Miss Mabel's School for Girls

by Katie Cross

  Communication Spells

  Miss Mabel surprised me after breakfast the next morning by taking me into her office. The open window admitted waves of chilly winter air. Her blood-red drapes drifted into the room like restless flags, and a few papers rustled on her desk. The change in temperature from the warm classroom gave me goose bumps.

  “I can’t stand stale air.” Miss Mabel said as I trailed behind her into the middle of the barren office. “Also, I can’t tolerate dust. Actually, I won’t tolerate dust. Since you’re my Assistant, you have the privilege of dusting my shelves. I’m too nice, aren’t I?”

  Yes, I wanted to mutter. That’s what your problem is.

  “I wouldn’t get lazy if I were you,” she said. “I intend to do a thorough inspection when you finish, and you don’t want me to find any dust. I have some meetings to attend, so I’ll be back in the evening.”

  “Yes, Miss Mabel.”

  “Perfect the hexes and their removals today. I’ll test you when I return. Get started on the textbook History of Curses as well. Write up a summary of every chapter. Is that infernal cat still alive?”

  “Yes,” I said, thinking back to his feeble attempts at drinking milk this morning. The swelling in his leg had gone down, but the redness remained. Poke root seemed inevitable.

  “Ghastly creature,” she muttered and pulled her satin sleeves to her wrist. The sapphire dress she wore matched her eyes. When she put on her ebony cloak, her eyes were brighter than I had ever seen. Her alluring smile grew when she caught me staring at her.

  “I know. It’s a breathtaking dress, isn’t it? Have fun, Bianca. Tomorrow, we’ll have a real party. I’m going to teach you how to organize my scrolls.”

  She left the office in a swirl of skirt and cloak. Although I listened, I never heard her walk down the stairs. Only the silence told me she was gone.

  Today, she wasn’t the only one with a meeting.

  I extended my hand in a collection spell. Seconds later, specks of dust flew from all parts of the room and fell into my palm. A whirling gray cloud formed around me for several moments, forcing me to hold my breath. I ran to the window as soon as the room cleared and dumped the dust in a windless moment.

  Satisfied that nothing remained on the shelves, the floor, or her desk, I slipped back into my room and grabbed an old grimoire I’d found in the library. The hand-written pages of someone’s old spell book whirred as I flipped through to the back, scouring each line for the right words.

  Communication spell.

  The conversation with Leda during Samhain had haunted me for several days. Why wasn’t Miss Mabel killed with the rest of Evelyn’s followers? It wasn’t something history books could answer. Only one person could.

  Today, I meant to talk to her.

  I’d done communication spells with my father during the long breaks when he couldn’t come see me. An advanced communication spell wouldn’t leave a trace. Because Isadora watched the comings and goings of the school borders, she’d know right away if I transported out. I’d lose my place as Assistant for breaking the rules and couldn’t risk it.

  The cat rustled a little and opened his eyes to give a pathetic call when I slammed the book shut, verifying the correct words. Encouraged by any sign of life, I stroked his bony head. Then I fed him some milk, checked his wound, and reached for my cape.

  Homework would have to wait.

  The trees were silent as sentinels when I glided past, my cloak trailing out behind me. Gray and calm, it felt as if the forest held its breath. Did it know what I was about to do? Did the skinny branches tremble when I passed by because they were afraid of the risk I took? If Miss Mabel found out, she’d force me to give an explanation as to why I didn’t just write a letter. What could be so pressing in a student’s life? She still had not tested me with Veritas, and I knew she wouldn’t hesitate to use it if she felt I kept a secret.

  Well into the woods, I crouched down and picked up a handful of dead leaves. Dirt trailed through my fingers as I clenched my hand in fists around their brittle bodies. Once I reduced them to pieces the size of confetti, I cast my eyes around. Alone. Not even the sound of a bird in the unearthly quiet of Letum Wood.

  As soon as the final syllable of the communication spell ended, I flung the earthen pieces toward the trees. Airborne, the particles of leaf and dirt stopped and hovered in position, sprawling through the air in front of me. They didn’t move for a long time.

