by W. C. Peever
Ms. Welling laughed quietly to herself, then resumed her stern tone. “To be sure, in a normal preparatory school you would have three years of middle school and four years of high school. But as you know, we are far from your run of the mill preparatory school. After you matriculate you need to spend a year in internship, honing your ability. At that point you will be appointed to a job by the council.”
“Great, an extra year of school,” grumbled Bailey.
“The boys’ dormitory is up those stairs and to the right. The girls’ is to the left,” Mrs. Welling continued, ignoring Bailey’s scowl. “The bed reserved for you will have your name inscribed in brass on the head post. Under that bed there will be a chest of clothes, night wear, shoes, and toiletries. There is a desk by each bed stocked with stationary, and a shelf underneath for your books. There is a hamper for your clothes. Use it. Each week the clothes will be collected while you are in class so you do not bother the maids. Your clothes will be left washed and folded on your bed. You are to put them away. I run clean, orderly dormitories and I expect them kept in order.”
“All meals,” she continued, “are served in the Cafeteria, and by this I mean that no food is to be consumed outside of that room. We have a bit of a rat problem and I will not see them fed. Breakfast is from seven to eight sharp; lunch from twelve to one; and supper from four-thirty to seven. Your first class is in an hour, so you should go prepare. Now off you go.” She dismissed the children with a nod and watched until each had retired to their respective chamber.
The boys’ dormitory looked identical to the room that he had spent last night in, with the same rich wood panels and four poster beds; however, this dormitory had a total of thirty beds, all set and ready for the new students. Charlie plopped down on his bed and read his schedule. According to it, he had Physics in an hour and the rest of the day off. Perfect , he thought. He would be free to go to the lacrosse tryouts with Mick. He wasn’t about to try out for himself, but he could at least cheer on his new friend.
The door hinges squeaked. It was Bailey.
“Wow, nice digs. My dorm should be like this – way too many pastels for my liking in there. What is it with girls and pastels?” Bailey said “I may just move in here; got an extra bed.” She said, looking around.
“Pretty sure they would frown on a girl sleeping with a bunch of boys,” said Charlie, hoping that his friend was just kidding.
Bailey shrugged her shoulders. “So are you ready to go? We should allow some time to find our Physics class.”
“Sounds good to me. Let me just grab my books.” Charlie grabbed an oversized blue book titled Post Newtonian Physics: The Art of QILTing, Bending Space-Time, and Transdimensionality along with a handful of pens and a notebook, and shoved the entire lot in a book bag he found under the bed. The notebook bent and creased, a page of the textbook ripped and the pens fell into the oblivion of his book bag, as if expecting to never be seen again. Bailey suddenly remembered the year Charlie had forgotten an apple at the bottom of his bag. All his books that year had been stained brown. All in all it was quite Charlie and quite disgusting. Charlie tossed the bag uncaringly over his shoulder and Bailey followed him out of the dormitory.
Ten minutes later, Charlie pulled a map from his back pocket. They were lost. “I’ve seen that same cement pillar at least seven times now, Charlie! Where are we?” Ignoring Bailey’s voice, he continued to stare at the map with a mixture of frustration and annoyance on his face. “Charlie?” Bailey asked. “Charlie!”
“I don’t know, Bailey!” He snapped. “I think the staircase we passed back there is this one.” He pointed to the map, while chewing his lip. All the hallways looked the same to Charlie. They all had grey ceramic tile floors, dark mahogany and cherry wood wall paneling, and they all smelled like lemon floor cleaning solution and candle wax. How did Bailey expect him to be able to navigate through the maze if she wasn’t able to?
“I think we should have taken a left instead of a right at the statue of the naked guy. Let’s head back there.”
Eight more wrong turns, four naked statues and fifteen minutes later the children found themselves in front of a large door with a shiny brass plate that read ‘Professor Raja Viboo, Physics and Chemistry’. Charlie pushed opened the door and stepped into what could only be the laboratory of a mad scientist. Copper and silver gadgets whirled and clicked, glass tubes bubbled over blue Bunsen burners, and in the center of the room electricity jumped from one great silver Tesla ball to another. The whole lab smelled like a combination of extinguished matches and formaldehyde. A young, short Indian man in a long white lab coat peered at them through heavily magnified safety goggles.
