Chapter 26
It was Piper who found her first. As much as she’d wanted to run up to the front through the crowd, everyone parting in front of her, jump on the stage, swing Amelia around in her arms and kiss her—obviously, she couldn’t do that.
Didn’t even know if that would be welcome.
All she could do was slowly make her way forward.
It was harder than she’d anticipated it would be.
The students who had family in attendance were with them.
They were introducing their friends and meeting their friends’ loved ones.
She saw at a distance that Luke was introducing Violet and Circe to his family, with wide smiles.
She was too far away to wave or say hello herself, but just close enough to hear Luke say, “They’re in the club with me, you know, for the weirdos. ”
“We are not weirdos,” Violet said and hit his arm.
He laughed. “Like I said.” Luke’s family laughed too.
But then Bryn was farther away, passing through, avoiding clumps of people. When her students saw her, they exclaimed happily and introduced her: “This is Professor Delmar, Mom, Dad, Grandmother,” and, “I love her class. We get to do new spells, Mom, she’s teaching us how to make our own.”
She smiled and shook hands and her smile grew even wider.
And as glorious as it was to meet her students’ families, she always had one eye seeking out Amelia.
Yet, because Amelia was also walking through the crowd, also being stopped at every step to meet a new family, they weren’t getting any closer to each other. And then suddenly Piper was beside her.
“Oh, Dad, this is Professor Alexander! They teach PE.”
“PE,” said the dad with raised eyebrows. “I didn’t realize that was part of the curriculum here.”
Piper, pink-cheeked, laughed. “Well, it hasn’t always been, but we’re trying.”
The dad nodded and turned to the woman beside him. “Why don’t we tell them how Mariana’s mother was nearly an Olympian? Weren’t you, dear?”
Mariana’s mother shook her head. “Don’t tell that story again, it bores people.”
“Surely, it doesn’t!” With the blissful obliviousness of someone in love, he told the story again.
Non-magical, Mariana’s mother had been on the swim team all through high school, then at university.
She’d competed in every meet she qualified for and missed the Olympic team only because of a badly timed injury, though Mariana’s father claimed that since they’d met shortly thereafter, maybe it hadn’t been the worst outcome after all.
Piper and Bryn nodded and laughed in the right spots and congratulated Mariana’s mom, who added that she’d been exhausted from all those years of competition and considered it something of a blessing to have an excuse to step back.
Piper took the opportunity to ask her if she had any tips for teaching athletics to students who might not always be interested.
She laughed and said, “Even when I was training every day, swimming more than I was sleeping, there were days I didn’t feel like it.
But I never regretted getting in the pool after I was there. ”
“That’s good,” Piper said. “Thanks, I’m gonna use that. Excuse us.” They took Bryn’s arm and led her away.
“Do you think that’s true?” Bryn whispered. “That she doesn’t miss it?”
“I don’t know if it was true at the time, but it’s obviously true now. Maybe that counts.”
Bryn nodded. “I grant that argument.”
Piper squeezed her arm and said, “I’m so glad you’re home.”
And maybe it was all the emotions of the day—being back at the school, seeing Amelia defend her position with so much fire and so much passion—but she felt herself tear up. “I’m glad I’m home, too. I hope other people will be too.”
Then they were pulled aside by another student.
They met more parents. They met younger siblings who hoped to attend Grimoire Academy someday.
(“You’ll love PE, Julio, and there are horses!
”) They heard a mix of compliments and complaints, because people would complain.
But Bryn realized that she’d had impeccable timing, maybe for the first time in her life.
She wouldn’t have wanted to miss this moment for anything, and certainly not for all the publishing contracts in the world.
Sometime later, when she looked around again, she couldn’t find Amelia anywhere. She did, however, see Mr Wicks standing with an older gentleman whose hand he was holding and shaking like he’d forgotten to let go. He caught her eye and smiled, gesturing her and Piper over.
“Now, I bet you youngsters don’t know who this is,” he said jovially. “This is the headmistress who was here when I was a boy.”
She and Piper blinked at each other. Mr Wicks had gone to Grimoire Academy? “You went to school here?” Piper asked.
“I did indeed. Graduated and everything.”
The older man leaned forward. “It was a near thing, but we all felt so sorry for him. He tried very hard, even though he was always a bit daft.”
Far from upsetting Mr Wicks, this made him laugh. “I struggled a bit when I was a student, but I think I turned out all right, didn’t I, Headmistress?”
The man chuckled. “You did indeed, Professor, you did indeed. Devon tells me that our current headmistress is surprisingly good for being so young. In my day, you couldn’t be a headmistress unless you were, oh, at least fifty.”
“She’s very good, sir,” Piper said.
“Very, very good,” Bryn added, feeling foolish, but also wanting to say something.
Mr Wicks reached out to clasp her arm for a second. “Are you back with us, Professor Delmar?”
“I hope to be, though, obviously, I still need training.”
“Training can be achieved. You only need to commit to it.”
Bryn inhaled, exhaled, and said, “I’m committed, Mr Wicks. I didn’t realize how much I wanted to be a teacher until I left.”
He grinned. “You will make a great one.”
People began to leave. Bryn did eventually meet Luke’s family, who were taking both Violet and Circe out to dinner, after the necessary permissions had been sought and granted.
