Chapter 4
Imanage to ignore Mom’s curious stares at dinner without saying much, then spend the next couple hours attempting to research Arcadia Academy, but there’s astonishingly little information online.
I’ve circled back to wondering if this is all some elaborate scam and have been searching the email and the letter for any signs of problems or subtle tells that would indicate it’s fake.
But what doesn’t make sense to me is the beautifully packaged acceptance letter, with its expensive paper, hand-lettered envelope, and wax seal. If this was a scam, why would they put so much effort and money into one letter?
I adjust my search terms, desperate for any proof that this isn’t real, but the most I can find is a minimalistic website with photos of ivy-covered stone and vague references to “specialized education for exceptional students.” For an institution claiming to offer graduate programs, it has a remarkably small digital footprint.
I go to social media next, checking the hashtags and locations for proof of the academy via college students, but nothing populates there, either.
In reality, this lack of proof should make this entire thing easier to dismiss as a scam. However, after the last two days of my life, I’m finding it difficult to dismiss anything as impossible. If magic is real, what else might be?
A secretive academy certainly wouldn’t be the strangest thing I’ve encountered in the last forty-eight hours.
The acceptance letter lists an email address at the bottom, beneath a single paragraph explaining that “further correspondence regarding enrollment procedures will be provided upon confirmation of your acceptance.”
I stare at my laptop screen, cursor blinking in an empty compose window. What exactly do I say? Dear mysterious academy, are you actually real?
I stare at the blank email box, trying to figure out what to ask. I have so many questions, yet my intuition is guiding me toward exploring this rather than sending out warning signals. That must mean something for someone who’s usually so cautious.
Before I can overthink it too much, I type my email.
Hello,
Thank you for the acceptance letter. I’m honored by the opportunity, though there is some confusion, as I don’t recall submitting an application to Arcadia Academy.
Additionally, I’ve attempted to research the institution and have found limited information available online, which raises some concerns about legitimacy.
I would be grateful for any additional details you could provide about the school and the botany program, as well as how you came to find me. I am interested in attending, but I’d like to have all the information before I make my decision.
I apologize if this seems overly cautious, but I hope you can understand my hesitation given the unusual circumstances of receiving an acceptance to a school I didn't knowingly apply to.
Sincerely,
Vivian Harver
I read it over three times, adjusting my phrasing and trying to strike the balance between grateful, skeptical, and professional.
As soon as I click send, I bury my head in my hands. In the span of a couple days, my entire life seems to have changed, and I don’t know how to process it. I’m exhausted, even more so than usual, and part of me wonders if that’s a side effect of this strange power I’ve discovered.
Glancing up at the plants covering my room, I can’t help but wonder if this is a power I’ve always had or if it was awakened yesterday in my moment of crisis.
But even as much as it terrifies me, a glimmer of excitement lingers under the uncertainty.
I’ve spent so long living my life in the background and putting everyone else first while I fade into obscurity.
But now, I’m realizing there’s something more to me than simply existing as a caretaker and a person whose purpose is to tend to others’ needs.
I have a power that’s uniquely my own, though that thought is interrupted by another.
There must be more people out there with abilities like this, right?
The question leads me down another internet rabbit hole, but it’s impossible to tell if anyone is genuine or if it’s just people deluding themselves into the idea that they’re magical.
Just as I’m about to close my laptop for the night to get some rest, I check my email one last time. There’s one unread message, a response to the one I had sent earlier.
Dear Vivian,
We absolutely understand your skepticism. Here at Arcadia Academy, we exercise discretion with public information due to the nature of our programs.
I am unable to reveal too much in writing, but I can say that the academy seeks out students like yourself who have exceptional abilities, and we are located on a remote island off the coast of the Pacific Northwest.
I’d be happy to arrange a video call to discuss the details of the academy and our curriculum, as well as to answer any other questions you may have. During the call, I’ll also be able to provide a view of campus.
