“That’s the head of the Academy, Laila Singh.” Leia’s tone was reverent, and her lips stayed parted. “She’s one of the greatest healers that the world has ever seen. And a strong, fierce woman as well. She’s kind of my idol.”
Leia’s reverence was understandable, given the woman’s imposing presence. Her effortless grace dominated the room.
“Of course I know who Chancellor Singh is. I met her when I got here.”
Leia turned to me, dumbfounded. “What?”
“I met her in Wallace’s office, right after he tricked me into coming. I just assumed she greeted all the new students. Doesn’t she?”
Leia’s mouth hung open in astonishment. “Definitely not.” Her voice was hushed but animated, and her eyes shone with surprising intensity. “You met Chancellor Singh? On your first day?”
“Uh, yeah.” I looked around, nervous. “I kind of passed out in Wallace’s office? And she was sitting over me when I woke up. She did something weird with her hand, on my chest?” I pressed my hand to my chest in demonstration. “It, like, took away my anxiety or something. I don’t know. I thought maybe she fixed all the students that Wallace broke by bringing them here.” I glanced over at Oliver, who shook his head. He shared Leia’s shocked expression.
“Are you serious?” Leia’s eyes were so wide I feared she might burst a blood vessel. “Do you even know how lucky you are?”
I shrugged. “I guess not?”
“I like you, Meena, but I need a minute to process. I’m like, consumed with jealousy right now.” Leia glared at me as if I’d somehow betrayed her. She took a deep breath as she looked back toward the stage. “It’s an incredible honor just to meet the Chancellor.” Her expression was softer when she turned back to me. “For her to perform restorative magic on you? A first-year student? That’s unheard of.” She eyed me suspiciously, and I felt as though she were reappraising me in light of this apparent revelation.
I was spared from responding by a throat-clearing sound that echoed through the large room. Everyone fell silent as they turned their heads toward the podium, where Chancellor Singh stood smiling out at us.
“Welcome, everyone, to Broken Wand Academy’s three hundred and twenty-fifth Annual New Wand Convocation Ceremony.” She raised her hands in greeting as she spoke. Her voice was amplified through the speakers around the room, and the students all around me applauded and cheered. Chancellor Singh smiled and nodded her approval as she waited for the noise to die down.
“Thank you all for coming. First, let me congratulate all of you. You have been admitted to the oldest, and arguably finest, school of witchcraft in the country.”
More applause and cheers from the crowd.
“I’d like to put any antsy young witches out there at ease by saying that today’s proceedings will be very brief.”
Scattered laughter issued from the crowd and some faculty on stage exchanged knowing glances.
“We do like a bit of pageantry here at Broken Wand.” She grinned, and there was more scattered laughter. “But I want to get everyone acquainted with their faculty advisors as quickly as possible, as I’m sure some of you have urgent questions about your blossoming powers.” She took on a more serious tone, her expression warm and thoughtful. “It can be a tense time in a young witch’s life, the period of awakening. Part of our charge here at BWA is to make this transformative phase as smooth and painless as possible. Many of you will be learning about magic for the first time, and it can be a difficult transition.”
“No kidding,” I muttered, rolling my eyes at Leia. She chuckled quietly.
“Many of your previously held beliefs will be challenged. Some will be shattered outright.” The Chancellor gestured to an older woman with a tight grey bun seated at one end of the row of faculty. “Madam Petrovich and her team of healers and counselors are available around the clock for this very purpose.” Chancellor Singh glanced around the crowd as she spoke. “Should you start to feel overwhelmed at any point, please, I implore you to visit the medical wing. They are an invaluable resource, especially to a young witch just starting to explore their powers.” She returned her attention to the gray-haired woman, who responded with a solemn nod.
“While we’re on the topic of health and safety, some of you are probably wondering about the mandatory class rings.” There were murmurs from the crowd as we unconsciously fingered our rings. “The rings serve several purposes, but one of their most important functions is to focus your burgeoning powers. This is crucial to ensuring your safety as you learn to control your abilities.”
The room hummed with hushed, excited voices. I leaned toward Leia and gestured at my ring. “Could’ve used one of these yesterday.”
“Better late than never.” She chuckled and shrugged as Chancellor Singh continued.
“Without a wand to focus your energy, or the wisdom to recognize your own limitations, this is a tenuous time for all of you. Young witches tend to be reactive, and sometimes we are overeager to test the boundaries of our gifts. Broken Wand Academy can be a very competitive place, and while some healthy competition is good, it’s not unheard of for a young witch to get carried away trying to prove their ability.” She paused as her mischievous smile was answered by scattered laughter from among the faculty as well as the students. But when she spoke again, her tone and expression were somber. “As New Wands, you are poised at the precipice of a new world. You are about to embark on a wondrous journey that will lead you toward untold knowledge and power. But this power can be incredibly dangerous. Not only to others, but also to yourself. And that is why we require that your rings be worn at all times while on campus.
“But that is only one function of the rings.” She held up a finger as her tone became less grave, and her eyes glittered with excitement. “Another of their functions is that which brings us here today. A rite of passage nearly as old as the Academy itself.” She paused as she gazed slyly around the room, building anticipation. “The Choosing.”
