Miss Mabel's School for Girls (6 page)

Hoping to distract attention from the over-active jump to my feet, I gave her a smile.

“Not at all,” I told her. “Thought I saw a spider.”

She glanced down and danced back a step, her nose twitching with a cringe.

“Yes, well, that’s not entirely unexpected in a school this old, is it? Nasty things. My name is Priscilla.” She spoke with the drawl of someone from Ashleigh, the richest village in the Central Network. The affluence of her family was unquestioned if the pearls in her ears gave any indication. School uniforms supposedly kept everyone on an even standard, but poverty and wealth had their own way of bleeding through uniformity. “It’s nice to meet the bravest first-year in the school.”

Priscilla smiled beatifically, as if she thought she’d done me a favor by introducing herself. The two girls that came with her sniggered behind their hands, privy to an inside joke. One of them had the nose of a pug, turned up and pressed in. Her blonde hair flaunted her jaw in an unflattering line. I recognized her as Jade from last night, the first to volunteer after Priscilla. The other one had to be Stephany. Tall and skinny, a little like a twig with arms. Even her nose was thin and pointy.

Priscilla’s sweet smile never faltered.

“Merry meet,” I said with cool indifference. “I’m Bianca Monroe.”

“Yes,” she said, brushing her hair off her shoulder. “I know. We came to talk to you about the Competition.”

Something in the rise and fall of her tone belied her words. Her speech too measured, her blink too practiced. Priscilla held all the cards and wouldn’t have it any other way. Apparently I’d upset a more delicate balance by volunteering for the Competition than I’d thought, one that these girls wouldn’t stand by and watch.

A controller. Perfect. They were easy enough to deal with.

“Of course,” I said with gracious invitation. “Love to.”

She paused, her eyes flickering. If she expected me to get nervous just because she dropped from the heavens to speak to me, a first-year, she’d be very disappointed.

“We’re worried about you, Bianca. This Competition is very difficult.”

“Yes,” I said, my composure firmly in place. “So I’ve heard.”

Her nostrils flared. She smiled with just the corners of her lips.

“Yes, well, are you sure you know what you’re getting into? There’s no shame in dropping out, you know. You are only a first-year. How much could you do?”

She let out a petite little laugh, and Stephany and Jade joined in a few seconds too late. It didn’t take long for the false amusement to subside.

“I think you’d be surprised,” I said, matching her cool hauteur. Her pupils constricted. She pressed her lips into a line and lifted an eyebrow.

“You certainly are a confident little monster, aren’t you?” she muttered.

“Better than manipulating a sixteen-year-old into quitting because I’m scared to lose, I think.”

Camille gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth. Leda sniggered. Priscilla and her friends sucked in a deep breath together, operating from one mind.

Ah, vanity. A most reliable weakness. Papa’s advice stirred from the deep recesses of my mind.

Your first job in every confrontation is to establish your opponent’s weakness. Strategy starts with weak spots.

“Oh really?” Priscilla said, her tone quivering. “I’ll tell you exactly what I–”

“It’s been great to meet you,” I said with exaggerated politeness. The shift of power from her to me was palpable. Taking away her control over the conversation would be the only way to stop her. “I can’t wait to see you around. If you have any questions about the Competition, let me know.”

Her eyes narrowed into spikes. “Don’t get too sure of yourself, first-year,” she whispered. “You don’t know anything yet. The Competition is no game for babies.”

“Then I’m sure you can quit at any time. There’s no shame in backing out, Priscilla.” I parroted her cloying tone.

We stared at each other for a long time. The dining room held its breath. And then she broke into a wreath of smiles. Her voice carried through the dining room with an airy roll.

“Just let me know if I can be of help. Wouldn’t want you getting hurt or embarrassing yourself.”

I wondered how long she’d be able to keep that fixed smile in place. I smiled and turned around, effectively dismissing her before she could leave.

Priscilla moved away with a low grumble of what sounded like murderous intent. Stephany and Jade followed suit. I sat back down, trying my hardest to act as if nothing had happened.

Camille turned to me in speechless awe.

“You were amazing!” she whispered in an exultant cry. “You really gave it to that witch!”

Leda took a more practical approach.

“Better be careful,” she said. “You don’t want to mess with people like Priscilla.”

“She seems like a delightful friend.”

“That delightful friend has talent to brag about.”

Well so do I. Except using it would earn me a fast ticket out of here.

“Like what?” I asked, unfolding the cloth napkin and spreading it on my lap.

“She’s at the top of the third-year class for one, and the Network Protector program has their eyes on her.”

I laughed so loud it drew the attention of a few first-years nearby, who shot me a dirty look before resuming their conversation.

“They would not take her as a Protector,” I said.

“Why not?”

I could tell her curiosity was triggered by the certainty in my tone and realized I may have gone too far. The Protectors were the High Priestess’s spy system. They did anything, and everything. From protecting the High Priestess to infiltrating dangerous places like the Northern Network, to fighting pockets of black magic. By necessity they were secretive; as a sixteen-year old schoolgirl, I shouldn’t know much about them.

“Because she’s too pretty,” I said, and left it at that.

“Well, if that doesn’t work out than she’s still got options. She’s going to graduate with the Curses and Hexes mark, Advanced Transformation, and Astronomy. Not to mention her family is so rich they burn money for fuel.”

I met Leda in the eye.

“She’s not worth being afraid of,” I said. She blinked several times and then looked away. For all her disdain and indifference, I sensed Leda hid what she really felt. There were things in my life to fear. A bully with flawless features wasn’t one of them.

