Chapter 13
Bryn felt like she was gliding on clouds, like her feet weren’t even touching the ground, and it was so lovely to feel this way. She wasn’t even sure how this way was, or what it meant. They didn’t have a future. She was only at the school temporarily.
They had not discussed anything practical.
Amelia had kissed her and then kissed her again, and then they’d laughed and squeezed each other’s hands.
Bryn had said she needed to get back to grading, and Amelia replied that she needed to prep for a meeting, and they’d hugged at the door, and then Bryn had left and gone home to her cottage, and Amelia had stayed; they’d seen each other at dinner, traded looks, talked normally.
Bryn felt sure no one had noticed anything different about them, but she knew, and Amelia knew, and that was more than enough.
It wasn’t some stupid unrequited girlhood crush anymore. It was real. Even if it was brief.
After some additional lobbying by her after-school club kids, she did manage to arrange for second-years to go out to the courtyard and front drive. This would be their area, the place where they could come up with spells or charms, enchantments, whatever they liked.
“First-years got ponies!” someone complained.
Bryn was growing much better at ignoring what she took to be the habitual grumbling that was developmentally appropriate for their age group, but also quite annoying. She ignored this one easily. “I look forward to hearing whatever you all come up with. It can be decorative, like the lights.”
“Lights?” another student asked.
Bryn waved her wand to strengthen the lighting charms in the courtyard, even though she might have done the same thing without her wand.
Role-modeling wand use was an unspoken policy amongst the faculty and staff.
The spell wouldn’t have worked in full sun, but it was early in the day and the fog hadn’t yet cleared, so it was just dark enough to see the enhanced uplighting beaming up at the palm trees.
“Ooh, pretty!” A few of the kids expressed delight, which made her smile.
“Decorative is fine. Practical is fine. Think of things that meet a stated need, or no need at all besides entertainment. Please feel free to use your initiative and your imagination. But keep away from the Grimoire cauldron!” she called as she let the kids go.
The cauldron was bespelled every which way and while Bryn had the sight enough to tune into its magic, she didn’t think she had the experience, nor the skills, to fix it if something went wrong.
Only five or so minutes passed before her eye was caught by the sight of Amelia trailing two older people in her wake, walking down the front steps.
One of them was Madame—or Governor now—Schneider, the other was also a governor, but not someone she knew well.
Blood rushed in her ears, sudden panic hitting.
Was she doing something wrong? Were they there to fire her?
Was she being escorted off the premises?
But, of course, she wasn’t doing anything wrong.
They were not going to fire her, and if they were planning to escort her off the premises, they would not have the school governors doing it—a body famous for skillful delegation.
She moved forward, her eyes locked on Amelia’s.
She did not look happy, but she did not look panicked, which Bryn tried to take as an encouraging sign.
It was the first time they had seen each other and Bryn hadn’t immediately wanted to abandon herself to kissing.
She couldn’t imagine kissing anyone right now, let alone the headmistress in front of the governors and the students.
“Hi there!” Amelia called, her voice all too obviously full of forced lightness. “We’re just doing some observations around the school.”
“Right! Great!” Bryn said. Then as an afterthought, “Welcome to the second-year spellcasting class.” She reached out a hand to shake Madame Schneider’s and then turned towards the man she didn’t know.
“Ms Delmar,” said Governor Schneider. “This is Governor Blake.”
“Good to meet you,” Bryn said, shaking his hand as well. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“You can start by explaining what’s happening here,” said Governor Blake, face set in the kind of wrinkled, disapproving mask that immediately made Bryn want to roll her eyes in irritation.
He was older than Mr Wicks, but probably by no more than ten or fifteen years, making him around the average (i.e. retirement) age for the governors.
“Oh.” She glanced at Amelia, who nodded almost imperceptibly, though Bryn thought that Schneider had seen it. “Well, we’re trying an experiment with the spellcasting classes where we leave the classroom and think about new spells that we can make.”
“New spells?” Schneider asked. “Is there something wrong with the old spells?”
“Not at all. Just encouraging the students to think outside the box a little.” The two governors looked at each other. Amelia’s jaw tightened, and Bryn fought not to grimace, wondering if she’d said something wrong. But the headmistress liked outside the box. The governors, of course, did not.
“I see,” said Governor Blake. “And what is it they’re supposed to be learning from this?”
Bryn felt her heart begin to race. She was surely too old to worry about getting in trouble, but every authority-avoidant instinct in her body was now on red alert.
“We’re trying experiments this year at the Academy,” Amelia said brightly. “This is one of those experience experiments.”
“I’m told,” said Blake, “that you took students off campus for such an experiment.”
“Three students, yes, who attend one of our clubs.” Amelia was still smiling, though Bryn didn’t think anyone was fooled by it. She was pissed.
“And what was the purpose of that?”
This time, feeling on much more stable ground because they’d had permission from the students’ guardians—and even the governors couldn’t override that—Bryn said, “When I was first here as a student, coming from a non-witching family, I wasn’t as familiar with some of the customs that the rest of my peers took for granted.
We thought that allowing some of our students who come from similar backgrounds to see what it’s like to experience a spell shop for the first time might be fruitful. ”
“The first time? At their age?” Blake seemed shocked by this, as if Bryn had just explained that kids from non-witching families had never seen the sky before. This time it was Schneider who shook her head, as if telling him to shut his mouth.
“Many students come from less privileged backgrounds,” Schneider explained, and Bryn couldn’t help but take that a little bit personally. Less privileged? Was it really less privileged to grow up amongst non-magical people? Surely it was just different.
She bit her tongue. It was a worthy argument and one she wanted to have, but this was clearly not the time, when too many of her students were lingering close by to eavesdrop on the adults.
