The Chosen

My back was propped against a step on the corridor as I waited lazily for the morning bell to ring. My black hair was beginning to grow too shaggy; slipping into my eyesight when it hung straight. My olive skin was accustomed for a school residing in upper Italy, but it was all wrong for the type of people actually attending it. There was a definite consistency of pale skinned, fair-haired individuals – it seemed that they fit the bill better than I did.

My eyes drooped measurably as I watched the minute hand on the clock ticking hypnotically. I only got a few hours of sleep last night. Insomnia comes and goes for me – a byproduct of my so-called “powers”. It was normal for me to stare at the ceiling of my dorm making figures out of the obscure shadows. Idly think about what happened during the day. Or, when I finally did get to sleep, my roommates would sneak in late from a party on the west campus – the girl’s dorms. None the less, I wasn’t feeling up for the droning of my professors talking about the necessity of protecting ourselves and our identity. I was already in my 7th year at the Academy; I first came when I was ten. Essentially I was a veteran, but in the eyes of people who’ve already claimed their powers, I would always be thought of as backward.

The low shrill of the bell finally came, and I arched forward, standing up. My black shoes hit the marble steps as I glided down monotonously. There was a bubble of laughter down the hallway followed by the constant click of high heels. I gave the group of girls a wide berth but they still felt the need to draw close enough to manage to clip me on the shoulder. I rolled my eyes. All the girls in this school felt like they needed to own the hallways.

The only material I held at my hip was my textbook of defensive techniques. First block with Professor Fernier. The group was collectively small – mostly because people tended to skip that class. It wasn’t that Alexei Fernier was an inadequate teacher; more than that, he could be quite funny at times. It was just that his class tended to be less exciting than the others. You didn’t get to experiment with incantations or mind trickery. You simply got to learn ways to block against a potential enemy.

I slid into my chair – fourth seat to the left, upper row. There weren’t many desks – mostly because in this class we were up, working on moves in the rings. I saw all familiar faces – Gregory Dobson, Edwin Kent, David Cross, Henry Leventhall, Angelica Michel, and Deirdre Van Leewuen. They were the constants along with me. We got sprinklings of others, but at most, there was a group of ten people here every day. Some days I felt that a blessings, others not so much.

The signal bell rang for class and it was the usuals along with a new addition – a petite girl with freckles and auburn hair. Alexei stepped forward, his hands clasped behind his back, smiling at us. “Hello future prodigies. Lovely morning for a little skill training, wouldn’t you say?”

There was a blurb of murmurs among the eclectic group, and he continued as if we all shouted in enthusiasm, “Perfect! We will be splitting into pairs once again today—”

Professor Fernier was cut off by a creaking hinge of the doors behind us. Several heads turned around and stared at the person who interrupted his speech. I first saw the wisp of fine, pale blond hair before getting the full view of who it was: Céline. I mentally groaned. Her. She was carrying a blue slip secured in her thumb and forefinger. Her heeled boots warned us all of her oncoming entrance – as if we needed reminders. She held a look of contempt on her glistening face. Well, I mused, this could’ve been what Headmistress Mèdici wanted with her yesterday – to switch into this class. Interesting.

She extended the paper to Alexei, and spoke in a velvety tone, “I apologize for my lack of promptness, Professor Fernier. It seems I have been switched into this class by a result of necessity.”

He read over the slip with no real interest, and wafted it on top of his desk. He came back to her with a brilliant smile. “Wonderful! We are glad to have you, Ms. Godrich.”

Wonderful, indeed.