The Hadley Academy for the Improbably Gifted

by Conor Grennan

He felt a new shirt settle on his torso. Then it expanded like a deployed parachute. He reached back and felt the new, smooth material and something like cardboard pressed against his back. There was also a zipper down his flank where none had been before. Jack tumbled out the other side of the Requisition building. He hadn’t even seen the door open.

  Jack blinked in the light. He peered down to find that now he, too, wore a maroon uniform. Jack held up his arms like a marionette to get a good look.

  Alexander took the disc from him. “The zipper along your side is your pack. You can hold thirty pounds lying flat against your back without feeling it. It’s already packed with the essentials. Everything in your pack is linked with the decision-making functions in your frontal lobe. When you reach in there, just focus on what you’re looking for. It’ll appear in your hand.”

  He nodded at their waists. “That steel baton magnetized to your hip is a Hadley blade. It’s a training blade, used for recruits and cadets, but it functions the same as the rune blade used by the operatives. For now, don’t even think about deploying your training blade outside of class. Darius will have you mind-scraped so fast you won’t know what’s happening. You don’t want to wash out, believe me.”

  “Wash out?” Freddy asked.

  “Get sent home. They scrape your memories out, so you can’t tell anyone about Hadley. You keep your spade, but your breakthrough is undone.”

  “How can it be undone?” Freddy pressed.

  “You’ll just never remember that you have a gift. But being honorably discharged—like the recruits who didn’t make the Forty-Eight—that isn’t so bad. Honorably discharged improbables tend to be pretty successful. Systemics become famous musicians, prolific authors, video-game celebrities, or coding geniuses. Kinetics end up getting paid millions a year to play pro sports. Expathics show up as successful speakers or as one of those wackos who live with grizzly bears in the wild. Theorics turn into tech billionaires, successful politicians, brain surgeons. You get the idea.”

  “That sounds pretty good,” Voss pointed out. “How about you wash me out right now?”

  “I was referring to the honorably discharged. Quitting is treasonous. They say dishonorably discharged improbables disappear off the face of the earth. Only the top people at Hadley know what happens to them.” Alexander paused. “Besides, you wouldn’t ask to leave if you knew what was at stake here.”

  Voss clenched his jaw but said nothing else. He took the disc from Jack and marched into the door of Requisition, then came out the other side a half minute later. Asha went after him, walking with arms out to keep her balance. When she came out, she pulled the zipper on the side and rummaged around.

  “Hang on,” Alexander said. “I need to walk you through how to use your pack first.”

  But Asha had already pulled out a short, black throwing knife. They all took a step back.

  “Whoa,” Voss said, holding up his hands. “Put that thing down before you hurt yourself.”

  But Asha’s eyes had sparked. “It just gives you whatever you’re thinking about?”

  “Not whatever,” Alexander corrected, eyeing the weapon in her hand. “There is a wide range but still finite number of tools and such. But you need to learn how to—”

  “Is this oxyacetylene?” Asha pulled out and twirled what looked like a short steel pen. “It’s tiny!”

  “Um, I think that’s actually—” Alexander began.

  Flame burst from the tip. Jack jumped back, but Asha was already torching the throwing knife. She shook it cool, then pulled out assorted bolts and pliers. A minute later, something whirred between her thumb and middle finger.

  Freddy took a step closer and squinted. “Did you just make that?”

  Even Alexander seemed stunned. “Okay, it’s not normal that you could do that so quickly.”

  Asha wasn’t listening. Her anxiety had melted away. She let out a long, quiet sigh of contentment.

  Voss shook his head. “Man. You have control issues. My cousin was the same way—I can spot it a mile away.”

  Asha picked up her tools from the ground and slipped them into her pack, her creation still spinning like a propeller between her fingers. “Making things helps me relax,” she said coolly. “You want to start labeling, go check the mirror. I’m sure you’ll find lots of interesting stuff there.”

  Alexander pulled out his tablet. “Okay, let’s get back to business, people.” He scanned his screen. “I think we can skip the pack safety module. If any of you have any questions about your packs . . .” He motioned with his chin toward Asha. “Now. Did they tell you why you’re here, why they’ve added a thirteenth team?”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying,” Voss pointed out. “Nobody told us anything.”

