Miss Mabel's School for Girls (The Network Series #1)(14)

A few other girls clued into our conversation and leaned towards us.

“This is Jackie,” Camille said by way of introduction. “Jackie, this is Bianca.”

“Oh, we all know her,” Jackie said, leaning back in her chair with a surprisingly white smile. “I think the whole school knows this girl. Do you think you can win?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t have volunteered if I didn’t think I had a chance.” My response had a bit more energy than I expected. “Uh, yes, I do think I can win,” I said in a slower, more controlled tone.

“I think you’re a raving lunatic to even try,” Jackie said with her full-lipped smile. “But I kind of admire you for it too. You must have courage.”

I hated the surge of pride I felt at her words. Maybe she didn’t know that there was a fine line between courage and lunacy. I felt like I flirted with it often, dancing with one foot on either side like a child. Except now I felt like I’d stepped fully to the side of lunacy, coming to school here and attempting the Competition.

Another first-year piped up from behind me. She had a chubby face and spoke with a lisp.

“Aren’t you afraid of Prithilla, Jade, and Thephany?”

A sea of faces stared back at me. Here was my chance to establish a bit of solid ground against the opposition.

“No, of course not,” I laughed with breathy amusement. “Why would I be afraid of them?”

The girl’s eyes widened.

“Why wouldn’t you be?” she asked, dubious. “They know what they are doing. They’re third-years. I think Prithilla will win.”

“I’ve seen the transformations she can do,” Jackie said with a low hum of agreement. “Jade isn’t too bad with healing incantations either, if she were to get hurt. She’d have a good advantage there.”

Several girls agreed, launching them into a discourse on the faults and strengths of the three third-years. I noticed that no one mentioned Michelle, or even seemed to consider her much of a contender. Stephany didn’t seem to have one area of magical strength, just a general ability to perform most incantations. Priscilla, it was unanimous, would win. I listened, trying to absorb any information that could later give me an advantage.

“What about Michelle?” I asked, interrupting a heated discussion on whether Jade could outmatch Stephany in transfiguration magic. They all looked at me in surprise.

“What about her?” Jackie replied.

“She volunteered as well.”

They all stared at each other.

“Mithelle?” the lisp-girl repeated with shrug. “Well, the’ll do all right.”

“And Elana?” I pressed.

They seemed to have forgotten about the other competitors. Jackie responded first. “Elana might give you a run for your money in the first match, but I don’t think she’ll make it to the third.”

The rest of the first-years murmured their agreement. Sheep, all of you. I wanted to say, but held my tongue.

The tiny silver bell on Miss Bernadette’s desk rose into the air and signaled the start of our class with a musical clatter. Through the shuffling of girls turning around and pulling out books, I heard Leda’s quiet laughter from the back of the room. I glanced over my shoulder, unable to imagine what she found so funny, but couldn’t catch her eye.

“Bianca, take a seat. Everyone, pull out your blue books. The one titled, Essays on Incantations and Their Importance in the Network.”

I moved to the desk behind Camille and slipped into the seat. The cat purred itself to sleep on the hearth behind us, and my first day at Miss Mabel’s School for Girls began.





Predictions and Possibilities

“These are the textbooks we use the most. I’m afraid there’s only a few old tattered ones left over, but you can deal with it.”

Leda’s less-than-sympathetic words as she scoured the library shelves came from inside a rather large bookshelf, where her head had disappeared in search of a missing page.

A stack of worn-down, ancient books grew in size as she pulled the volumes down from her perch on an old rolling ladder. I noticed someone’s old grimoire amongst them, and shuffled through the pages of handwritten spells and notes on potions. Grimoires were my favorite. I loved learning what magic the original owner knew, what secrets and spells they passed on, like a magical diary.

The library was made up of two floors of books with a short walkway ringing the second floor accessible only by a twirling, rickety staircase. Hazy murals covered the ceiling, coated in a film of dust. It smelled musty, like old paper and ink. A few second-years sat around the fire, bent over rolls of parchment. They gazed at me every now and then, but looked away before I could make eye contact. It was a droll celebrity status I had attained my first night here. They looked but never spoke. While I found it easy to ignore for the most part, their constant stares and whispers were quietly unnerving.

“Thanks for your help,” I said.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Leda replied, reappearing with a poof of dust and the lost paper in hand. “We haven’t even started catching you up.”

I eyed the books. Mr Gulliver’s Guide to Potions sat on top of Topography of the Central Network.

“I’m sure it won’t be too bad,” I said with little conviction, hoping it was true. Sitting down to study felt like a special form of torture. Growing up, most of my education occurred outside, in the dirt and fresh air. The idea of restricting myself to books and worksheets seemed less than enticing. Leda gave me a funny look, spaced out for a second, then quickly shook her head to clear it.