“A bit early for class, aren’t you?” The Erlenmeyer flask in front of him spit a shower of mist and bubbled as a bright yellow liquid churned inside. Viboo checked his watch, shocked at his findings. “Dear me, it’s not as early as I thought…” The nervous man turned away and poured a stream of yellow-brown liquid into a tea cup, the aromas of the Orient flooding the room. “Tea? My parents send me the best jasmine tea from their plantation in India, very rare in England.” Both children politely declined. “Very well, sit anywhere you like.” The man gestured towards the two long benches in the center of the room. “The others will be along shortly. Take out your books. You’ll need to look over the chapters that you have missed, seeing as you are…well… a couple of weeks late.” The Professor turned his attention back towards a chalkboard and wrote down an elaborate formula, humming something as he wrote. The bell rang and a flood of students poured into the lab.
“‘Ello, mates,” rang out Mick’s voice above the crowd. He bobbled over to them and plopped down next to Bailey. “How was your meeting with the Headmaster? Informative?” He said with a wink.
“Not really. We tried to get more out of him about the trials, but to no avail. What do you know about this professor? I mean we caught him making tea in test tubes.”
“He is actually cool. He’s young enough to remember what it’s like to be in high school, you know. I mean, if you got a problem, go see him and he can usually fix it, as long as you can get over the stuttering and general awkwardness. At the very least you get a bloody good cup of tea.” Mick smiled and nodded to the front of the class where the professor was setting up the demonstration table. “The most important rule in this class is to always wear goggles, and trust me it’s a good rule.” Mick put on his goggles and the two followed suit.
“Good mid-morning,” said the professor. Please turn to chapter five, page sixty four: Newton’s third law.” Professor Viboo stopped talking. He looked down at a small girl with frizzy red hair and spoke in a pestered tone. “Open your book, Lacey. It will not open itself, this you should know from Newton’s first two laws. Should I assume that you have not read the chapter?” The girl opened her mouth to answer but he cut her off. “Rhe-rhetorical question, Lacey.” He gave a brief sigh turning back to the class he continued. “For every action, there is an equal but opposite reaction.” Viboo casually tossed a handful of silver powder into a boiling transparent liquid, which turned blue and began to foam violently. The students scooted their lab stools away from the now vibrating glass. The mixture slowly stilled and the students relaxed. Viboo smiled. “As you can see a reac-”
The explosion was sudden, violent and messy. Everyone ended up coated in the blue, viscous slime.
“-tion follows when an action takes place.” Viboo continued not missing a beat. “Now, if you will scrape off the goo and turn to the next page you will see…”
Mick leaned forward to whisper to Charlie and Bailey.
“Nothing fazes the man.” Mick said as if begrudgingly impressed. Bailey wiped the goop off her goggles.
“Is every class this…” she searched for the word. “…this exciting?” she asked. Mick chuckled.
A boy from another table raised his hand. “Professor, exactly how will Newton’s laws help me in the real world?” He was an odd looking boy, with
spiked black hair, a pale complexion, and a privileged tone. “I’m to be an Influencearian. My father was an Influencearian as was his father, and his father before him. None of them ever needed to figure out the trajectory of blue slime. So do tell, Professor. How will I use physics to change people’s subconscious minds for the Order? Pray tell me. I am dying to know.”
Viboo sighed. He had listened to this argument from the student one too many times. “Lance, how can you possibly understand the rest of your subjects or people without first understanding how the world actually works? Science can provide an explanation for the world and your powers. Provided your assumption about your ability proves correct, to be an effective Influencearian you must first understand the way the brain works. In the process you may even become one of the greats. But first, to even begin to understand the brain you must understand Newton.”
Lance yawned. Viboo sighed and tried again. “More directly, you must first graduate before you will be allowed to practice as a member of the Order.”
