Chapter 3
Dragging myself outside on sore, weary feet, I follow my nose, led by the scent of bleach and the warmth of tumble dryer air.
Turning a corner, I pass by a stretch of land encircled by high wooden fencing and razor wire.
Walking towards me is a security guard, patrolling the perimeter with a vicious-looking dog on a leash.
I smile at them, and both the guard and the dog snarl.
Yikes. If I were my roommate, I’d be roly-polying right now.
A little further past the compound is the school laundromat. Pushing open the door, a bell rings, and I try another smile, this time at the girl working the counter. “Hi, I’m supposed to be collecting bedding, uniforms, and all that from you. I’m new.”
She’s not interested in either my smile or my attempt at small talk. I wonder what it’s like to work at the academy, surrounded by people your age who have piles of money and magic. It must be dispiriting, so I can’t blame her for having a sour attitude.
Everyone on Earth comes from a magical lineage, but in most families, the spark has died out. The world is 90% fully human; the remaining 10% are witches.
“I’m Theo, by the way,” I say as she bundles a pile into a plastic tote and gets me to sign for it.
—this patronizing rich-bitch-witch being all friendly like I’m not her servant, fuck her—.
Her thoughts make me wince. Uh-huh,” she replies aloud. “Good for you.”
“Right, um, anyway, thanks so much.”
It gets depressing, hearing what everyone thinks of you. Though the more powerful a witch is, the less they broadcast to my brain, like that professor who picked me up from the airport in Havengard City.
Even though I often wish away my telepathy, occasionally I feel like I’m telepathic for a reason; like I'm supposed to hear something specific. I just haven't figured out what that thing is yet. Surely it’s not just other people's opinions of me?
Returning to the gloom of the Defectivum entry hall, I come across my first fellow remedial student.
He’s carrying a laptop under his arm. The boy is small and dark and wears the brown Defectivum House uniform uncomfortably; his blazer and pants are both too big.
But his face is kind and brightens when he sees me.
“Hey. New girl?”
I nod in reply.
The boy grins widely. “Finally, I’m not going to be the shortest person on campus. Yes!”
“Happy to be of service,” I smile back. “I’m Theo.” I put the plastic tote on the ground and extend my hand. The boy’s brain bounces around like he’s thinking a million different thoughts at once.
—New girl here/I’m hungry/did I leave my phone upstairs/oh, I’ve got gum on my shoe/what is spilled down her front/funny sweater—
“Hello, Theo. I’m Duncan,” he replies, wrestling his computer under the opposite arm, then shaking my hand enthusiastically.
“Duncan Links. So happy to have another dud in the house. Most of the others hide away like scared little mice, not that I blame them. It’s only bravado that keeps me from doing the same, eh? ”
The ‘eh’ at the end makes me think Duncan might be Canadian. I pick up the laundry again and hold it on one hip. “Then I shall happily join you in fronting. Seems like that’s a talent a scholarship kid should have.”
“Scholarship?” Duncan’s eyes grow wide. “The Guggenheimer Scholarship?”
I nod.
“Wow, they must think your potential is huge.”
“That’s what she said,” another voice chimes in. A medium-height curvy girl with sandy hair, rosy cheeks, and a genuine smile comes in through the front entrance.
Duncan spins around. “Willow, come here, we’ve another dud,” he yells happily. “And she seems reasonably cool, too.”
The girl called Willow is wearing baggy dishwater-brown sweatpants and a tan sweatshirt. The ugly uniform must be the Defectivum House gym clothes. “Tactlessness much?” she grimaces, but I just grin.
“I’m Theo,” I tell her. “Just arrived.”
“Willow Bloomhower,” she smiles back. “Did you say you have the Guggenheimer Scholarship? Congrats. You must have a crazy-powerful lineage,” she continues. “Is your family famous?”
“Very much not,” I laugh, trying to keep the heap of linens from toppling out of the tote. “No clue why I’m here.”
“I’m sure it’ll become obvious soon,” Willow smiles kindly. “Do you need help moving in?” —Poor thing, she looks wrecked/what's on her sweater?—
Before I answer her spoken question, she grabs the blankets from me. “Come on, lead the way, we’ll help you settle in.”
As I take them to the basement stairs, Duncan frowns. “You’re in the basement? Come on, that’s a joke, eh? You can’t honestly be rooming down here. Though if you think about it, it’s not even rooming, it’s basementing.”
“I got changed to Defectivum at the last minute, so this is the only place left.”
Duncan and Willow follow me down the rickety steps, and as I flick on the overhead strip light, Willow lets out a shriek. “Absolutely not!” She turns three-sixty, a wild look in her eye, then shudders dramatically. “Defectivum is a shitty house, but not this shitty.”
“I don’t know,” Duncan says with a shrug. “Honestly, it’s kinda cool to get a whole floor to yourself. I’ve got nine siblings and never get alone time.”
“Nine? I’m half jealous, honestly. I’d have loved a brother or sister.”
“You’re welcome to any of mine,” Duncan grumbles.
“Never mind that now,” Willow wrinkles her nose. “This place smells of cleaning fluid and exhaust fumes; you’ll be poisoned. Is there even a CO2 monitor down here? Seriously, this is not acceptable.”
