Adapt: Book Two of the Forgotten Affinities Series

by Analeigh Ford

  Her face is a blazing shade of crimson by the time she throws herself down into a seat. It isn’t until she does that I realize the one beside me is now occupied, once again, by Flynn. He must have slipped in during all the drama.

  “Where were you?” I whisper as soon as I am sure the new teacher is engrossed enough in explaining the dynamics of how physical touch can actually help you become a better mage. I actually find the subject itself very interesting, but more interesting still is whatever caused Flynn to be late for what, I am assuming, is the first time ever.

  But he tries to brush me off. “It was nothing,” he says.

  I look over my shoulder through the open door into the hall. I know I am imagining it, but I can almost see the swish of long black hair disappearing around the corner. I’m sure if anything it’s just Camilla, but the fact that I even think I see someone else bothers me.

  I want to disagree with him, but in the moment where the teacher turns her back to demonstrate something on the whiteboard, he takes the opportunity to take my hand in his. The gesture is small, but it makes me falter for words. He gives it a gentle squeeze without looking at me, and then turns the page in one of his notebooks and goes right back to taking notes.

  I don’t know why he does it. He already knows all of this. All the second-years do. Like he and the others told me over the weekend, they are assigned projects to work on during class that, while coordinating with the lesson for the day, also challenges them more. I want to ask him if he is just doing all this for my sake again, when something the teacher is doing catches me off guard.

  She’s dropped the pen she was holding, and instead waves her arms all across the surface of the board. The motion is so unusual and so sudden that I have to catch myself from laughing. I’m not the only one. Kendall’s shoulders shake so violently that he has to duck his head between his folded arms on the desk.

  Better to look like he’s sleeping than laughing at the new teacher.

  Now after that, I am unable to hold it in any longer.

  “Do you find something funny?”

  Crap. The professor turns to look straight at me. I glance at Kendall, who has somehow managed to sit back up and hide any remnants of his earlier outburst. All eyes are on me again.

  “Um, no. I mean yes. I don’t know.” I really don’t, since I was only half paying attention.

  The new Earth teacher squints at me from afar. “And you are?”

  “Octavia,” I say. “Octavia H—”

  “Oh yes. I know you.” Something about her voice tells me she’s already formed an opinion of me, and it isn’t in my favor. “Would you step down here please, Octavia?”

  I do as she asks, wishing that I had borrowed one of the boy’s oversized hoodies so I could curl up and hide in it after all is said and done.

  As soon as I get up there to the front, the teacher moves to the side and motions for me to step up to the board. I hesitate. I’m not about to just start waving my arms all over it like she was before. At least, not without a good reason.

  She just keeps staring at me, which turns out to be reason enough.

  As soon as my hands touch the whiteboard, I know whatever it is I’m doing—I’m doing wrong. And she knows it too. But she waits for me to humiliate myself a few seconds longer before she finally relents.

  “Stop, just stop,” she says. “Were you listening to what I was saying at all?”

  “A little?” One look from her and I add, “No. Not at all.”

  There is a chuckle from a few of my classmates, but to my surprise, she shoots them a look as well. I’m just glad her ire isn’t aimed only at me.

  “The reason Octavia is up here is because she thought what I was doing looked funny. Keep on snickering, and all of you will be up here as well.”

  I dart a look over at Flynn, but he doesn’t make a move. Now would be the perfect time for him to show some true chivalry…but he just continues to stare along with everyone else.

  So I turn my attention back to the teacher as she starts explaining again, what exactly it is that she’s doing.

  “Earth Mages often take for granted the fact that their magic can be performed through physical touch alone,” she says. “Though there is a certain, emotional, element to it—once a mage has figured out how to draw on that power, they often forget to hone their skills further.”

  She motions for me to reach out and touch the board. This time, she slips up beside me and does it as well. “Earth Magic is often considered the easiest of all magic to perform, the most crude, basic even. Some Earth Mages only ever learn the basics. But there is a complexity and an exactness that can be cultivated with time and care. Sometimes all it takes is a little study.”

  I don’t know what it is I am supposed to be studying, but I watch and copy her as best as I can.

  At first her arms arc in long sweeping motions, her fingers gliding across the surface. The board is smooth and cold to my touch. I try not to smudge any of the words written on the board, but I still inevitably end up with dark marker stains on the ends of my fingers.

  “Every substance, every compound, every element—each one behaves in a unique way. Some, like dirt and earth are easier to master while others, like wind, water, electricity—are complex. But the more you study an element, the more you understand how it behaves under different circumstances,” as she says this, she suddenly changes the way she moves. She stops suddenly, increasing her pressure, and drags her hand across the board hard and fast. When I copy her, I feel the grip of the plastic against my hands and how it suddenly pushes back, resisting my touch. “Through understanding, you will master it.”

  11

  Octavia

  Cedric is waiting for us outside the door to the classroom as soon as it lets out, and I could not be more grateful. As soon as he sees me, he takes a quick step forward and reaches out to put a hand across my forehead.

  “Are you not feeling well?”

  “No,” I say.