  Finally, after what felt like hours, they began to tremble. The pieces doubled, then tripled, moving around in a haphazard dance until they pulled together in similar colors, forming the figure of a woman sitting propped up.

  Light spread through the specks to create the grooves of a wrinkled face. I could see the contours of her smile, the crow’s feet near her eyes, and the rustle of her silvery hair. When she spoke, a light breeze moved past.

  “Bianca?”

  “Yes!” I cleared my thick throat. “It’s me, Grandmother.”

  “What are you doing?” she cried, surprised and elated. “Is everything all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  The love in her voice was more overwhelming than Veritas and infinitely more powerful. I struggled to keep myself from crying. I wanted to bury my head in her lap and feel her stroke my hair, to breathe in the soft scent of her lavender soap.

  “I heard about the Competition,” she said with a smile. “Congratulations! Although I’m not a bit surprised. You are so talented. All of Bickers Mill is talking about it. Your mother said the shop had record sales after you won! Apparently we sold all the fresh thyme.”

  I blushed under her praise, but a bitter taste rose in my mouth, reminding me of my lost bet with Miss Mabel. I wasn’t sure I had the strength to admit to Grandmother that I’d failed her.

  “Thank you,” I said instead.

  “How is everything else going?”

  “It’s wonderful,” I lied with a smile. “I’m learning a lot.”

  Grandmother studied my face, and her forehead puckered.

  “You’re a terrible liar, Bianca. You’re miserable, and I don’t blame you. And you look skinnier. I didn’t think that was possible. Are you eating?”

  “Yes, I’m eating plenty.”

  “Have you made any friends?”

  “Two, actually. Maybe three,” I amended, thinking of Michelle.

  Her face lit up. It was so good to see her. I studied everything about her as if I would never see it again.

  “That’s wonderful! It’s time you went and had some fun. Go transform your textbooks into candy, or sneak out to Mr. Gerard’s School for Boys and kiss one of them. Oh, I guess you can’t do that from Letum Wood, can you? It’s too far away. Well, later. Maybe when you come home for summer break.”

  She ended with a wink, and I laughed. “What would I tell the teacher after I ate the candy? I’m not sure Miss Mabel would believe that I’d eaten my textbook.”

  She laughed as well. “I guess I didn’t think of that!”

  I sobered quickly.

  “May I ask you a question?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “It’s about the curse.”

  Grandmother took a breath as if steeling herself. She winced, and I could see by the rigid line of her lips that she was trying to hide it. Any movement caused her pain.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Miss Mabel said she cursed you because you supported Mildred. Why didn’t Mildred get rid of Miss Mabel when she took power?”

  Grandmother blinked several times and tilted her head to the side.

  “Mildred did get rid of Mabel.”

  It was my turn to stare in surprise. We regarded each other for a few moments.

  “But–”

  “The High Priestess got rid of the original Mabel. Your teacher is her granddaughter, Miss Mabel.”

  My eyes widened. The conversation I’d had in the kitchen with Miss Celia filtered through my mind, and I remembered that Miss Mabel’s g
randmother raised her when her mother ran off.

  “So Miss Mabel didn’t curse you?”

  “No. It was her grandmother, Mabel. Did you not know that?”

  I felt as if the breath fell out of the bottom of my lungs, leaving me weak.

  “No. No, I didn’t.”

  “Mildred executed Mabel with the rest of the traitors that supported Evelyn, but her granddaughter, Miss Mabel, pled before the Council that her grandmother had forced her to be loyal to Evelyn.”

  “But Miss Mabel hates Mildred!” I cried.

  “Has she said that?”

  I searched my memory with an uneasy squirm. “Not in those exact words, but she’s implied it.”

  Grandmother continued. “Well, for as many instances for which people gave evidence that Miss Mabel supported Evelyn, she had one to prove her loyalty to Mildred. Miss Mabel was part of the Resistance, you know.”

  My jaw dropped.

  “She couldn’t have been!”

