Page 79 of Gift from the Tree

Oh, the cheeky old man. I shoot him a mischievous smile, catching on quickly that he’s trying to drop hints without throwing Tillman under the bus. I love it when someone stirs the pot.

“Could you, really? I love her bag. I want one that matches my new journal.”

Tillman glares at Gaster before looking back at the journal in Willow’s hand. “May I?” he asks.

She tends to be very territorial with her things from what I’ve seen, but right now she’s wearing a huge smile and hands it over to him with no fight. He takes the journal and runs his hand down the front, tracing her name that’s in the bottom corner all lovingly and shit before handing it back to her.

“What would you like the bag to look like?”

She begins describing the satchel with so much animation I can’t help but laugh. The smallest things make her so happy and she shows so much gratitude. If the guys just tried a little to get over this barrier they’ve created, we could go ahead and live happily ever after.

Tillman concentrates for a minute before material begins forming between his hands, and within seconds, it’s done. He hands the bag over to Willow, and she shrieks so loud all of us jump. Tillman’s eyes go wide as she jumps on him and throws her arms around his neck.

“It’s perfect, Tillman. I love it. Thank you so much.” She squeezes him harder and rocks from side to side a few times. He’s frozen still, not moving a muscle. I let out a laugh at the stupid look on his face and I can hear Gaster snicker as well. Corentin watches with amazement like history’s being made right here in front of him. When she finally lets him go, she jumps right into moving everything from her other bag to the new satchel.

“Dr. Evie sent over your care instructions. You should be fine to sleep tonight without anyone having to wake you up to check on you since you haven’t thrown up again and Gaster’s given you a tonic. She doesn’t want you to train until she checks you out again in two days. So no workouts for the next two mornings with Tillman and you can’t participate in E.F. class tomorrow or combat the next day. She’ll see you that afternoon and either clear you or give more instructions.” Corentin reads the information off his communicator, breaking up the sweet moment with his stuffy ass.

“Can I still go to watch the E.F. class? I’d like to see what’s going on and watch Oakly. And I don’t want to return to combat class.” Her tone makes that point nonnegotiable. She isn’t willing to be in Claven’s class anymore and I don’t blame her. I won’t be there either if she isn’t.

“Yes, you can watch the E.F. class if you’d like. And Claven won’t be the professor for your class any longer, so once you’re cleared, I think it’d be wise for you to continue the class,” he informs us.

“He’s not?” both Willow and I ask at the same time.

“No, he isn’t. He’s been let go from the academy effective immediately and Vander’s been placed on academic probation, removed from the class, and E.F. recruitment,” Corentin says a little begrudgingly. He wants as badly as I do to kill Vander for what he did, but he can’t say that as headmaster. But I can, little fucker.

“So who will be teaching the class?” Willow asks, still a little hesitant.

“Ry. He doesn’t want the full-time position. He enjoys E.F. missions far too much to give it up right now, but he’s willing to step in until Corentin finds a full-time professor.” Other than getting Willow’s things, that must’ve been why it took Tillman so long to get here.

“Fuck yeah,” I exclaim. I’d get away with murder with Ry.

“Don’t think he’s going to let you slack off, Draken. He’s got a job to do and doesn’t need you making it difficult,” Tillman, knowing where my excitement was coming from, says in irritation.

“I guess I can watch his class as well and decide from there. I’m not too sold on going back to a class I get beat up in every day. I did already warn all of you about that,” she complains with a little pout on her bottom lip.

“That’s never going to happen again,” Tillman states firmly, capturing her in his gaze.

“Fine.” She sighs.

“One more thing,” Corentin adds, walking over to hand her, her new communicator. “Our numbers are already programmed in there and Oakly’s. If you hold down that red button on the side, it’ll send an emergency alert to all our communicators. Always keep this on you.”

She looks down at the communicator, getting a feel of how it looks and works, then sets off typing away on it. I assumed to text Oakly, but then all communicators in the room go off and she giggles. “I’m glad it’s similar to the phones we had back in the nonmagical realm.”

“What’s this you tried to say, child?” Gaster looks down at his screen in confusion, so I pull mine out to look as well. It’s just a less than sign and the number three.

“It’s a heart. There are no emojis to send the actual shape of a heart, so this is improvised,” she explains excitedly.

I don’t know what the fuck an “emojis” is, but if she wants to send me hearts, I’ll gladly accept them. I send her about ten more back and she throws her head back laughing when she opens the message.

“See, Draken has the right idea.”

I’m gonna win her little made-up hearts and her real heart.

We laugh and joke for another hour before Willow lets out a series of yawns, and her eyes start getting heavy. “We’ll leave you for the night so you can get some sleep. Message or call any of us if you need something.” Gaster runs his hand across her forehead in a fatherly, or I guess grandfatherly way.

“I will. Thank you all for staying and keeping me company. And for my bag. And for my communicator. And for everything else.” She rambles on sleepily as her eyes drift shut. I lean over and give her a kiss on her forehead, forcing myself to crawl out of her bed. She’s so exhausted, we all can hear her soft snores before we even shut the door.

No one speaks as we make our way down the hallway. Everyone knows we’re heading to the lounge without needing it announced. Walking in, I’m surprised to not see Caspian sitting in here. Corentin made it clear he wasn’t going to join us in her room, but he’s always in the lounge.

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