Chapter 34 #3
The silence that greeted Dani’s entrance to the room was deafening. Her boots squeaked wetly on the marble floor as she came to stand in front of a long table occupied by the five representatives that had been selected to hear her case, all of them stone-faced.
“Hi,” Dani said, affixing her arms stiffly at her sides. She risked a smile that was not reflected back at her, so she resumed a somber expression. It certainly felt like an appointment with an executioner. She tried not to let that thought worm its way too deeply into her brain.
“Good morning, Danica,” the person seated at the center of the table said. “Thank you for being punctual. We all know why we’re here today, so let’s cut right to the chase. How about we start with you telling us a bit about yourself and what’s brought you to this point so far?”
Dani squared her shoulders and fumbled through her speech in a way she hoped was endearing.
She’d messily combined the two approaches she’d considered into one semi-pathetic petition, in which she emphasized the lack of support from her family and the strangeness of the past semester, as well as her own sincere desire to be allowed another chance.
She didn’t quite take Wyatt’s advice and talk about her willingness to commit a crime, but she did underscore just how much she loved Fox’s Leap, and how much it would mean for her to stay.
When she was finished, she clasped her hands awkwardly behind her back as she suffered through an agonizing pause while they cleared their throats and shifted their papers before the lead panelist finally spoke.
“That’s all very well and good, Danica,” they said. “We appreciate you being candid with us about your background and the unique difficulties you’ve faced this semester—including your involvement in recent events. The gravity of your circumstances is certainly not lost on us.”
Great, Dani wanted to say, then what are we still doing here?
“However, I think I speak for all of us when I say that we are more interested in hearing what your plans are for the future. I noticed that while you’re intending to declare your major as oracular studies”—and here they consulted one of their papers—“you have not yet specified your concentration. I’m curious, what do you envision for the rest of your academic career here at Fox’s Leap? ”
The five of them considered her with mild interest. Dani felt herself sagging under the weight of their scrutiny.
Beyond what she’d planned to rattle off about spending every waking moment of her days studying and perfecting essays, she hadn’t thought much about the future, not in a holistic sense.
They’d asked a question whose answer she had hoped would announce itself in an organic, unexpected-yet-expected way by now, something that arrived at her doorstep graciously—here’s your purpose, hope it’s everything you wanted.
She gave the panel a long, beseeching stare, and said:
“Actually, I’ve been thinking about creating my own major.”
This was not true—at least, she hadn’t thought of it until this moment, nor had she planned to voice it—but the declaration served to perk the panelists up, their interest traveling from mild to medium.
“What were you considering?” the lead panelist inquired.
“Well,” Dani said slowly, stalling as her brain caught up with her big-shot mouth. In that brief space of time, Kass moved into her mind’s eye, when he’d told her about his independent major on their last date, and how much he believed in her.
“I’m not really sure.” She took a deep breath. “So, like, I have this ability I’ve never really told anyone about. It was why Professor—ah, Silva recruited me for her, ah, project, in the first place.”
She could see the skepticism in their faces, and hastened to explain herself, running through the same spiel she’d given to Kass, trying to make it sound more respectable somehow, more researchable.
The panelists were listening more carefully than they had to anything else she’d said so far, and she let herself gather momentum as she talked, realizing with every word that this wasn’t just a gimmick, or some last-ditch bid to hold on to her scholarship.
This was what she really wanted to do—or at least explore.
If Silva had given her nothing else, she’d given her this: the chance to see her ability as not a shameful secret to hide, not something that would turn her friends away from her, but rather a curious and unique talent worth exploring.
“I don’t know what department that would qualify under,” she said in conclusion, “but honestly, I think it’s time I stop ignoring it.
I’ve hidden it all my life, and that’s been really hard.
And kind of unfair. It’s part of me, like anything else.
I’d like to figure out what it means, and what I could use it for, if anything. ”
The panelists began to talk all at once, more to one another than to Dani at first, until the leader quieted them down with a wave of their hand.