  “She was. There were many members who spoke up for her at the hearing with the Council. They voted to keep her, although I suspect that Mildred didn’t like it. Mildred has never trusted Miss Mabel, but with the Council voting for leniency, and so many people standing up on her behalf, she had no choice.”

  “Was Miss Mabel playing both sides?” I asked.

  “It’s very possible.” Grandmother’s tone held a note of warning. “Miss Mabel is one of the most vindictive witches the Central Network has ever seen. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to learn she planned it.”

  A sudden thought made my heart stutter. “If Mabel is her grandmother, then Miss Mabel could still remove the Inheritance curse, right?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  I relaxed a little.

  “What was her grandmother, Mabel, like?” I found myself asking, remembering again how Miss Celia had seemed uncomfortable even speaking about her in the kitchen that morning.

  “Not too different from her granddaughter, only she had black hair. She was very selfish and, if I remember correctly, obsessed with power and greed. I think Mabel was friends with Evelyn only to seek the position of High Priestess herself. Miss Mabel was a teacher at the school when I attended here, and her grandmother still ran it as High Witch.”

  “Did you see Mabel very much?” I asked.

  “No. There was something very unnerving about her. When I did see her, I was always glad to leave.”

  Miss Mabel had never spoke of the original Mabel, and neither had Miss Scarlett. It seemed odd not to commemorate the founder of the school, and I wondered if it had something to do with the original Mabel’s execution. Grandmother stifled a yawn, and I could see that her energy was almost gone. The particles began to flutter in warning. Our time was almost up.

  “I miss you,” I said, not wanting to end the conversation on a subject so bleak but realizing too late that I’d introduced one far more depressing.

  She smiled and made an attempt to touch my face, but we were too far apart. Brown and gray bits of earth fell to the ground and faded into the wind.

  “We miss you too. But we are very proud of you, no matter what you do. You know that, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry you have to do this,” she said with a sad grimace. “No girl should have to fight for her own right to live.”

  “It’s not your fault, Nana,” I whispered. Her tired eyes lit up briefly at my childhood nickname for her.

  “You have more commitment than anyone I’ve ever met, Bianca. You’re a very special girl, destined for great things. Just remember to not get in your own way. Promise me?”

  A tear fell down my cheek and landed on the leaves at my feet.

  “I promise.”

  The spell began to fall apart. She reached for me again, her hand shaking as she did. The leaves dropped to the ground.

  Nana danced away, settling into the wind and flittering from sight.

  Tricks and Hexes

  By midnight, I could cast and remove every hex with little effort.

  I glanced at the clock, let out a deep breath, and started at the beginning of the list one last time. Burying myself in studying blocked out everything else, giving me time to adjust to Grandmother’s revelations about Miss Mabel.

  The deception-spell cat I practiced on had long since resigned himself to the hexes and curled in a ball on the floor. While I was never really comfortable putting hexes on the creature, knowing it was nothing more than a puff of air helped.

  After I ran through every hex and removal, I broke the deception-spell cat. A noise came from the hall. I spun around to see the silhouette of Miss Mabel in the shadows. She stepped into the doorway where a beam of firelight illuminated her face. Her skin looked like alabaster.

  My heart jumped into my throat.

  “You’re up late tonight, Bianca. It’s well past midnight.”

  A shiver of apprehension ran through me when I realized she had seen me pop the deception-spell cat. She concealed any gleam of surprise in her eyes with a cool shadow of indifference. My heart seemed to stall in my chest.

  “Yes, Miss Mabel. I was just practicing.”

  “I see that.”

  There was no trying to get out of it. Miss Mabel advanced into the room a few more steps with an unreadable poise that terrified me.

  “You did remarkably well. I just watched your last run-through. Let’s count this as your test, shall we?”

  “Yes, Miss Mabel.”

  She glanced at where the cat had once been and back to me. Her eyes looked silvery and thoughtful.

  “It isn’t often a student is able to get a trick by me. Congratulations.”

