve breathed properly, she continues. “Please read along with me.” And I do, because what other choice do I have?
“O Mother Saffra,
answerer of all mysteries;
In this place of power, I open myself to your essence.
In this place and in this time I am changed.”
I glance at the girls around me. Everyone appears to be reading. The headmistress pauses, taking a deep, slow breath before continuing.
“I breathe your energies into my body,
mixing them with mine,
that I may see the divine in nature,
nature in the divine,
and divinity within myself and all else.
O Great Saffra,
make me one with your essence.”
I wonder if anyone else is as confused as I am. What’s an essence, and why do I want to be one with someone else’s?
Headmistress Fallon’s voice interrupts my near-shock silence. “Congratulations, ladies. Your place here is your karama. Karama means ‘destiny.’ It’s your predetermined path.”
The headmistress scans the room with her eyes, warmly and silently welcoming us to the coven.
“It’s time now for you to receive your Book of Shadows. If you will look under your chair, you will find your family’s book.”
I know my Book of Shadows is in my room. Or it was an hour ago.
I freeze in totally freaked-out shock when I see the book under my chair. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised they were able to get it from me without me knowing, but I am. Pulling it to my lap, I open and see my great-great-grandmother’s inscription on the inside cover. The same one I saw in the attic. This whole witch school thing is going to take some getting used to.
“It is customary to bless your Book of Shadows,” the headmistress says. “Please place your book on your lap and your hands on its cover.”
Everyone follows her directions silently.
“Repeat after me,” she says.
“Elements, protect this book
from wondering eyes and prying looks.”
The headmistress pauses while we recite her words, then continues.
“And fill it with thine ancient power,
in this right and ready hour.”
“Congratulations, Seekers,” she says. “The Book of Shadows in your hands is now yours. May the blessings of your ancestors guide you all of your days.”
I open the book again, flip through a few pages, then close it carefully. I am officially a Dowling Seeker.
I’m really and truly going to be a witch.
The headmistress addresses the dorm moms on the stage. “Please escort your girls to the dining room.”
One by one the other women on the stage lead their charges from the room. I can’t help but wonder what they’ll serve us. Frogs? Rabbits? Children?
Finally Miss A stands and leads us from the room. As we enter the hallway, the hum of nervous chatter surrounds me. Ivy is talking about the headmistress and how beautiful she is, and all I can do is nod in agreement, my feet moving on autopilot while my mind races.
I can’t stop thinking about the look the headmistress gave me, as if she knows way more about me than I know about myself.
How does she know what I’m thinking?
I’ll see that look in my dreams tonight. Maybe every night.
Kendall brushes past me with the headmistress’s daughter like she has never laid eyes on me. Nothing has changed.
I thought my new life would be exciting, empowering, enchanting. But it has been the complete opposite in every possible way.
Maybe Dowling isn’t my do-over after all.
Six
The smell of freshly baked bread hits my nose before we reach the dining room entrance. My stomach growls, reminding me I haven’t eaten much of anything since breakfast.
Miss A leads us into a room with six long tables and a head table at the front of the room on a stage. It’s the fanciest stage I’ve ever seen, with engraved woodwork on either side and black velvet curtains hanging down, held back with gold ropes.
Just as we sat by levels in the Gathering Circle, we also sit by levels in the dining room. The Seeker table is the first on the left. I follow Ivy closely to make sure we sit together. But as we near the table, I realize we have assigned seats. On each plate sits a small name card, our names written in perfect calligraphy to identify our seat. And beside each name is a number.
Panic tightens like hands around my throat. Roommates sit together.
Ivy looks at me, her green eyes mirroring my feelings. “No. I’m not sitting with that spoiled brat.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think we get a vote.”
We walk together, looking at each name card carefully until we come to Ivy’s name. Zena is already seated and looks like she’d rather be swimming in a pool full of rusty scissors than sitting next to her unwanted roommate.
“See you after dinner,” I whisper, then walk on, looking at name cards while looking for Kendall. When I finally spot her, she’s sitting about midtable on the opposite side, looking small and uncomfortable in the high-backed dining chair. Without Zena by her side, she looks more like everyone else—a little afraid, a little excited, and determined to deny it. Maybe she’ll be more human now.
I walk around the table and pull my chair out, the heavy legs dragging across the floor loudly. Kendall shoots me a death glare. So much for being human. I ignore her and sit in the chair, then scoot closer to the table. More loud scraping.