The Chancellor took a step back from the podium as whoops and cheers erupted from the gathered students, Leia included. I gazed around the hall. Oliver seemed to be one of the only other people not cheering wildly, and he smiled and shrugged at my perplexed expression.
I leaned over to him. “What’s the choosing?”
He had to speak close to my ear to be heard over the noise. “It’s kind of like declaring a major.”
“What? We have to declare a major already?” I frowned in confusion. “But it’s only the first day.”
“We don’t really choose.” He chuckled. “It’s more like we’re chosen.”
The room went quiet before I could inquire further as Chancellor Singh addressed us again.
“Some of you clearly have an idea of how this works, but for those that don’t, let me explain.” She gestured to the people seated on the stage behind her. “The faculty members up here are each the head of their Magical Department. In a moment, they will take turns coming to the podium, where they will introduce themselves and the department they represent. Then they will call for the Choosing.” Another pause as more whoops issued from the crowd. “If your ring responds to the summons, you will rise and follow the Department Head from the hall. They will introduce you to some of the other department faculty and assign you an advisor, who will get you squared away with your course load and some other particulars.” She clapped her hands and smiled eagerly. “And that’s it. After today, you will be on your way to becoming fully-realized witches. So, without further ado, Madam Petrovich?” She looked once more to the gray-haired woman at one end of the row of faculty.
Leia’s eyes widened as the austere woman took her place at the podium.
“Are you okay?” I whispered in her ear, but she hushed me, her intent gaze never wavering from the woman on the stage.
Oliver grinned. “She really wants to be a healer.”
“Hello. As Chancellor Singh says, I am Madam Petrovich.” The stout woman spoke flatly, with
a thick Slavic accent. “I am head of Department of Restorative Magic. We heal what is unwell.” She closed her eyes and spread out her arms, her palms facing the sky. “New Wands, I call for Choosing.”
Excited whispers permeated the room, and the auditorium’s air thrummed with a strange energy. Leia grinned at Oliver and me as she held up her left hand. The ring on her forefinger glowed a verdant green. She laughed joyously as tears gathered in her eyes.
“Congratulations.” Oliver reached across me to grasp her hand. “You’ll be a great healer.”
I wasn’t prepared for the raw emotion of her reaction, but I hugged her anyway, hoping the gesture was adequate. “Congrats, Leia. I’m really happy for you.”
She rose to join the other students with glowing green rings as they filed out of their seats toward the stage.
Everyone applauded as Madam Petrovich led them through a door on stage right. When they were gone, a slight, middle-aged man with wire-framed glasses and short brown hair approached the podium.
He cleared his throat and spoke timidly into the microphone. “Greetings, students. I am Professor Pickwith, of the Department of Magical History. We study past witches and their magical works, to aid current and future practitioners of magic in better understanding the guiding principles and history of our craft.” Groans of boredom issued from the crowd, but Oliver seemed eager, sitting on the edge of his seat and bouncing his foot unconsciously. Professor Pickwith raised his hands and closed his eyes, just as Madam Petrovich had done. “New wands, I call you for the Choosing.”
The room hummed with energy again, but this time there were less excited murmurs from the crowd and more groans of disappointment. I couldn’t blame them. History wouldn’t have been my first choice either, and I was relieved that my ring remained unremarkably silver.
Oliver’s ring glowed a rusty brown, and his eyes glittered with excitement.
“Congratulations?” The reactions of some of the other chosen students made me question whether or not it was a thing to congratulate.
Oliver chuckled and grinned, overcome with joy and relief. “I love history. Maybe it’s not the most glamorous department, but I’ve been hoping to study under Professor Pickwith ever since my parents told me about Broken Wand Academy.” He glanced around, not wanting to be overheard. “Honestly, other types of magic kind of scare me.”
“Well, in that case, I’m happy for you.” I gave him a congratulatory pat on the shoulder, and he nodded his thanks, smiling as he rose to join the small group of students moving toward the stage.
The room was once again filled with the thunderous sound of applause as the chosen students followed Professor Pickwith toward the door through which Leia, Madam Petrovich, and the rest of the healers had exited.
Both Oliver and Leia had been chosen by departments they had yearned for. What did that mean for me? I hadn’t even known magic existed before yesterday, so how would I be chosen? At random? Anxiety knotted my insides as the next faculty member approached the podium.
The Departments of Conjuration, Divination, Alchemy, Transmogrification, Illusion (surprisingly not headed by Professor Wallace), followed. One after another, faculty members approached the podium and called for the Choosing.
I gathered that the most sought-after placements were with the Department of Martial Magic and the Department of Elemental Magic, judging by the fact that the Choosing for these departments received the loudest applause, and left behind the highest number of disappointed faces.
The crowd grew smaller and smaller as chosen students were congratulated by their friends and applauded by the whole room. Having had their place within the Academy affirmed, they bounced giddily to the stage to greet the head of their new department, and the tension in the dwindling crowd rose as fewer and fewer faculty remained.