“But look at the wall-to-wall carpeting,” I say. I’d introduce them to the roly-poly, but he seems to have scampered off somewhere.
Willow is still tutting and groaning, looking as though she wants to make an official complaint to someone.
“The school philosophy is to house us remedials in, let's say, less than desirable apartments as an incentive building exercise, but this is ridiculous. My parents would have a fit if I were placed down here.”
“Chill, Willow,” Duncan says. “You’re freaking her out. Anyway, Theo looks like a girl who’s not high maintenance.” —oops, should I have said that?/is she mad?—
I quickly give Duncan a grin. “You’re quite correct, I’m as needy as a plastic succulent.”
“Agave or Aloe?” Willow asks.
“She’s agave, for sure,” Duncan replies. —spiky with a sweet center— “And anyway, you’ll soon be in the Ordinarii dorms. There’s no way you’re an Everett.’
“What’s an Everett?” I ask.
“Legend has it, a guy called Everett never leveled up his spark, so he was living alone in Defectivum right up until the end of the year. Went home for the break, then unsurprisingly, never returned. I mean, if you can’t level up by the end of your freshman year, what hope is there?
Though even having a tiny bit of magic is better than being an AUA, I guess,” he grimaces.
Oh, sweet summer child. “I hate to break it to you,” I say, keeping my tone even, “but I’m an AUA.”
Duncan turns a bright shade of red.
“Wah?” Willow tries and fails to stifle a gasp. “An A-a? Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry.” She looks truly sad about my shameful designation. “But that’ll change soon,” she adds kindly. “A few weeks at Validus Vale will turn you right into an AAA.”
Adult Awakened Anomaly.
Duncan is stuttering, and his brain races to think of the right thing to say.
—flip/foot in mouth/AUA!—
Willow rolls her eyes at Duncan. “They wouldn't have hauled you all the way here if you had no potential. You've got the spark, and we’ll do everything we can to help you awaken it. Seriously.”
We just met, but this girl is already cheerleading for me? It’s an unusual feeling. “You won’t be ashamed to be seen with me?” I ask.
“Eff no. And you’ll be the first to level up, mark my words.”
Duncan’s gaze sweeps around the depressing room. "And being down here," he offers, an earnest light in his eyes, "will definitely help. Incentive through adversity, that sort of thing."
A smile tugs at my lips. “Hmm, that seems like a stretch, but I’ll take it.”
Willow bends over the laundry pile and starts picking out my new uniform.
Taking a plaid skirt from her outstretched hand, I change the subject.
“Speaking of stretch, how am I supposed to wear this thing? It’ll hardly cover my bum.
” The skirt is an unattractive shade of brown and orange tartan.
Short and shapeless. Willow hands me a muddy-colored blazer.
I hold it up to my body, then make a face.
I’d almost rather keep wearing coffee-stained clothes.
“Oh dear, I think you’re more of a winter coloring,” Willow murmurs, looking from the jacket to my face. “Those fall hues are doing you no favors. But take heart," she adds brightly, "everyone in Defectivum looks equally tragic. It's a great equalizer, in a deeply depressing way."
The Communis House students wear a slate-gray plaid with a yellow and white thread running through it. The Elites, naturally, have the most stylish uniform: a deep midnight blue with blazers piped with silver.
Willow shifts my suitcase off the bed and starts unfolding the sheets. Duncan takes a hanky out of his pocket and gives the dresser a half-hearted rub. I decide that a visit to the bathroom is now a priority. “Hey guys, can you tell me where the loos are? I need to freshen up—badly.”
“I’ll show you, then you should get changed,” Willow says, giving my new school-issued blanket a final, decisive tug.
“We’ve got assembly in an hour, and the trek takes twenty to get there.
” Willow peers at my greasy hair and tired eyes.
“Will forty minutes give you enough time to assemble yourself for assembly?”
Still clutching the tartan skirt and a pair of equally uninspiring brown knee socks, I nod. “Quick shower and I’ll be fresh as a daisy.”
“Good luck with that,” Duncan shudders. “The washrooms have no hot water in the evenings—or the afternoons, come to that.”
I rub a hand over my face, the idea of a quick, hot shower slipping sadly away. “Maybe I’ll get lucky, hope springs eternal.”
“Unlike the hot water here,” Willow answers, patting me on the shoulder.
“But we’ll soon have heat conduction spells under our belts,” she says briskly.
I meet Duncan’s eye; it seems Willow has a lot more confidence in her potential than either of us does.
“Come on,” she commands. “I’ll walk you up. ”
Dragging my weary, grubby self up the stairs to the communal bathrooms, I realize I’m smiling. Am I tired? Fuck yes. Dirty? Absolutely. But—and here’s the kick in the tits—I’ve an unexpected feeling inside me, one that’s keeping me going.
It’s a glow from the instant friendship I’ve found with Willow and Duncan.
Perhaps, just perhaps, Validus Vale Academy won't be the lonely, heartbreaking place I’d anticipated.
I’m almost, I hardly dare say it, optimistic.