Page 25 of Validus Vale Academy 1
The overhead lights suddenly turn on, the fluorescence glaring down on us; a pile of scruffy, brown-clad students rub their eyes and blink owlishly. “Same thing on Wednesday,” Professor Octobus says, going over to her desk and rummaging through some paperwork. “Did anyone feel anything today?”
Willow tentatively raises a hand, and the professor raises an eyebrow. “Hmm, will you look at that? Good job, Bloomhower. Anyone else?” The rest of us are silent. The professor mutters, “No surprises there,” then takes off again.
I look around the room as students start collecting their bags and putting blazers back on. They all seem thoroughly beaten down by their lack of success. I’d go so far as to say a couple actually look terrified. “My Dad’s gonna be so mad,” a ginger-haired girl mutters to herself.
“It’s just the first day, he’ll understand,” I say, giving her an encouraging smile. She shakes her head in disagreement. “You don’t know my father.”—he’s gonna fucking kill me—
Poor thing. Sometimes it’s not so bad being an orphan.
???
Dinner in the cafeteria is, unfortunately, a repeat performance of breakfast. As Defectivum House makes its entrance, we’regreeted with a chorus of mocking jeers. It’s like a prison movie scene where the grizzly old-timers yell, ‘Fresh meat,’ to the newbies. Or is it ‘fresh fish’? Either way, the sentiment is clear. Welcome to the jungle—we’ve got fun and games (that you’re not going to enjoy).
I’m carrying a bowl of chilli when I suddenly stumble. Shit, it feels like I’ve got a stone in my shoe. I take another step, and yep, definitely something hard and uncomfortable in my ugly, school-issued Mary-Janes.
I quickly take a seat and pull off my shoe. There is nothing inside that would cause me to limp. I shrug and put it back on. Wait, thereissomething in there. Once more, I examine my footwear, and that’s when I hear the giggles. Looking over my shoulder, I’m presented with the sight of a bunch of girls, with Jordan, stunning in her midnight blue uniform, in the middle. She’s waving her fingers in a small, circular motion.
Well, fantastic—a magically induced shoe pebble. What a time to be alive.
Trying not to feel defeated, I take a seat and bolt down my chilli. Willow and Duncan are still chatting away and have barely started eating. I’m amazed they’re so relaxed. The cafeteria is not a place I want to hang out, plus I desperately need some alone time to prepare for my appointment with Satan. I push my chair back and pick up the tray. “I’m going to head back to the dorm,” I tell them.
“Will you be OK on your own?” Willow asks, putting out a hand to stop me. “I can speed-eat this if need be.”
Her offer makes my heart do a funny squirm. This is what real friendship is, right? Doing things for each other without motive? Or wanting payback? “I appreciate the offer,” I reply, “but no need.”
She hesitates, biting her bottom lip. “Just keep your wits about you. You’ve already had two spells thrown your way. River warned me the Freshman hazing could get out of hand.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” I reply. “Wits-activated. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Meet us in the lobby,” Duncan says, dunking cornbread in his bowl. “We’ll wait for you, even if you’re late,” he adds gallantly.—pancakes/new friend/be a good person/but pancakes—
“Duncan, tomorrow I swear I will be punctual,” I tell him. “Prepare to be impressed.” I sketch a goodbye to my friends, then head out. I can feel a hundred eyes on me as I walk past the other diners, but I’m not limping.
No, I’m walking out in socks and carrying the cursed shoes. It may not be dignified, but it was the best solution to a magic pebble I could come up with.
As soon as I get to the dorms, I head straight to the basement, hoping to avoid any more confrontation, but even my new room doesn’t give me peace.
Walking down the staircase, I see someone has been in my space. Furniture is piled next to my bedroom door. I move closer and see a mirror, a battered desk, and an old-school coat rack.
Huh. Is this for me?
Maybe Professor Bildeblast found stuff to upgrade my room? I guess it doesn’t matter how the stuff arrived; I’m just happy to have a desk.
Getting the new furniture into place takes some pushing and heaving, but within thirty minutes, the quality of my room has improved, not dramatically, but at least somewhat.
The desk is along one wall, and I’ve put the hat stand in the corner, hanging two blazers, a school raincoat, and five blouses by their tags from the hooks. The mirror is leaning against the wall next to my dresser, and I can use the chair as my nightstand.
“Definitely, marginally better.” It’s an added bonus that revamping my room has distracted me from my upcoming appointment. Now, though, Cosmo’s words are playing on a loop.
Eight O’ Clock. Don’t be late.
My tablet informs me it’s 7:25pm. Time to transform from downtrodden remedial student to slightly less downtrodden remedial student. I peel off the uniform and wriggle into the school-supplied leisurewear. Brown leggings. Generic white trainers. And a baggy beige sweatshirt emblazoned with ‘Defectivum’. A quick check in my new mirror reveals a face that looks like it hasn’t slept, is stressed out, and needs a good eyebrow plucking.
Balls.
I’m not going to let Wes and Donovan see me while I look one-hundred-percent beaten down. I’ll aim for ninety percent.
I run upstairs and quickly wash my face, unbraid my hair—which has dried into a mass of waves nearly down to my butt—and put a slick of black liner on my top lids. I’m lucky in the eyelash department, but I add some mascara anyway. All the hair and eye makeup gives me an almost Amy Winehouse vibe. Shall I take this rock-chic look a little further?
