Hawthorn Academy: Year One

by D. R. Perry

  The only way for me to get out of this mess of red and green and silver and gold and those little blinking lights that annoyed me so much was to get out on the streets of Salem, which was exactly what I did on Christmas Eve about an hour after the sun went down.

  Everybody said it’d be dangerous to walk around in the dark alone. It was true, I'd give them that. We all knew what kinds of things went bump in the night because that was part of Hawthorn's curriculum, but everything in this world was dangerous. Even sleeping in your bed on a night like any other, cozy in winter but lacking oxygen-rich air. Life was a terminal disease.

  So, I figured I'd take my chances on the street, searching for something beautiful that didn't tear my heart out while looking at it. Don't get me wrong. This little city was decorated for wintry celebration too, but there was something charmingly pagan about it. That made sense since this was the witch city, after all. Yule decorations were like the more reserved cousin of the garish Christmas kind, and that difference helped my state of mind more than I’d expected.

  I was on Washington Street, having walked almost all the way to the end where it intersected with Bridge Street. For a moment, I considered getting on the commuter rail and heading down into Boston, but I'd have been stuck in that large, unfamiliar city unless I turned around immediately and came back because no trains would run the next day. There went Christmas, ruining my mood again.

  I turned and continued down the other side of Washington Street. This was one of the main drags in the walkable part of Salem, so it had lots of shops and restaurants and other places where it was fun to window shop. That was the only kind of shopping I did because I was poor as dirt. It was good, though, because I got inspirations to make my own things, and there was no shortage of materials in Creatives class.

  I flipped the bird at the fake wooden Indian outside the smoke shop. I'm real, and preferred the term “indigenous,” thank you very much. Canada was awfully enlightened when it came to things like health care and good citizenship, but it had a long way to go before it did right by us. The United States wasn't much different. I got better treatment here due to being a magus than I would have if I were mundane, though.

  On the next block over there was a dress shop. I stopped and stared, mesmerized by the display in the window. The quality of the work was astounding. I knew for sure it had been magically enhanced, much like I did with my own creations, but I'd never seen anything quite like those dresses before. They were clearly holiday attire, the sort of thing one might wear to a party. I told myself they were intended for New Year's so I didn't get maudlin and walk away.

  "Bet I could make one like that. Better, even." I smirked at my translucent reflection in the glass, imagining myself wearing the shimmering copper garment on display. "And I'll make it for a different holiday, one I actually like."

  "I bet you can't."

  The sudden voice made me spin on my heel. Salem after dark—dangerous, remember? But it was only a guy I'd met before. Someone Aliyah knew. A townie, changeling if I remembered correctly. He was my age, attending Gallows Hill instead of Hawthorn because he wasn’t a magus.

  We stood gazing at each other. I remembered his face but not his name yet. His eyes were wider than I'd ever seen them, partly obscured by the ruddy hair hanging over his brow. Dude needed a haircut. His clothes were worn, too. Not shabby; I could tell they’d had quality once. They must be for working in at something distractingly physical.

  I realized he was startled and probably recognized me, maybe in the same boat trying to remember my name. And just like that, his glamour slipped, and I recalled it. He had the pointy ears and dusky skin of a Goblin, and he was part of a big family here, the Ambersmiths.

  "Azrael?" I got ready to ask him loads of questions, which was my default. That way I didn't have to talk about myself or my misery, which was present in abundance that evening.

  "In the flesh. Mostly." He held up a bandaged hand.

  "What happened?" I blinked. "You didn't cut anything off, did you?"

  "Almost. I'm just nearly Fingerless Az." He chuckled. "I got into a fight with a pair of pinking shears in the shop. Not that one, though." He jerked his chin at the window I'd been looking at.

  "You know what pinking shears are?" I smiled. Nobody at Hawthorn had the same passion for crafting that I did.

  "Yep." He smiled back, revealing front teeth that reminded me of Lune's. The tension in my shoulders faded.

  "How?"

