The First Day of School
Chapter Nine
THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL
Ceri
T here was a knock on Ceri’s door about an hour before Dean Whittaker’s opening address for the autumn term was due to begin.
Ceri and Ana had already been awake for an hour, perfecting their hair and makeup for the first day.
(Ceri could not believe her luck that her roommate was the daughter of a hairstylist. Having had her dressing needs met by servants for her entire life, she was grateful to have someone with the necessary expertise to help her learn to do it for herself.)
It was Dean Whittaker. He, too, looked as though he’d been awake for some time. “I’m sorry to drop by unannounced, your highness. I was wondering if you’d like to speak at the opening address this morning.”
Ceri was surprised by the request. “Are there usually other speakers?”
“Not usually, but we don’t tend to have royalty around. The presence of the royal guard on campus needs to be explained, if nothing else.”
Ceri had insisted on not having guards following her every minute of every day, but because of that, they’d had to secure the entire campus instead. “What about my brother?” asked Ceri.
Dean Whittaker nodded; he was getting to that. “I’ve asked Prince Idris to say a few words. He agreed, but he told me I’d better ask you as well. I mean, that it would be good to ask you as well, since you are also royalty.”
Nice save , thought Ceri, but she knew which of the two phrasings her brother would have used. “I’d really prefer not to,” she said.
She didn’t want to admit that Idris was right: that if she hadn’t been asked, she would have been insulted. But also, she had no desire to speak. “While I’m here, I’m trying to be Ceri, not Princess Ceridwen. Do you understand?”
“Of course, of course. How right you are,” said Dean Whittaker. “Although you may change your tune after Professor Ali’s Numbers exams. I’ve heard they often veer closer to a hazing exercise than anything else.”
Ceri decided then that she liked Dean Whittaker. He was far too eager to please, but she appreciated that he did consider her opinion separate from her brother’s.
An hour later, Ceri and Ana sat at one of the long tables in the dining hall meant for the students. Dean Whittaker did exactly as he promised: he mentioned the guards, he allowed Idris to speak, and he did not out Ceri’s presence.
Of course, it didn’t stop people from recognizing her.
There had been a few encounters during moving week, but the rumors of her attendance had grown, and by the time she reached her first class of the day (Loegrian, with Professor Proudfoot), it seemed like most of the school knew who she was, judging by the pointing and whispers.
She’d expected some acknowledgment from Professor Proudfoot, considering half the class was staring at her, but to her surprise, Professor Proudfoot simply dove straight into her lecture.
The other thing Ceri had expected was a mixture of boredom and fear. That’s what education up to this point had been for Ceri: relentless memorization of names and dates and formulas and vocabulary, followed by varying forms of corporal punishment for failures. The slap with the ruler. The cane on the legs. A strap or a belt, which Ceri hated the most.
King Derkomai had not only approved of these punishments, he also sometimes performed them himself.
Ceri did feel a familiar tightness in her chest as the lecture began, but it was quickly replaced with relief. It was immediately and abundantly apparent that Professor Proudfoot was nothing like her tutors had been. She was funny and personable, mixing in personal anecdotes about her upbringing in the Ash Woods with her discussion of the syllabus and her approach to selecting the works they’d be covering. She welcomed suggestions on what they’d like to study or how to improve the course so they got more out of it—welcomed them.
In fact, all of her courses were more or less the same. Some of her professors—like the infamous Numbers professor, Professor Ali—were stricter than others, but none of them seemed to have any interest in making sure Ceri or anyone else learned “the hard way.” There was a genuine sense of openness to new ideas, a desire to encourage students on a path they found both interesting and fulfilling, a hope of improving the school for future generations.
It was enough to make Ceri cry.
“What’s wrong?” asked Ana, following Ceri back to the room after their final class.
Ceri was walking so fast, poor little Ana had to run to keep up. “Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
Ceri paused. “I didn’t know it could be like this.”
“Like what?”
“So…nice. Everyone is so nice. And it’s all so interesting. It’s all of the good parts and none of the bad. I can’t believe it.”
“Ceri, I like you a lot, but I am not following you at all. You’re crying because people are nice and the classes are good?” asked Ana. The poor girl was out of breath by the time they reached their dorm room.
Ceri told Ana about her experiences with her tutors. Ana was horrified.
“Where I come from, that’s abuse. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. The worst I ever got was an ‘Ana, I’m disappointed in you’ from my Elvish History teacher, and that damn near broke me. You know you’re really strong to have gone through what you did and to still come here.”
Ceri didn’t feel strong, but she was grateful to Ana for saying it.
“You’ll never guess who I met in that Ancient Languages class you didn’t want to go to,” Ana said once Ceri had calmed down.
“Who?”
“Harry Charlton!”
That didn’t help Ceri any. “Who?”
“Do you not have picture shows in the castle? News reels? Newspapers? Harry Charlton is from Arcas Dyrne, and he’s a flagball super star! He led Typhon Memorial Comprehensive to their victory over the Arcas Dyrne Dragons last year to win the championship. Winwold has a great flagball team. He said he’ll be going down to the main campus for practice a lot, but he really wanted to have the fresher experience, so he’s living up here. Isn’t that so cool? I think he may be more famous than you. No offense.”
Ceri smiled. “None taken.” She didn’t care much for flagball; that was more of her father’s kind of thing, but she didn’t mention that to Ana.
“The first game is on Friday. Do you want to go together?”
“Sure,” said Ceri.
Who knew? She’d been wrong about school. Maybe she was wrong about flagball as well.
Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, for Ceri), the first flagball game of the year was cancelled.
The students reacted to the news with as much devastation as if someone had died. Dean Whittaker stood up at the head table on Thursday morning having just given the terrible announcement, and Ceri was worried that someone was going to pelt him with a tomato from their plate of full Loegrian breakfast.
