by K M Charron
Ainsley didn’t have to fake her sympathy. "That’s so sad. Her poor family." She cleared her throat. "If she’s still missing, why aren’t there any posters around? You know the ones with her picture on it and a phone number offering a reward for information? I haven’t seen a single one."
It’d been less than eight months, Ainsley noted quietly. Posters for missing dogs stayed up for years in Augusta. But here, you would have thought Daphne never existed. Didn’t anyone at the school care? What, because she wasn’t from a rich and powerful family, she didn’t matter at Ashcroft?
Guilt shone in his eyes. He straightened. "We had some…for a few weeks, but Headmistress Chambers thought it was hurting morale, so she ordered they all be taken down. I hated doing it but had to follow orders. She’s real particular."
Nice woman. "The police must’ve had suspects," she pressed, examining his every facial expression. Was the guilt really from removing the posters, or was there more to it?
He leaned in and whispered, "The boyfriend.” His breath in her ear sent a flash of goosebumps along her neck and down her back. "Said he was at school, but records show he was absent that day. Later, he told the police that he’d skipped classes to play video games in his dorm room all day. No one can verify his story. All her stuff was at school or at home. They didn’t find anything of hers in his room or car. But, I suppose he could’ve gotten rid of it somewhere.”
He knew more than Ainsley had expected. Maybe she could verify this with her dad’s notes later. “Do you know if the girl ever hung out here, on campus?"
He jerked back as if suddenly realizing he’d said too much. "Sorry, Miss, that’s all I know. We probably shouldn’t be talking about this anyhow. Bad taste to gossip.” He put his cloth back to the glass and continued buffing the spotless pane. "You best get to class now. You’re late."
According to her phone, she was, in fact, seven minutes late. How had she not realized the halls had emptied around them?
"Shit."
Ainsley should’ve paid better attention to the custodian’s instructions. Eventually, she spotted her classroom after wasting a few more precious few minutes walking in a circle while his words about Daphne floated in her head.
She stood on the other side of the closed classroom door with no clue about what to do. Knock? Open it and waltz on in?
This wasn’t a classroom like she’d had in Maine. The rules were clearly different here. Inhaling a deep breath, she pushed the door open and walked in. A short man with a trim white beard and silver rimmed glasses stopped mid-sentence, glaring at her. She wasn’t sure if he was irritated or if that was just his resting bitch face.
“Hello, I’m a new student of yours, Ainsley Davenport. Sorry for being late. I was lost." She handed him a paper with her details on it.
He scanned the page before facing the class. "Everyone, this is Ms. Davenport. She’s new to Ashcroft Academy, just like the hundreds of other students who managed to make it to their classes on time," he said in his humorless, British accent.
Her blood pressure plummeted. Her goal had been to stay below the radar, and now at least thirty students were staring at her, judging her. She kept her eyes trained on her feet.
"Move along, now."
When she peered up, she saw Professor Winslow waving her over to a seat, three rows up and dead center. He continued as though nothing had happened, and Ainsley couldn’t have been more grateful.
She made her way toward the empty desk, but as she stepped up the stairs, her foot caught on something, sending her crashing forward and her books tumbling down. Landing with a loud thwack, she froze in a heap on the step, knowing everyone must be staring at her. Again. Thunderous applause and laughter rang out around her. She wasn’t sure what hurt more, the pain in her knees or her pride.
"Ouch, that looked really rough,” a cutting voice said.
Making herself stand up, she saw the black-haired, gum-spitting girl from the hallway smiling––her intruding foot bouncing up and down.
"You should really be more careful."
Ainsley collected her things, her gaze settling first on the girl and then to a sweep of bright red hair. Tiana. Of course, they were friends.
"You’ve got to be kidding me," she muttered.
"Oh, I assure you, we’re no joke. Watch your step, new girl."
"That’s enough, ladies. Ms. Davenport, if you’re all right, please take your seat," Professor Winslow’s voice was as flat as the ginger ale her mom gave her when she had the flu.
Wasn’t he going to step in? He must have heard their threat.
