by James Riley
Cyrus nodded. “It’s a bit hazy, but you definitely either save the world, or you buy a globe. I really do think it’s the former, though.”
“I’ll be sure not to buy any globes, then,” she said, grinning at Cyrus. She turned back to Fort and patted him on the shoulder. “You, try to stay alive. I like healers. You’re all a lot nicer than the meatheads in my classes. Speaking of . . .” She turned toward the cafeteria line. “Hey, Blaine, hurry it up! We’re hungry! And we better get chicken fingers!”
Bryce and the other boys threw her a disgusted look but pushed their way ahead in line, past several students who got annoyed, only to look back and catch a glimpse of Rachel. Immediately they all let Bryce and his friends pass.
Apparently being the best had some advantages. Or maybe they were all just terrified of her.
Cyrus and Fort sat back down at the table, Cyrus with his tray full of food, and Fort with nothing but the mess behind him and a group of boys ready to set him on fire later in the dormitory. “So you thought sitting at this table would be a good idea?” he asked Cyrus.
“Oh, definitely,” Cyrus said, handing him a chicken finger. “If we’d sat any farther from the door, Rachel wouldn’t have gotten here in time.” He picked up another and took a bite. “You two are going to be friends, once she decides you’re not here to destroy the school.”
Destroy the school? What was . . . forget it. It didn’t matter. And he didn’t need anyone protecting him. He’d be just fine on his own, as soon as he learned a little magic. The last thing he needed was someone watching out for him, or making him run away when he was able to fight for himself. If he hadn’t had to run back in D.C. . . .
“What about Blaine and those guys?” Fort said, trying to distract himself. “Are we going to be best friends too?”
Cyrus laughed, stopped for a moment to stare at Fort, then laughed again.
After a quick (and incident-free) remainder of their lunch, Cyrus led Fort out of the cafeteria, being careful to leave before the Destruction students finished eating. As they walked out, Fort noticed several new kids coming in, many of them looking sick to their stomachs. He stopped to watch as most of them glanced at the food line, then decided to just grab some water instead. Some didn’t even do that and instead just sat down at a table, looking queasy.
“Who are they?” he whispered to Cyrus.
“Oh, those are your new classmates,” Cyrus said. “The healers. I’m guessing they had some disgusting anatomy lesson in class. Something to look forward to tomorrow! I’ll go introduce you to your teacher, then see you back in the dorm later.”
Fort nodded, his eyes on the pale faces of the healers. Almost to a student, they looked like they’d never eat again. All but one, that was: A tall African American boy with buzzed hair had arrived with the rest of the healers but seemed to be the only one interested in lunch. Apparently, he hadn’t had any problems with the lessons.
Cyrus led Fort from the cafeteria over to the Training Hall, the boring five-story office building where Fort had his test earlier. This time, once they got through security, Cyrus stopped him at the elevators instead of taking him back through the glass-walled offices to the auditorium where he’d first seen the books of magic.
Once the elevator arrived, Cyrus hit the button for the fourth floor, then stepped out. “Only healers allowed up there,” he said as the doors banged against his shoulder, then reopened. “Just follow the signs for Dr. Ambrose. She’s your new teacher.”
Cyrus stepped out of the way of the doors before Fort could object, then let them close with one last wave. Fort sighed, alone for the first time since he’d arrived at the Oppenheimer School.
Well, this was going great. First, he’d completely failed at Destruction magic, the one thing he’d come here to learn. Then he’d made some enemies without even trying, only to be rescued out of pity. What was next, forgetting to wear pants tomorrow? Assuming he lived through the night to even see the next day?
The door opened on the fourth floor, and Fort stepped out, finding himself in an ordinary hallway lit with fluorescent lights overhead. Several plaques in front of the elevator had names and arrows, so he located the one for Dr. Ambrose and followed it down the hallway to the right.
As he walked through the mostly quiet hallway, he could just make out voices at the end from an open doorway. He slowed, realizing that one of the voices might belong to his new teacher, and he didn’t want to interrupt her in their first meeting.
