Chapter 4 #2
“Front row?” says Willow. The chairs are all filled with Ordinarii kids. “There’s no space left.”
“We’re, ahem, on the floor. In front of the chairs,” Duncan sighs.
“Are you kidding?” I mumble under my breath. OK, that’s definitely designed to humble us.
“Yep, criss-cross applesauce, Theo. Criss-cross applesauce,” Duncan replies, giving a weak grin.
Nobody makes room, so we, along with the other remedials, have to carefully pick our way through the outstretched legs and carelessly abandoned bags.
As we find a spot that Duncan, Willow, and I can sit in, silence falls over the hall.
The back of my neck prickles, and like everyone else in the room, I turn to watch three Elites at the auditorium entrance.
It feels like all the blood drains from my body, and my knees go weak.
I duck behind Duncan, then peek around his shoulder as the first Elite steps into the room.
Cosmo Drakeward. A shaft of sunlight lands on him, highlighting the chiseled cheekbones, golden skin, and almost permanent sneer on his beautiful face.
My heart skips several beats, and I think I might vomit.
Behind him are two silhouetted figures—tall, male, and undoubtedly the twins. Cosmo, Wes and Donovan are all but joined at the (narrow yet muscular) hip.
“Come on, guys, we need to sit,” Duncan says, oblivious to the chaos of my mind. He gives my blazer a tug. “Theo?” —low profile/gotta sit/applesauce/hungry/when's dinner?—
“Sorry, Duncan.” I sink to the floor, my whole body trembling. Deep breath in, then let it out slowly. Don’t freak out, don’t freak out.
I somehow stop myself from fully panicking, but can’t stop my head from turning towards the entrance again. Cosmo is stepping into the assembly hall, while behind him, the twins step into the patch of sunlight.
Except.
I exhale again.
It’s not them.
I’m relieved but also puzzled. My twins and Cosmo are, or were, inseparable. At least they had been until I came onto the scene.
Cosmo had tolerated our relationship at first, thinking it was just fucking. King Cosmo had not been pleased when Donovan and Wes had started murmuring words like ‘love,’ and “forever,” in my ear.
Oh, no, he wasn’t going to stand for his Elite brothers entwining their souls with a nobody-nothing like me. So I’d been thoroughly dumped.
Willow nudges me. “Theo, you OK?” she whispers, a question in her eyes. I wonder if I look as devastated as I feel.
“I’m OK,” I reply untruthfully. “Jet lag, you know. And all this is a lot.”
She nods sympathetically. “Yeah, you’ve had no time to acclimatize. Hopefully this won’t last long, then we have dinner and head back to Defectivum.” As she finishes speaking, Willow cranes her neck, looking around for someone. —Where’s River?— is her unspoken thought.
I wonder who River is? I follow her gaze, and an Ordinarii senior raises his hand and waves. The sandy hair and freckles make it pretty obvious that he and Willow are related. “Your brother?” I whisper.
“Yep, River. He started off in Defectivum, too, but made it into Communis by early November,” she replies in an undertone. “He wasn’t the first to be promoted, but it was still a decent transition.”
Duncan squeezes Willow’s leg. “Your brother is a savior. He’s given us loads of advice about surviving being remedial.”
I’m about to ask about River’s imparted wisdom when the assembly hall chatter suddenly quiets and Dean Crankshawe walks onto the stage.
“Welcome, welcome, witches,” she says with a smile.
“Isn’t this exciting, the eve of another school year here at Validus Vale?
And as of this week, I am no longer ‘Acting dean’, but I’m thrilled to announce that I’m now your permanent dean.
” She beams a smile around the place, looking far too young to be the head of an academy.
“So, onto the introductions.” The dean starts introducing the faculty members sitting on the stage.
I want to pay attention, but just can’t—my head is fuzzy with fatigue.
I must have drifted off because a sharp nudge in my ribs startles me awake. “Theo,” Willow whispers, “you were fully asleep. Try to keep with us a little longer.”
