School Of Secrets

Blue Eyes and Battle Axes

Saturday

I gently towel dry my hair, head tilted to the side as I walk into my room. I quickly check to make sure none of the other girls are lounging around before I walk to my bunk, dropping the towel on my bed and wincing when my wet hair immediately begins to wet my back. You'd think a Hunter in training wouldn't care, but it's just way too uncomfortable not to. I hang my towel on the hook next to my bed, which matches every other bed in the room.
   
Something dark red catches my eye, and I turn to my bed to see an envelope on my pillow. I look at it in confusion, wondering who would write me a letter. I don't have parents, not since they decided they didn't want me and dropped me off on the Brunswick Coven's doorstep. I choose to leave it for now, quickly making my bed and checking the clock. Dinner will probably be ready soon, and I don't want to miss it and go hungry.
   
I turn back to the note and let out an annoyed growl, snatching it up and looking it over. On the front is a bright red wax seal with W.A. stamped into it. On the back is my name is beautiful cursive, which means it's addressed directly to me- but who is W.A.? I bite my lip and think it over, looking at the clock one more time before curiosity gets the best of me. I rip open the envelope, not really caring about keeping the wax seal intact. Three things fall out, which is surprising seeing how small the package is. I hum, knowing that whoever sent this used magic to do so.

I pick up the first piece of paper, turning it over and opening it. I read over it quickly, my heart hammering in my chest and my eyes widening the further I get down the page. I shake my head violently as I reread the note, knowing there is no way it isn’t just a joke. But it can't be mistaken, they used my middle name which is something the ‘Twisted Six’ doesn’t know.

The Twisted Six have made it their mission to ruin my life, ever since I presented my powers when I was twelve. Which is why suspicion nags at me to wonder if this is just a ’gift’ from them.

I set the note down, picking up the next thing, which ends up being a pamphlet about Westwood Academy, the school that just decided to admit me randomly. It's unheard of, them accepting not only a poor nobody but also accepting someone in the middle of their four years. I'm seventeen, which means I would be a third year. There's also the fact that they only accept about 200 people a year and only 100 people from the states. The chances of me getting invited to the school are pretty much nonexistent.

I flip through the pamphlet, noting a few things like how the school used to be a prison. 'Not creepy at all,' I muse with a small smile. And I read through all of the different kinds of supernaturals they accept, shocked. Some of these, like the Fae or Elves, never even leave their home realms- yet this school admits them. 

Westwood is the only significant school to admit more than Witches and future Hunters. The other most prominent school is The London Academy for the Unnatural, which is so prestigious it's basically impossible unless you know the council.

The last thing is a receipt, and I open it with interest to find that it's a full scholarship, and the goddamn council signed it. I gape at that, my eyes probably as wide as my mouth- a cute 'land fish' look. Before today I had assumed that the council didn't even know my name, but now they are giving me a full-ride scholarship? 'What if they know what you are,' A voice in the back of my mind helpfully supplies, and I bite my lip. What if this is a ruse to get me to the school, and then I find out they just want to send me to prison. I shake the negative thoughts away and shove everything back into the envelope.

    But what if this is finally my chance to just be me? Not the girl with dangerous powers who her parents didn't want- the girl who can be a strong Hunter. I take a deep breath, already knowing what I'm going to choose. I can't pass this up, not when a second chance is looking me in the face. Now I need to break the news to the others and hope that it isn’t an elaborate joke. I groan and cover my face with my hands. 'This should be interesting.'