  "I'm making the rounds as an apprentice to my various family members. It's totally an Ambersmith tradition. Also, I'm pretty sure Aunt Marjorie is going to tell me to look elsewhere when our agreement ends."

  "What does she do?" There I went with the questions again.

  "Marjorie does home decor. Curtains, tapestries, lampshades—you get the picture."

  "Have you worked here yet?" I jerked my thumb at the shop behind me.

  "No, not yet." He shook his head. "But it's on the docket for the summer. That's when they make most of this stuff, you know."

  "Yeah, I know." I nodded. "The fashion industry has to work two seasons ahead in order to get everything done in time."

  "You know an awful lot about that. Are you a dressmaker back in Canada?"

  "You remembered." I wiped that smile right off my face because this dude was dangerous with a capital D. I was cautious around people who paid too much attention. Distraction was my jam. "But no, not professionally. I just made stuff for my cousins and me."

  "Would you like to see the workshop in there?"

  I stopped, staring at Azreal Ambersmith. He’d offered me the equivalent of a day trip to Eden without even realizing it, but I couldn't take him up on it, because then I'd owe him. Don't get it into your head that I assumed he'd want some weird sexual favor either. What he'd expect was conversation, sincerity, and details I wasn’t ready to be honest about outside a therapist's office at this point.

  "That would rock, but I kinda have to go back to school now."

  "Okay, some other time, then." He met my gaze, which I admit, must have been pretty intense just then. Dylan, who favored distraction almost as much as I did, would have looked away, but somehow, this townie didn't.

  His eyes were clear and untroubled despite sustaining an injury that could have lost him an appendage—and facing down a magus bold enough to be out alone after dark. Changelings our age weren't much different from humans, besides the glamour. This was a guy who knew the risk and somehow didn't fear it. I was speechless over this. Nearly breathless, too.

  Because I didn't want to go back to campus.

  "Oh, yeah, another time." I started walking because I had no other choice.

  "I'll walk with you. It's dangerous to go alone."

  He had no idea that the opposite was also true. That the heart sustains the cruelest wounds, and it was just as dangerous going together.

  Especially on Christmas Eve

  Chapter Forty

  Aliyah

  I woke up in January on Sunday morning before the first day of my second semester at Hawthorn Academy. When I packed, I included outfits for social engagements. We'd have another one this semester, though Parents’ Night wasn't a thing in the springtime.

  Since I was on the Bishop's Row team, I also had a uniform, which was shipped to my house the week of Hanukkah. I took it out of the drawer and ran my fingers over the shiny purple fabric. It had my last name in white on the back, plus my number, fifteen. I laid it flat on the bed and stood staring at it, still awed about making the team. Ember peered down from her perch on the headboard.

  "Peep." She opened and closed her mouth a few times, a new gesture for her. Usually, it meant she was curious about an object. I'm pretty sure she’d picked that up from Gale.

  "Go on ahead and check it out, girl." I figured the worst she could do was chew on it a little. There was plenty of time to throw it in the wash if that happened.

  I folded up the white shorts and purple knee-high socks that w
ent with the top, stowing them in the larger suitcase. I didn't bring the mint green dress this time, and the plum was still at school, hanging in the closet on Grace's side of the room.

  Speaking of my roommate, I’d managed to make it into the school to visit her during the break, bringing along a gift for Winter Solstice, which was what she celebrated. Grace was doing okay, although she was sick of hanging around with Nurse Smith, who she called "that Nosy Parker." But her eyes had been brighter, her smile easier, and her shoulders more relaxed. Grace thanked me for the gift—a matching set of throw and neck pillows, and cozy socks. She also had Lee and Dylan for company most of the time, which they split between the gym and the library.

  Dylan worked over the break, of course. Mostly in the kitchens, although the Ashfords had him bring Gale to help them with cleaning the library for a few days. I didn’t see him or Grace until New Year's Eve when I met them at the Witch's Brew. We made caffeinated toasts to the secular turn of the year, during which I prayed silently for Grace to have a smoother time this semester.