  “She’s just feeling the pain of her epic embarrassment,” Wednesday says, coming up behind me. “That should teach you to pay closer attention in class.”

  I stick my tongue out at her. “Well thanks to that little bit of extra one-on-one, I was the only one able to recreate the teacher’s vase out of clay.”

  “I think we both know Kendall actually deserves the title if we’re assigning a winner,” Wednesday says as the other two boys finally catch up.

  Kendall shoves his hands deep in his pockets and kicks at the ground.

  “That doesn’t count. He used his hands. It was art, not magic. Isn’t that right…” I look between everyone around me and pick the one that looks the most likely to agree with me, “Flynn?”

  He stops polishing the perfect porcelain dragon he was able to make in the same amount of time it took me to make the clay into basically a glorified bowl.

  “There is more than one way to the same end,” he says.

  I poke him in the ribs. He responds much more violently than I expected, so I do it again. “It’s your fault I had to stay up there and play guinea pig in the first place!”

  “Like you said,” he says, jumping out of reach once again, and then to the side to try and use Cedric as a shield between us, “Because of that, you were able to replicate her vase exactly using only magic.”

  “I could have done it if stupid Mathilda wasn’t messing with my magic,” Wednesday snarls, looking down at the lump of clay in her hands that still refused to hold any shape for the entirety of class. “I know they tell you to make sure you get along with your paired mage, but geez. I didn’t think it would make things so impossible if you didn’t. No wonder mage divorce rates are so low.”

  “I actually came here to tell you something, Octavia,” Cedric starts, but his voice trails off, and we all stop to look in the same direction he’s now staring.

  Dr. Fashu stops in front of us. He is followed first by the click of heels on tile, and then Jessica as she appears be
hind him. While Dr. Fashu nods first at me, and then Flynn, her eyes stay fixated on the latter. I don’t like the way she looks at him—though I am not given the opportunity to decide exactly why that is before I am addressed.

  “I look forward to our session tomorrow, Octavia,” D. Fashu says with another nod.

  “Um, yes. Me too.” I’m not really, and I think he knows it, but it wouldn’t be polite to say as much. I’ve seen how he treats me when I’m at least trying to be civil, and don’t want to see what he might do if I actually got on his bad side. More than I already am, of course.

  His eyes flit past us into the Earth classroom, and I know we’ve only just stopped him on his way to somewhere else. “Actually Flynn, I was hoping to run into you.”

  Flynn nods and waits.

  “I have a theory about why Octavia has such a resistance to magical effects. I would like you to join us tomorrow, so I can test it to see if it is true.”

  Flynn’s gaze shifts from Dr. Fashu to Jessica, and I think I may be imagining it, but it lingers on her a little longer than makes me feel comfortable.

  “Of course,” he says, with a little bow. “I’ll speak to—”

  Dr. Fashu waves his arm. “I already have. Don’t be late.”

  Even I am a little taken aback by his presumptuousness. As soon as he is gone, and so is the annoying clack of Flynn’s perfect other paired, Jessica, I say so.

  I nudge Flynn when he doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t look present at all anymore. His face is white like he’s seen a ghost. I guess, in a way, he has.

  I feel a sudden pang of guilt. I should ask him what that look was between them, but after my breakdown in the library yesterday…I’m worried I’ll come across as jealous if I do. Which I’m not. Or at least I think I’m not. What’s there to be jealous of?

  “I did actually come here for a reason,” Cedric says. “I’ve started working on a project with my father that he’s wanted my help with for a while. It’s going to keep me pretty busy, which I know isn’t ideal since you can use all the help you can get to start studying for the tribunal. I’m hoping if I help him with this, I might be able to work out something with him that will make the next couple months a little easier for all of us. This place can get tedious when you’re stuck here all the time. I would know.”

  If my ears could prick, they would. I’m so sick of being stuck here inside the academy already. Every time I cross the street between the two buildings, always with Harvel and Drummel watching closely from inside, I imagine for a second what it would be like to just run away. I would come back, of course, there is too much holding me here. But it would be nice to just get…away.

  I think Mathilda must be finally leaving class, because Wednesday suddenly wedges herself into the middle of us.

  “What did Dr. Fashu mean by testing your resistance to magic?” she asks. I catch her consciously turning her body just so that it always faces a little away from Mathilda as she passes by in the crowd. Pity the two can’t just get along. I can’t imagine it makes for a very warm welcome, showing up like that only to find out her newfound magical powers depend on a stranger who wants nothing to do with her.

  “Just that—” I am interrupted.

  “He’s a damned weasel, that’s what.”

  I whirl around, looking for the source of the voice until I spot him. “Draven!”

  I jump up and throw my arms around his neck. For a second, I remember those moments just last night where I bodies were pressed together, and heat rises in me. I shove it deep down as soon as I let go and remember everyone else watching us.

  I glance over my shoulder at Cedric first, then Flynn, and finally Kendall. For a brief second, I imagine what would have happened if it was one of them there, instead. If we would have gotten into the same…position in the first place.

  And if we even would have stopped.

