Hawthorn Academy: Year One

by D. R. Perry

  Our parents sat on the other side of the aisle. Seats were marked out for them, so the ones who hadn't been here before weren't confused. I counted heads and looked for familiar faces. As we expected, Dylan's folks hadn’t come.

  Headmaster Hawkins appeared literally out of nowhere, silencing the din of cross-chatter. He clapped his large hands until the chatter died down, then cleared his throat to begin his speech.

  "Welcome, families! Some of you for the first time, and others for the second or third. Tonight, you will tour the campus and see some of the projects our students have been working on. After a divine dinner prepared by our newest chef, we'll have a mixer with dancing. I'm an educator, not a public speaker, so I'll keep this brief. Thank you, students. Without your dedicated and excellent work, we'd have nothing to show your families this evening. Now, go and enjoy the evening together!"

  He clapped his hands once again, not in dismissal of the crowd, but for himself. The headmaster vanished immediately after, while the echo still lingered at the corners of the room. More than a few parental-aged women, here without a date, sighed in dismay.

  There was something to Cadence's gossip columns after all.

  The group of us stuck together during the tour. Logan's parents chattered away at my folks but didn't say a word to Bubbe. Logan leaned in, whispering that this was typical for them. They didn't bother with anyone my grandmother's age. Their loss.

  The Fairbanks took a moment to say hello to the Pierces as we sauntered through the academic hallway, but they totally ignored Faith. Her mom, who looked almost exactly like Charity, gave me one withering glare, and that was it. They ignored my parents.

  The entire time we were on the tour, Gale stayed perched obediently on Logan's shoulder. It helped that Ember peeped at him the whole time. He chirped back, too, which made me wonder what they were talking about.

  Because Logan and I brought up the rear, we noticed that Lune and Doris had a modified game of tag going. Each time the mercat reached out with a paw, the moon hare hopped out of the way. On occasion, it was Lune moving sideways toward Doris, who dodged just in time.

  I hadn't seen Nin and Seth in a while, so I looked around for them. They were in the last place I expected—in Faith's tote, cuddling, which would have been cute if familiars usually got that friendly with each other. I'd seen it exactly once before, in the one photo Bubbe keeps of her parents on their wedding day.

  Were my friends in love?

  I spent the rest of the tour studying them, looking for clues, but either Faith and Hal were both better actors than Logan's slick entertainment family or were still unaware of their potential.

  The idea that something positive could come from our defensive social maneuvers had me walking on air. That was why I spent most of the dinner hour smiling at everyone, even Noah when he sat with Elanor at our table. This was the first time in a month he’d even looked at me. He rolled his eyes immediately and started whispering in his bestie's ear, but even that couldn't get me down.

  After dinner, we almost had a collective heart attack. All of the familiars went to their corner for their meal, as usual. But when they returned, Gale and Doris forgot about opposite day.

  Logan froze. Doris leaping up into his lap wasn't at all what he expected. My date couldn't roll with those punches, so I did.

  "Aww, look!" I pointed at the mercat, doing my best impression of Cadence. "Dylan and Logan are such good friends, they even get along with each other's familiars. So cute!"

  Ember played along, stopping on the back of Grace's chair to ruffle her hair before returning to me. She peeped at Gale for good measure, who got the message and only chirped at Dylan before landing on Logan's shoulder.

  Doris put her paws on Logan's chest, stretching up to rub cheeks with Gale. Once they made their greeting, she jumped off Logan's lap and padded back to Dylan, who scooped her up for a cuddle and a scratch behind the ears.

  Once dinner was over, we headed back out of the cafeteria and into the lobby. Streamers hung from the walls, and the solar lights flashed and pulsed under globes of various spell effects. From the looks of concentration on faculty faces, they’d worked hard to make the occasion literally magical. Earthbound familiars scooted to the sides, while winged ones made way for their magi by fluttering toward perches or the rafters.

