Ordinary Magic

by Caitlen Rubino-Bradway

  “She means a school for ords,” Jeremy said, as if he couldn’t believe that he had to explain something so simple to us. Which is pretty much how he talks all the time.

  We all stared at him, except for Alexa, who was grinning. “Are you serious?” I said.

  Jeremy sighed and counted it off on his fingers. “It’s not that hard. Okay, we know she works for the king, in education, on something she’s never mentioned until now. Please, think with your brain muscles, people.”

  Mom cleared her throat.

  “Sorry,” Jeremy added.

  A school for ords? I turned to Alexa. “There’s a school for ords?”

  “We’ve kept it pretty quiet,” she said. “Not everyone’s thrilled with the idea of educating ords. Or taking them off the market. But it’s a really nice place. Good kids. Small student body, but we’re working on that.”

  A hundred questions pressed down on me. “And you’re going to get me in?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Just like that?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s this? You doubt me?”

  “No.” I grinned. “Not really.”

  Alexa looked at Mom and added, “She will have to apply like everyone else. Consider it a formality.”

  There was something in the way she said it, as if it really were that simple, that made the tension seep out of the room. Smells rushed in on me, and we all seemed to remember at the same time that there was food not being eaten; platters started getting passed around. I grabbed a bun out of the bowl before Olivia zapped it over to Dad. It was warm in my hands, and I knew when I pulled it apart it would be sweet and steaming.

  “The school year’s almost over,” Alexa continued, sipping her coffee. “So there’s no good in rushing you in now. We do have kids during the summer, but that’s mainly because their families don’t want them back. I think it’d be best to have you start next school year, in the fall.”

  “Where exactly, might I ask, is this school that we’re sending our baby sister to?” Jeremy asked, ignoring the eggs spooning themselves onto his plate.

  “Rothermere,” Alexa said.

  I stopped, a forkful of eggs halfway to my mouth. Mom and Dad glanced at each other.

  “Ro—Rothermere?” Jeremy repeated. “But it’s a big city.”

  “Can you pass the salt, Gil?” I asked.

  “No. You don’t need any salt for those eggs,” Gil said.

  “They’re bland,” I insisted.

  “I cast those eggs perfectly,” Gil said, holding the salt prisoner. “Can’t expect an ord to know about fine cooking.”

  “She’ll be perfectly safe,” Alexa said to Jeremy.

  “But she’s twelve. You want to send our twelve-year-old sister to Rothermere?” he asked.

  I gave Olivia one of those sweet, innocent smiles you perfect when you’re the baby of the family. “Can you pass the salt, Livvy?”

  “Of course I will. Anything for you,” Olivia cooed.

  Gil stabbed at his plate with his fork and muttered that Olivia was so making breakfast next week.

  “She’s not going to be alone. It’s not like we’re going to give her a couple bucks and tell her to have a nice life.”

  “Mom! Dad!” Jeremy looked to them for intervention. “You’re not serious.”

  Olivia laughed. “You didn’t throw this much fuss when I went up there.”

  “That’s because he likes Abby better than you,” Gil told her.

  Which isn’t true. Not really. Jeremy’s just protective. I mean, they all are—that happens when you’re the baby of the family by a lot. Jeremy was the baby for five years before I came along, and I think he was getting a little sick of it. So when I showed up, he latched on to the big-brother role with a vengeance.

  Just so you know, Rothermere’s not that big a deal. It’s not like I’d never been to the capital city. Actually, it’s one of the few places I have been, with Alexa living there and Olivia visiting all the time, too, for school. We made pretty regular trips, including a few special girls-only, shopping-sleepover weekends.

  But Rothermere was still Rothermere, where the Royal Court was. Where King Steve lived and ruled and judged.

  Of course, there’s more than just the court—though that’s enough. There are living trees that tangle up anything that strays too close, swallowing them in a knot of roots and branches. There are tame wyverns and wild dragons. There are Black Ladies or Red Ladies or White Ladies, who will devour you or give you gifts, depending on their mood. (Come to think of it, most of the rumors I heard about Rothermere were about either stuff you could eat, or stuff that could eat you.) There are Svar bishops and Majid traders, and coffee shops on every corner, and noise and carpets and people everywhere, all the time.