When he said nothing more, she dragged herself to the desk and forced herself to look straight ahead. They were not going to win. Pride be damned.
Sydney
Chapter 12
Sydney couldn’t believe her luck as she watched Ainsley bail in front of the whole class. She would’ve loved to claim responsibility, but was happy with the karma.
Ava leaned in, whispering, "Looks like your new bestie is here. Aren’t you lucky?”
Sydney smiled. She and Ava shared the same disdain for those who were born without magic. She watched the brunette stumble to her desk and sit.
She thought back to how easily her magic had flowed with the blonde freshman, inside Ainsley’s dorm, and earlier in class. What if not being able to read Ainsley yesterday had been a fluke? Syd cleared her mind and did her best to tap into Ainsley from across the classroom. The girl was in physical range for her ability, and even the smallest flicker of Ainsley’s humiliation would be satisfaction enough for Sydney.
Magical tendrils left her fingertips. She felt the soft, warm pull as they searched for their target. She felt them reach the brunette, circle her, but she could read nothing from the girl. Syd’s blood churned under her skin.
Then a flutter of hope made its way to the surface of her mind. If her intuitive readings didn’t work on her, maybe Sydney’s other magic would. She pointed her fingers and rotated her wrist in a small circle as she mouthed the words to a spell she’d found in her family’s grimoire. It was an enchantment that forced the recipient of the charm to lose autonomy over their actions, following the commands of the witch instead. It would be like having her own live marionette. She could have a lot of fun with that. She would be forced to leave the actions somewhat benign though, as anything cruel or evil she spelled would come back against her in some way—and with twice the intensity. Or so they’d been taught during training. Sydney suspected it was a tale told to keep the apprentices in line.
Her attention fixed on Ainsley’s hands, but they didn’t move. The spell should’ve made Ainsley pick up her pen and write whatever Syd wanted on the paper in front of her. Frustrated, she tried again. But Ainsley remained stock still, pen untouched next to an open notebook.
Why did none of her magic work on this middling? She’d never heard of one being immune. What the hell was happening?
Winslow told the class to copy a formula. Now was her chance. Ainsley gripped her pen and placed it on the paper.
If Sydney couldn’t get the middling to be her puppet, then she’d just have to control the pen she was holding instead. She mouthed the spell and finger-wrote what she wanted in her own notebook. Seconds later, she watched as Ainsley’s pen made the same exaggerated markings on her page. Ainsley’s mouth gaped open, her eyes wide with shock. The middling ripped the page from the book, possibly about to ball it up—to get rid of the embarrassing scrawl.
Sydney dropped her pen, turned her palm up and raised it slowly. Ainsley’s paper gently lifted into the air as if caught by a slight wind. It swayed like a leaf falling off a branch. Ainsley’s eyes trailed helplessly after it, watching it land on the lap of Jake Wyatt, a fellow witch, who was seated in front of her.
Professor Winslow put his hand out, fingers waggling, his lips a thin line. "Give that to me, Mr. Wyatt."
Sydney’s stomach fluttered as Jake stood, paper in hand, and walked it over to Winslow.
/> The professor looked at the paper, frowned, turned it to face the entire class. “You would do better to concentrate more on my lecture, Ms. Davenport, than doodling your love for Justin Lautner." He crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it into the trash.
Ava burst into laughter, nodding with approval. "That was brilliant,” she murmured.
Ainsley hunched in her seat, her shoulders crumpling forward, and let her hair hide her beet-red face.
Sydney was considering an encore when an intense wave of nausea washed over her. She gripped the edges of her desk as shooting pain ripped through her stomach, causing her to bend forward. Was she going to be sick? Storming up and out of her desk, she put a hand over her mouth, and bolted for the door. She could not throw up here in front of everyone.
She was terrified she wasn’t going to make it but managed to burst through the door. The bathroom was all the way at the end of the hallway. Her eyes spied a trashcan not far away and sprinted to it just in time. The heaves were painful, her stomach muscles spasming relentlessly, causing her throat to burn and eyes to water.