  Lee came by our house a number of times, mostly with Izzy. Apparently, they'd spent some time together on their own, according to Cadence, although they had an extremely platonic vibe going on. The mermaid had her own things to do, though, and didn’t talk about them. Maybe over the summer, she'd let us all in on what had been happening at Gallows Hill. I'd have asked Brianna, but she got stuck working doubles at Walgreens all the way through break. Retail at that time of year is intense. Azreal was in the same boat with his cart and the Ambersmith's storefronts.

  I wasn’t entirely sure where Hal went while school was out. He wasn't on campus much, though. Lee tried to find out but had little success. His father was around, popping by while I visited in the lounge. It was a relief that he’d stuck around, making his presence known to my friends and the kids in other years who’d stayed for the break. The headmaster had a benevolent presence, even if he came across as mildly intimidating. We'd all much rather have seen Hal, of course, but every time we asked where he was, Headmaster Hawkins answered vaguely.

  I wondered if he'd gone to see his mother. Most custodial arrangements allowed for visitation on holidays, and it made sense for a kid who hadn't been feeling well to want his mother. All the same, each of us worried about him in our own way during his absence.

  My mind moved its focus back to the present, where I tried to decide between three dresses for the two semiformal events at school this semester. As I stood there waffling between a turquoise maxi dress, a black and orange floral A-line, and a yellow Empire waist with a hi-low hem, there was a knock at the door.

  "Noah, go away." He hadn't bothered with me much over the break, but he freaked out about clothes any time we went someplace.

  "I'm not Noah."

  "Mom. Come in."

  She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. I turned to see that she held a garment bag, one with no small amount of dust on it. It must've come from the utility closet in the basement because there was no way anything in her closet would get into that state.

  "I thought I'd come in while you were packing and show this to you. See if maybe you'd like to bring it."

  I shrugged. "I can't decide, so yeah, why not? I'll have a look."

  Mom hung the garment bag on a hook by my desk. It was over the trashcan, which was good because when she opened the bag, dust fell off it. Mostly in the trash, thank goodness. I stopped worrying about any of that moments later when she unveiled the item inside.

  "Wow." I gasped. "Where did you get that?"

  "Actually, from Bubbe." She removed the dress from the hanger inside the bag, carefully easing the bottom of it out to avoid getting dust on it.

  She held the garment up to the light, and I saw why she’d brought it up here. I stood with my mouth wide open in awe and wonder. It was almost impossible to imagine a time when my grandmother would've worn a dress like this.

  "It's gorgeous."

  That was an understatement. The pale-pink satin fabric on the bodice was embroidered with golden thread and accented with amber beads. The bottom of the dress must've been dipped in red dye and allowed to hang, giving the fabric an ombre effect. The deep red faded to rust, then russet and salmon as it moved up the skirt. A wide metallic copper ribbon graced the waist. The entire thing reminded me of a sunrise, all the rosy colors of dawn.

  "Do you want to bring it to school?"

  "I'm not sure." I was instantly worried about how things tended to go sideways for me at school but didn't feel like discussing it now. "I mean, should I even wear something like this? It's too nice. Does Headmaster Hawkins really intend for us to get this dressed up?"

  "Do you know your grandmother wore it in her first year there?" Mom grinned. "And she lent it to me."

  "No. I wouldn't have imagined." Her statement was nearly impossible to fathom. "How did that happen?"

  "It's a long story." She sighed, but in a good way, like she reminisced about something good. "Suffice it to say, your father wasn't going to wear it, and Bubbe doesn't like waste."

  "That makes sense."

  I thought about how my grandmother treated the friends I brought home, always welcoming them. Even sticking up for Logan in a big way. Considering that, it wasn’t so hard to imagine, although I had no idea what things were like for my mother back then. Were the Hopewells like the Pierces, or more like the Fairbanks?