  I knew, without asking, that she referred not only to the cat but to the mimicking spell of Miss Celia’s voice. There was nothing about this moment to celebrate, but everything to fear. I held my breath, waiting for her to pass judgment, to decide my punishment or fate.

  “Go to bed, Bianca.”

  Miss Mabel watched me gather my scrolls and slip past her to my bedroom. She didn’t move but stayed like a pillar, staring at the fire in the doorway when I shut my bedroom door. I leaned against the wall and let out a breath. The real cat gave a pathetic call when he saw me, then turned around and settled back to sleep.

  I sat on the side of the bed to calm my racing heart. I didn’t understand what just happened, but knew I hadn’t done myself any favors.

  The air was almost warm at three the next afternoon when we congregated outside for the Letum Wood Geography class with Miss Bernadette. Our breath left small puffs of trailing air behind. The chill pinched at the cheeks of the girls until they were a ruddy color, but didn’t feel vicious.

  A small queue of first-years stood in a loose huddle near the old oak tree. When Miss Bernadette arrived, her cheeks were a lovely pink color that contrasted her brown, fur-lined cloak.

  “Letum Wood extends throughout most of the eastern side of the Central Network,” Miss Bernadette began. “It fills up the North, reaches to the Borderlands, and spills over into the Eastern Network. Follow me, and we’ll look at a few things that grow here.”

  Camille, Leda, and I fell into step with each other.

  “I gave the cat poke root this morning,” I said, breaking into the conversation first. Camille bit her nails with an intensity that could only mean she had a test coming up, and Leda stood several paces away from us, brooding, her lips and face puckered into an annoyed scowl. Their minimal response disheartened my already frustrated mood. I wanted to tell them about my encounter with Grandmother but decided against it. For some reason, I didn’t want to share her.

  “Oh?” Camille said, distant. “That’s nice.”

  “I also had to amputate his leg. The surgery caused only a few bloodstains on my sheets. Miss Mabel even helped. She removed my curse.”

  I monitored their responses, but neither of them said another word. They just continued to trudge forward in their own worlds. I let out a sigh and looked at th
e moving body of cloaked sheep in front of us, following Miss Bernadette with loyal devotion. When nothing changed for the next fifteen minutes, except for Miss Bernadette’s quiet drawl on the types of oak trees spread throughout the wood, I poked Camille in the ribs with my elbow.

  “What’s going on? You’ve chewed half your fingers off.”

  “Oh, Bianca!” she wailed, as if she’d just been waiting for me to ask. “I have a test today in Algebra and Geometry, and I just know I’m going to fail!”

  I held up a hand to quiet her and looked to the front of the group to make sure no one else had heard the outburst. Of all the teachers, Miss Bernadette was the one I didn’t want to upset. If she caught us not paying attention, I’d feel horrible.

  “I’m sure you’ll be fine, Camille,” I whispered, turning back to her.

  “I hate math, Bianca. Really! I just can’t do it.”

  “Have you asked Leda for help?”

  “Yes, but she won’t look into the future for me on this one. She’ll normally look ahead and tell me if my chances are good or not so I don’t get so much anxiety. It’s the not knowing that stresses me out!” Camille folded her arms and shot Leda a scathing glance. “She’s been concentrating on something all morning and won’t tell me what, but it’s put her in a foul mood.”

  I looked to Leda, but she was no help, caught up in her thoughts and staring at a tree trunk with a blank expression on her face. Once she seemed to come halfway out of it, I nudged her too.

  “What’s got you?”

  She turned to me with an impatient growl, but quickly stopped. Her different-colored eyes were bloodshot.

  “Nothing,” she said, obviously still vexed. She hesitated, opened her mouth to say something, then turned away in a huff and fell into another daze.

  “See?” Camille said with a self-righteous sniff that would have made the snooty third-years proud. “She gets like this sometimes, trying so hard to make sense of something. Then she gets frustrated if she can’t, which makes the curse even harder to control.”

  I studied Leda’s hunched shoulders and clenched fists.

  “Sounds like an awful cycle,” I muttered with little sympathy, their bad moods making mine worse.