“This is insane, Oppenheimer,” a woman’s voice said. “Do you know how dangerous this is? You’ve seen the reports we’ve been getting from all around the world. They’re looking—”
“I don’t want him here any more than you do,” Dr. Opps said. “But Colonel Charles insisted he come. He think there’s a possibility that Forsythe—”
“Gets us all killed, maybe,” the woman said. “I can’t be a party to this. He needs to go home now, before more damage is done. I’ve seen the charts. Every minute he’s been here, the activity has increased. And what do you think happens if we’re discovered, Oppenheimer?”
Fort’s heart began to pound in his chest. They were talking about him, but none of it made any sense. Dr. Opps didn’t want him at the school? He’d only been invited because Colonel Charles wanted him here? What did that mean? Why would the colonel care about him?
And apparently his new teacher thought he might get everyone killed. But how? He wasn’t even being allowed to learn Destruction magic!
“Give me the three days we agreed on,” Dr. Opps said. “If I send Forsythe home early, Colonel Charles will just remove me from my position and keep him here anyway. The rest of the administrators think he’s just here as an experiment, to see if kids not born on Discovery Day can effectively use magic. So lean into that. Test Forsythe. Give him the challenge we talked about and make sure he fails. Then we’ll have a cover to send him home and keep the kids safe.”
Fort’s breathing quickened, and he had to reach out to steady himself against a nearby wall. Dr. Ambrose was going to make sure he failed? They were going to cheat to make sure he couldn’t stay at the school!
“Do you know how crazy you sound?” the woman said. “This is beyond dangerous!”
“You think I have a choice here? Colonel Charles is looking for the slightest reason to fire me, and the moment I’m gone, he’ll be prepping those kids for the front line of any future attack. This is the best idea I’ve got right now, the only way I know to keep the students safe for as long as I can.”
“Remind me how safe you’re keeping them when one of those things comes climbing up from beneath us.”
Dr. Opps sighed. “Rebecca—”
“No, just go. The kid’s supposed to be here any minute.”
Fort couldn’t breathe, and could barely even think. And after all of that, now he had to go meet Dr. Ambrose and look her in the eye, knowing she was going to make sure he failed out of the school. All because she thought he was dangerous somehow? That didn’t even make sense.
And what reports had she seen from around the world? Someone was looking for . . . something. But what, or who? And what did that have to do with Fort?
Footsteps sounded from the office next door, and Fort panicked, then pushed into the darkened room next to Dr. Ambrose’s office, just as Dr. Opps emerged. Fort went absolutely still, not daring to even breathe until he heard the headmaster pass. A moment later the elevator dinged, and the doors opened, then closed again, and Fort let out his breath.
This was too much to handle all at once. He’d left his old life behind to come to learn magic, but it’d all been a lie. Even the administrators at his testing earlier didn’t know the real reason he was here.
But Colonel Charles wanted him here. The one person at the school who’d actually believed in him and thought he might switch into the Destruction school. Maybe that was why he wanted Fort there to begin with, because he knew how strongly Fort needed this, after the attacks. A soldier like Colonel
Charles would know what going through an attack felt like.
The image of his spells hurting the creature, making it cry out in agony, filled his head again, and he clenched his fists.
If he let Dr. Ambrose and Dr. Opps fail him out of the school, he’d never make that monster feel the same pain he had when it’d taken his father. And that was not going to happen.
Completely lost in thought, Fort leaned back against the door of the office he’d been hiding in, only to have it loudly squeak as it pushed open farther.
“Who’s there?” Dr. Ambrose shouted from the next room over.
“Uh, it’s . . . it’s Forsythe,” Fort said slowly, his face burning with embarrassment.
“Congratulations,” Dr. Ambrose yelled. “Do you want a medal? Get in here already. I swear, you kids these days.”
- THIRTEEN -
DR. AMBROSE TURNED OUT TO be a middle-aged woman wearing a lab coat and glasses, her dark hair tied up in a ponytail. She glared at him through the thin lenses, shaking her head.