  I had a closer look at the dress, noting that there was a tag sewn into the back by hand. It was yellowed with age but easy to read since the lettering was embroidered in the same thread as the designs on the dress. "Ambersmith Fashions?"

  "Yes. Michael's grandmother was a dressmaker, and she made this specifically for Bubbe."

  "Wow. It must've cost a fortune." I shook my head. Maybe I shouldn't bring it after all.

  "Not really. Back in those days, the extrahuman community was extremely tightly knit. They did an awful lot of barter, and your great-grandfather took excellent care of all the Ambersmiths’ familiars. All it cost was kindness."

  "Do you think it will fit?" I wanted nothing more than to wear this dress and come walking down the stairs at school, maybe even dance in it awkwardly with my friends. But it seemed too good to be true.

  "Why not try it on and find out?"

  My mother's smile reminded me of all the times she’d helped me with my homework in elementary school, like she knew something I didn't. This dress had been made by extrahumans for extrahumans. For all I knew, it was downright magical, aside from its appearance.

  I nodded. Mom turned her back, giving me privacy as I changed into the dress. When I slid the sleeves up my arms, at first I thought they'd be too big, but once I reached behind me to pull the zipper up, I realized that wasn’t the case.

  This garment fit like it had been made for me. I'd never worn anything quite like it, something that felt so precisely tailored to my particular shape. My eyes stung slightly, and my vision misted over. Mom turned around at that moment.

  "Aliyah? Are you okay?"

  I had the best mom in the world. There I was wearing this work of art, and the first thing she thought about was my feelings. Which weren't the greatest, I guess, at the moment. And because she cared and always had, I could speak freely about them.

  "Maybe not. I mean, I love this dress. Who wouldn't? It's the most amazing thing I've ever tried on in my life." I sniffled, trying not to actually cry. "But the fact of the matter is, I don't have a boyfriend. I'd only be going with friends to probably both of the dances this semester, so it seems like a waste."

  "Oh, Aliyah." She held out her arms, and a moment later, I was in them. "There's no such thing as ‘only’ when it comes to true friendship. Platonic love is still love, and it makes more of a difference in life than society gives it credit for."

  "Really?" I sniffled again. "Two of my friends are practically engaged to each other already. I don't want to miss out on dating because everyone makes such a big deal about romance."
>
  "It's a big deal at your age because it's new." Mom stroked my hair. "Dressing up is something you can do for yourself at any age. That's the way it was for Bubbe. Back when she was a first year at Hawthorn, she didn't have a boyfriend either, and she wore that dress."

  I blinked, surprised. It was practically a legend in our family, how much my grandmother loved her husband, the man she’d cared for unconditionally for so much of her life. It had never occurred to me there was a time in her life before she met him.

  But then I stopped and considered this further. Bubbe was independent, strong, and lived her life the way she felt was right. If she'd been that way since she was sixteen, then it made complete and total sense. Hawthorn Academy was a fancy school. Why wouldn't she wear a fancy dress? I can't imagine my grandmother limiting herself over something as incidental as having a date. Maybe I should do the same.

  "Do you think you'll bring it, then?"

  I couldn't answer my mom. It wasn’t that I didn't want to. She deserved an answer because after this winter, I was aware how lucky I was to have a mother like her. But if I started talking, I'd say too much. I might have started wondering out loud what was wrong with me, why I didn’t seem able to have romantic feelings about any of the unattached boys.

  I might even have said I was jealous of my friends, and I didn't want to say that out loud. It'd be almost as bad as setting the cafeteria on fire, just in an emotional way. And it could get worse than that. My inside voice might even push me farther down the road toward becoming an out-of-control extramagus.

  I stood up straight again, easing out of the hug, partly because I needed to see her face in case I did speak my secret aloud by accident. It was also really not fair to take up her whole day with this. She was Noah's mother, too, and what if he had his own problems?

  So I nodded. Mom seemed mollified, or maybe she recognized inner turmoil when she saw it and understood. Either way, she asked me to put my regular clothes back on while she got a fresh garment bag.