Chapter 23
Professor Feniks didn’t expect me to show, but a fierce need to prove I’m not broken had filled me.
There was no way Manu Hale’s cruelty was going to stop me from becoming stronger.
And because of that resolve, I find myself almost puking on the gym floor—again.
“What happened with Manu?” I whisper, my voice raw from the morning’s exertion as Professor Feniks removes the ankle weights.
“Manu Hale has withdrawn from Validus Vale,” he answers. “You don’t have to think about him ever again.”
“How did you manage that?”
“I asked a contact to offer him an enticing internship with the Magicheskiy Soyuz in Moscow.” He gives a wicked grin.
“The Russian Magic Alliance will keep him extremely busy for the foreseeable future. And it’s not going to be the luxury gig that he’s expecting…
I persuaded the contact to assign him to Siberia. ”
If my heart wasn’t already a tangled mess of longing for Wes and Donovan, I might come down with a little case of the crushes on Professor Feniks. Luckily, that moment of infatuation fades quickly as he pushes me into another cool-down jog around the track.
I’ve showered and put on clean gym clothes when Duncan and Willow come bouncing down the Defectivum stairs. “Morning,” Duncan says cheerily, as I clutch the newel post of the staircase. “You look a little rough around the edges.”
A coherent reply feels almost impossible. “Pancakes,” I croak. “Need pancakes. Now.”
“Then let’s not dally, eh?” Duncan says, linking his arm through mine with a flourish. “Pancakes await, m’lady—and bacon, and coffee, the holy trinity of sustenance.” —food, glorious, food—
“Love you,” I slur as Duncan drags me along.
“Are you really doing OK?” Willow says softly, as I concentrate on putting one aching foot in front of the other. —poor thing looks like hell—
I nod and give a tired smile. “I am, Wills. Just hungry and utterly beat-up. My extra training was at six this morning. Apparently, Professor Feniks believes in starting the day in the most torturous manner possible.”
“Gym at six in the morning, and it’s not even detention?” Willow shrieks. “Add that to the fact we’ve got physical fitness first period, and it’s positively evil.” She almost looks as nauseated as I feel. “Simply not humane.”
Duncan also shudders. “Even pancakes might not be able to fix you.” —I like all kinds of fixings on pancakes/pancakes can be breakfast or dessert/Could they be lunch?/Do savory pancakes exist, oh yes, of course they do/Or is that a crepe? I’d like to go to France—
I smile to myself as I tune Duncan out.
“At least Professor Feniks changed Fateball to swimming this morning,” Willow says encouragingly. “That’ll be way more pleasant on your body than running more laps.”
“Swimming? He did?” Why hadn’t he mentioned anything earlier?
“You didn’t see the notice?” Willow asks. “He sent it out like an hour ago, our class has ninety glorious minutes in a heated pool today—wahoo!”
I grind to a sudden halt on the gravel driveway outside the dining hall. “Shit. Willow? Do you have your bathing suit with you?”
“Yeah?” Her smile falters a fraction, seeing the look on my face. “Crap. I can run back and get yours if you like? You are in no state to hustle.”
“No,” I sigh. “I’ll do it, I don’t want you to miss breakfast.”
“There are spares in the locker room,” Duncan quickly pipes up, saving my bacon—literally.
“My group went swimming a couple of days ago. Loads of us hadn’t seen the memo, so we used the spares, don’t sweat it.
And the pool is completely awesome—olympic-sized, though I have to say I’m a ‘size doesn’t matter kinda guy. ”
Willow and I giggle. “Er, can you guys, like, swim?” I ask them both.
Willow looks at Duncan and then at me. “Well, yes, of course.” She bites her lip, a flicker of awkwardness crossing her features. “What about you, Theo?”
I could doggie-paddle, at a push. “Hmm? Sort of a beginner,” I tell her, forcing an optimism I definitely don’t feel. “But I can stay afloat, at least.”
My mind flashes back almost a year, to when my lovely, lovely guys had tried to teach me to swim. It had been an unseasonably warm October, and on our third date, the guys had taken me for another picnic by the lake.
Donovan had decided to cool off. First kicking off his Fateball shorts, then pulling off his tee-shirt. I’d blushed, my stomach swooping at his gorgeousness. Wes caught me staring, his deep gray eyes meeting mine. “Dono loves to flaunt himself, so don’t disappoint him by looking away.”
Donovan, who’d obviously been listening, smirked, flexed a little, then dove into the water.
Not long after, I’d been in my underwear, being held in the cool water by Wes and Donovan.
“I’m not sure about this, guys. I mean, I could happily just spend my whole life on land.
