Chapter 3 #2
Amelia had not wasted her time. She had cleared two chairs and most of one side table so that they could sit.
It hadn’t even occurred to Bryn to do this the night before.
She’d been so overwhelmed by the books and papers, and had eaten supper on the floor.
She glanced guiltily at the debris of last night’s various snacks and beverages.
“I promise I’ll clean up before I leave later,” she said.
“About that.” Amelia seemed to try to smile brightly and then gave up.
“What exactly is your schedule right now? Out of curiosity, I mean. What do you, you know, do? Obviously, I know about your book. I own it. I use a few of the spells from it all the time. But I mean, day to day, what is it you do?”
“I work,” Bryn said, unconvincingly, and was immediately annoyed with herself for sounding so unsure.
“I really do. I’m always coming up with new spells, testing them, refining them.
They didn’t all make it into that one book, of course.
I’m hoping to write more.” Her gaze wandered along the professor’s shelves.
“That’s all I ever wanted to do, even when I was here. ”
“I think I remember that,” Amelia said. “Didn’t Madame Schneider bring you up in front of the class once?”
Bryn sighed. “Yes. And told me it was highly unlikely that someone with my background would ever be considered a ‘reliable’ spell master.” That kind of casual prejudice hadn’t been uncommon, but it had certainly been discouraging.
“Shows what she knows. You’ve already published a book.”
“Yes.” The instant clapback at Schneider was nice, but Bryn had to be honest. Although she didn’t want Amelia to think she was lazy, likewise she didn’t want to sound too proud.
“I’m still not where I want to be; there’s just so much I don’t know.
When I got here, I was out front trying to think of how I could create a spell to power-wash the courtyard.
Like, the power wash is doable—that’s just an extended deep clean with some bits thrown in about force.
But I can’t work out how to tell it where to begin and end. I can’t scale it.”
“I did actually look in your book, but when I didn’t find anything, I hired an actual power washer,” Amelia said.
Bryn bit back another wave of insecurity. Was Amelia just saying that to flatter her? Except, Amelia was intently studying the papers on the table beside her. She refocused on Bryn and added, “Maybe that’s for the next book?”
It didn’t feel like flattery. Bryn decided to assume this interest was sincere, and anyway, Amelia was brilliant.
There was likely no one else in their year at school who would also be intrigued by the spell-scaling issue.
“Except, I can’t figure out how to do it, how to set the physical parameters.
Mostly because it’s not something we talk about for small spells; it works so intuitively for something like a heating charm, or even my sphere of silence spell.
But if I could work out the mechanics, I think they would have a much wider application.
Writing books is a lot of fun at the wild ideas stage, and a lot more difficult once you’re in the weeds with those ideas.
” She paused. “I guess it’s not really that I lack material.
I’ve got loads of it. It’s just trying to publish more books that’s been kind of a stumbling block.
If your first book is a bestseller, it’s no problem.
If not … you just sit around hoping for the best.”
“Oh.” Amelia’s eyes seemed to narrow slightly. “So you don’t have another book to write right now?”
Bryn wasn’t sure how to take this. Was Amelia implying that she didn’t work hard?
Because she did. She worked very hard. Was Amelia implying she was a washout at twenty-three because she’d only published one book?
Well, that was one more than she herself had published.
Was Amelia implying— Screw it. “What are you implying?” she demanded.
“I am not implying anything,” Amelia said. “I’m hoping that you have some time, maybe five or so months, say, to fill Professor Herringbone’s shoes this year at the school.”
“Absolutely not— Are you— What?” Bryn sputtered. “I don’t have any teaching credentials.”
“I realize that, but I need a qualified spells teacher. And you are qualified in spells, if not in teaching. There are workarounds for temporary situations, such as this one. I’ve looked into it.
” The familiar Amelia Hexford self-assurance was out in full force.
“I can hire you on the spot. I mean, the school can, obviously. Whether you would be able to continue next year would be up to—”
“Next year?” What the hell was going on? “Amelia, I’m not a teacher.”
“No, but I think you could be a good one if you wanted to be.”
Bryn realized she had sat forward in her seat and was clutching her teacup with the kind of grip that could do real damage. She imagined it splintering to bits and set the teacup down. “I can’t stay here. I have a life in Denver, Colorado.”
