Page 38 of Switching Graves

“Miss Gracer has updated me on your situation. There’s always a first for something, isn’t there?” With a tight-lipped smile, she fingers through the stack, and pulls one out from the bottom. “We’ve talked it out with the head of admissions, and this is what we’ve come up with for you.”

She points a long, crooked finger to my new course schedule. It appears they’ve allowed me to keep my psychology classes and replaced my sociology ones with Emotional Sensitivity and Boundaries and Essentials of Empathic Communication.

“These will equip you with the basic information you’ll need to continue forward into more advanced classes.”

“And my sociology classes?” I know it’s not that big of a deal to drop a minor, but for some reason it feels so violating that they took the liberties of doing it without bothering to ask my opinion.

“Unfortunately, we don’t believe there’s room for the sociology minor without overloading you with courses.” Whatever expression passes across my face has her quickly rushing to add, “We could speak with Dean Hatchcroft and see if he’ll grant you special privileges, but?—”

I’m already shaking my head, my nose scrunched in disapproval. The last thing I want is more attention from the faculty here than I’ve already got, especially the dean.

“That’s okay, this schedule is fine.”

“You could always come back for the graduate program,” she offers.

I smile and nod, taking the schedule when she lifts it off the desk and hands it over. By the time I’m ready for a graduate program, this may have already blown up in mine and Poppy’s faces.

She needs to know about this in case it gets back to Divina and she confronts Poppy. What if she already briefed Poppy about these gifts? That would definitely give us away if the school suddenly confronted her for failing to prepare her daughter for schooling.

It would also make Poppy Asshole of the Year for not telling me before she roped me into all of this, but I’m choosing to see the best in her.

“Since we’ve decided on allowing you to advance forward into regular empathic courses, I’ve copied some of the empathic sections from our first-year introduction courses. You can study them in your free time. I think they’ll do a good job in giving you context about principles and themes you’ll find in your future coursework.” Pushing the rest of the stack out at me, she shrugs, her eyes tightening in another kind smile. “Plus, it’s nice to know a little more about yourself,” she adds.

“Thank you. I appreciate all the time you’ve put into helping me.”

Swatting the air between us, she scoffs. “It’s not a problem at all. If you have any more issues, or questions about the empathic coursework, please don’t hesitate to reach out. I’ve stapled my card to the top of your schedule.”

I walk out of her office more deflated than when I entered. Unfortunately, I don’t have any time to dwell on it, because my first Essentials of Empathic Communication class starts in twenty minutes.

20

Sonny

I’m absolutely exhausted after my second day, but I know that I can’t delay telling Poppy the truth about Ravenshurst any longer. Not after spending an entire day feeling like the impostor I am in classes that should only exist in fiction novels.

She picks up on the first ring, already expecting a summary of my day, so she could relay it to Divina in case she asks.

“I have something important to tell you, and I want you to keep an open mind and be honest with me when I say it.”

“Okay, go ahead.”

“I’m serious,” I insist, padding over to my door to twist the deadbolt in place, then head toward my room. I can’t risk anyone overhearing this conversation.

She giggles. “Just say it, Sonny. I’m listening.”

Inhaling a deep breath, I explain everything to her from the moment in Miss Mercer’s office to my first day in a Valeria course. How I’ve spent days researching these seven bloodlines, and how our mothers have seemingly lied to us all this time.

When she’s been silent for too long, I ask, “Are you there?”

“Are you trying to tell me there’s people with . . . magical powers at Ravenshurst?”

“Yes, Poppy. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then she says, in the calmest tone, “I think I need to send you a plane ticket out of there tonight. Are you okay? Is someone threatening you? Click your tongue three times if you’re in trouble.”

With an exasperated huff, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I told you to keep an open mind.”

“Yeah, I thought you were going to tell me something normal, like you have a crush on a professor, or you’ve run off to join a sex cult. Not that you’ve suddenly ended up in some fantasy world with magical powers. What’s next? Are you going to tell me you have a pet dragon?”

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