  “Do you know your spades?” Another thought seemed to occur to Alexander. “Hang on—do you even know what spades are?”

  Freddy’s hand shot up. “I do.” But Asha just slowly shook her head. Voss gave Alexander a blank stare.

  Alexander rubbed his forehead. “Oh boy. You’re dormants. So they just . . . what? Grabbed you from the street and brought you in?”

  “Maybe they needed extra recruits,” Freddy said confidently.

  “That’s the thing. The Reaper King was killed thirteen years ago. If anything we need fewer recruits.”

  “Maybe they think this Wyeth reaper guy came back to life,” Freddy persisted. “The Shadow is a kind of reaper, right? Can’t reapers do that?”

  “No. Reapers can’t do that,” Alexander said dryly.

  Freddy caught Voss’s raised eyebrow. “What? I don’t know.”

  “Then why are you talking?”

  “Why are you talking, Voss?”

  “Freddy,” Jack interrupted. “Easy.”

  “I don’t know what any of this is,” Voss told Alexander. “The Shadow? The Reaper King? What’s that supposed to be?”

  “The Shadow isn’t a reaper. It’s a force that has always existed,” Alexander said. “The Shadow became the Reaper King a thousand years ago. He was a man and a beast, a creator of killers. He did not die. He called himself Wyeth, and for centuries he rained terror down on the world. But thirteen years ago the Bulgarian found a way to kill him.”

  “Aren’t there some people who think that Wyeth is still alive?” Jack asked.

  Alexander gave him a suspicious look. “Wyeth is dead,” he assured them. “But I suppose someone might believe that Wyeth is still alive if they follow the Grays’ predictions too literally.”

  “Who are the Grays?” Asha asked.

  “They’re the monks who founded Hadley. They had this whole legend that the Guardian would fall from the sky and save the world by destroying Wyeth. They believed that the shadow reapers were only the beginning and that Wyeth would ultimately bring devastation to the world. They didn’t believe that an operative could end the Reaper War. But that was before an operative actually did kill the Reaper King.”

  Freddy’s eyes widened. “A guardian—that’s awesome! When’s that supposed to happen?”

  “It’s a myth, dummy,” Voss said. “It doesn’t happen.”

  “You just traveled instantly through a portal, and you can’t believe this?” asked Freddy.

  “The portal is science,” Voss argued. “We just experienced it firsthand. A bunch of monks and a guardian falling from the sky? That’s a fairy tale.”

  Freddy turned to Alexander. “Why don’t we just ask the Grays?”

  “We can’t ask the Grays,” Alexander said. “They were killed off in the Battle Beyond the Wall over a hundred years ago.”

  His band pinged. He looked down and scrolled around a new hologram that had popped up. “Now, you all have everything? I have to get you to your barracks.”

  “There’s a Team Thirteen barracks?” Jack asked.

  Alexander squinted at his hologram. “It looks like they improvised. Come on.”

  CHAPTER 6

  THE WATCHTOWER

  The pat
h was unlike the well-tended cobblestone paths at Hadley. It was overgrown and partly obscured by knee-high switchgrass, as if they were following a long-forgotten trail. As they rounded a bend, an ancient stone building loomed ahead.

  “This is the original Watchtower,” Alexander said. “Most recruits don’t even know it’s here.” The tower was four stories tall, with a round perch at the top. Weathered wooden shutters hung on windows scattered at intervals around the curved walls. Judging by the condition of the building and the vines that wrapped the walls, it had been unoccupied for a long time.

  Alexander pulled his tablet from his pack and touched his band to it. After a moment, he picked up a shiny skeleton key right off the tablet. He jimmied it into the lock of the cathedral-like front door.

  “This is the only building this close to the main gate.” He nodded over his shoulder toward a massive gate, almost as high as the wall, barely visible through a grove of trees. “The Watchtower is a relic, from before the gate was reinforced.”

  Freddy looked up expectantly. “Reinforced against shadow reapers?”

  “You’re way too eager to fight a reaper,” Alexander said. “And anyway, no. The wall is just for additional security.”