When it seemed to be over, Sydney spat into the trash can and continued down the hallway to the bathroom. After she’d rinsed out her mouth, she checked her reflection. She didn’t look pale or sick. Her stomach felt calm again. The only hint that she’d been ill was some slight muscle soreness in her abdomen and a bitter after-taste in her mouth.
She wondered where it had come from; she’d felt fine until after the spell. She paused and then shook her head. No, it couldn’t be that. She’d used similar prank level spells on other middlings without any reaction or magical backlash. It was just a coincidence. She was relieved that it seemed to be over.
Winslow dismissed the class, and Syd kept her eye on Ainsley who hastened down the steps toward the exit.
Sydney couldn’t wait for Ava if she wanted to keep Ainsley in sight. Her chance presented itself when Ainsley pulled out a school map.
"Need some help?" Sydney approached, smiling widely.
Ainsley’s eyebrows pinched together. "That would be nice, thanks." She said it almost as a question.
"How you getting along so far? I mean, aside from the fall. That looked so embarrassing." She gave a sugary sweet smile, reached out her hand, and took Ainsley’s map. "You don’t need this. It’s not that hard. I’ll help. Where do you need to go?"
Ainsley reached back to grab the paper from Syd. "I think I’ll keep it. F corridor, west wing, room 303."
"That’s easy. Go down that hallway and turn left. Keep walking until you get to the end and then go through the last set of doors."
Ainsley seemed to have her guard up. "Um, thanks for the help. Most of the girls here aren’t exactly bending over backwards." She stared at Sydney for longer than was comfortable.
"Whoever Justin is, he’s lucky to have someone like you. Winslow was so out of line to show the whole class. Are you okay?" Ainsley didn’t need to know that Syd was best friends with Justin, not yet. Sydney would use it to her advantage at some point or simply enjoy the look on Ainsley’s face when she realized it. She’d do what she needed to make sure Ainsley stayed away from him.
"Um, I didn’t write that. I mean, my hand did, but it's the weirdest thing, I didn’t actually—" Ainsley stopped, shaking her head vehemently to clear her confusion.
The pleasure of watching her cheeks redden was exactly what Sydney needed. But she hated to admit to herself how good Ainsley looked in the uniform, perhaps almost as pretty as Sydney was. She wondered what she could do about that?
"Honestly, it’s no biggie."
"I better get to class,” Ainsley continued. “Thanks for the directions." Ainsley offered a frazzled smile before heading off.
"Happy to help," Syd called after her. She almost wished she could be there to see Ainsley’s face when she realized she’d gone to the wrong side of the school. "Good luck finding your way around." She punctuated every word and noticed Ainsley’s eyes crinkle up slightly as if she were considering an underlying meaning.
Maybe she wasn’t as dumb as she looked.
Ainsley
Chapter 13
This couldn’t be the right way. Ainsley peered down the buzzing corridor. It was filled with uniformed students rushing to class. Sydney had said it was at the end, yet she was almost there, and there was no room 303 here. Ainsley had seen 354, 365, and was stopped in front of room 382. The last thing that she was going to do was ask another student for directions. Stifling the urge to scream and throw her backpack against the lockers, Ainsley shouldered her bag and pulled her cell from her blazer pocket.
She hadn’t actually texted Harper before this. Maybe she should say it was her?
Hey, it’s Ainsley. I’m lost. Again. Any chance you know where F corridor is in the west wing? I need room 303.
She waited a grueling twenty seconds before her chest filled with hope as bubbles moved across her screen, indicating Harper was typing a reply: That depends. Where r u?
I thought I was in F, but I’m standing in front of room 382. There’s no 303 in this hallway. I’m gonna be late.
Ainsley felt her face grow hot, quite likely taking on a lovely rhubarb shade.
The bubbles reappeared.
You’re not in F. You’re in H. Go back down the hall the way you came. When you get to the stairs, turn right and take that hallway to the end, then turn left. 303 will be halfway down.