“Now, I know that comes as a shock and a disappointment to us all. Especially Groundskeeper Tomasar,” said Dean Whittaker with a wink. The groundskeeper had quite a pool going on the outcome of the game. “We are still hopeful we’ll be able to reschedule the game after the regular season. Believe me, if there were any other choice—”
“I don’t see any storm,” shouted someone a couple of tables over who ducked down quickly afterwards to not be seen.
“It hasn’t arrived yet, though the wind is picking up. I’ve been assured by the royal meteorologists that this is an unprecedented situation. Storms of this size and magnitude hardly ever hit this region. For the safety of the entire school, classes will be cancelled tomorrow so we may make preparations. Some of the students who live too near the river’s floodplain will be joining us at High House tomorrow night. The plan is to board up the windows here in the dining hall, and we’ll all spend the night together here until the storm clears, hopefully the next day.”
Most of the school seemed to be upset, but Ceri was excited. It sounded like a great big sleepover, just like the ones she’d had with her cousins and ladies-in-waiting when she was a little girl.
“We’d better have baths before it comes tomorrow,” said Ana. “Storms like this are common on Turtle Island. Sometimes the water and ‘lectrics are out for weeks.”
Alright, that sounded less ideal. Ceri wondered what that meant for the power-saver research. If the ‘lectrics went out, could they keep working?
“There you are,” said Leo, joining Ceri after Dean Whittaker had finished his announcements. Ana took it as her cue to leave; she was just the best about that. “Professor Marin wanted me to ask everyone I could if they can help move our equipment to the infirmary. Are you up for some heavy lifting?”
“You mean, can I use my magic to help make it lighter?”
“Perhaps,” said Leo. “And perhaps, if I were to take a measurement or two…”
Ceri smiled. “Is that the only thing you like about me?”
“It is the least of the many things I like about you.”
The frankness of his response surprised them both, but Leo did not take it back. He also could not meet her eye as he asked, “What do you say?”
“Since it’s for a good cause,” said Ceri. “The infirmary, not your magic obsession.”
“Obsession, such a perfect word,” said Leo. The way he said it—a sultry hiss in his accent—made the hair on Ceri’s neck stand on end. “What is it you say? ‘I have you pegged’?”
“You have me pegged,” corrected Ceri. “You as in you. You are the one who is pegged. I’m not pegged.”
“That’s what I said, no?”
Ceri laughed at the look of utter confusion on his face. “Close enough,” she said and followed him to the lab.
Ceri and Ana arrived in the dining hall the following evening freshly bathed, having carried their pillows and blankets across the courtyard as a light rain began to fall and wind whipped through the branches of the yew.
It didn’t seem like much of a storm, not yet at least. The flagball team seemed to agree with their assessment: despite repeated warnings from Dean Whittaker, they had remained in the courtyard tossing the flagball around until Groundskeeper Tomasar had come at them, waving his pitchfork.
Ana was staring at Harry Charlton. “Look at him. A quarter elf, they say. I can see it.”
Sure, Harry Charlton was undeniably attractive in that classic, meaty sort of way that Ceri had once found appealing, all bulging muscle and closely cut hair. But Ceri found his tireless need for attention—he was currently clowning around with the ball, messing up the makeshift beds other students had made on the floor—exhausting.
“Why don’t you go talk to him?” asked Ceri. Ceri was proud of herself. This was a significant sign of personal growth, keeping her mouth shut. She would’ve pointed out his obvious flaws to Jerta. And Ceri would still do so if she saw something that was actually concerning, but he seemed harmless enough, so she’d keep her opinions on his grandstanding to herself and let Ana like who she liked.
She was positively mature.
“Me? I’m a Halfling. He’s…”
About as tall as Idris, which was to say ludicrously tall. Maybe that was why he held no appeal for Ceri. He was built like her brother.
“I’m pretty sure everyone is smaller than him,” said Ceri. “I can’t see why it would matter. Have you ever tried talking to him in your Ancient Languages class?”
Before Ana could answer, they were interrupted by a worried-looking Professor Marin. “Hello, your highness. Have you seen Leo come in yet? I thought he might be with you.”
Ceri looked around the room, but she didn’t spot the blonde, bespectacled elf anywhere. “No, I haven’t seen him. Did he leave the lab yet?”
“A couple of hours ago. He said he wanted to get a few things before the storm came. I’m sure he’ll turn up soon enough. He’s probably fighting with the library again.”
Ceri could hear in her voice that she wasn’t sure if that was likely, and Ceri could guess why.
“You don’t think he’s going to try to take measurements in the storm, do you?” she asked. “Idris has all of the cursed objects.”
“I don’t know,” said Professor Marin. “Knowing him, he’s found something to measure. I’m just hoping it’s inside. Please let me know if you see him come in.”
Ceri waited a respectable length of time after Professor Marin left, then she stood up.
“Ceri, you can’t,” said Ana. “This kind of storm is really dangerous. People die on Turtle Island all the time, mostly because they go out when they’re supposed to stay in.”
“Exactly,” said Ceri. “Leo’s out there.”
Ana nodded slowly, understanding. “Be careful.”
“You too,” said Ceri.
The guard posted at the door stopped her. “Can’t let you outside, princess. Our orders are no one goes back out.”
Ceri recognized this man from court. She’d never liked him much. “Let me out at once or the king will hear about it. Those are my orders.”
The guard hesitated.
Ceri tried a different tactic. “I’m not going to be gone long. I just need something from my room. Something…ladies need.”
That did it. The most reliable way to get a man to get out of your way was to mention anything particular to being a “lady.” Every lady knew that.
“Alright, but hurry back here. They’re sweeping up the last students.”
Ceri headed out into the hallway alone.
In the distance, thunder rumbled.