To my relief, a soft tinkling sound filled the air, cutting off our conversation. Miss Scarlett stood, seeming to appear from nowhere, for roll call. I realized the dining room had filled during my moment with Priscilla. Six cauldrons flew out of the kitchen when Miss Scarlett finished and landed with heavy thuds on each table. Bowls and spoons distributed themselves amongst us.

Camille let out a sigh.

“Leda’s right, Bianca. Priscilla is the best witch of all the students. You should see her do transformations. She changed a bat into a dove. She even made Michelle look pretty! She’s going to crush you during the Competition.”

“Thanks,” I said in a dry tone as Camille scooped a pasty blob of oatmeal into my bowl with a resounding plop. “I appreciate your support.”

Camille muttered under her breath, violently shaking out her napkin and almost whipping the girl to her left. But I saw the corner of her lips turn up for just a moment.

We started into breakfast without another word.

Are You Afraid?

M
iss Bernadette’s classroom smelled like fresh pine needles.

Two windows with ledges full of cream-colored candles looked out onto the gloomy wood, and a blackboard covered the whole wall behind her. A few obscure paintings of previous teachers filled the space between the windows, and bookshelves ran along the back wall.

The desks in the front buzzed with prattling students. Only Leda sat by herself in the very back, as far from everyone else as she could get, her desk pushed against the wall like a little island in the sea of chairs. 

When I walked in, the curious stares of the first-years unnerved me more than meeting the whole school the night before. The calico cat jumped onto a chair in the back, near the fire, and sat like a stoic statue.

“Welcome to the first-year classroom, Bianca,” Miss Bernadette said with her lilting voice. Her smile infused her whole face, like an angelic pixie in a beige dress. “Leda will help you get your textbooks in the library after class.”

Miss Bernadette looked back to Leda, who agreed with a nod.

“Thank you, Leda.”

All traces of Miss Bernadette’s worry from the night before had vanished, filling me with relief. Miss Bernadette was someone I wanted on my side.

“Yes, Miss Bernadette.”

“Go ahead and pick any seat you like. Class will begin in four minutes.”

Camille stayed at my side like a shadow, motioning to the vacant desk behind her. 

“What about Leda?” I asked.

“Leda doesn’t like people,” she said. “She sits there for a reason.”

The girl sitting behind the open desk leaned forward and caught my eye.

“Are you really going to go through with this?” she asked.

She had smooth skin, the color of coffee mixed with cream. Her hair spiraled out around her head in a halo of black wires. She was lean and wiry, moving with long, graceful movements.

“Yes,” I said.
No,
I wanted to say.
I just thought I’d do this as a fun joke. Are you laughing yet?

A few other girls clued into our conversation and leaned towards us.

“This is Jackie,” Camille said by way of introduction. “Jackie, this is Bianca.”

“Oh, we all know her,” Jackie said, leaning back in her chair with a surprisingly white smile. “I think the whole school knows this girl. Do you think you can win?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t have volunteered if I didn’t think I had a chance.” My response had a bit more energy than I expected. “Uh, yes, I do think I can win,” I said in a slower, more controlled tone.

“I think you’re a raving lunatic to even try,” Jackie said with her full-lipped smile. “But I kind of admire you for it too. You must have courage.”

I hated the surge of pride I felt at her words. Maybe she didn’t know that there was a fine line between courage and lunacy. I felt like I flirted with it often, dancing with one foot on either side like a child. Except now I felt like I’d stepped fully to the side of lunacy, coming to school here and attempting the Competition.

Another first-year piped up from behind me. She had a chubby face and spoke with a lisp.

“Aren’t you afraid of Prithilla, Jade, and Thephany?”

A sea of faces stared back at me. Here was my chance to establish a bit of solid ground against the opposition.

“No, of course not,” I laughed with breathy amusement. “Why would I be afraid of them?”

The girl’s eyes widened.

“Why wouldn’t you be?” she asked, dubious. “They know what they are doing. They’re third-years. I think Prithilla will win.”

“I’ve seen the transformations she can do,” Jackie said with a low hum of agreement. “Jade isn’t too bad with healing incantations either, if she were to get hurt. She’d have a good advantage there.”

Several girls agreed, launching them into a discourse on the faults and strengths of the three third-years. I noticed that no one mentioned Michelle, or even seemed to consider her much of a contender. Stephany didn’t seem to have one area of magical strength, just a general ability to perform most incantations. Priscilla, it was unanimous, would win. I listened, trying to absorb any information that could later give me an advantage.

“What about Michelle?” I asked, interrupting a heated discussion on whether Jade could outmatch Stephany in transfiguration magic. They all looked at me in surprise.

“What about her?” Jackie replied.

“She volunteered as well.”

They all stared at each other.

“Mithelle?” the lisp-girl repeated with shrug. “Well, the’ll do all right.”

“And Elana?” I pressed.

They seemed to have forgotten about the other competitors. Jackie responded first. “Elana might give you a run for your money in the first match, but I don’t think she’ll make it to the third.”

The rest of the first-years murmured their agreement.
Sheep, all of you.
I wanted to say, but held my tongue.

The tiny silver bell on Miss Bernadette’s desk rose into the air and signaled the start of our class with a musical clatter. Through the shuffling of girls turning around and pulling out books, I heard Leda’s quiet laughter from the back of the room. I glanced over my shoulder, unable to imagine what she found so funny, but couldn’t catch her eye.

“Bianca, take a seat. Everyone, pull out your blue books. The one titled,
Essays on Incantations and Their Importance in the Network
.”

I moved to the desk behind Camille and slipped into the seat. The cat purred itself to sleep on the hearth behind us, and my first day at Miss Mabel’s School for Girls began.