“Denver, Colorado?” Amelia asked dubiously. “Are there any witches in Denver, Colorado?”
“Some. Well, not as many as here. No.”
“And there can’t be any sirens. There’s no sea.”
Somehow Amelia remembered about her family. Despite the tension in the room, some part of Bryn’s mind celebrated this little bit of apparent understanding. “That’s what I like about it. I mean, not that I’m against sirens, but just, you know, my mom doesn’t visit. She’s never come to visit.”
At this, Amelia’s face changed. “Never?”
“No.” Was that so strange? Did other people’s parents visit them if they moved so far away, to such an alien landscape? She would have to think about that later.
“I see. Well. I can offer you wages at the regular rates of a first-year teacher for the amount of time that you will be officially instructing and, of course, accommodation, as well as meals on campus, which would be free of charge to you. So you wouldn’t really have to pay for anything here.
And-I-could-really-use-the-help.” She added the last sentence in a single breath.
“Help? You’re Amelia frigging Hexford. You’ve never needed help.” Except, as she was saying it, Bryn remembered the look on Amelia’s face the night before, out in the garden. “Amelia, what’s really going on here? And why don’t you call one of your eight thousand friends?”
“I don’t have eight thousand friends,” Amelia said ruefully.
“I had a lot of people who acted like my friends when doing so benefited them, like here at school. Maybe that’s what friendship is, and I just didn’t realize it.
But now, I don’t seem to have very many friends at all.
And none of them are here. I don’t—” She looked away before continuing, as if the prospect of meeting Bryn’s eyes was too much for her.
“I don’t think that hiring me for this job was a universally supported measure, to be honest with you. ”
“Well, it must have been. They wouldn’t have hired you otherwise, would they?”
Amelia hesitated. Then with the air of someone sharing a confession, she said, “I found some other papers in the professor’s things.
It seems like she basically blackmailed the school governors into giving me this job.
So I didn’t get it on merit, I didn’t get it because I’d earned it.
I got it because a professor once liked me.
And that’s— Well, it doesn’t feel great. Actually.”
Bryn blinked, staring at her. “Professor Herringbone got you this job? Why? I mean, not that I don’t think you’re capable of it.
I just don’t understand.” And was that the tiniest twinge of jealousy she felt?
Surely, if the professor had had a favorite …
But no, that wasn’t fair. The professor hadn’t had favorites so much as she’d chosen to specially mentor some students, and both Bryn and Amelia had been amongst them.
She’d sometimes envied Amelia’s popularity and beauty, but only in passing.
She had never felt less important in Professor Herringbone’s eyes, she reminded herself.
“I don’t think I understand either. But here we both are. And I did say yes.”
That phrasing seemed intentional. “You regret it?”
“Oh, no, not at all. I love the kids. I believe in what we’re doing.
” At last, Amelia’s face regained its earlier animation.
“We’re making some changes, trying to modernize some things.
The kids are allowed to have tablet computers now, and phones.
They can google things. They can talk to witches all over the world.
We have a pen-pal program with other witchy schools, and I’m hoping it will lead to more magical community-building.
I’d like to establish some programs with other sorts of schools as well—even the siren school down in Grimoire.
It can only help if our students interact more widely, whether they go on to magical universities or not. ”
“That’s wonderful,” Bryn said with feeling. What she wouldn’t have given for some pen pals of any kind. And she had a special soft spot for building bridges between disparate magical communities.
“I think the changes have been positive, or have the potential to be so. But it hasn’t been easy.”
“I bet,” Bryn said, laughing with something that wasn’t quite like mirth. “I’m sure the governors had kittens over it.”
“You could say that.” Amelia actually smiled. “And Mr Wicks is not a fan.”
“Mr Wicks.” Bryn laughed out loud. “Gods, he’s a grumpy old thing. He hasn’t retired yet?”
“He shows no signs of retiring anytime soon. And he has resisted, I think, every single thing that I have done since I came back here.”
That was all too easy to imagine. Bryn remembered Mr Wicks as the brand of stern and uncompromising that might have been fair, but wasn’t friendly. “Yikes.”