There’s really no need to get into deep water. ”
“Now, now, Tee-Tee,” Donovan had scolded. “You never know when you could fall off a ferry. Gotta teach you how not to drown.”
“He’s right—for once,” Wes had nodded. “You learn to swim, then it’s one less thing I’ll worry about when it comes to your safety.”
They’d been so patient with my nerves, gently guiding me until I could float unaided. Though the water had muffled my hearing, I’d still heard Donovan’s words. “So beautiful. She’s ours, Wes. She’s perfect and ours forever.”
My first thought was that he couldn’t really mean that—but I knew he had.
And I felt it too. Something more than reality had woven those two gorgeous men into my life. It was as though the air fizzed and glittered whenever we were together. How had I managed to survive for this whole time without their touch, their presence, their very existence?
Gods, my heart constricts with longing.
“Theo?” Willow’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and the saddest sigh in the world leaves my body.
“I’m good,” I say.
She gives me a quick side hug. “You’ll pick it up quickly. I’ll help.”
Help? Oh, right. The swimming class.
“Yum, you guys smell that maple syrup?” Duncan grins as we enter the hall, then adds, “I’m going to drown my pancakes in it. Ooh, on that note, I don’t think I’ve ever met a non-swimmer before.”
“Duncan!” Willow swats him, and I just smile.
I don’t know much about my new friend’s back-stories, but I imagine they both grew up in sprawling mansions with shimmering, heated pools and now swim like mer-people. My own childhood was drastically different. The nearest public pool had been a couple of bus rides away, a rare treat.
“And I’ve never met anyone so obsessed with pancakes,” I reply, giving him a nudge.
“Fair, fair,” Duncan nods. “Talking of which, pick up the pace, ladies.”
We join the line, and things start promisingly; I manage to eat a piled-high plate without any of the usual side-eye or petty harassment.
After we’ve dutifully bussed our dishes, Duncan, with a cheerful wave, heads off in one direction, while Willow and I set off to the gleaming, state-of-the-art aquatic center.
In the locker room, I locate the fabled ‘spares’ Duncan had mentioned. OK, this is going to be interesting.
The swimsuits are sleek, black, and high-cut, and every single one of them looks like it could comfortably house at least two of me.
“Find what you need, Theo?” Willow asks as she strips off her sweatpants.
A gaggle of Ordinarii girls snickers in my direction. “Do you think she gets all her clothes from the lost and found?” one of them snarks. “That, or just steals them from other people. Make sure you lock up your valuables, girls,” another replies.
Gods, these bitches are ridiculous. I quickly but clumsily get changed. The suit bags around my body in all the wrong places. Grabbing a towel, I turn around and realize I’m the last one left in the echoing locker room.
Better hustle.
Stepping into the warm natatorium, I hear my name being bellowed across the space. “Wilson, you’re late.” Professor Feniks stands with his hands firmly planted on his hips, and I catch his eye.
He’s acting fierce and taps his watch in impatience, but there is also a hint of warmth in his tone.
I quickly move to join the other students perched on the bleachers.
That’s when I notice a crucial accessory I’m lacking—everyone else has a sleek cap molded to their head.
Willow is tugging hers down, meticulously ensuring every strand of her sandy hair is tucked securely inside. Whoops.
“Alright, finally,” Professor Feniks’s voice booms, cutting through the chatter of the pool deck.
His eyes sweep over the students, pausing an extra beat on any who are still talking.
The fierceness of the gaze is enough to shut them up immediately.
“Today, I want to assess everyone’s swim proficiency.
Groups of five, using every other lane—hundred meter freestyle.
” He gestures towards the cluster of students closest to him, all Ordinarii, who chat amongst themselves as they cross the wet deck, then casually don goggles.
Another piece of equipment I’m conspicuously missing.
As someone who still struggles to keep their head above water (literally and metaphorically), it’s incredibly intimidating to watch them hop onto the starting blocks with such ease, like it’s nothing special.
A hundred meters. How far exactly is a hundred meters? It sounds like an awfully long way—maybe more than my doggie paddle can handle.
“Just tell him you can’t swim,” Willow whispers beside me as Professor Feniks raises a whistle to his lips.
I stare as five students dive into the pool like perfectly aimed arrows shot from a bow.
As they surface, all that can be seen are arms slicing through the water with practiced ease, and dark, glossy swim caps bobbing rhythmically.
“I need to get stronger, not wimp out,” I mutter, mostly to myself. I can swim, just poorly. My words are lost in the cheers of students rallying on the swimmers who are nearly at the end of the race.