“Do you always hang around outside doors without saying anything, kid?” she said. “Just because I knew you were coming doesn’t make it not creepy.”
“I’m, um, sorry,” Fort said, his mind still reeling from the conversation he’d overheard.
“I’m Dr. Ambrose,” she said, and Fort stuck out his hand. She stared at it for a moment, then rolled her eyes. “You can call me Dr. Ambrose. Sit down and pay attention. I’m too busy to get you fully caught up, so the less time we waste here, the better.”
Fort quickly took a seat. “Thanks for, uh, allowing me to join your Healing class.” The one she was going to make sure he failed.
“Don’t thank me,” Dr. Ambrose said, turning away to glance at papers on her desk. “I don’t want you here. I think you’re going to distract my students who actually have potential, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s reason enough to send you home right now. But unfortunately that’s not up to me. So here’s the deal: You have three days to master the first three Healing spells. If you fail, you’re going home. If you succeed, pigs will be flying, which I imagine will make for some fun photos. Do we understand each other?”
“I don’t . . . what?” Fort said, sitting up straighter, just trying to follow.
Dr. Ambrose sighed. “What did I say about paying attention? I swear, you kids will be the death of me. Three days, three spells. Heal Minor Wounds, Cure Disease, and Cause Disease.” She half smiled. “And try not to follow the example of a truly stunning student who mastered Cause Disease first, only to end up with a case of walking pneumonia that he couldn’t cure.”
This was a lot of information at once, so Fort focused on the last thing she’d said, just to buy some time. “What, um, happened to him? Did someone use magic to cure him?”
“If antibiotics are magic, then sure,” Dr. Ambrose said. “They’re not, by the way. I shouldn’t have to clarify that, but I never know with your generation. Now, most kids have taken a week or so to learn each spell, and you’ve got only a fraction of that time, not to mention barely any power, given your birthday. In order to make this vaguely less of a joke, I’ve agreed to allow my best student to tutor you. Of course, that’s going to waste her time, but does Oppenheimer care about that? Nope.”
Fort just nodded along, unsure what to say. He had to master these spells in three days when it had taken the other kids three weeks? And if he failed, that was it, he’d be sent back home to live with his aunt.
That was not going to happen, no matter what Dr. Opps and his new teacher wanted.
“I’ll master them,” Fort said, his anger rising. “Whatever it takes, I’ll do it. I won’t be going home.”
Dr. Ambrose rolled her eyes. “Actually, you probably will, so you might want to get used to the idea. Just try not to monopolize all of Jia’s time. Her bandages are the best we’ve got right now, and the way things are going, we’ll probably need them soon.”
“Bandages?” Fort blurted out.
Dr. Ambrose stared at him for a moment, then gestured at a clear plastic case behind Fort. “In spite of what Colonel Charles believes, we can’t send kids out onto a battlefield. At least not until you’re eighteen. So instead, my healers infuse bandages with their magic. Easy to apply, and you can stack them.”
Fort turned to find a small number of what looked like large pads in clear bags lined up in rows inside the case. Each pad was labeled with a different injury, like BROKEN BONE, BULLET WOUND, BURNS, and more. There were easily three times the number of burn bandages as others, which didn’t make Fort feel great about the Destruction students.
“Generic Healing spells are all well and good, but we’ve found that making spells specific to different injuries enhances their restorative properties,” Dr. Ambrose said. “A generic spell might set a broken bone, but it’d still be fragile, while a bone-specific spell would heal it completely.”
Fort stared at her in wonder. “So that bandage right there can heal a broken bone? Just by touching it to someone’s arm or whatever?”
“Did Oppenheimer not tell you what happens here?” Dr. Ambrose said. “This is a school for magic, kid. Broken bones are the tip of the iceberg.” She sighed, turning away from him. “I could be pushing the field of medicine to new heights, but no, here I am explaining myself to a twelve-year-old.”
“Sorry,” Fort whispered, turning back around.
“Just . . . just don’t talk,” Dr. Ambrose said. “Jia will be here shortly, at which point you’ll be wasting her time instead of mine. Until then, if you have any questions . . . don’t.”
