Page 98 of Zero Happily Ever Afters

Once we pulled up to the event, traffic came to a halt. Every space on the entire block from Cerberus Guild itself all the way to the opposite end of the street where so many damn thoughts bubbled in anticipation for the announcement.

I needed a smoke, but I was already late. “Let’s go, kid.”

Whipping an illegal U-turn, I drove three fucking blocks to find a place to park.

“Hand.” Benjamin raised his tiny hand, flexing his little fingers until I caught the gesture, and reached out with mine as we approached the first crosswalk, then he refused to release his grip even after we’d arrived at our destination.

More families than I’d anticipated had shown up. It seemed every student and family had arrived.

The setup was quite possibly the worst part of this announcement. They kept everyone huddled into the worst blobby mass that filled up the street. It got so bad Cerberus sent their acolytes to redirect traffic. What a terrible decision for the location. What I didn’t grasp, something kept neatly tucked away from the surface thoughts of admin, was why they led everyone to this very important destination to deliver an announcement that could’ve been sent via email.

They didn’t even let us inside the building. A building I sort of suspected might be Gemini’s new location—but that theory bubbled from the minds of too many curious students who didn’t understand the logistics. There was no way this high-traffic spot was going to be the new academy. Right? They’d need the entire street block to come close to the square footage we originally had. And that included pushing Cerberus Guild off the block—which, last I heard, had begun buying up the nearby buildings to expand their office spaces.

Yeah, I highly doubted Gemini Academy had the resources to push out the number one guild off their street corner. Unless, of course, the academy had plans of downsizing. Maybe they were going to drop their roster size, cut a huge slew of students in the name of becoming a more niche boutique program.

I ground my teeth. Fuck, I had to get out of my own head and into someone else’s who had concrete answers. Admin might not be thinking closely of the event on their surface, but a slightly deeper delve should reveal something, and who better to pry the intel from than our headmaster.

Headmaster Dower sat at the sidelines, no prepared speech in her head. Weird. A relief since she typically droned on in long-winded metaphors on the beauty of nature and the glory every morning offered or some poetic shit like that. Still, weird that our headmaster didn’t have any intention of speaking today. About an announcement for the academy’s future. Even if she’d shucked off the task to someone else, as an administrator, it was her obligation to take credit for someone’s hard work.

I scrunched my face in suspicion.

“You shouldn’t make that face; it’ll get stuck that way,” Ben said. “Then everyone will think you’re always angry.”

“I am always angry.” I huffed.

Guild Master Campbell practically floated across the stage from the eager exhilaration she held, which turned my angersour and made me nauseous. Sitting on the stage among the admin was Chanelle, whose thoughts buzzed with a massive checklist for today’s event. Of course she had more insight about this announcement than our admin.

Campbell took to the podium. “I’m honored to announce the merger of Gemini Academy and Cerberus Guild.”

What the fuck? Campbell didn’t believe in slow introductions and dove right into the big announcement on everyone’s mind. Tactically speaking, it worked to draw everyone’s attention, including mine.

“Our biggest goal as we enter this new journey will be to ensure the best education for all the students at the academy and incoming students for many years to come,” Campbell said. “It’s a top priority to make sure this new venture doesn’t cause students to slip through the cracks, which is why we’re bringing on a new role to facilitate this merger.”

Chanelle’s cheeks burned; she turned away for a second, took a deep breath, and willed herself to appear poised with a loop of positive affirmations as she stepped forward.

Campbell gestured to Chanelle. “Please say hello to the newly appointed Dean of Admissions, Chanelle Whitehurst.”

“I’m delighted to stand before you and share insight on my new position and how it’ll help make this merger a success.” Chanelle squared her shoulders and stood tall at the podium. “I’m here to keep communication strong between both sides, to make sure guild professionals adapt more to their added role of introducing young witches to the industry in small, manageable lessons. It’ll be my role to make certain teachers learn how to utilize the shifting resources in the most productive ways to benefit our students. It’ll be my job to make certain all our students are assigned to an enchanter for the best possible internship.”

This new position gave her the dream job of working one-on-one when necessary while delegating the day-to-day, keeping all the creative control she craved, and allowing her the energy to watch over every student’s training, every student’s journey. She didn’t want to fail her homeroom coven, she didn’t want to fail anyone’s homeroom coven.

A torch of motivation burned brightly in place of her heart, reverence and healing and a belief that she wouldn’t let what happened to Jamie Novak ever happen under her watch again. The snide teen from her class who bullied and berated at every turn, the young man possessed by a demon, transformed into a devil, and freed only to walk his life hollowed out and lost. And when he finally found his footing, found a way forward…that demon killed him.

I swallowed my pain for the role my Doppler played and clung to Chanelle’s radiant emotions. She didn’t linger on guilt for what happened to Jamie, not even close. It was awe-inspired motivation. She carried Jamie in her heart, promising to wake up every day and do a little better each time.

“But you’re all probably wondering what this merger means exactly, how we came up with something so outside the box, so grand.” Chanelle’s smile filled her face as she positioned herself to slip away from the podium after her introduction. “I’d like to present the brain behind this brilliant concept that’s going to move the industry of casting to the next level, carrying future generations higher.”

Enchanter Evergreen descended from the rooftop of the draped building behind, joining Chanelle and Campbell on stage. He’d shown up in a trademark suit, wearing a light gray with a lime green tie to match Chanelle’s dress. He strutted toward the podium, a swagger in his hips and a smile on his face as he waved. The crowd went wild. Their great Enchanter Evergreen had returned home after his latest mission—the storyevery media outlet spun. As they looked on in amazement, I tensed.

Milo had returned to work.

I expected him to return eventually, but today? For this merger? A merger I still didn’t fully understand. I couldn’t believe Milo. He pretended to be asleep when I left this morning. Poorly, might I add. But I figured he was just plotting to exercise beyond the limitations of his medical advice again or that he’d make himself a stack of cool whip-covered chocolate pancakes he didn’t want me to know he was having—because, again, not what he should be doing when on the mend.

“This merger is the next step in fully immersive casting educations where guilds will offer their funding, their resources, their industry insight to help teachers provide well rounded educational opportunities.” Milo’s response went over well with the audience.

Admittedly, I concurred with the concept—what I understood at least. There were already whispers of the state shifting its eighty-percent proficiency goal in the next few years, feeling it was too optimistic. That basically meant they threw too much money toward education and wanted to reallocate those funds elsewhere. But with a guild backing an academy, they wouldn’t have to limit their scholarship students. Families wouldn’t have to rely on the state for a voucher, and kids from any background could gain a license.

I still didn’t like the idea of academies and guilds collaborating in this exclusionary deal with internships, which Chanelle’s surface thoughts revealed. Her mind showed a lot as she cycled through every question she’d likely face in today’s panel. A panel where they’d address how every student at Gemini would have an internship with a Cerberus enchanter. How their acolyte permits would be fully funded for three years—much better than the one-year expiration academies offeredgraduates. How students wouldn’t be obligated to apply to Cerberus and Gemini would help ensure every graduate was offered letters of recommendation to any guild they applied to after their internship.

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