Chapter 7
Max isn’t in the room by the time I wake up, which is a small blessing in itself, made better by the fact that bright sunlight is streaming through the window. No gray, rainy day today, which means I can explore campus more in the daylight without getting drenched.
The communal bathrooms are at the end of the hall, and it feels strange to take a long, hot shower and take my time getting ready. I’m so used to the constant rush at home of getting ready quickly so I can either go to work or keep an eye on Christopher.
My chest aches at the thought of my family.
I’ve never been away from home like this, and it almost feels traitorous to be enjoying my time alone, especially when I know they’re struggling more due to my absence.
It feels selfish to be here, less worried about finances than I’ve ever been in my life and excited that the only responsibilities I’ll need to take on are solely for myself, but the logical part of me knows I’m not a villain for putting myself first for once, even when it might feel like it.
My meeting with Mr. Lunn, my academic advisor, isn’t until one, which gives me three hours to do whatever I want after I’ve finished showering and getting ready for the day.
Tossing on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, I plan out my tentative schedule.
I’m not sure what time the dining hall opens, but I head in that direction hoping for a late breakfast or early lunch.
As I walk, I pass by students and their families with luggage in tow and bright smiles as the first wave of move-ins begins. For the second time today, I think about my own family and all the coming-of-age experiences I’ve never had.
I had no teenage rebellious phase because I couldn’t afford to; I’d been the unofficial third parent since I was a child.
Only my mother and Matty had been able to attend my high school graduation, with Dave watching Christopher at home because we all knew Christopher wouldn’t have been able to handle such a long, boring event without a meltdown.
I had skipped the typical college experience in favor of mostly online classes, only going to the local campus for the few courses that required in-person lab work, and my parents hadn’t been able to see me off here because they don’t know about magic and therefore aren’t allowed on campus.
I don’t fault them for any of it. They’ve struggled more than I have, and I’ve been happy to help where I can.
I’ve always resembled my mom in that regard, giving most of my time and energy to others and putting myself on the back burner.
Dave has been an excellent parent, the only dad I’ve ever known, but I can’t help but wonder—as I often do—what life would’ve been like with my real father.
I push the thought aside as I walk into the dining hall.
The buffet is filled with an assortment of brunch foods, so I grab a croissant breakfast sandwich and a steaming cup of coffee before sitting nearest to the back corner, watching the students filter in and out and telling myself I should really attempt to make some friends.
But there will be time for that once classes start.
Consistent proximity makes it easier to naturally start a conversation instead of simply approaching people in the wild, and after my first encounter with Max, I’m even less inclined to speak to strangers than I normally am.
My mind wanders to last night as I replay for the dozenth time my encounter with the man in the greenhouse, Alaric.
When was the last time I had such an interesting conversation?
I’m not sure, and I have a feeling I only saw a fraction of his intelligence last night.
He has to be in the final year of his master’s degree or working on his doctorate, but I can’t help but hope we’ll have at least one class together.
When I finish eating, I casually make my way across campus toward the greenhouse, telling myself I just want to see it in the daytime, but I know deep down that I’m hoping to see him again.
Disappointment surges when I try the door only for it to be locked, and I shake my head at myself as I walk away. What was I expecting?
Still, I find myself searching for that dark hair and those broad shoulders every time someone new comes into view.
I realize now, in the daytime, that there’s an expansive outdoor garden in the space behind the greenhouse.
Neat rows of raised garden beds stretch across the expanse, some of them teeming with greenery and flowers, others empty.
I’m not entirely sure what sort of plants grow well in this climate, so I make a mental note to research that more later, though I’m sure I’ll learn more in my courses regardless.
A church bell tolls from somewhere on campus, twelve resounding tolls marking the hour.
I take that as my cue to head toward the office buildings where my meeting starts in an hour and make my way in that direction, back toward the undergrad dorms. I still reference my map, but I’m already learning the main markers on campus, which marginally lowers my anxiety about starting classes.