Piper had been rounded up with a cadre of professors to direct traffic and cast quick magical spells to ensure that everyone got out of the logjam of cars safely.
The kitchens, seemingly caught up in the energy of the day, had provided a buffet spread of delicious foods for those lingering: pasta with various sauces, samosas, multiple curries, spanakopita, mouth-watering tamales second only to Bryn’s mom’s tamales, and a selection of desserts that made her want to spend the rest of the evening in the Grand Hall.
Somehow, in all the activity, Bryn still hadn’t seen Amelia.
The group eating dinner was a mix of current and retired professors, alumni—none whom she immediately recognized—plus donors and stakeholders in the school.
After only snacking on a tamale as she wandered in search of Amelia, Bryn set her plate down and went looking farther afield.
She roamed the halls, vaguely going in the direction of Amelia’s rooms, while listening for any voices she might hear, any hints.
Just as she was about to round the corridor where Amelia’s office was located, she heard what she’d been subconsciously waiting for: the grating and distinct tones of Madame Schneider.
“Are you wishing for the entire board of governors to resign?”
“No, Governor Schneider. I am wishing for the board of governors to give this school a little bit of time to grow and change, just like we give our students.”
Bryn bit her tongue and went still in the shadows at the end of the corridor.
“You can have one more year,” Schneider said, as if giving into what she felt was a distasteful and unnecessary demand.
“I’m afraid I must insist on the usual five-year contract,” Amelia replied. “I did some research, Governor Schneider. I could not find a single case of a headmistress being put on a one-year contract. I am serious about this role, and Professor Herringbone was serious when she insisted I have it.”
“You are not as experienced as our previous head-mistresses.”
“And yet you hired me for the role anyway, so I insist on being granted the same opportunity to succeed as any of my predecessors.” After the slightest pause, Amelia added, “We can count this year as the first year of my contract, if that helps.”
Bryn bit down hard on her tongue to keep from gasping at Amelia’s audacity, or laughing at the sour-lemon tone in Schneider’s voice. “I will bring it to the board,” she said grudgingly. “But I make no promises.”
“I don’t ask for any.”
Then the governor turned and began walking straight towards Bryn, who knew with the instincts of a former student that there was nowhere to hide, no silent way to escape the stairwell without being seen (or revealing herself through running steps).
So instead of hiding, she walked forward, rounded the corner, raised a hand to Amelia, and smiled.
As if surprised, though she didn’t imagine anyone was fooled, she said in a cheerful voice, “Oh, hello, Governor Schneider.”
“And you,” Schneider said. “We only allow teachers at this school, not overblown authors of popular books.” Her words were clipped, angry, and oddly defiant, as if she was the one who had something to lose.
“I’ve signed up for my first-term courses already.
They start over the summer,” Bryn said sweetly.
“I very much look forward to learning more about teaching.” Her eyes drifted to Amelia’s.
“I am so lucky that Headmistress Hexford gave me the chance to realize this is where I belong, and teaching is what I should be doing.”
Governor Schneider’s eyes narrowed, as if she suspected some kind of a joke. But instead of speaking, she brushed past Bryn and went down the stairs, leaving the two women standing alone in the corridor.
Bryn approached, but didn’t stand too close. Didn’t kiss Amelia with her whole body, as she so dearly wished to. She said, “Congratulations. I mean, about keeping your job. And the school. Um …”
Amelia blinked at her. “Did you really sign up for a teaching course, or were you just winding Schneider up?”
“Oh yeah, I did it. On the plane on my way here. Not—not that I expect you to rehire me. I wouldn’t presume like that, but I want to teach again, even if not here. I, uh, figured that out. Finally.”
“But you’re an author. You want to write books.”
“I still want to do that, but not as much as I want to do this, Amelia.” And now Bryn did step forward. “Not as much as I want to be with you.”
Amelia’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes searched Bryn’s. “I would never ask you to choose between me and your dream.”
“You don’t understand.” Bryn took a breath. “Amelia, you are my dream. You are so much more than a dream to me. A dream is nebulous, and you are real. And if you will have me back, I want to be yours.”
Amelia opened her mouth, tried to speak, closed it, and swallowed, and then she pulled Bryn against her, hard, and kissed her, as if the repressed emotions of the day made her feral, made her need and desire and passion all combine into one kiss.
“I thought you’d left forever,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re back.”
“Does that mean yes?” Bryn asked breathlessly. “Will you give me another chance? Not as a teacher—well, yes, as a teacher, too, but I meant—”
“Yes, Bryn, now would you just—”
They fell into each other, hands gripping tightly, both of them breathing hard as they kissed.
There would be more to talk about later, but in that moment, they did not need words.
They needed only the language of touch—but they were in the corridor, so when they heard steps coming up the stairs, they sprung apart like naughty children.
But it was only Piper, who clearly wasn’t fooled. “You guys have to come down to dinner. It’s amazing. It’s delicious. It’s incredible. Come on, chop-chop. Can’t hide up here all night—” they winked “—even if you might want to.”
Amelia and Bryn, as if in one rehearsed movement, smacked Piper on each arm.
“Hey!” they cried, but they were laughing. Then all three of them laughed as they trooped back to the Grand Hall for dinner, talking, and enjoying being home.