  “What about the bazaar people?” Jeremy retorted. “Didn’t you just tell us how certain people want to get their hands on ords? How valuable is she?”

  “Not that bizarre,” Gil said. “If she’s worth something.”

  “She’s worth a lot,” Alexa said.

  “No, not ‘strange’ bizarre, I mean ‘festival’ bazaar, the festival auction people,” Jeremy sputtered.

  Olivia let out a satisfied mmmm. “He’s so cute when he can’t talk.” Fuming, Jeremy chucked a roll at her head. She froze it halfway, then pushed it out of the way as she leaned over to pinch his cheeks. “And such a sweetie. How is it you don’t have a girlfriend?”

  “Mom!”

  “Olivia,” Mom said mildly, and Olivia flashed back into her seat.

  “We’re talking about Abby here,” Jeremy continued.

  “He has a point,” Alexa said.

  “He does?” Olivia asked.

  Gil slapped Jeremy on the back. “All right, way to go, first time.”

  Alexa ignored them and addressed Mom and Dad. “You are going to want to keep an eye on her, whenever anybody new comes into town. Some people don’t take no for an answer.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” Jeremy kept going, “what is the point of sending her to this school? I mean, what’s Abby going to learn there that she can’t learn here? That the Guild won’t be able to teach her?”

  Gil started laughing. “‘What’s the point?’ Jeremy, you’re going to be the worst teacher ever.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying!” Jeremy’s face was going red again. “I’m saying I don’t get what’s wrong with Abby staying here. With us. She could work for the Guild, as a job, and we could protect her. Alexa, of all people, you should know what their lives are like. What their life expectancy is.”

  “Jeremy,” Mom said in a harsh voice.

  “If you knew anything about ords, which you don’t because you live in this perfect little bubble,” Alexa said, her anger making the magic in the air sizzle and the room start to creak in toward her, “you would know that life expectancy is directly related to ord lifestyle. Of course they’re going to”—she glanced at me—“wear out young when they’re dragged all over the place, barely fed, and forced to jump through booby-trapped hoops every day of the year. That’s not what’s going to happen to Abby. I won’t let it.”

  Jeremy wasn’t deterred. “She’s not going to be able to do anything on her own.”

  “I’m right here,” I said.

  “Exactly,” Alexa shot back, stabbing an angry finger on the table. “She needs to learn how to survive.”

  Alexa leaned forward and spoke very clearly. “Abby won’t be able to get an education anywhere else. What, are you going to talk Thorten into taking her? Teach her all your little sparkly tricks? I’m sure that will do her a lot of good. At this school Abby will be able to learn how to live without magic.” She put her elbows on the table and rubbed her eyes. “I never thought I’d have to give this speech to my own family. I didn’t mean it like that, Abby,” she added quickly. “It’s just frustrating hitting up against the same walls over and over again.”

  “That’s just Jeremy,” Gil
said. “He’s frustrating in general.” He reached over and whacked Jeremy on the back of the head.

  Mom smiled at Dad. “Has she really been working there four years? When did we get so old?”

  “You? Never.” Dad leaned in to kiss her. “You never get old,” he said, kissing her again. “You’re still as pretty as the day we met.”

  Olivia rolled her eyes dramatically, and Gil covered his face with his hands, like we all do whenever Mom and Dad start making kissy faces at each other. “Do you have to start that again?” Gil demanded. “We don’t need another brother or sister. Wasn’t Abby enough of a surprise?”

  Dad kissed Mom again—a dipping, smacking one that had us all groaning.

  Alexa waited until the embarrassing display was over, then took a deep breath. “What Abby needs to learn,” she said, “is that being an ord doesn’t shut you off from life. It changes the way you go about it.”