  “You don’t need a wall that size for nothing,” Freddy argued. He snapped his fingers and pointed at Alexander. “Dragons, right?”

  Alexander cocked an eyebrow and turned to Jack. “Is he serious?”

  “This ain’t The Lord of the Rings, bro,” Voss said.

  “What’s The Lord of the Rings?” Asha asked.

  Freddy shot her a skeptical look. “You don’t know The Lord of the Rings? The best trilogy in the history of the written word? The movies made, like, a billion dollars each.”

  Asha’s face flushed. “I don’t get out much. That’s a crime now?”

  “There’s nothing on the other side,” Alexander interrupted. “Nothing that can get through anyway. That gate has stood for a long time.”

  Voss folded his arms. “Hold up. ‘Nothing that can get through’ is way different from nothing.”

  “You’re fine,” Alexander assured him.

  At that moment, something hit the other side of the gate so hard that it shook on its colossal hinges. Alexander flinched. The recruits ducked. Freddy yelped.

  “What was that?” Jack demanded, pointing at the gate.

  “There is something!” Voss said, backing away. “I knew it!”

  Alexander paused. When nothing else happened, he forced a laugh and waved it off. “It’s the wind. We’re on an island here, you know. Jet streams.”

  “I know something about islands,” Asha whispered. “That wasn’t a jet stream.”

  “I promise, nothing can get through,” Alexander insisted. “You’re totally safe.”

  With a last apprehensive glance at the main gate, Alexander turned his attention back to the Watchtower door. The others watched the gate.

  Frustrated, Alexander pulled the key out of the lock and held it up to the light. He touched his ear. “Hey, the new key isn’t working . . . The original key may be in the lock on the other side . . . I can’t hack the panel because there is no panel. It’s a million years old . . . No . . . No, it’s fine. I’ll get the key from inside . . . Yeah, I’ll figure it out.”

  Alexander stepped back and looked straight up the Watchtower. He sighed. Then he turned to the forest and whistled.

  After a moment, cawing ravens swooped over the pines and down toward the clearing. They landed on the roof of the Watchtower and chattered among themselves. Then one disappeared through a space in the eaves of the tower. The rest followed.

  A couple of minutes later, the ravens emerged from the same gap in the eaves. They dove down toward the door, ignoring Alexander. The last raven held a key in its beak. After a couple of failed attempts, it managed to insert the key in the lock.

  “Yeah, yeah, very impressive,” Alexander murmured at the ravens. He turned the key. The lock clicked.

  Openmouthed, Freddy pointed to the departing ravens, then back to the key.

  “I thought your spade was manipulating energy,” said Asha.

  “It is.” Alexander nodded. “But lots of improbables have minors too. I have a minor Expathic spade. I can communicate with ravens—just ravens. I don’t know why.”

  Asha was wide-eyed. “That’s amazing!”

  “Not so amazing when you’re out in the dormant world and you have ravens following you everywhere. They’re messy.” Alexander glanced at each shoulder. “I wasn’t the most popular kid to begin with, and when other kids saw ravens seeming to attack me all the time, they thought it was hilarious. Bird Boy, they called me. I didn’t understand my spade or know how to control it. I was just the weird kid.”

  “I feel you there, buddy,” Freddy said under his breath.

  Alexander shrugged. “Anyway. Quantum adhesion is actually useful. Having ravens follow me? Not exactly the stuff of a legendary warrior.”

  “I think it’s awesome,” Asha told him.

  Alexander didn’t respond, but Jack saw him flush slightly, and his mood brightened. He leaned into the door, popping it open. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

  Inside, the ground floor was a large, open round space that smelled like a rainy afternoon. When Jack craned his neck, he could see all the way up to the roof. Somewhere water dripped. Steps jutted out of the curved wall in a gradual spiral and led up to a landing about twenty feet up, where there appeared to be a wide room-sized loft.

  They followed Alexander up the vertigo-inducing stairs. A draft swept down through large open windows high above them as they climbed. The loft—the common area, as Alexander called it—was as cozy as the ground floor was bare. A large crimson Persian carpet covered the floor. Overstuffed and well-worn leather couches and chairs faced a large fireplace already in full blaze. The team gravitated toward the heat.