My meeting with Mr. Lunn is relatively quick.
He’s a kind older man with thick, Coke-bottle glasses and a friendly smile.
He reiterates a lot of the information that Clara had discussed with me in our video call, but that doesn’t make it any less daunting.
While graduate students typically take about nine credit hours per semester, I’ll be doing fifteen, which is more on par with what undergrads are taking.
He explains again how students have both a “real world” major and a magical Affinity certification that allows them to work in the magical career field.
Together, we go over my tentative schedule for the next four semesters, where all of my courses have been mapped out to maximize the amount of credit I get toward my degree and my Affinity certification in as few classes as possible.
This semester, I’ll be in two courses solely related to magic, one solely for my degree, and two that count toward both.
When the meeting finally ends, my mind is whirling with information and slight panic, and I head back toward my dorm to take a breather before I decide what to do with the rest of my day.
A couple families linger in the foyer, chatting cheerily, and I flash them an awkward smile before heading upstairs.
To my dismay, Max is back in the room. She’s on her bed, leaning against the pillows propped against the wall and writing in a leather-bound notebook.
Her eyes flick up to me when I enter, and I simply nod in acknowledgment.
I’ve quickly learned she doesn’t care much for small talk.
I flop onto my own bed and stare at the ceiling, wishing I could still use my cell phone to scroll mindlessly for an hour or two.
It’s still in my bag, useless as anything besides a clock and flashlight.
Maybe Max is onto something with the exorbitant number of fiction novels she’s brought.
I’ll need to find something to do to turn my brain off, though I doubt I’ll have the luxury of doing so once classes start, anyway.
When Max lifts the semi-opaque cup that’s sitting on her bedside table and takes a sip, I can’t help but wonder again how much of the vampire mythology I know is real and how much is fabricated. Does she eat and drink normally, or does she subsist on blood?
Max catches me staring at her and glares. Shit. “Can I help you?”
I shake my head and look away. “No. Sorry.”
“Then stop staring at me like I’m some wild animal that will eat you at any second,” she snaps. “Yes, I’m a vampire. Yes, I drink blood, among other things. No, I don’t hurt or kill people.”
“Can—can you read my mind?” I stutter out.
She scoffs. “No, you’re just pathetically easy to read.”
“Well, sorry I’m not aware of how things work here just yet,” I argue, my frustration seeping into my voice.
“Well, you better learn quick. In fact, maybe it’s best for you to head down to the library and read up on all the things you don’t understand so you don’t make a fool of yourself.
You can read up on us big, scary vampires and maybe even learn one of the basic spells that most of us have known since childhood. ”
Her words are incendiary, but what pushes me over the edge is her supercilious smirk.
“Honestly, fuck you. I’m trying my best,” I seethe as I stand and grab my bag. She says nothing, returning her attention to her notebook as if nothing happened.
Anger wells in my chest as I slam the door behind me and rush out of the building.
Who the hell does she think she is? She clearly thinks she’s better than me.
And, sure, she is, at least when it comes to magic, but her attitude is already pissing me off, and the semester hasn’t even officially started.
How miserable of a person do you have to be to not even ignore, but actively take pleasure in someone else’s pain? I told her I’m new to all of this, and instead of helping me, she intentionally threw my insecurity in my face.
It makes me wonder if I’m in for an even harder year than I initially expected.
Is there some sort of prejudice against people like me, who have been ignorant of the existence of magic until so late in life, who don’t come from magical families?
That might explain her disdain for me, but it’s only one of many theories.
With campus getting busier by the minute, ferries in the distance carting students to the island by the dozens, I head toward the library, not because Max suggested it in her contemptuous verbal attack, but because libraries are calming and predictable. Plus, even if it’s busy, it’ll be quiet.
The entrance is a set of heavy wooden doors carved with intricate patterns of books and scrolls interwoven with what might be magical symbols or simply decorative flourishes. I pull one open and step into the sanctuary that is the library.