“This is very intriguing,” they informed her.
“I think this is a promising area of study, though we agree that it is unprecedented and would require more consideration on where it falls in terms of departments. It’s possible you could remain in oracular studies, or perhaps turn to magical psychology, or craft an independent major comprised of elements of both.
That is a potentiality you will need to discuss with your advisor. ”
“Does that mean I get to keep my scholarship?” Dani asked, unable to stop herself.
The lead panelist glanced at their fellows, communicating through some silent medium.
“Yes, I believe it does mean that,” they said after a beat.
“Of course, you’ve already been informed that you’ll remain under probation following your involvement with a certain unsanctioned project.
” There was some murmuring from the other panelists, but the speaker ignored them, continuing to address Dani.
“In addition to the strictures laid out by the disciplinary committee, we will be tightening your academic standards even further, with zero absences and a single tardy allowed until the end of the year. You will also be required to outline your academic plan for the rest of your theoretical career here at our university, which you will create with the help of your advisor, and submit it to us for consideration. We will conduct a follow-up review at the end of the spring semester.”
“Done,” Dani said instantly. “I mean, yes, thank you, that sounds perfect. I won’t fuck this up. Shit. Mess. I won’t mess this up.”
“We’ll be in touch,” the panelist said with the hint of a reluctant smile.
Dani managed to refrain from squealing until she burst from the building and greeted the fresh downpour with outstretched arms.
“I’m gathering that it went well?”
McKenna was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, decked out in a fashionable copper raincoat and enchanted umbrella that fully protected her from any rogue raindrops or gusts of wind. Gingerbread, who was perched on her shoulder, let out a happy guffaw at the sight of Dani.
“What are you doing here?” Dani said, jogging down the steps to the sidewalk.
McKenna shrugged. “I thought I’d come to support my best friend in the entire world,” she said. “Is that so wrong?”
“It isn’t wrong at all.” Dani lunged at her and held her in a joint-creaking hug. “It’s wonderful. Thank you, Kenz.”
“I know I’m marvelous and all, but I must say I think walking a few blocks is a bit of a bare minimum when it comes to friendship standards.”
“Not just for this,” Dani said, breaking their embrace but staying close under the shelter of the umbrella.
Gingerbread pecked gently at her hair. “For everything. For picking out my outfits, for being willing to murder anyone on my behalf at the drop of a hat, for—I don’t know, for doing a heist with me even though we nearly got arrested and expelled?
Seriously, McKenna, you’re my ride or die. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
McKenna waved a hand, but she was smiling—and not her mischievous fairy smile, either, but her real, honest-to-goodness, warmed-heart kind of smile.
“Someone has to make sure you don’t go out looking like that every day,” she said, arching a brow at Dani’s houndstooth leggings and turtleneck.
“Which reminds me—I have something rather delightful to share.”
She said it lightly, as if what she was about to say was of no consequence, but Dani heard a glimmer of import on the surface of her words. “What is it?” she asked her friend.
“Well,” McKenna said, “it so happens that photos of me in my gown ended up on the news, and the owner of the boutique was quite taken with the modifications I made. They had Emmanuel reach out to me about coming up with a few designs for their collection—sort of a limited guest stylist role, is what they made it sound like.”
“What?” Dani exclaimed. “Are you for real? Kenz, that’s incredible.”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” McKenna said, but she was brimming with pleasure.
“I mean, I accepted, of course. They’re giving me a small budget for materials, and of course I’ll use it, but I think I’ll lean more heavily into wildcrafting for my designs, since that’s what caught their eye in the first place. ”
“I’m so freaking proud of you,” Dani said, grinning. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with!”
“Thank you, my love,” McKenna said. “Well, since it seems you’ll be stuck here for at least one more semester, I suppose we better make sure you ace your exams. Shall we get some coffee on the way to the library?”
“Yeah,” Dani said, hooking her elbow through McKenna’s. “Coffee sounds perfect.”