Would tomorrow at 2:00 PM Pacific time be convenient? Please let me know if this time works for your schedule, or feel free to suggest an alternative.
Regards,
Clara Filippini
Director of Admissions
My heart races as I allow myself to consider for the first time that this might actually be real.
One phrase in particular catches my attention: “Students like yourself who have exceptional abilities.” The implication is clear, considering my academic records have been rather unextraordinary.
Somehow, they know about what happened on my hike.
I should be terrified, considering they’re probably aware I’m responsible for someone’s death, but the email gave no indication that I’d be in any trouble.
I reply quickly, confirming the time, then immediately regret it. This isn’t some online program I can do from home. It’s not even a program that I could come home for at all, except on holidays, considering I’d be a thousand miles away. If I commit to this, I’d be letting down my entire family.
My life has always revolved around putting my own dream aside to help my family.
Christopher needs a caretaker, my parents work tirelessly, and Matty shouldn’t have to sacrifice his teenage years to take on a massive responsibility he never asked for.
I’m the one holding things together, contributing to the household finances and shouldering the bulk of Christopher’s caretaking.
I’m the lynchpin, and if I leave, everything falls apart in one way or another.
Even as the small voice in my head insists I deserve to live my own life, the guilt of wanting to do something selfish swells. If I’m not the one here to take care of everything, how will they manage?
A smaller question, one that I don’t want to consider too deeply, prods at the back of my mind: Outside of my role in this family, who am I?
I’ve only ever defined myself by who I am to other people.
I’m the helper, the loving sister and daughter, the one who sacrifices my time and energy and life plans to make everyone else’s lives easier.
After spending so many years dedicated to taking care of my family, how would I define myself without it being in relation to the roles I serve for everyone else?
This opportunity may be my one chance to find out.
I spend the entire next morning at war with myself, having switched shifts with a coworker in order to be at home to take the video call. Matty is the only one home with me besides Christopher, with Dave having gone into work early after hearing I switched shifts.
At ten minutes to two, I remind Matty that I’ll be on a call for the next hour or so and to keep an eye on Christopher.
Once I’m in my room, I take a deep breath, lock the door behind me, and power on my laptop. My pulse is thrumming with anxiety and anticipation as I click the link to the meeting invite and smooth my hands over my wavy auburn hair in the video preview screen.
Here goes nothing.
I join the meeting, and the woman who appears on the screen is a pretty woman in her fifties, with brown hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail.
She’s wearing a navy blazer over a white blouse, and the bookshelves behind her are filled to the brim with various books.
To the left, I can make out the edge of a window that’s letting in soft natural light.
She smiles warmly as she says, “Vivian, thank you so much for taking the time to speak with me. Due to the nature of the discussion, I felt it was more fitting to talk face-to-face rather than through email. I’m Clara, the director of admissions here at Arcadia Academy.”
“Thanks for responding so quickly and for setting this up,” I reply, feigning confidence as my hands shake under the desk. “I appreciate you being willing to discuss my concerns.”
“Of course. Most of our students are already aware of the existence of the Academy, but those who aren’t are often understandably hesitant or skeptical. So, I’d like to start by addressing the most pressing questions, if that’s alright with you.”
I nod.
“Wonderful.” She smiles. “You were correct in pointing out that you did not apply to Arcadia Academy—well, not by traditional means, anyway. You were recruited because you recently demonstrated abilities that most humans do not possess.”
I swallow around the knot in my throat. “How did you know?”
“There are elaborate systems put in place that register the use of magic, particularly when it’s uncontrolled or powerful.
In a similar way to how earthquakes can be measured and pinpointed to a location, so too can magic be detected on our scale.
Due to the intensity and suddenness of your abilities, you appeared in our system as an anomaly. ”
And there it is, the word I’ve been reluctant to use—magic.
As I stay silent, struggling to come to terms with the reality of the situation, Clara continues. “I suspect you’ve spent the last couple of days questioning your sanity and reevaluating the world around you.”
I nod, still unable to speak.