Page 10 of Validus Vale Academy 1
“But look at the wall-to-wall carpeting,” I say. I’d introduce them to the roly-poly, but he seems to have scampered off somewhere.
Willow is still tutting and groaning, looking as though she wants to make an official complaint to someone. “The school philosophy is to house us remedials in, let's say, less than desirable apartments as an incentive building exercise, but this is ridiculous. My parents would have a fit if I were placed down here.”
“Chill, Willow,” Duncan says. “You’re freaking her out. Anyway, Theo looks like a girl who’s not high maintenance.”—oops, should I have said that?/is she mad?—
I quickly give Duncan a grin. “You’re quite correct, I’m as needy as a plastic succulent.”
“Agave or Aloe?” Willow asks.
“She’s agave, for sure,” Duncan replies.—spiky with a sweet center—“And anyway, you’ll soon be in the Ordinarii dorms. There’s no way you’re an Everett.’
“What’s an Everett?” I ask.
“Legend has it, a guy called Everett never leveled up his spark, so he was living alone in Defectivum right up until the end of the year. Went home for the break, then unsurprisingly, never returned. I mean, if you can’t level up by the end of your freshman year, what hope is there? Though even having a tiny bit of magic is better than being an AUA, I guess,” he grimaces.
Oh, sweet summer child. “I hate to break it to you,” I say, keeping my tone even, “but I’m an AUA.”
Duncan turns a bright shade of red.
“Wah?” Willow tries and fails to stifle a gasp. “An A-a? Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry.” She looks truly sad about my shameful designation. “But that’ll change soon,” she adds kindly. “A few weeks at Validus Vale will turn you right into an AAA.”
Adult Awakened Anomaly.
Duncan is stuttering, and his brain races to think of the right thing to say.
—flip/foot in mouth/AUA!—
Willow rolls her eyes at Duncan. “They wouldn't have hauled you all the way here if you had no potential. You've got thespark, and we’ll do everything we can to help you awaken it. Seriously.”
We just met, but this girl is already cheerleading for me? It’s an unusual feeling. “You won’t be ashamed to be seen with me?” I ask.
“Eff no. And you’ll be the first to level up, mark my words.”
Duncan’s gaze sweeps around the depressing room. "And being down here," he offers, an earnest light in his eyes, "will definitely help. Incentive through adversity, that sort of thing."
A smile tugs at my lips. “Hmm, that seems like a stretch, but I’ll take it.”
Willow bends over the laundry pile and starts picking out my new uniform. Taking a plaid skirt from her outstretched hand, I change the subject. “Speaking of stretch, how am I supposed to wear this thing? It’ll hardly cover my bum.” The skirt is an unattractive shade of brown and orange tartan. Short and shapeless. Willow hands me a muddy-colored blazer. I hold it up to my body, then make a face. I’d almost rather keep wearing coffee-stained clothes.
“Oh dear, I think you’re more of a winter coloring,” Willow murmurs, looking from the jacket to my face. “Those fall hues are doing you no favors. But take heart," she adds brightly, "everyone in Defectivum looks equally tragic. It's a great equalizer, in a deeply depressing way."
The Communis House students wear a slate-gray plaid with a yellow and white thread running through it. The Elites, naturally, have the most stylish uniform: a deep midnight blue with blazers piped with silver.
Willow shifts my suitcase off the bed and starts unfolding the sheets. Duncan takes a hanky out of his pocket and gives the dresser a half-hearted rub. I decide that a visit to the bathroom is now a priority. “Hey guys, can you tell me where the loos are? I need to freshen up—badly.”
“I’ll show you, then you should get changed,” Willow says, giving my new school-issued blanket a final, decisive tug. “We’ve got assembly in an hour, and the trek takes twenty to get there.” Willow peers at my greasy hair and tired eyes. “Willforty minutes give you enough time to assemble yourself for assembly?”
Still clutching the tartan skirt and a pair of equally uninspiring brown knee socks, I nod. “Quick shower and I’ll be fresh as a daisy.”
“Good luck with that,” Duncan shudders. “The washrooms have no hot water in the evenings—or the afternoons, come to that.”
I rub a hand over my face, the idea of a quick, hot shower slipping sadly away. “Maybe I’ll get lucky, hope springs eternal.”
“Unlike the hot water here,” Willow answers, patting me on the shoulder. “But we’ll soon have heat conduction spells under our belts,” she says briskly. I meet Duncan’s eye; it seems Willow has a lot more confidence in her potential than either of us does. “Come on,” she commands. “I’ll walk you up.”
Dragging my weary, grubby self up the stairs to the communal bathrooms, I realize I’m smiling. Am I tired? Fuck yes. Dirty? Absolutely. But—and here’s the kick in the tits—I’ve an unexpected feeling inside me, one that’s keeping me going.
It’s a glow from the instant friendship I’ve found with Willow and Duncan.