I blink rapidly, wipe a little drool from my chin (gross), and refocus.
“The next order of business is the Gymnasium project,” Dean Crankshawe says.
“Construction is scheduled to begin again later in the year, but we need you all to stay away from the site. No sneaking through the fencing to explore, and I’m serious about that.
As you know, we are still dealing with the various underground faults that came to light when we broke ground last fall. ”
Is that the building site behind Defectivum? The one guarded by razor wire and patrols? Dean Crankshawe is serious about keeping people out.
“And on a further note about safety, first- and second-year students are prohibited from leaving the campus, unless under special dispensation from a faculty member. Juniors and Seniors may leave academy grounds, but only by signing out through the front entrance guardhouse. And I’ll remind you that the school's perimeter is spelled with breach and tracking wards. We will know if you try to break the rules, and I can guarantee you won’t enjoy the consequences of your actions. ”
Fuck around and find out? Check.
I don’t care. It’s not like I’ve piles of money or any transport, so why would I need to leave campus anyway?
I’m almost back to snoozing again until Willow pokes me.
I give her a sheepish grin and mouth ‘thanks’.
Another professor has taken center stage and is droning on about various clubs and sports we can join, alongside the mandatory physical fitness, sports, and combat classes.
Duncan groans quietly. “I’m more of a mathlete than an athlete.”
Same, Duncan, same. Except I’m no good at maths either.
“Are you sporty?” I whisper to Willow. She doesn't look obviously jock-ish, but who knows?
She makes a face. “Sort of? I’ve been taking martial arts, tennis, and ballet basically since birth—my parents' choice, not mine.”
“Unfortunately,” Duncan leans over to add, “Defectivum kids have no choice in sports activities. You have to do what you’re assigned.”
I shudder. PE and I don’t have a good relationship.
Finally, the dean calls an end to the assembly. “So, that’s all, folks. I hope you enjoy your welcome back feast—it’s Italian night,” she trills. “So, buon appetito, and let's all have the most magical term ever!”
Willow, Duncan, and I all stand. Both Willow and I are tugging at our too-short skirts. Fully human college kids don’t wear uniforms or have assemblies, but magic academies are all about tradition. This is how it’s always been done, so tough-titties.
As we file out, Duncan keeps his head down, trying to be inconspicuous, but Willow lifts her chin and squares her shoulders. Thata girl. I try to follow suit and walk with a vague illusion of confidence towards the dining hall.
Defectivum House is the last to join the buffet line.
Still trying to seem nonchalant, I wait for my turn.
Nope, I’m not looking around the room for two matching brown curly heads.
Not doing that at all. As my eyes scan all the students, inner thoughts flood my brain to the point of bursting.
I really need to get better at shielding this stuff, especially thoughts aimed in my direction.
—Look at the duds, pathetic—
—Losers. Why do they even bother?—
Charming.
Finally, the three of us take seats at one of the long tables.
It’s easy to see where each house sits by the color of the uniform.
The brown blazers are all huddled at a table by the busing station and overflowing garbage cans.
That doesn’t bother me, and at least we’ll be out of the Elite's eyeline.
Willow is telling Duncan about her brother’s experience with Validus Vale dodgeball (not good), but I’m hardly listening.
I’ve about enough energy to shovel lasagna in my face and nothing else.
Willow tries to engage the other Defectivum students, but I can see what Duncan means; most look like a forkful of pasta away from a nervous breakdown.
Taking a last bite of garlic bread, another wave of exhaustion hits me. That’s it, I’m done. Unless I want to sleep face-first in tiramisu, I need to get back to my room.
Gods. I feel like I’ve aged one hundred years in the last twenty-four hours, my earlier optimism obliterated.
Walking across the nighttime grounds, I think about how stressed out I am. If I’m like this after just one day, how am I going to manage the next four years?
I stumble down the basement stairs and am asleep before I can figure out any answers.