The School Of Mystic

“Mirabelle, get down here this instant! If I have to call your name one more time, I’m grounding you!” I blinked away the sleepiness in my eyes, to be brought back into reality with a sharp click of the mind. I glanced around at my surroundings with what could only be called a dazed expression, and I couldn’t help cringe at the sight that met my eyes.

It wasn’t that my room was horrible—on the contrary—it would be a teen’s dream room, but for reasons unknown, every time I saw a sign of vanity, I glared; every time I felt the touch of rich silk under my fingers I fisted my hands; and so help me, if I saw one more of those ridiculously pointless paintings hanging on a wall, I would scream! It disgusted me that though my mother made a fine living as the editor for Forbes, she spent it on clothes, showing off her money, and facelifts. So of course, using my room to show off more of her money, she had crammed in as many fancy mirrors, paintings, and the hugest (even if it was quite elegant) furniture that would fit. I scowled at my pink-painted ceiling fan, and barely contained a growl of anger when I happened to look in the direction of my closet, which, sadly, held thousands of dresses and high-heeled shoes. I finally happened to catch a glimpse of the floor-length mirror that dominated the wall across from my closet, and my eyes narrowed in on what was reflected in it.

In the mirror, I saw a teen scowling back at me, aqua blue eyes flashing with annoyance. Her posture was straight—rigid even—and it showed off a mostly slim figure that looked to be about 5”4. Thick jet-black hair fell in waves to about her waist, and it framed a face that in the teen’s view was quite plain. I stared at myself for another minute, taking in the details of my appearance, then shrugged, and turned away. It’s not that I thought myself a bad sight to look at, I knew I wasn’t, but I didn’t think myself to be gorgeous, either. I was about to snatch my composition book off of my desk, when with a start, I remembered what had snapped me out of my daydream. Deciding that mother’s wrath wasn’t something I needed to deal with at the moment, I turned, and walked out of my room.

The sight of shining floors, tapestry covered walls, and a high up ceiling met my eyes, and I couldn’t help scowling at the whole thing. Most people would’ve glowed to be in my shoes, but to me, it was a waste of money, a way for Mother to show off and just plain pathetic. I took another moment above the stairs to collect myself before heading down.

I reached out my hand, started to lightly trail it down the banister, and glided down with total silence and a feeling of controlled annoyance and irritation. When I stepped off of the marble staircase, I pivoted to the right, and started heading down a long hallway towards the parlor. While I seemingly wandered threw my home, I asked myself what my mother would want now? She normally didn’t call on me, and when she did, I could almost always guarantee that it was never good for me. When I finally reached the double doors leading from the hallway to the parlor, I stopped, pulled on the hem of my baby-blue shirt, then finally and silently opened one of the doors.

I glanced into the room, just to step back just a little. Sitting on one of the velvet-covered couches, sat a short, just a little pudgy lady. Her hair, a light-brown, was up in a bun, leaving her thin neck bare. Her hands were folded in that prim way that sophisticated people sit in, and her eyes, also a light brown but just a little duller than her hair, were trained on the doorway of the hallway, so she saw me semi-enter.

“Miss Wellington,” I quickly snapped out of my trance to greet the lady whom I’d been staring at. It’s not that she was extremely ugly, or extremely beautiful, but it was a bit of a shocker to see my high-school principle sitting in my parlor.

“Mira,” Miss Wellington clumsily got to her feet in that way semi-old people do, and walked forward to give me her hand. “It’s nice to see you again,” she said.

“I agree,” I muttered back, even though I obviously didn’t. I started to look around for my ‘mother dearest’, but I didn’t have to look for long.

“Hello Mrs. Wellington, Mirabelle,” my eyes snapped back to the door that was still behind me, and I silently sighed in annoyance at the woman that was standing there.
She was tall and lanky – almost like me, but just a little taller – but of course her breasts and butt didn’t fit with that. They just had to bubble and push against her clothes to draw attention, and they were like that, no thanks to plastic surgery. Her hair was a long, dark died mass that went well with that tan that she’d gotten by sitting in a tanning booth for hours. Can you tell I thought her a fake?

“Mother,” I responded back in the friendliest voice I could manage, which truthfully, wasn’t really that friendly. I looked up into her gaze, and didn’t look away until she did. It was petty, but it made me feel like I wasn’t dominated by her.

“Mrs. Charming.” My eyes flashed back to the other lady in the room, who was currently holding out a hand to my mother. My mother ‘graciously accepted’ the hand, shook it, and then dropped it almost like it was poison to her rich person. I hid a snort with a cough, then lounged against the doorpost to wait and see what Wellington was here for.

“Well Mrs. Charming, I gather you know what I’m here for.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother’s face go from politely friendly, to a mask in the matter of a second. I raised an eyebrow in interest, but didn’t bother saying anything. I just sat, and waited.