  Logan stepped lightly across the space between the seats at the sidelines and the dance floor. He must have been looking forward to this all night because we were the first ones there, arriving a breath before the music started—a waltz, but popular. With a Little Help from My Friends, the Joe Cocker version. His easy smile meant he was in his element here.

  "I can't dance," I managed.

  "That's okay, nobody will know." He leaned closer, voice low beside my ear. "Even if you get nervous, they won't see anything they shouldn't."

  "How?" My hands were already warmer.

  "Pretend I'm a mirror and copy me." He put one of my hands on his shoulder and held the other, pressing our palms together.

  Our arms made a frame. I clung to that, and he was right. The soft glow of his water magic hid everything. When solar light gleamed between our hands, he narrowed his eyes and magical focus until it flickered like my good old flames instead.

  My tension eased, loosening its grip until I could forget about being an extramagus. Almost.

  As we moved together, traveling across the dance floor, a series of startled gasps followed us. When we passed our friends, clapping and low whistles took over. If Hal and Faith had made the biggest entrance, we made up for it now with sheer entertainment value.

  For once, my legs didn't feel coltish and clumsy, and being at eye level with my dance partner made all the difference in my ability to focus and do more than let him lead. We circled past our siblings and parents. Logan's mother was still stone-faced, but his dad's lips wore a small smile. Noah stood, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, only snapping out of it when Elanor elbowed him in the ribs and dragged him off to dance too. My father had his arm around my mom. They swayed together, grinning.

  Bubbe studied us like critters under her care, which made sense because she knew more than Mom or Dad about the trouble Logan and I had at school. She didn’t take this at face value like everybody else in the room because she knew better. She paid more attention to Logan than me, though.

  I made it through the entire song, but even better, we danced to three more before I was out of breath. We regrouped at a table with a cascading fountain of punch. I didn't dare leave Logan's side, even though it sort of ruined the attempted chivalry in his act of fetching me a drink. Judging by his smile, he either didn't mind or understood.

  Dylan and Grace trotted over, huffing and puffing after their turn around the dance floor. They didn't do anything nearly as structured or formal as waltzing, though.

  "How 'bout that chicken dance, hey?" Grace chuckled.

  "More fun than a barrel of monkeys." Dylan smirked. "But we're talentless hacks, of course."

  "Here's to Team Hack!" Logan raised his glass.

  Faith sauntered out of the shadows, Hal in tow. She was still cool as a cucumber, but he shuffled his feet with a furrowed brow. Just as I wondered what the two of them were up to, hiding out together in the corner, she told me.

  "Watch your back, Aliyah." Faith reached out, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Charity's going to try something."

  "Why?"

  "She's jealous, of course. Does she need another reason?"

  "But I didn't do anything."

  "You don't have to." She shook her head. "I'm going to try to deflect her, but this is your warning. Avoid the twins, okay?"

  "Thanks, Faith."

  "Don't thank me. Just do as I say."

  I nodded. Logan stood beside me as Faith stalked off. Hal followed her at a distance like a satellite. They circled the dance floor like gulls over the beach at low tide.

  As the last song ended, Charity detached from her dance partner and strolled toward us, eyes on
the punch bowl.

  "Let's make like eggs and beat it," said Grace.

  The lot of us hustled away from the refreshment table, heading toward some of the seats at the other end of this side of the dance floor. On the way, we passed the twins. One of them stuck a foot out, trying to trip me. I got tangled and almost toppled over despite my sensibly flat shoes.

  Logan grabbed me around the waist, literally sweeping me off my feet. At his touch, I was buoyant, as though immersed in water. He spun us in a circle in the direction of the dance floor, and then we were out there, stopping the show again.

  As we navigated around the other couples, which included my parents, I noticed Faith and Charity facing off beside the punch bowl. My friend trembled until Hal stepped behind her, placing his hand on the table. As the sisters argued, I watched Charity grasp the tablecloth and pull, toppling the entire fountain toward Faith.