“Sorry, Professor, but was that a threat?”
“Of course not, Lance, merely a fact,” Viboo answered cordially.
“I am sure my mother would have something to say about it if you were threatening to fail me because I don’t see the importance behind your unending string of explosions. Cambridge University must have experienced similar feelings.” Lance smiled smugly and folded his arms.
Viboo answered in a metered tone, “Perhaps you should think of it like this. You must pass every class, including Physics, with a B+ or above for a leading job in the Order. That is, you must graduate from Thornfield to work for the Order. Newton is Physics. Therefore, you must understand Newton to work for the Order. You may argue this all you wish, Mr. MacAlcester, but this is not debatable. It is simply, truth.” Viboo could see Lance seething, but ignored the boy and continued.
Charlie tapped Mick on the shoulder. “Who is that?”
“Ah, don’t mind him, just some bloke whose father worked for the Order, until he disappeared about five years ago. His mother, Baroness Magdalene MacAlcester of Edinburgh, takes care of him. Some people around here say that Baron MacAlcester defected to the Vanari. When he left the Order, the Prime Minister changed his position on the Desert War. Many lives were lost. Sounds like something the Vanari would do to me. But you have to feel sorry for the guy. I mean, everyone believes his father is evil. Even Lance must wonder. Imagine losing your dad and never knowing if he died or just decided that you were not enough of a reason to stick around.”
Bailey responded sharply, “But how could his father change the Prime Minister’s mind? I mean only his closest advisors could do that.”
“Didn’t you listen? The reason Lances is sure he’ll be an Influencearian is because his dad was one. When his father disappeared he was working for M.A.S-the mind alteration squad. Their job is to protect our world by making the ungifted forget they ever saw it, whenever they stumble across it. Say a person saw the Headmaster turn into a cat. An Influencearian could make them believe that they saw a man going to a costume party as a cat. They try not to alter the memory too much.”
“Is that the extent of their power? Making people believe they like chocolate ice cream instead of cookie dough? That doesn’t sound all that terrific. At least not enough to gloat the way Lance does,” Bailey guffawed.
“Well, that’s the legal extent of their power. Anything more would land them in serious trouble, but if an Influencearian really wanted to, he could do a lot of damage. The Vanari use Influencarians for absolute mind control. It’s a very powerful ability, and one that needs to be carefully regulated.” The bell rang.
“There will be a quiz on this next week,” Viboo shouted over the clamber of chairs and the shuffling of paper as the students packed up to go.
“See you on the field, Charlie. You are trying out, right?” asked Mick.
“I don’t think so, but I will be there to cheer you on.”
“Well, I plan on trying out,” said Bailey, packing up her books. “If it’s anything like soccer, I’ll do fine.”
“Huh? It’s nothing like soccer, actually and much more violent. Not to be a buzzkill, but you stand a good chance of getting knocked senseless. You might want to sit this one out and wait for the soccer season in the fall,” said Mick.
Charlie chimed in. “Ah, Mick? You’ve obviously never seen her play soccer. She set a record for the most 911 calls in the history of our school.”
“That’s exactly what I don’t want to see happen to her here.”
“No, I mean for causing the calls. She’s never been hurt on the field.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll probably fit right in with the other guys.” Bailey said and the three went laughing to the cafeteria for lunch.
Lunch ended far too quickly for Bailey’s liking, especially since she’d missed most of the good food when Charlie insisted on putting their books away first. She brought a banana with her to enjoy on one of the long wooden benches on the sidelines of the field, while awaiting instructions. There were four older students in the middle of the field speaking with a young woman in a black and white striped referee outfit. Bailey nudged Mick’s arm to get his attention. “What’s going on in the center of the field?”