Except he did have questions. Too many to even know where to begin. But if he asked about the conversation he’d overheard, she’d know he’d been listening, and might just send him home right then and there. But maybe he could do it subtly? “Um,” he said, “I was wondering—”
“Nope,” Dr. Ambrose said.
“But—”
“What does ‘no questions’ mean to you?”
“You’re my teacher, though. Shouldn’t you answer questions?”
“I’m sorry, are you telling me how to do my job?” Her eyebrows shot up.
“No, of course not!” Fort said quickly, his face flaming hot. “I’m just—”
“Dr. Ambrose?” said a voice from behind him, and Fort turned to find a girl with long braided black hair standing in the doorway uncomfortably. “You wanted to see me?”
Dr. Ambrose kept her narrowed eyes on Fort for another moment, then turned to wave the new girl in. “Jia Liang,” she said. “Meet Forsythe . . . something. Doesn’t matter. You’re going to be tutoring him to the best of your abilities for the next three days, before he fails and is sent home. Try not to let him be too much of a distraction.”
Jia glanced down at Fort like she wasn’t sure what to make of him. “Tutoring? Is he a new student?”
“Yes, but he wasn’t born on Discovery Day, so he won’t be staying long,” Dr. Ambrose said, then gestured for them both to leave. “Now get out. I have important things to do.”
Fort stood up and followed Jia out. “I’m sorry about—”
“And close the door!” Dr. Ambrose shouted. Jia quickly did so, then turned to Fort, visibly relaxing.
“I’m sorry about that,” she said, shaking her head. “She’s like that to everyone. Don’t let it bother you.”
“I’m fine,” Fort said, just trying to collect himself after everything that had just happened. “And my last name is Fitzgerald. Fort Fitzgerald.”
“That sounds like a Civil War garrison or something,” Jia said, smiling slightly. “I’m Jia, like Dr. Ambrose said. Nice to meet you.”
“I’m sorry you have to help me, but honestly, it sounds like I’m for sure going home if you don’t.”
She frowned. “I was going to ask. What’s in three days?”
“Dr. Ambrose said I needed to master the first three Healing spells by then,” Fort said. “What does that mean, mastering the spells?�
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Both Jia’s eyebrows raised. “Three days? Wow. There’s no way. To master a spell means you’ve internalized the magic inside your mind, so you don’t need to use the words anymore. Before you master it, a spell disappears from your head as soon as you cast it, so you constantly have to go back and read it from the Healing book. To master it, you’ve got to cast it a few hundred times minimum. No one’s ever mastered one faster than a few days before!”
That sounded about right. Dr. Opps needed an excuse to send him away, so this would be an easy one. “I have to,” Fort told her quietly. “Please, I can do this. Just tell me whatever I need to know, and I’ll learn, I promise. I just . . . I can’t go back home.”
Jia went quiet and looked away for a moment, then turned back to Fort. “Okay. I’ll do whatever I can to help you, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up. We’ll start in training today, which begins in, like, a half hour. They’re just working on broken bones anyway, which I’ve got down, so I can afford to miss it.”
“Working on them?” Fort asked. “What does that mean?”
“You’ll see when we get to training,” Jia said, and started walking toward the elevator, making Fort hurry to catch up. “You’re going to love the Boneyard.”
- FOURTEEN -
THE BONEYARD TURNED OUT TO be what the students called the healers’ training center, a long room one floor below the lobby level in the Training Hall. The name fit, at least today, since half the Boneyard was filled with long metal tables covered in an assortment of bones.
Around each table was a curtain that could be pulled closed, which didn’t bode well for Fort’s stomach; that was bound to mean disgusting things happened frequently enough to need privacy. Not to mention that the far wall of the room was covered in half-sized metal doors, just like ones Fort had seen in morgues on television shows. That seemed even more ominous.
“Just be glad there are no actual organs out today,” Jia said, confirming his fears. “We’ll probably be back on those tomorrow, if you’re still here.” She half smiled. “Maybe that’s a good excuse to fail out, huh?”