  I have to say something to keep my mind from wandering further into the gutter. “I—I didn’t think we would get to see much of you today.”

  “What, and miss out on your first day back to class?”

  The way he says it like a proud parent makes me want to behave like the teenager I sometimes forget I still am. So I do.

  “Okay dad,” I say, and immediately the word feels wrong in my mouth. I’m not the only one to notice. Wednesday practically doubles over with laughter and Kendall has to hide his under the guise of a sudden coughing fit.

  Even Draven, who I’ve never known to shy away from an opportunity like this, just stands there awkwardly shrugging his shoulders. “You should really be talking to Cedric, he’s the one with Daddy issues.”

  I am sure he’s started something terrible, but it is Cedric’s turn to be unable to stop from laughing. The way he does it makes the outside of his eyes crinkle up.

  “Touché, touché,” he says.

  I fill Draven in on everything that’s going on as the rest of us head towards the dorms. I promised Wednesday I would study with her and show her how I got the vase so perfect earlier—but part of me can’t bear to be separated from my boys. I want to believe that these moments can last forever. All of us here, happy, even Cedric and Flynn finding humor where they could easily choose to find offense.

  But I’m not stupid.

  There are hard times ahead, I know it. But these will be the moments I cling to.

  12

  Octavia

  Since we’re already all together, I invite the boys to come along and study. Cedric has to refuse, but he promises to help me extra after Psychic class on Wednesday.

  “This work I’m doing with my father,” he says. “It’s going to keep me busy for a while. But it should eventually pay off, and maybe we can get some kind of outdoor visitation rights or at least a crystal ball out of it.”

  I giggle. I’d almost forgotten about that.

  Flynn surprises me when he turns us down as well. Ever since Dr. Fashu politely insisted that he come in tomorrow, he’s had this far-off look in his eyes. He claims it’s nothing, again, but I can’t help that pricking sensation that something more might be wrong when he and Cedric leave us at the elevators.

  Kendall and Wednesday go up first, since there is no way all four of us will fit in the tiny elevators. As soon as they are gone, a second one appears. Part of the magic, I think, is that there are always enough elevator cars even though there is only one elevator shaft. I don’t try to wrap my head around how that one works.

  “Well, at least with just the four of us we can study in my room,” I say. But when I get on the next one, Draven lingers behind.

  “Three actually,” he says. “I’ve picked up more shifts at the café. We’ve been unusually busy, and they need all the help they can get.”

  I hate to admit it, but his leaving is the one that disappoints me the most. Cedric and Flynn, I am used to.

  “I wish the school would let me go back to work at the café,” I say. Admittedly, I don’t particularly care for the work itself, but I do enjoy working with Draven. I have a suspicion that Cedric has been footing the bill for the majority of my expenses over the last couple weeks, since it’s been a while since my bank sent me a low balance alert on my account. I just believe if you don’t look at the problem, it will eventually go away. And so far, it’s been working for me.

  Draven snorts a little and starts backing slowly away from the elevator. “Octavia, you were fired weeks ago.”

  “What?” I say, incredulous.

  He shrugs. “You left the café drenched in blood on your last shift, and no called no show for two weekends in a row. The manager had to let you go.”

  I grab the metal grates at the front of the elevator to stop them shutting automatically.

  “But you’re the manager.”

  “Sorry,” he says, taking one last step before reaching for the handle to the front doors. “But if you wish to lodge a complaint against management, you’ll have to contact my secretary.”

  “You don’t have—wait, Dra
ven!”

  And like that, he is gone. I’m not even mad. I was a pretty terrible employee.

  Wednesday and Kendall are already in her room at the end of the hall. I prefer it this way, actually, since it means I won’t have to clean mine. I’ve been letting laundry pile up on the floor even though there is a perfectly good magical laundry shoot halfway down the hall.

  I tell them it’ll just be us studying together tonight, and Wednesday agrees that it might be for the best.

  “Why’s that?” I ask, as I take out my notes from class earlier today. They’re a little sparse given that I spent most of my time up by the board getting humiliated.

  Wednesday is already playing with her lump of clay. She’s started molding it by hand, but she has neither the artful skill that Kendall does, nor the magic one I do. Normally she’d outdo me, and I think that honestly, that is what bothers her the most.

  “Now I can demand your full attention to Earth Magic,” she says. “And figuring out why this damned thing just won’t work.”

  She pounds the clay into a block on the ground in front of her, presses a small piece of clay between two of her fingers, and wills the lump to change shape.

  At first it begins to move slowly, the clay sluggishly forming a small dip in the middle. After a second, it almost looks like it is going to start behaving properly. And then just as quickly, it suddenly begins to quiver. The quivering grows more and more violent until the clay no longer looks like a solid block, but rather something more akin to Jell-O.

  “Maybe you should stop,” I say, scooting a little closer to the door.

  But Wednesday doesn’t. I see her press her fingers so hard together that clay squishes from the line between them. The ball on the ground explodes, covering everything in the room in a fine splatter of tiny clay dots.

  Wednesday flops on the bed and lets out an exaggerated sigh.

  “What is wrong with me?”