2. Chapter 1 #2
She cursed as she rounded the corner and saw the line held at least twelve groups. Thankfully, she left early enough, but she’d have to take the ruby line to work instead of walking like she’d planned.
After ten minutes of waiting, she’d gotten to the bulletin board.
At least she’d have some material to read now.
A spring art show was happening in the arts district next weekend, a band from one of the bigger West Coast cities was touring, with their next stop being in Drestin in a couple of weeks; and various sales flyers for shops and restaurants were all pinned.
Beneath a couple of ugly neon posters, she spotted the last missing poster she’d hung up only a few weeks ago.
She balanced the box on her hip as she pushed the others to the side, bringing Briar’s face back to the top.
“Huh, I didn’t know someone was missing,” the man behind her said. He inspected the picture, scratching what little gray hair he had left on the side of his head. “Don’t recognize her, though.”
The woman in front of her peeked over her shoulder, bouncing the toddler she carried to the other hip, and chuckled. “The girl isn’t missing. She’s dead. Poor thing was found mutil—”
“She’s not dead,” she interrupted. The hairs on Ivy’s neck prickled, and she clenched her jaw.
The woman looked her up and down. “Why’d they say it all over the news?”
“Do you believe everything you’re told?” Ivy asked, shifting on her feet uncomfortably. The weight of the box cut into her hip, and she moved it back into her arms.
The teenager next to the woman yanked off her black headphones and rolled her eyes when she saw Ivy. “Mom, don’t bother. It’s one of those weirdo conspiracy theorists. There’s one at my school who’s totally convinced the missing girl got kidnapped by a pack of werewolves and fled underground.”
The mother laughed, turning back to face the front of the line as the teenager slid her headphones back into place.
Ivy's face flushed and her jaw clenched so hard her teeth might crack.
She should be better at brushing people like that off.
But she guessed having a friend like Briar defend her for years made her fragile.
Ivy found a lot of these conspiracy theories over the past few months as she tried to find people who believed her.
There weren’t many in the area. She found them mostly on random true crime forums on the internet while using the library’s computer, raving about cults, demonic possession, and sacrifice.
It was a little far-fetched for her to believe.
Sure, they did a secret blood ritual in the woods when they were fourteen.
What teenager didn’t make poor decisions?
The longer she stood in line with Briar’s picture in her periphery, the heavier the box felt, as if the guilt of sending her friend’s things away manifested into a set of dumbbells inside.
She kept her eyes fixed on the clock, each tick of its hands grating on her every nerve.
Sweat beaded on her forehead. The box slipped from her grasp, but she adjusted the package, and her muscles strained under the movement.
Maybe it was all a sign. A sign she shouldn’t give up on Briar. Not yet. She stepped out of line, and she wobbled as the box returned to its expected weight, as if it hadn’t changed at all.
She’d gotten to the store a little early.
Her boss raised a brow at the box she carried in, to which she only told him not to ask about it.
He shrugged it off and carried on with his paperwork.
For the entirety of her eight-hour shift, she silently berated herself for what had happened at the post office.
By the time she clocked out, she was drained.
She was tired of the scar on her hand aching and the emptiness in her heart Briar had once filled.
She worked night and day to find any trace of her; joining search parties, scouring crime forums, buying countless newspapers all for a scrap of information.
For months. So why did this feeling eat at her like a vulture picking at a carcass?
Everyone else had moved on with their lives; why couldn’t she?
The emerald line squealed to a stop. “Patterson and High streets,” the intercom read out loud.
She rose from her seat, lugged the box up from her lap, and stepped out onto the platform.
Her apartment was diagonal to the train stop.
The bright red light of the restaurant below her apartment shone brightly against the darkening backdrop of the city skyline.
Ivy rummaged through her purse and yanked her keys out, jingling them until she landed on the key to her building.
Once she unlocked it, she pushed the door open with the box and climbed the steep steps leading to the yellowed, wallpapered hallway.
The hardwood squeaked with each step after years of foot traffic.
Once she turned the corner at the end of the hall, leaning against her door was a large, cream-colored envelope.
Her heart lurched into her throat, and she gripped the package in her hand.
She sprinted for it, placing the box on the ground as she grabbed the mail.
Her breath caught in her throat. Beneath her fingers was the cobalt blue crest of Arcania Academy—a shield encrusted with a sun, stars, crescent moon, and a silver leaf circling it.
She didn’t bother with her keys. Her hands shook too much to keep the metal steady enough for the lock, so she waved her hand across the knob for the combination she had set for her locking spell.
The door clicked open, and she reached for her magic again to push it open.
Normally, she wouldn’t use her magic for such ordinary tasks.
But expending the energy to find out what could be inside the envelope was well worth it.
She called her magic toward the box in the hall and slid it into her apartment, and it scuttled to a stop in the center of the room.
As she kicked the door shut behind her, she swirled her hand toward the standing lamp across from her, and the warm, golden light flooded the room.
The envelope was heavy in her hands—heavier, and thicker, than the waitlist letter she had received last year. She swallowed roughly before turning it over in her trembling hands and tearing at the seal. With a shaky breath, she pulled out the first sheet of paper.
Dear Ivy Heartwell,
Congratulations and welcome to the Class of 2001! On behalf of Arcania’s faculty, staff, students, and esteemed alums, it gives us great pleasure to welcome you to the School of Nature’s Botany and the School of Intellect’s Alchemy graduate programs.
Our admissions committee evaluates thousands of applications each year, and your academic achievements and desire for higher education stood out as exceptional.
You will join an astounding community of distinguished educators, students with diverse magical talents and histories, enthusiastic alums, and a campus that truly feels alive.
If you plan to accept your place at Arcadia Academy, please respond by May 31, 1997.
In this package, you will find a list of course offerings and more information about our school in the guidebook.
If you have access to a computer, you may register for courses online through our student portal: awi.arcania.aedu.
We have included a form for you to write your selected classes and send it to our scheduling office no later than July 15, 1997.
We look forward to welcoming you to our campus in the fall.
Sincerely,
Ophelia Wren
Dean of Graduate Enrollment
A gasp fell from her lips as she pressed the letter to her chest. Tears pricked her eyes, and a smile so wide came to her face that her cheeks ached. It was finally happening. She’d have a real shot at bringing her parents’ magic back.
She ran over and hopped onto her bed, bouncing enough to dislodge a few of the several pillows she had propped along the wall. Her blood ran hot, her pulse racing faster than ever, and she pushed open the window to allow the cool breeze to filter inside.
She pulled out the catalog next and smiled down at the front-page promo picture of laughing students on campus. She rolled onto her back, pulling the catalog with her, and when she flipped it open, another sheet of paper and something heavier fell onto her face.
The piece of paper was the course signups form mentioned in the letter, but the other was a smaller blue envelope with only her name scrawled across it. Her heart stuttered. The handwriting was familiar, but…no. It couldn’t be.
She turned it over, and there was a plain red wax seal in the center. Her brows furrowed as she peeled it open. But as soon as she pulled the paper out, she dropped it onto her chest, and her breath lodged in her throat.
Find me
— Briar
Briar was alive.
And she was hiding at Arcania Academy.