Page 2 of Elmwood Inclusive Magic Academy
“You’ll have a better time than you think, love. Imagine! Riding broomsticks over the lake, studying charms in the library…who knows, you could make some good friends!”
I scoff and head to my attic bedroom. I can only get up to it by a rope ladder that hangs from a door in the ceiling. An easy hover charm makes my mug float so that I can use both hands to climb up. Pan quickly scampers up my pant leg and settles on my shoulder.
I levitate the mug so it follows me upstairs. I close the trapdoor, a little more loudly than usual. If I had a real door, I would be tempted to slam it.
I put my tea on my nightstand and flop onto my bed, defeated. The ceiling of my attic bedroom slopes steeply in both directions, and hosts dozens of posters I’ve accumulated over my childhood. I don’t bother to tidy much, since my moms don’t come in here, and I’ve never had friends over. It’s a little haven of my own.
I’ve spent hours lying in bed, gazing at the moon outside and imagining what it will be like when I finally graduate. No more vines growing out of the floorboards (Millie is a garden witch, so our house is 30% plant). No more hexed boyfriends (courtesy of Astrid, who never apologizes). No more long lectures from Lydia about the importance of embracing our witchy heritage. I thought when I turned 18 and finished high school that it was all over, but now I’ve been sucked back in.
“It’s not fair, Pan,” I moan.
“Hey, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s just a year, you learn a little magic, you make your moms happy. Then you can go to your community college with your boring boyfriend and become an accountant or whatever.”
“He’s not boring-”
“Shh,” the little fox whispers, angling his ears towards the vent in the floor. “They’re talking about you. Want to listen?”
“Not really.”
“Well, I do,” he prances onto the ground and magically amplifies the voices coming up from the vent. Familiars have their own magic, so he can do things like that. It’s extremely annoying.
I can hear Millie’s soft voice. “Aren’t we being too hard on her?”
Lydia scoffs, “This will be good for her. We haven’t focused enough on her magical education, and now that Amrita is starting the Academy, it’s a perfect opportunity.”
There’s a short, but significant, pause.
“Lydia…I’m still not sure about this,” Astrid says. I can imagine her intense, focused gaze. “I know Rita will do what she can to keep the school safe, but things are still tense between the Triple Council and the independent magical clans. Why don’t we let things settle down more? Leander Arundel and the other wolf shifters were only just imprisoned in the Cave.”
Pan looks up at me with round eyes. I wave off his concern, “They’re just being dramatic, Pan. Like they always are.”
“Don’t worry so much, Astrid,” Lydia’s voice is brusque and certain. “I’ll be there, and so will Amrita and the others. Nothing will happen to her.”
“I just feel so bad for her sometimes,” Millie sighs. “She’s a sweet girl, but she hasn’t had the easiest time of it. What happened to her with those kids…”
I tense up.
“We know, Millie,” Lydia whispers.
“All those scars she covers up…”
The images pop into my head before I can stop them. I push them out of my mind, like I’ve done a million times before. Pan jumps lightly on my chest and lies down, slowing my heartbeat. We turn our attention back to the conversation downstairs.
“You don’t need to remind us, Millie. And besides, it’s not going to be like that,” Lydia says firmly. “These aren’t those little normal children, these are our own kind, and I’ll be close by. You can put a protection spell on her if you’re nervous, Astrid.”
“If she has any more magical protection, she won’t be able to get within two feet of anyone else,” Astrid sighs. “But I trust you, little bird.”
I’m over the conversation now. Pan senses it, and stops amplifying their conversation.
I lie on my bed, fantasizing about backpacks full of battered textbooks, games of frisbee in the quad, and my boyfriend, Timothy, offering me his letterman jacket when I get chilly during the first football game of the season.
Just one year…I can get through one year of magical craziness, right?
The last week of August drags. I procrastinated on choosing my courses so Lydia finally just picked them for me. I told Timothythat my moms are making me attend some pre-admission program to improve my grades. He thinks it’s weird, but he’s heard a million other excuses from me over the past few years so he doesn’t ask too many questions.
“But you’re coming for the Rome trip, right?” he asks over the phone. “It’s in November.”
Shit. “Ah, maybe I can get away for a few days? I’d still really like to come!”