  “Man. They set stuff up fast,” Freddy noted. “I bet that’s somebody’s spade.”

  “What, moving furniture?” Jack asked.

  “A fireplace.” Voss tapped his boot at a thick log. “That’s supposed to be an amenity?”

  “That’s supposed to be a heat source. There’s no electricity in this building,” Alexander told him.

  “You have portals through space, but you don’t have electricity?” Freddy asked.

  “You don’t have electricity,” Alexander corrected. “The rest of the grounds does. This place just has a few gas lamps.”

  “Where are we supposed to sleep?” Voss asked.

  Alexander nodded at ladders attached to the wall. “They apparently converted the storage rooms into three bedrooms. Two of you guys will have to room together.”

  Freddy punched Jack’s arm. “Nice! Wanna be roommates? Oh man, we’re gonna have so much fun.”

  “Hang on,” Alexander interrupted, touching his ear. “Yes, go ahead, sir . . . Okay, I’ll send them immediately.” He tapped his ear again and turned to the others.

  “You’re wanted at the Spade Threshold.” Alexander led them downstairs. “It’s Naming Day, remember? You’re about to figure out who you really are.”

  “Yo.” Voss pointed ahead of them as they came out of the Watchtower. “There’s a dog just sitting there.”

  Maggie was sitting patiently on the grass, to the side of the cobblestones. When they approached her, she barked once, then turned and ran up the path.

  “That’s Maggie, Superior Blue’s dog,” Jack said.

  “Better keep up with her,” Alexander said, closing the door behind him. “You don’t have a lot of time.”

  Jack didn’t need any encouragement. It felt good to run. Voss and Asha kept up with him. Freddy groaned and trailed behind.

  When they arrived in the Barracks clearing, the podium was gone. The only evidence of the morning’s ceremony was the trampled grass where the Forty-Eight had stood in formation. The Spade Threshold stood alone in the middle of the circle of residences, gleaming under the midday
sun.

  Director Darius, Superior Blue, and an older woman waited for them. The other woman was probably in her eighties with light-brown skin and a silver Afro. She wore a white lab coat, marked by a blue infinity rectangle over her heart. Her eyes glinted with youthful enthusiasm. Maggie ran up to her, wagging her tail madly. The woman squatted down to rub under Maggie’s chin.

  “Team Thirteen,” Superior Blue greeted them. “This is Iliana Darius, Director for the Office of Reaper Engagement.” Blue nodded to Darius. “And this is Dr. Horn, our chief medic.”

  Dr. Horn stood back up and smiled at Team Thirteen. “It’s a pleasure to meet y’all.” She spoke in a slow southern drawl. “I was standing right about here when Superior Blue was a pup, when he walked through this gate and learned his spade name, Rook.” She patted Blue’s shoulder. “I find spade names far more descriptive than the fancy titles like Superior and Director, don’t you, Trail?” She aimed this last comment to Director Darius.

  “We are grateful for your presence, Dr. Horn,” Director Darius said, seeming unwilling to disappoint Dr. Horn with a negative response.

  “Oh, it’s no bother at all. I wanted to see how Miss Hassan was feeling anyway. Stepping through the Threshold is too important a moment for feeling poor.” Dr. Horn nodded to Asha. “How is the dizziness, young lady?”

  “It’s gone, thanks,” Asha said.

  “Glad to hear it.” Dr. Horn turned to face the rest of Team Thirteen. “The Threshold tells your spade classification and your spade name. But while other recruits learn their gifts through years of introspection, exploration, and ultimately, what we call the breakthrough, I am here to sweep your synapses and just tell you exactly what your spade is.”

  Superior Blue turned to the four recruits. “Who wants to go first?”

  Freddy scurried around the iron gate and stood at the other side of the Threshold.

  Darius faced Freddy through the Threshold. “Step through, Recruit Sanchez.”

  Freddy paused. Jack had never seen him nervous before. He squeezed his eyes closed and stepped through.

  On the left side of the gate’s broad vertical frame, the wrought-iron rectangle with the infinity sign glowed blue.