  It vanished for a moment, during which Hal pulled Faith into a hug. When the fruit-punch fountain reappeared, it was directly over Charity's head, spilling its contents all over her. Faith and Hal faded into the shadows. I spotted Grace in the corner, eyes narrowed, with one finger directed at their vanishing point.

  Charity Fairbanks stood with the tablecloth in her hand, soaked from head to toe in fruit punch. It looked like she’d had an embarrassing accident.

  The room went silent, the lights low-watt incandescent. My hands felt like blacktop in the middle of July. Everyone's focus sat squarely on Queen Mean, but once my hands lit up, it'd be all over for me.

  "Oh, shit."

  "Shh, I've got you."

  And Logan did. He led me to the bottom stair, then named our floor to start it moving. As it rose, light poured from my hands, and my date had that covered too. Literally.

  Globes of water surrounded the fists I made, turning the solar flares inside them into what looked like fire underwater. It was dim enough for me to escape with Logan up the stairs. A few heads turned, one of them Professor Luciano’s. Our teacher was the only one who didn't mistake it for a deliberate farewell display.

  At the top of the stairs, we almost tripped over Hal and Faith. They were on the floor, leaning against the wall together. Both smiled, although Hal looked pretty beat.

  "Let's get out of here."

  "That's the only time you've talked sense, Pierce." Faith snorted. "Come on." She didn't exactly help Hal up as much as scoop him off the floor, but the end result was the same.

  We all headed down the hall, where Faith helped an unsteady and exhausted Hal negotiate the route to his room. Logan paused.

  "I've got to say goodnight to my parents." He almost ran right into our roommates.

  "They're already gone." Dylan shook his head. "Sorry, man." Gale swooped down and landed on his shoulder.

  "That's okay." Doris trotted up and rubbed against Logan's legs. He reached down to scratch her ears. "All in all, I think we did all right."

  "Yeah." I held out my arm to give Ember a place to land.

  "Did you see Charity's face?" Grace leaned against the wall, holding her sides. Lune was beside her, kicking his feet up. "She looked like a B-movie vampire from back before the Reveal!"

  We all had a laugh at that because the last thing Charity Fairbanks would ever want was to look remotely like a vampire. It felt like fitting payback for all the abuse she’d dished out to the undead staff and her own sister.

  The boys walked Grace and me to our room. I thanked them both and opened the door, stopping so Logan and I could wave to each other. Dylan lingered, Grace remaining outside with him.

  When she came back in, her face was even more flushed than when she’d laughed. Her lip gloss was smudged, too. That meant my roommate and her crush had hit it off, on top of all the other stuff we’d managed with our hard work and preparation. Something different had happened with Logan and me. We understood each other, anyway, and I could trust him.

  If this were an exam, we would have passed with flying colors. My ultimate goal was hiding what I really was. I’d met that and then some. Our entire group might have just leveled up socially, too.

  So why did I feel sad?

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  It was midweek, and I went home right after Lab. No, I didn't get expelled. It was Erev Yom Kippur, the eve of Yom Kippur and the most important holiday my family observed. Hawthorn Academy had always let students keep their individual faiths, which was why I was walking down Essex Street a half-hour before sunset with Noah, who still wasn’t talking to me.

  The biggest indirect lesson I’d learned at Hawthorn Academy: doing good was Punk AF.

  I'd secretly hoped my brother and I would settle things after the punchbowl incident. That somehow, he'd see how ridiculous it was, marching to the beat of an unusually cruel bigot's drum. I even wore his discarded Vamp Lives Matter shirt that day, but it was no use. He wasn’t interested in joining my kindness rebellion.

  That was what I'd been doing all week since Parents’ Night—my friends too—going out of our way to thank the vampires on staff in front of other people. Making it a point to hold doors, even for people we didn't like. Helping folks when they dropped something. Inviting the rest of our year to study groups.

  And it was catching on, slowly but noticeably. Even Hailey stopped snickering when Logan got called on and stuttered an answer. I caught Coach Pickman helping Coach Chen with Bishop's Row trunks. And Noah's ex, Darren, had more of his classmates at his study group, kids who weren’t doing so well academically.

