Miss Mabel's School for Girls (The Network Series #1)(2)

She smiled, surveying the layout of the china with puckered lips that looked suspiciously close to a smile. I’d gotten the tray wrong, of course.

“I was an awkward teenager too, you know,” Isadora said. “Big teeth and whatnot. That all changed when I turned sixteen.”

“Oh?” I stammered, forcing myself to sit down. “Sixteen?”

“Yes, your age.”

She’s going to know many things about you. Don’t be surprised if she mentions details you haven’t told her. She sees.

“It’s a wonderful age,” she crooned before I could reply, lightly sliding her cup onto her tea plate. “I started learning how to control magic at a Network school, though not Miss Mabel’s School for Girls. It changed the course of my life.” She paused for a second, then continued as if she’d never stopped. “Miss Mabel’s is a grand place. There’s so much history in that big old estate, you know, and so much to learn.”

“Mmm-hmm,” I hummed as I reached for the pot. The tea tumbled in a coral waterfall into the fragile porcelain cups. Steam rolled off the boiling liquid, filling the air. A drop or two slipped out, falling to the white tablecloth when I tipped the spout back. An instant stain spread.

“Miss Mabel’s been teaching there many years,” I said, quickly setting the teapot on top of the diffused pink circles, hoping she didn’t see. My heart pounded. This wasn’t the time for mistakes. Perhaps I’d spent too long perfecting the big things and too little on the mundane.

Our eyes met for the first time. Isadora didn’t smile, just stared into me with a troubled expression. I waited under the scrutiny of her gaze, my heart pulsing in my throat, making me sick to my stomach. Her worried expression had nothing to do with my inability to properly set out and pour tea.

Isadora doesn’t care about trivialities.

“Yes, Mabel has been teaching for a long time.” She finally took the offered cup to sip, breaking her intense study. “She’s one of the best teachers in the Network.”

Her face scrunched a little, and I fought back a frustrated sigh. I had steeped it too long again. Herbal teas always stumped me.

“So I’ve heard,” I said.

“Mabel gears her teaching towards action, not books. Education these days involves too much reading. Learning magic should be about practice, not recitation.”

I heartily agreed but remained silent. Bookwork was never my cup of tea, so to speak. Her cup set itself down as I reached for the sugar. I didn’t know how to respond, so I remained quiet and stirred the sugar into my tea. Above all, show confidence, I reminded myself. Sometimes silence does it best.

“Tell me, Bianca, why you are here today.”

I looked up in surprise. Part of me hoped that our entire interview consisted of this strangled, awkward small talk. Then she could probe into my mind and personality in silence, discerning what I already knew. You’re determined to attend this school. You’ve spent years learning magic to prepare. You hope to control fate, but you can’t because she’s a fickle mistress. Then she’d tell me I passed and I’d never have to really answer anything.

She lifted her eyebrows, waiting for my response, shattering any hope of an easy escape.

Never lie to a Watcher, Papa’s voice returned. Most of the time they already know how you are going to respond. The test is in your emotions, and you can really only control how you use them.

Elaborating on all the possible life benefits of attending Miss Mabel’s tempted me, but she’d know I didn’t really care. Trivialities, I reminded myself. Isadora may already know the answer to her question, but she might not.

A bargain I couldn’t ignore.

I finally settled on the one answer I knew would be true.

“I want to work with Miss Mabel.”

We sat in silence for several minutes. The snap of the fire filled the background. I stirred my cup. Most girls probably had a ready answer for that one. Perhaps I’d been learning how not to set out tea.

“Yes,” Isadora said, taking a sip of her tea with a quiet chuckle that didn’t sound humorous. “You certainly don’t lack motivation, do you?”

She looked out the window again. I pulled the tiny silver spoon from my tea and set it next to the cup. My hands still shook, so I folded them in my lap instead of taking a drink, braiding them into a ball of icy fingers. I wondered if she’d notice if I didn’t take a sip. After her reaction, the taste probably wasn’t worth it.

Isadora opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. I began to wonder if I could stand a silence so loud.

“My job is to interview prospective students to see if they would be a good fit for Miss Mabel’s School for Girls,” she said, turning away from me. “It’s a difficult education to complete, with a demanding schedule, and isn’t meant for everyone. That’s why the High Priestess of the Network requires you to qualify.”

My knuckles tightened until my hands blanched to a shade of white. This was it. She would turn me down, say I wasn’t the right kind of girl. My whole life and future hung in the balance. It would be quick as a guillotine but infinitely more painful.

High stakes are what you get, I reminded myself, when you have a lot to lose.

I wished I’d worn my hair in a bun instead of loose on my shoulders. But I couldn’t act myself by pretending to be something I wasn’t, so my hair remained down where I liked it.