Page 15 of The Hallows Queen

Headmistress Rothchild picks up a stack of papers I hadn’t noticed until now, humming between her lips as she reads them over. “Straight As all through high school at Vanderbilt Prep, highest rank on the honor roll at Washington University, double majors in history and economics, as well as graduating Summa Cum Laude?”

When she looks up at me, I feel my cheeks heat. She looks impressed, though, so I nod to tell her I’m proud of the transcript in her hand.

She flicks through the papers, counting out loud. “Sevenrecommendations from past professors and leaders from internships, including the head of the history department at Washington University. Very impressive, Penelope.”

I smile with pride. “Thank you.”

She nods, puts the papers down, and gives me a stern look that’s probably intimidating to the students here. “I’m taking a risk on you because, after looking at all of this, I think you’re worth it. Don’t disappoint me.”

I blow out a breath from my nose, nodding. “I won’t. This is where I’ve worked to get, and this is what I want to be doing.”

“Good.” She smiles. “Now, as we discussed via email, you’ll be shadowing Mrs. Justice this year, acting as her TA, and then next year, when she’s retired, the plan is for you to take over her chunk of history and economics classes.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I nod once more.

“I know you grew up here in Luxington, but have you ever been to our campus before?”

“A few times, but only ever for sporting events, so I’ve never actually been inside.”

“Alright then, how about I give you a tour? I can introduce you to Mrs. Justice, since she’s here doing summer school, and then we can get your email account and everything set up.” She taps her hands on her desk, then stands up.

“Sounds great.” I stand as well, tossing my purse over my shoulder and stepping to the side so she can lead the way.

We go through the administration office again and out into the corridor, and she leads me down the hallway. The walls are a crisp, pale cream color, with golden accents on the light fixtures and baseboards. I went to private school, so the over-the-top cleanliness and lavishness of this place doesn’t really phase me, but I admire it anyway. Headmistress Rothchild points out different departments and classrooms as we make our way through the school, going as far as showing me the way to the cafeteria, gym, and three separate teachers’ lounges.

It's all starting to feel veryreal.

Part of me wants to squeal, jump up and down, and clap my hands in excitement, but I keep that giddiness to myself. I’ve just worked so hard for so long to get here – the fucking finish line.

There are a few students scattered about – here for summer school – but for the majority, the school is pretty empty. We circle back around the campus, and she leads me to the hallway that houses the history department. My new home.

We reach the second door on the left, and she raps her knuckles on the wood a few times before she pushes the door open. I follow her over the threshold into a bare classroom, with white walls that almost reflect off the dark, shiny wood of the floor. There’s a whiteboard covering the front wall, and a few bookcases lining the farther wall, but apart from that, there’s nothing to show any personality.

“Mrs. Justice?”

There’s a tiny, greying woman sitting in the desk on the opposite side of the room, but she doesn’t pop her head up to look when the Headmistress calls her name.

“Yes?” she answers, still writing something on a paper in front of her.

“This is Penelope Leyton, your aide for the year,” Headmistress Rothchild says, looking at me and smiling to warm the icy situation.

I step toward her when she looks up at me, smiling from ear to ear. “It’s really great to meet you, Mrs. Justice.”

She stands, rounding her desk, so I hold my hand out for her to shake. She traces her gaze over me, and it feels intrusive, like she’s reading whatever’s underneath my skin from the few feet that separate us, then she slips her hand into mine and shakes it.

“Great, let’s get started, then.”

I have one of those faces that shows all of my emotions, so I know I look bewildered when she blinks at me a few times, as if I’m stupid. “Started?”

“Yes.” She sits back down, grabbing the papers on her desk and tapping them on the wood to straighten them. “Lesson planning.”

“Oh.” I turn, looking at the Headmistress, who chuckles.

“You’ll have plenty of time to lesson plan, Barbara. Penelope was just stopping by to meet us today.”

Barbaradoesn’t look pleased with that, and she hums between her lips before she starts rustling through a separate stack of papers. Once she’s found what she wants, she stands again, steps toward me, and holds a booklet of papers out. “The syllabus for 12thgrade history. We can start on Monday. 8 a.m.”

I take the papers, meeting her intense gaze. “I’ll be here.”

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