Page 11 of Validus Vale Academy 1
Perhaps, justperhaps, Validus Vale Academy won't be the lonely, heartbreaking place I’d anticipated.
I’m almost, I hardly dare say it, optimistic.
4
My new friends are sadly on point about the state of the water temperature.
I make do with a cold spit-wash in the stained sink.
After dressing in the Defectivum uniform, I feel dirty, ugly, and ridiculous. The outfit is a mix between Sailor Fuko and a UPS delivery driver, though that combination even sounds better than the humiliation of what I’m wearing.
“You look nice,” Duncan tells me as I meet up with him and Willow. It doesn’t take a mind-reader to know that’s bullshit.
“Uh-huh, sure I do.” I narrow my eyes at Willow. “How come your blazer looks so much better than mine?” It’s subtle, but there’s something about what she’s wearing that has more style.
She gives me a sheepish look. “My parents paid to have it tailored, and this polyester blousemayhave been remade in modal.” My eyes drift to Duncan, who is drowning in clothing several sizes too big. He shrugs. “As you can tell, my parents don’t do any of that pampering stuff for me. I’m the youngest, and everyone’s basically given up on Duncan amounting to much.” He twirls his fingers in the air, pretending to spellcast. “I’m the disappointment of our family line,” he adds. “The first time a Links has been a remedial, plus all my siblings playFateBall, three of them professionally, and I’m more into writing code than wrestling jocks so wah-wah-wah,” he sad-trombones. “Poor Pa, he lives in a mojo dojo casa house—and I’m just a Ken.”
Poor Duncan. He’s making light of it all, but it’s obvious that years of pain and hurt are hidden behind his words.
“Parents are the worst,” sighs Willow as she pulls on my sleeve. “Come on, we mustn’t be late.”
I wish my parents had lived long enough for me to be frustrated with them. Their last words ring in my head.
“Don’t let the WMO find you, my sweet Theo,” Mum had whispered, without opening her eyes.
“And if someone discovers your secret...run,” Dad had croaked, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. I’d lain, pinned under a crumpled door until a passing delivery driver had found our smashed van.
Over the years, their voices faded. When I’d won the chance to spend six weeks at Validus Vale, I’d barely paused before accepting. I loved my parents, but they had always been so strange, so consumed by fear. Yes, me being a telepath was baffling, but thinking secret organizations were out to get us? That was paranoia—right?
Though now, in the back of my head, a small voice nags that I'm letting them down. They’d battled to keep me anonymous, and I’ve ended up right here in Havengard, the nerve center of the WMO instead of fleeing in the opposite direction. My parents would have been so disappointed.
“Sorry,” I whisper. “Forgive me.”
“Eh?” asks Duncan.
“Nothing.”
He nods and goes back to his laptop. Duncan is staring at the screen and occasionally typing something one-handed ashe walks. The evening has the last remaining rays of golden sunlight casting a haze over the grounds, hiding the weeds around our housing, and making the place look like a beautiful painting.
“Validus Vale,” declares Willow, “is like a supermodel in a Vogue photoshoot. All perfect from the front, but take a peek behind and you’ll see her dress is clamped together at the back, and there are acres of tit tape giving her that cleavage.”
She pulls me closer and whispers, “I’m so glad you’re here. None of the other remedials are sociable, and Duncan is great, but gaming-obsessed. Can I audition to be your BFF?”
Warmth shoots through my veins. “Let's just cut to the chase and say we’re BFFs already.”
Sorry, roly-poly, you just got demoted.
Willow grins. “Phew! Strike that off our list of things to do. It’s been non-stop since move-in day.” She goes on to tell me about orientation and various meetings that I missed over the last few days. “No biggie, though, I’ve got your back.”
Duncan is several yards ahead of us, and we hustle to catch up. We’re walking behind the other Defectivum kids; there must be a dozen of them in total. They’re a quiet bunch, heads lowered down, trying to keep the lowest profile possible. As we get onto the main driveway, we approach Communis House. Now hundreds of students, dressed in the slate-gray uniforms that denote Ordinarii, are milling around and slowly heading toward the auditorium. The head chatter is too much for my tired brain.
ASSEMBLY. If I really need a distraction, I challenge myself to find four-word letters or more. ASSEMBLY: Able, beam, base, beams, bases, mess, male, lame, males, messy.
“Where are you going?” Willow grabs my elbow as I’ve veered off the path, nearly stumbling into a marble phoenix. “This way, Theo.” She steers me back, and I see the Electi Tower looming.
My stomach flips.
Elite students come sauntering out. These young adults are a distinct breed altogether. Generations of wealth and peak familial magic radiate from their pores, smoothing away any natural blemishes or physical imperfections. The guys are broad-shouldered and athletic-looking. The girls? Tall, leggy, and drop-dead gorgeous. I don’t need to look down to see I’m their polar opposite: small, pale, and disheveled.