With only one faculty member left on stage, I scanned the mostly-empty auditorium and found that I was one of only ten students left, from a crowd that had numbered well over a hundred when the ceremony began. It felt like hours had passed since Oliver and Leia had been chosen, leaving me alone on my little island of uncertainty. In truth, it couldn’t have been more than twenty or thirty minutes, but time passes slowly when you’re relentlessly questioning your self-worth.
Yesterday, after the bathtub mishap, I had wanted only to leave this place for good. But now that it didn’t seem to want me, I wanted nothing more than to be chosen. I didn’t care what department it was, I just wanted to get out of this increasingly hollow room that reeked of desperation. I feared that Professor Wallace had fetched the wrong waitress, been thinking of the wrong grandmother.
My only comfort was that most of the remaining students dotted among the empty seats seemed as nervous and desperate as me. The last faculty member moved to the podium, a tall, slender man with wild, unkempt hair and a scruffy beard. His plain gray cloak was well-worn and spattered with paint.
“Greetings, misfits. I am Professor Guttman, of the Department of Artisanal Magic.” His tone was casual and aloof, and he held himself with a somewhat pretentious air. “Our department specializes in magical arts. The craftsmanship and enchantment of magical artifacts, bard magic, and a host of other pursuits that defy categorization.” As all the previous faculty had done, he closed his eyes and spread his arms. “New Wands, I call you for the Choosing.”
The familiar energy crackled through the air around me. I peered down at my ring, but it remained silver and unilluminated. My heart sank as all the remaining students made their way to the stage. A few of them cast rueful glances in my direction, and I was left to watch longingly as they laughed with relief and clasped each other about the shoulders. Professor Guttman shook all of their hands before leading them out the door, and I found myself completely alone in the auditorium. Even Chancellor Singh had slipped out unnoticed at some point. Probably to avoid an unpleasant encounter with the unchosen leftovers.
Actually leftover, singular.
Inside the massive, empty room, I felt utterly isolated and unwanted. I should have been relieved at the prospect of returning to Dad and Eric and Vicky, to my normal life. But I couldn’t shake the intense disappointment of rejection, and the despair at losing the chance to learn more about my grandmother and her secret life.
“I guess that just leaves you, then.” I leaped out of my seat as a familiar voice issued from behind me, and I whirled around to find Professor Wallace smiling impishly from a seat in the next row, his feet propped up on the seatback in front of him. He didn’t wear a cloak like the rest of the faculty, clad instead in his familiar brown fedora and beige trench coat. He closed his eyes and spread his arms out as he grinned toward the ceiling. His voice boomed through the empty, silent room, as though amplified by some unseen microphone. “Meena Song, I call you for the Choosing.”
A rush of energy permeated the auditorium, just as it had done during the other Choosing’s, only this time I felt it converge on me. I closed my eyes as the strange energy pulsed through my body like a gentle wave of electricity, and I was filled with an overwhelming sense of belonging. It brought to mind the memory of finally walking into my grandmother’s house after a long, busy day at the diner.
Tears welled in my eyes as I raised my tingling hands, turning them over and marveling at the bizarre sensation. I stared, transfixed, at my class ring, which glowed brilliantly as it cycled through a multitude of luminous colors.
Chapter 7
Professor Wallace led me through the same door that all the other faculty and students had gone through after their Choosing’s, so I was surprised when we emerged directly into his office. I paused just inside the familiar room and looked behind me at the rows of seats in Salem Memorial Hall.
“Everyone else didn’t come to your office, did they?” I poked my head back through the door to be sure it was the same empty auditorium. I turned back to Professor Wallace, who hung his coat and hat on a rack and leaned against the front edge of his large desk, his long legs stretched out in fro
nt of him.
“Of course not.” He waved his hand as he poured steaming tea from an elegant pot into a small white mug. “No one other than myself can create a breach to my office. Not even the Chancellor.” He shot me a wry smile and raised his mug in my direction, toasting himself.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “But I thought you said your door was always open if I needed something.”
“And so it is. The mundane door to my office.” He sipped at his tea, barely swallowing before continuing to speak. “But to get here that way, you’d have to physically walk into the administrative wing of the Houdini Building.” He mimed a walking gesture with his fingers. “And where’s the fun in that?” He chuckled. “Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy a good walk. Keeps me limber. But it’s a bit more illustrious this way, don’t you think?” He spread his arms for effect. “A witch only gets Chosen once, after all.”
I took one more peek into the empty auditorium before shutting the door. I wrenched it open and poked my head out into the empty hallway that I had followed Dasharath down when I had first arrived yesterday afternoon. It was hard to believe a full day hadn’t even gone by since then.
I shut the door again, walked over to the hideous plaid couch, and slumped onto it, pressing my fingers to my forehead. “Oh, this place is exhausting.”
“Huh.” Professor Wallace cocked his head and furrowed his brow. “I would’ve thought your class ring would’ve mitigated the disorienting effects of breach transit, especially for such a short trip. Are you dizzy? Nauseous?”
“Not exactly.” I took a deep breath in an attempt to steady myself. “It’s not the magic, I don’t think. I just feel like I’ve been playing catch up since I got here. It’s wearing me out, mentally and emotionally. My brain can’t keep up.”
Broken Wand Academy Page 6