“That’s Ms. Barlow. She’s in charge of all of the games here at the school. Bit of a cow pile, if you ask me. I mean, she knows more about how to muck up a game then to run it. Anyhow, I think she’s giving instructions to the captains. From what I’ve been told we are going to be broken into two groups – those who have played before, and those who have never picked up a stick. The team captains, those four in the center, will pick their teams from seasoned veterans and the new talent. Sadie, the tall blond girl, offered me a position on the team after seeing me scrimmage the other day, so today is just a formality for me. I’ll put in a good word for Bailey. Show any promise and she’ll pick you up. She prefers no-drama girls.”
“Thanks, Mick, but I’ll earn this on my own,” said Bailey
Mick laughed. “Oh, you’ll have to. Everyone wants to play so the competition is very intense. Eighty-five people are trying out for forty spots. If Sadie doesn’t pick you, chances are no one will. But if you prove yourself, we’ll be on the same team,” Mick said awkwardly.
The referee blew her whistle and spoke into a megaphone. “Anyone not trying out needs to get off my field and watch from a safe distance. Now, to my left if you’ve played before, and to my right if you know nothing about lacrosse. Once you’re in your groups, begin passing drills, and don’t forget you’re being watched.” The students broke apart and to Bailey’s relief, the bulk of the students joined her in the group on the right. She picked up one of the lacrosse sticks and passed the ball to another first year. The game seemed quite natural to her, and soon she was passing with accuracy and speed. The stick itself felt light and powerful. She would have a fair chance of getting on a team
“Okay,” came the referee’s voice over the loud speaker. “Each group should break into three even lines. A team captain will toss a ball out into the field. It is the job of the person in the middle to retrieve the ball and bring it back to the captain. It is the job of those on either side to steal the ball from them. Any questions?” She did not wait for a response. “Good. Go!”
In her excitement, Bailey ended up one of the first in line to play and in middle line, between Lance MacAlcester and his rather large friend Ralph LaGrosse.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the new girl. If you hadn’t noticed, girlie, this is a man’s sport. Why don’t you quit while you still have your head and go and make a cup of tea?”
“Why, does your girlfriend want one?” She asked, nodding to Ralph
“Do you have any idea who you are talking to? I am Lance MacAlcester, son of the Baron of Edinburgh.”
“I hear your dad’s no longer Baron of anything, which makes me think that I must be talking to the king of the idiots.”
Lance lunged at he
r, knocking his helmet against hers
“I am going to kill you out there, girl!” He growled at her.
“That’s Miss Relling to you.”
The captain blew her whistle and the three tore after the ball, Bailey outrunning them by half the field. Once she had the ball however she had to get past them to get back, and they were waiting for her. Lance nodded to Ralph.
“She’s got good legs on her, I’ll give her that,” said Lance.
“Too bad I’ll have to break ‘em,” said Ralph, and he charged at her. Bailey rolled to her side, like a lion tamer dodging a swipe, and ran on towards Lance. Mick had said that as long as she had the ball anything was legal. She smiled as she closed the distance. Just as they were about to collide, she jumped into the air, cleats thrust out in front of her, and smashed into Lance’s chest. She could feel at least one of his ribs crack beneath her feet as he fell to the ground. His yelping confirmed it. Back on her feet, Bailey sprinted back to the starting line, having never lost control of the ball. She returned the ball to the captain as two medics ran onto the field.
“Impressive,” came a woman’s voice from behind her. It was Sadie. “Well not bad, I mean.” Sadie continued. You need some technique, but have good instinct. That can’t be taught. Not to mention that you didn’t take any of the crap those two were giving you. If you want a place on my team, you have it.”
“Really?”
“Practice is every day at a quarter of four; it lasts an hour. Don’t be late. If it rains, bring a change of clothes. I find woolen socks a nice comfort when it snows. Understand the commitment factor?”
“The woolen socks drove your point home, and I am totally up for the challenge.”
“You better be. I’ll see you on the field, in full gear, well hydrated and doing laps at three forty-five tomorrow.” Sadie turned to another prospective team member. “Welcome to the team,” she threw at Bailey over her shoulder, as she walked away.Mick and Charlie, watching from the bench, came running over to check on her. Bailey was grinning. “Well?” Charlie asked.