  The biggest change was in Faith. She smiled more, laughed longer, and with people more often than at them. That was more likely because of Hal, though. They lit each other up, reminding me for all the world of Mom and Dad. At first, I thought they made me homesick, but that wasn’t right. Maybe during my break, I'd figure it out. Yom Kippur was the day to reflect on the previous year, after all.

  I glanced at Noah as we approached the corner of Hawthorne Street. He looked away, down at the wheeled suitcase he’d overpacked instead of meeting my gaze. I adjusted my knapsack and waited through his luggage hiccup before walking along. His attitude didn't justify me leaving him behind, no matter how satisfying it might have been to walk away and leave him in distress. He was my brother, and I'd help him if he needed it.

  Doing the right thing was harder than giving up, but that was how I knew this was the right track. Well, one way. Lotan peeked out from under Noah's collar, bobbing his head at me. The serpent appreciated my gesture, at least.

  My brother tossed away the stone jamming his suitcase's wheel, then continued on. We walked past Izzy's house and down the driveway toward 10-1/2, and just like that, we were home.

  Lunch wasn't that long ago. All the same, Bubbe had set out a loaf of challah bread in a braided circle as she always makes it for Yom Kippur. Sliced apples, honey, and dried apricots accompanied it, with iced lemon tea to wash it down. Noah and I sat in silence at the counter, having the last food we'd eat over the next twenty-four hours. After that, I washed my face and wrapped a white pashmina shawl around my shoulders to get ready for the services. Ember burrowed under it, draping herself across my shoulders in the process.

  Dad and Bubbe each lit a yahrzeit, the memorial candle, for Grandpa and Bubbe's parents. Five minutes later, we headed to our temple across the bridge in Beverly.

  The synagogue was full, like it had been every year for as long as I can remember. We were secular Jews, not Orthodox or even Conservative. Surely, you’ve heard of Easter-and-Christmas Christians? Well, we were the Jewish equivalent, but it wouldn't have felt like the High Holy Days if we weren't there. Bubbe reminded us that the freedom we had to celebrate publicly was a privilege our ancestors didn’t always have.

  I refused to take it for granted, not after I was old enough to hear the stories about our great-grandpa's escape from Poland.

  We took seats together. Don't be surprised by this. Our synagogue was egalitarian, which meant men and women sat together instead of in different sections. No
ah sat so our parents were between us, but this had happened in previous years inadvertently, so they didn't think it was strange.

  I knew better.

  As Cantor David sang the Kol Nidre prayer, we listened. It was all about how we came to temple on the holiest day of our year to be absolved of obligations, bonds, and other pressures put upon us under duress. Historically, this came from ages past, when Jews living in those times were forced to convert or die. The Spanish Inquisition was a prime example, though certainly not the first.

  We were freed from burdens like this by singing this prayer.

  This year, the words had a striking impact. Renouncing vows made under duress meant giving up Ember. We’d bonded after a moment of extreme agony for her and stress for me, after all, but I also realized that release was important exactly because of this.

  So I focused my thoughts on her, making it clear that she was free to go if I wasn’t the right magus for her.

  At that moment, with my familiar's tail curled around my arm, I was acutely aware that she’d agreed to renew our bond, without the baggage this time, and that reinforced its strength.

  My mind took me back to a sunlit day more than a decade ago, before my grandfather passed. Ember made the trip back through my memory by my side.

  "Scars are tougher than unblemished skin." Grandpa finished wrapping the gauze over the sterile pad.

  "But it hurts." I sniffled, but it was no use. The trickle under my nose wouldn't budge.

  "It's got to hurt if it's to heal." My grandfather tore paper tape. "And once it does, that sidewalk will have a devil of a time trying to skin that knee again."

  "Really, Grampy?" I blinked, tears drying sticky on my cheeks.

  "And how." His eyes twinkled.

  Before I remembered my response, the present dragged back me back again.