What the actual fuck. Not only was she going to be late to another class, but Sydney gave her the wrong directions on purpose. Why would this girl, who bothered to introducing herself yesterday and chatting with her ten minutes ago, send her on a wild goose chase? She didn’t have time to consider it now.
She jogged ahead, only slowing once to check the directions Harper had sent.
The hallways were clear now since class had officially begun. Scanning the numbers next to the doors, she finally saw 303. This was in the opposite direction to what Sydney had told her. What game was she playing?
A wave of anger nestled inside of her, and she suddenly remembered her dad always saying: "If things seem too good to be true, they usually are."
Ainsley held the doorknob, knowing what would happen. The teacher would stop talking, and the entire class would turn to stare at her. She could only hope that she’d remain upright this time.
Opening the door slowly, she walked in, readying herself for the lecture. She was ill-prepared for what she found. Students were out of their seats, standing in the aisles and at one another’s desks. The room was noisy with chatter and laughing. A small woman with chin-length, fuzzy auburn hair and glasses looked deep in concentration at the front of the room.
Releasing her pent-up breath, Ainsley walked to the first empty desk she found. She was careful to make sure there were no familiar faces, specifically angry redheads or brunettes waiting to rip her head off for existing. The coast seemed clear. In fact, no one was paying her any attention at all. It was glorious.
The prof called the class to attention, jumping right into an overview of all the novels they’d be studying and the assignments that would correspond with each. Ainsley did her best to stay focused but couldn’t stop herself from thinking about what had happened in chem. How could she not have controlled the pen she was holding? It was like it had a mind of its own. She remembered the way Winslow had announced Justin’s name in his booming voice. Her stomach sank as the embarrassment hit her with even more intensity than it had at the time. Everyone would know by the end of the day. Ainsley shivered and drew her blazer tighter around her.
The best thing, she decided, was to focus. She had to pull in a high GPA every semester, or she’d lose her scholarship. But first, she pulled out her notebook and turned to the back page where she kept her to-do list. She had plans to interview students and staff about Daphne, dig around in the archives, and break into her father’s locked files. Why was there so much to do?
Her throat ached, and she wished for a mug of warm
English Breakfast tea with honey.
A folded slip of paper appeared on her desk. Not again. A pang of anxiety akin to a colony of rapidly flying bats filled her chest. She couldn’t take another attack. Ainsley turned in the direction from where it came and saw a girl with shoulder-length blonde hair and wide gray eyes nod for her to open it.
Professor Byatt’s back was turned, reading off the screen, so Ainsley unfolded the note.
Are you as freaked out as I am? I’ve never had Byatt before, but I heard she’s harsh. I don’t remember seeing you before, are you new? I’m Helen
After her run-ins with Tiana and the dark-haired gum spitter, she was prepared for the note to be more of the same. She checked out the girl who smiled and looked down at the note. Most people are good, reminded herself. She picked up her pen.
Hi Helen. I’m Ainsley. Yes, I’m new. It’s a bit overwhelming. I’m from a much smaller school in Maine. I’ve already gotten lost twice today.
She folded the paper back up, checked to see that the coast was clear since she didn’t need another prof reading out her notes in front of the class, and slipped it onto Helen’s desktop. Ainsley watched her open it out the corner of her eye and prayed it wasn’t some trap to get her to say something embarrassing, which she now realized was too late.
Class ended with Professor Byatt assigning the first twenty chapters of The Book Thief.
Ainsley had survived the morning and met Helen, who appeared to be a decent person. Things were looking up. Now she had to find the table Harper had instructed her to go to by text. She should probably grab her food first though, before the lines got too crazy.
She walked into the cafeteria and grabbed a plastic tray, deciding on a sandwich and Caesar salad. The room’s rows upon rows of wooden tables with actual chairs surprised her once again, she was used to plastic tabletops with attached benches. The room’s large windows let in lots of natural light, making her feel a bit peppier after hours in dim classrooms. She considered letting Harper know she was going outside to get some fresh air and to warm up, but she spotted Harper sitting right where she’d said she’d be, and the seat opposite her vacant. Thank God. She hurried over, feeling the tension in her neck loosen.