“Yes Mrs. Wellington, your letter explained itself quite unambiguously. May we all take seats?” Again, I couldn’t help raise an eyebrow in interest at my mother’s dismissive tone because clearly, whatever Mrs. Wellington had come for, wasn’t something so unimportant. I mentally shrugged though, and slowly strode over to a recliner, and sat down, making sure I did so before any of the women did. Again, another petty thing of mine.

Mother seemed to want to speak first, but Mrs. Wellington acted like she didn’t notice, and quickly started up on what she was here for. She turned to me, and began to speak.

“Mira, what do you think of the supernatural?”
So, seriously? Supernatural? Part of me is wondering if Mrs. Wellington isn’t off her rocker yet. So with that charming thought going threw my head, you can guess what I did? I just sat there, and blinked. Oh yeah, then I sat there some more, and bliiinked. I think I’ve got issues too.

“Mrs. Wellington, is that supposed to be a trick question or something?” I looked up to meet Wellington’s dull brown eyes, which held that look that makes you feel like a child, yet they seemed impatient and understanding at the same time.

“No Mira, that is a true question which I want you to answer. Again, what do you think of the supernatural?” So just like she’d re-asked her question, I re-blinked, again.

“I don’t believe in it,” I tried to mutter flatly, but my voice shook a little, for a reason that was unknown to me.

“Well it’s real.” With those so kindly explanatory words, Wellington proceeded to lift her palm in front of her, close her eyes, and a ball of water appeared on the center of it.

I stared in surprise at the suddenly there ball of water, then like a typical teen idiot, I blinked. Honestly, it was just to see if it was really there, but I think I’m getting tired of the blinking routine.

Wellington smiled slightly, reached into her purse, and pulled out a slip of paper. She handed it over, and I glanced down with curiosity. Elegant script met my eyes, and I began to read the following.

Dear Mirabelle Leslie Charming,

We are pleased to inform you, that you have been selected to join the School of Mystic, a school for supernatural/mystic beings. Here, you will learn to use your magical talents, and will be able to join the supernatural world. Please inform the deliverer of this letter of your answer. The next school term will begin on August twenty-third, if you so wish to join us. A map with directions to SOM is attached.

Sincerely,
Wilma Hopkinson, headmistress of the School of Mystic

“Mira? Mira, Mira…” somewhere, in the back of my brain, I knew someone was calling my name, but that seemed not to matter at the moment, while I stared at the creamy paper with elegant script written on it. Me, some mystical chick? Like, seriously, that doesn’t seem possible. My life has nothing mystical that’s happened to it, thank you very much.

“Are you sure you have the right person?” My eyes flicked up to meet Wellington’s dull brown eyes, and I kept her gaze expectantly. She looked taken aback for a moment, and then she quickly recovered.

“Of course we have the right person, Mira. You’re an ambernite.” Can you guess what I did next? I sat there, and again, I blinked. Just sat there, and blinked. I think I’m cutting out my eyelids soon.

“Mira, did you hear me?” I stopped blinking for a moment, and went back to staring at Wellington.

“Yeah, I heard, that doesn’t mean I believe you though.”

“Mirabelle! You have no right to talk to an adult with such rudeness!” I blinked in surprise, and turned to stare at my mother. I had almost forgotten she was there, from how quiet she was being. “This is a one in a lifetime opportunity Mira, and I expect you to treat it as such. You will go to that school, and you will learn what you need to know.” She started up again, and I just rolled my eyes in annoyance. Wasn’t this my decision to make? Didn’t I have a choice in the matter, at all? Mrs. Wellington seemed to read my thoughts at that moment, and for all I know, she did, but she spoke up.

“Mrs. Charming, I don’t mean to intrude in a family matter, but I do believe this is Mira’s decision and Mira’s decision alone.” I smiled gratefully at Wellington, before slipping back into my thoughts, which frankly didn’t consist of much. It came down to the question of if I wanted to join Mystic, or not.

Personally, I didn’t think I’d be leaving much behind if I did decide to attend that school. Mother wasn’t someone that I wanted to spend the rest of my minor years with, and for now, the only thing I could see that I would be leaving behind would be my best friends.

Another petty thing, but with the life I was living, I really did need those friends. We had helped each other threw everything since we’d met up, and though we only knew each other since sixth grade, it felt like it had been for our whole lives. They were the only people who truly understood me, and leaving them behind gave me a twinge of sadness.

“By the way, Lakeria, Kalila, and Minh will be receiving the same letter you did, if that will help your decision any.” I glanced up from my twiddling thumbs to look back at the lady who had spoken. Wellington looked at me semi-expectantly, but she seemed like she was trying to calm her expression.

I took a moment to go threw my thoughts again. If Ria, Minh, and Lela were going to Mystic, what would I be leaving behind? I took a deep breathe, and then turned to Wellington with resolve on my face.

“I’ll go.”