  Jeremy opened his mouth to start backup, but Mom cut him off. “Enough. Your father and I will discuss all of our options and decide what is best for Abby. And you”—she turned to me—“hurry up and eat. You still have school today. Your other school.”

  CHAPTER

  4

  I never realized how many people said hello to me until that morning, when they didn’t. People shut up when I approached, and started talking again when I passed (you’d never guess, the rest of her family is all fine), as if their not being able to see me prevented me from hearing them.

  I got to school right ahead of our teacher. Most of the other kids were talking in a big clump in the front of class. Billy Peterson also got Judged yesterday and things turned out a lot better for him. He was giving a play-by-play, and the other kids were caught up enough that I was able to sneak over to my seat.

  A moment later the bell chimed and Mrs. Andrews appeared by her desk, all sunshine and violet petals. Everyone rushed to their places. I could tell when they noticed me because the whole room went quiet. Billy Peterson froze in the aisle when he saw me. He glanced at the teacher, then squeezed past me to his seat and shoved himself as far up against the wall as he could.

  “Good morning, class. And how are we all today?” Mrs. Andrews was a short woman with frizzy hair and the kind of singsongy voice that makes your ears bleed. “I hope we are all feeling very productive today. I understand congratulations are in order for William—”

  Billy stuck his hand up in the air and waved it around until it almost popped out. “Mrs. Andrews? Abby Hale came to school today.”

  Mrs. Andrews glanced over at me, blinked once, twice, then tilted her head to the side.

  Billy Peterson raised his hand again. “Also, Mrs. Andrews? My parents sent in a note about that, just in case. They’d like you to change my seat.”

  Mrs. Andrews skimmed the note. “Thank you, William, but I do not think that will be necessary.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him.

  “The ord will come here. Everyone else, it is time for your examination.”

  I eased to my feet and headed up to the front, not believing what I had just heard. Mrs. Andrews vanished the textbooks from the desks, replacing them with test papers and pencils while I stood waiting. When the rest of the kids were working, she turned to me. “Ord—”

  “It’s Abby.”

  Mrs. Andrews blinked, and I noticed her knuckles clenched white on the desk. It had come out a lot stronger than I meant. “Er … yes, I think you should go home now. This is an important time for you, and your family needs to reflect on what next to do.”

  “That’s all right. I’d rather be in school.”

  “You have been through an ordeal. You need time to rest and reflect.”

  “Not according to my parents,” I said.

  “I am sure your parents would agree with me. I will put a note in your bag.” A note to my parents? I was being sent home with a note to my parents. “It will explain everything. I am sure they will decide what is best for you. Please clear out your things from your cubby before you leave.”

  “I’m not coming back? Am I getting kicked out of school?” I asked.

  Mrs. Andrews stood and mimed putting an arm around my shoulders. “Come along … child, I will help you gather your things.”

  She didn’t help at all. She opened the portal and called out the cubbies, then stood there watching me as I got my lunch and cleared out my shelf of old papers. Before she sent away the portal, she pulled in the rest of the shelves around my now empty one until it folded out of existence.

  Two hours later I was sitting outside school with the rest of my class. We were on an impromptu recess while Mom and Dad talked to Mrs. Andrews. I was sitting in the big olive tree on the crooked branch. The other kids were spread throughout the yard, kicking up clouds of dust, well away from the shade of my tree even though the day had turned hot. One kid (Jack, who’s a bit of a bully) shoved Billy Peterson toward me; Billy dug in his heels, frantically shaking his head.

  I was close enough that I could see Mom and Dad and Mrs. Andrews in the empty schoolroom. “I am afraid some of the parents have expressed displeasure at the prospect of an ord being taught among the other children,” Mrs. Andrews was saying. Her voice carried, clear as crystal, through the open windows.

  “She’s an ord,” Dad replied. “She’s not catching.”

  “I am afraid they have threatened the immediate removal of their children from this fine institution if Abigail was to continue here.”

  Mom laughed. It was a sharp, bitter sound. “You mean they’re threatening to make their kids stupid if my daughter keeps coming to school?”