Speaking of which, Violet approached: confident, head up, shoulders back.
They flipped their hair to the other side and said, “It was very informative. I don’t know anything about magical culture, and it was the first time I’d ever been able to explore an actual magical shop.
You may not have that experience, but a lot of us do. ”
Bless Violet. Bless their absolute confidence and somewhat obnoxious unwillingness to be silent. Bryn hid her own genuine smile in a cough.
“Is that right, young lady?” Blake said, not quite sneering.
“I’m not a young lady, and yes, it is.”
She waited for another second to see if there would be an additional challenge, and when there wasn’t, she turned and stalked away. Bryn didn’t miss the fact that Circe, waiting nearby, almost immediately got into step with them. Not, of course, speaking; merely expressing solidarity.
“Impertinent,” Schneider said.
“Yes,” Amelia said, tone icy. “Violet is one of our most promising students.”
“Well, we’ve seen what happens to our promising students, haven’t we?” Schneider sniped. When she shot a sidelong glance at Bryn, it became clear she meant both of them.
What was the undercurrent there? Bryn couldn’t work it out in the moment, wasn’t even sure she wanted to.
“So, is this the new style of teaching, then?” Blake demanded with a huff. “You just allow them to roam the grounds freely?”
Bryn swallowed her apprehension, told herself she could afford to be as confident as sixteen-year-old Violet, and said, “They know where the boundaries are. If it helps them make magic their own, then I think it’s a lesson worth learning.
” She could feel herself moving closer to insubordination and swallowed her temper.
“Sorry, you’ll have to excuse me, I should get back to my class.
” And with that, she turned and walked away, feeling a bit like she was leaving Amelia to the wolves, but, well, if she didn’t walk away, she would just say something completely inappropriate, and that would be worse.
Still, she felt sweat gathering between her breasts, down her spine, under her arms. She might be sick.
She could not be sick. Not in front of the governors, and not in front of her students, even though right now it would be tempting to pass out.
Could she faint on command? No, she shouldn’t faint. That would not help matters.
She glanced at the time, pulling out her phone with more obviousness than she normally would, knowing that phones were another one of the governors’ objections, and then she waved her wand over it, setting a timer, and called out, “Last ten minutes!” When the timer went off, it would blare an alarm loud enough that her whole class could hear.
When she turned again, Amelia and the governors were gone. Thank the gods.
She had planned to check in with Amelia after classes were over, but Piper was standing in her doorway while her students were still streaming out.
“What happened?” they said. “It’s all over school. You had a showdown with Schneider and Blake?”
“It wasn’t a showdown,” Bryn said, aware that students were still close enough to overhear them.
Piper smiled benignly down at all of them as they passed, then closed the door. “What was it, then? It sounded like a showdown.”
Bryn waved a privacy charm at the doorway before saying, “That’s only because they’re complete—” She faltered on what word to use for them. Luddites. Neanderthals. That was probably rude to Neanderthals. “They’re unnecessary,” she settled on.
Piper gasped. “That is the coldest insult, and also … Yes, exactly, they’re so unnecessary, and the worst thing is they think they’re the ones running the show.”
“Well, they aren’t. We are.” Bryn, shocked at her own words, put a hand over her lips. “I can’t believe I just said that. I mean, you guys are, not me.”
“You are, though. You’re here right now. You’re running the place with us. How was it really, though?”
So she told Piper about it over a cup of tea in the back study.
They were sympathetic but had no words of wisdom to share.
“Needless to say,” she said at last, “the governors do not want me here. I guess being a ‘good witch’ means not trying anything new. I think maybe, to people like that, being a good witch means not questioning them.”
Piper sighed. “Just what we want to teach our students. ‘Quick, whatever you do, don’t question authority or think about making any changes.’”
“Exactly.”
“‘What’s wrong with the old spells?’” Piper quoted, grinning a little. “Like every spell that anyone’s ever needed was just poofed into existence a thousand years ago, and now that’s it, we’re done.”
Bryn giggled. “A thousand years ago? Your grasp on witchy history is not the strongest.” When Piper flushed, Bryn felt immediately bad for joking. “Just teasing, sorry.”
“No, you’re right. Is it longer than a thousand years ago? I understand that those things are really obvious to most people, but timelines don’t really make sense to me. I know magic’s always been around. I’m just less clear on what that ‘always’ encompasses.”
“Did you have good history lessons at your school?” Bryn asked. “Because we had—and still have—Professor Flowers, whom I love, but she’s not exactly accessible.”
“More and more I think cutting everything up into subjects doesn’t make sense at all,” Piper confided.
“I mean, what’s the point? That’s not how the real world is.
You don’t just cut math out until you’re in a math mood, and not read unless you’re in a reading mood.
You don’t go days without—” they gestured “—science existing, or geography. You’re doing those things all the time, you’re moving around all the time.
Setting aside one period for physical education doesn’t make sense.
Shouldn’t we be doing this stuff in a more integrated way? ”
As the two of them playfully redesigned the entire education system for witches, Bryn had to admit that what Piper said made sense although she hadn’t really thought about it before, and she’d liked breaking things up into subjects.
They only got up when it was time for dinner and, except for the time she’d spent with Amelia and kissing had been involved, it had been the most enjoyable time she’d spent at the school so far.
She did stop by Amelia’s rooms before going back to the cottage and left a note that only said, I’m sorry, again.
I didn’t mean to leave you to the lions.
Please feel free to stop by the cottage if you need anything.
Then, before she could think too much about it, she added xx, slipped the note under the door, and ran home, hoping she’d see Amelia later.
This time, instead of Pilates, she took a shower … and put on clean underwear. Just in case.