Page 35 of Fractured Fates
I swipe at my eyes quickly before he notices, and suck in air. Regaining my composure, I snap at him: “I would, but you dragged me away from my guide. And I have no map and no timetable and–”
He spins back around to face me, two pieces of paper in his hand: one a map; one a timetable. He thrusts them at me and I snatch them from him and stomp away before he can utter another word.
I don’t care what he says, I’m still ditching this place as soon as I can. I’m just going to have to be smarter about it.
12
Rhi
I usethe map to find my way back through campus to my dorm room. It has some kind of magical GPS built into it, a little dot representing me making its way around the buildings. The paths are empty this time. I’m guessing lessons have already started. I’m in no hurry to join them, especially when I’m hungry and a little light-headed. I take my time walking along the paths, and an even longer time stripping off my clothes and climbing into my uniform. It’s a tad on the big size, the skirt slipping down from my waist to perch on my hip bones and the jacket hanging loosely from my shoulders. Unlike the bouncing bunnies, I won’t be rocking this look.
When I’ve fixed the stupid beret to my head, I finally have to admit to myself that I can no longer delay the inevitable; I have to get to class. I stare down at the timetable; first up is advanced spells. I used to think I knew quite a few useful spells, that I was actually pretty competent at casting them. How quickly I’ve learned that is nonsense? I can’t heal a wound or even dry my hair.
I drag my feet back through the maze of buildings and duck inside the one with tall chimneys, marked magical labs. I find the correct classroom on the ground floor and hesitate with my hand on the doorknob. I can hear voices within. I brace my shoulders, turn the knob and stride inside.
The classroom looks exactly like I’ve seen labs look on TV. All gleaming white, sinks lined up against the windows and equipment stacked on shelves. There are also four rows of chairs, all occupied except one right at the front. All the occupants of those chairs as well as a teacher, hovering in front of a whiteboard, turn to stare at me. She’s dressed in a white lab coat and sneakers, bright purple glasses matching the bright purple hair piled on top of her head.
“Ahhh Miss Blackwaters, it seems you’ve finally deigned to join us.”
“Sorry,” I mumble, even though I’m not. I hope Stone was telling the truth and mind reading isn’t common.
“Well, you’re just in time. We were about to conduct some practical assignments and I was looking for my first volunteer. Leave your books on your desk please and come to stand at the front.”
I do as she says, catching the eye of Winnie who smiles at me with sympathy. It makes me nervous. This is a lesson right? Nothing bad can happen.
I stand next to the teacher, whose name, my timetable informs me, is Dr. Johnson.
“Right,” the teacher links her hands together in front of her stomach and surveys the room. “Who would like to go first?”
Nearly every arm shoots up into the air with an enthusiasm that surprises me. An enthusiasm and a definite hint of malice dancing in the pupils’ eyes. It makes me even more nervous than Winnie’s smile.
“Summer,” Dr. Johnson decides, gazing upon the head cheerleader with such clear admiration I wonder if she has a crush.
“Thank you, Dr. Johnson,” Summer chimes sweetly as she rises to her feet, all traces of that meanness from earlier vanished.
“The assignment,” Dr. Johnson explains to me, “is to see if it’s possible to change the voice of another magical. This can be a useful skill when conducting subterfuge activities. Ready?” she asks Summer and not me.
Summer nods, raises her hands, and I know what’s coming is bad, the glint in her eyes positively evil. Her lips whisper and I close my eyes, expecting another blast of hot air or something.
Nothing.
Did she mess it up?
I open my eyes. Everyone’s still staring at me, Summer smugly like she knows perfectly well she’s been successful.
Everyone waits.
Finally, Dr. Johnson says, “If you’d be kind enough to speak, Miss Blackwaters.”
I chew my cheek. I don’t want to. I don’t think this will go well. She’s probably made my voice all squeaky, or maybe husky. However, Winnie’s right. I need to show her I’m not bothered. Then she’ll bore quickly and leave me alone.
I open my mouth to speak, planning to tell them my first name, seeing as nobody has actually asked.
But all that comes out of my mouth is a loud piggy snort.
My eyes dart to the teacher in alarm and I try again, this time a series of squeals and grunts flying from my lips. As I try to speak, I feel an intense pain searing through my nose, as if the skin and bone is being stretched and remolded. My hands fly to my face, desperate to understand what’s happening.
The entire class bursts out into laughter and when I stare at the teacher, begging her for help with my eyes, she simply grins back at me and claps.