Unlike everyone else’s, the name card on my plate is green instead of white. I assume its how servers will know I’m vegetarian. The only one at the table, of course. Maybe in the whole room.
Kendall is to my right, and to my left is an empty seat for a student named Dru Goode. I say a silent prayer she’s someone I can be friends with. Sitting next to the ice queen all year will make for very quiet meals.
I crane forward to see Ivy. From where I’m sitting, I can barely see her. In fact, if I didn’t recognize her red braids, I probably wouldn’t be able to pick her out.
Just as the doors to the dining room are being closed, a small girl slips through the just-big-enough crack between them like a fly zipping through the screen door at the last possible millisecond. Miss A, standing at the front of our table, smiles brightly at the girl and points toward me. This must be Dru.
When she reaches the chair next to me, she pulls it back, and—just as mine did—it drags loudly against the floor.
“Jeez,” she mutters to herself.
I give her a small grin, relieved she’s talking to me. Maybe I don’t need Kendall after all. “Mine did the same thing.”
She smiles back, but it’s obvious she doesn’t care what people think about her late—and loud—entrance. By the time Dru is settled, the dorm moms are seated at the head table, Headmistress Fallon in the center.
“Please bow your heads,” the headmistress says.
Witches pray?
“Thank you, Saffra.
We ask you to bless us as we eat,
bless this food and bless the hands that prepared it.
May the words of our lips spring forth from
hearts of gratitude, and may we bless
others as we fellowship today.”
I’ve got to find out who, or what, Saffra is. If I’m praying to her, or him, or it, I should know more about them.
The headmistress sits down, and a sea of waitstaff dressed in black enters the dining room like ants escaping a freshly kicked anthill.
I glance at Kendall, but her face is unreadable as she watches the flurry of activity and expertly pretends I don’t exist.
“Did I miss anything?” Dru asks.
I shift my attention to the left and smile at the girl sitting next to me. Her tiny facial features make her look more like a well-tanned fairy than a witch. Even her dark black curls seem smaller than normal, each one happily springing from her head to frame her face. I know instantly she’s going to be a friend.
“You didn’t miss a thing,” I reassure her.
A plate of spaghetti and meatballs is placed in front of Dru, and a meatball-free plate of spaghetti is laid in front of me. We both grab our forks and start twirling the pasta hungrily.
Dru talks faster than an auctioneer. “Where are you
from? What’s your room number? I’m in 122.”
I open my mouth to answer her, but stop cold when my napkin slips out from under my silverware and moves from the table and into my lap in a perfect rectangle. I look at both Kendall and Dru to see if they saw it, and like me they’re staring at their laps.
Dru nods and smiles. “Cool. I could totally get used to this magic stuff.”
Kendall doesn’t speak, just looks back at her plate and shoves the spaghetti around. Only the girls at the Seeker table are gawking in stunned silence; the other girls in the room are talking like normal, so I suppose this is something that happens at every meal.
I glance at the head table. Miss A is watching us, smiling in reassurance. It’s little comfort, really. So many new—and seriously bizarre—things have already happened today, I can hardly imagine what else will happen.
“Why don’t you have meatballs?” Dru asks, mouth full of food.
To my right my roommate whispers, “Freak.”
I don’t give her the satisfaction of a reply and focus on Dru.
“Vegetarian.”
Dru shrugs, grinning. “That’s kinda cool. My dad’s, like, the opposite of that. He hates vegetables.”
I watch Dru talk to everyone around her like she has known them all her entire life. She’s exactly the kind of girl I planned to be at Dowling. Friendly, confident, and well liked.
Transforming myself into a new Hallie isn’t going to be as easy as I thought, with my past sleeping in the bed next to me.
I look at myself in the mirror. Teeth and hair brushed, face washed. I’ve completely run out of things to do.
No more stalling. The old Hallie avoided Kendall. The new Hallie doesn’t.
I open the bathroom door and walk into the room.
Kendall is sitting on her bed, book open. She’s still dressed in jeans and the red Dowling shirt. I grin to myself, happy I beat her to the bathroom.
“What are you reading?” I ask.
Silence.
I look at the folded red, navy, and white uniforms on my bed that were delivered while we were at dinner. I grab the small stack and place them in my dresser. “Guess I’ll just put my uniforms in here. Closet looks a little crowded.”