  Across the yard, Jack and a couple of his partners were saying something to Billy, something that included a lot of pointing at me and poking him. Finally Billy shouted, “I am not!” and marched over to me.

  He stopped a safe distance from the tree. “I got a question.”

  I nodded, grateful to have someone talking to me, even if it was Billy.

  “I’m trying to figure out which school I wanna go to.” He held up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “You know I did totally good when I was Judged. I reached Level Five.”

  “You can go to almost any school you want to,” I recited. Skill levels show how much power and ability you have. That’s the whole point of Judging kids, to determine how strong you are so you know whether you should go to a regular school, like Challis or Lochlora, or a hard school like Thorten or Ashtend, or whether you need to go to the impossibly hard, scary ones like Wixis. Level Five was very good, just shy of impressive, and opened a lot of doors, but there were two or three schools (like the Summer Palace up in the North Inlet) that wouldn’t even look at you unless you were at least an Eight. But Eights are almost as rare as ords.

  “Mom wants me to apply to Wixis and Ashtend, and Dad’s been talking up Byes, but that’s only because he went there. I’ve been thinking about Thorten. What do you think?”

  “Thorten’s really good. You know, you should talk to my brothers. Both of them got into Thorten. Gil said they’re very strict, but Jeremy loves it. He’s going to try to get into the grad program early, because—”

  “And I heard that they’re totally snooty about who they let in too,” Billy interrupted.

  “They are.”

  “Good,” Billy said. “My mom says I’m going to need the best education available.”

  “Jeremy will probably be teaching your classes,” I boasted.

  “No way,” Billy scoffed. “I don’t want to get infected. Besides, my mom says he’s going to get expelled because of you.”

  “He is not,” I fired back, feeling hot and sick. “He’s the best student there. He going for two different degrees and … and he runs the school book club.” I couldn’t stop now. “And Gilbert, he’s a Level Six. Did you know that? Remind me, is Six above or below Five?”

  Billy crossed his arms, his mouth twisted up angrily.

  “Above,” I hurled at him. “Six is above Five.”


  “Like Five is above zero,” Billy shot back. “Doesn’t matter how high your stupid brother is, he doesn’t do anything with it. No wonder you’re an ord. All that power and he just writes those stupid books.”

  “They are not stupid, you’re stupid! Gil’s books are wonderful!”

  Billy snorted. “I’m going to do something with my power. Necromancy, or demonology, or stuff like that. Important stuff.”

  Okay, fine. If he wanted me to go there, I would go there. I said, “Alexa—”

  “Shut up,” Billy snapped, and I grinned. Because nobody could argue with Alexa, who was—wait for it—a Level Nine. (Rumor has it there is a Level Ten, but it’s like the Queen of the Fairies. Everyone’s heard about one, but no one’s ever seen it.) From what I have heard, Alexa’s Judging caused more fuss than mine.

  After her Judging, Mom and Dad were approached by members of the Royal Court, who arranged for Alexa to be taken to the royal family’s Summer Palace to be educated by special tutors. Standard procedure, Alexa tells us; she also likes to tell us how miserable it was—there were barely any other kids, trips home were rare and under strict guidelines, and every time the royal family visited, the students were shut up in a drafty wing so they wouldn’t associate. According to Alexa, the workload was murder, the teachers were brutal, and instead of encouraging their students to get along, they promoted a sense of competition that Alexa says was “really, really irresponsible with kids that powerful.” From what she’s told us, it’s clear it was a hard, lonely eight years. I think that’s why she went into education—because she loathed hers so thoroughly and wanted to make sure it didn’t happen to other kids.

  Mrs. Andrews burst through the door just then and called the class inside. Mom and Dad appeared next to me. Mom’s face was flushed, but Dad smiled. “So, we’re going to be teaching you at home for a little while.”

  CHAPTER

  5

  When we told Alexa about me getting kicked out of school, she wasn’t surprised. Still, it took half a day for her to stop muttering threats under her breath. Especially after I asked her if I really was contagious.