Discipline Academy-The Mystery of Abbey College (#NaNoWriMo2016)

Sam

*Sam*

 "Mix in the aloe jelly, stirring only until the mixture gels. Any longer, and it'll be unusable," Professor Halley–yes, related to the Halley of Halley's Comet–the Sciences professor, instructed.

We were in one of the labs, learning to make burn antidotes. It had been about a week since Abby's birthday, and it was the Ides of March, which, at any other school wouldn't have been important, but here, we were reminded of it at the start of every class when our professors wished us a "Happy Ides of March!"

I stirred my aloe jelly into a solution of something I couldn't recall, watching as the mix became thicker and thicker, until it had gelled. I was supposed to be working with Charlotte, but she'd been distracted all day. Tomorrow was her first riding competition, and she was on the verge of panicking. It was for the best, really, that she was really just staring into space; she was terrible at Sciences.

I wasn't that good myself, but I was better than she was, and Leo was sat behind me, so he would just poke me whenever I did something wrong.

Professor Halley moved through the desks, checking people's work. When he reached my desk, he studied the aloe balm I'd made. "Good, good," he said. "Now spread it in the moulding dishes and let it cool. When it cools, you'll have nice disks of ointment you can just place over a burn and let it do the rest."

I did as he was told, spooning the gloopy stuff into the circular, glass moulds, and then smoothing the top with a spatula. When I'd filled the moulds and emptied the container I'd been cooking the stuff in, I carried the moulds, one at a time, over to the shelf Professor Halley had cleared for them to cool on.

There was only one other group's work on the shelf already–Will and Leo's–and I felt absurdly proud of myself that, not only had my antidote actually come together the way it was supposed to, but also I'd done it faster than anyone but Will and Leo.

I returned to the desk I shared with Charlotte, who looked up, startled, when I sat down. "Oh, you're done?" she asked. "I meant to help. Sorry."

I smiled. "Not a problem. You'll be great tomorrow."

She smiled. "Ha," she choked out. "If only." She sighed and rubbed her face. When she looked up again, she looked completely exhausted. "I just can't stop worrying."

"Charlotte," I said patiently. "Your the best rider I know, and you've been training like mad ever since you made the team. You'll be fine. Better than fine, really. Great."

"Great?" she asked sarcastically. "Have you seen anyone else on the team ride?"

"Erm, no?" I ventured. She scoffed, but I pushed on. "But I have seen the other first years on the other teams ride, and they're no match for you."

"Nice try," she said, as the bell rang. We scooped up our books.

"No, really," I said, circling the desk to get to the door. She followed, frowning skeptically. "Trust me, Charlotte. You're an incredible rider, and you'll be great."

We stepped out of the laboratory and into the hall. The laboratory was in the Old Castle, on the top floor, on the opposite side of the building from the Headmaster's tower. We had Psychology next, since, over the Christmas holiday, Professor Madigan had decided, with our Psychology professor, to switch the lesson order for some obscure reason we weren't privy to. Psychology was in a hall near Ravensbrook College, by the gate, so we had to practically run to avoid being late for class.

But when we got to the Psychology hall, our professor, Professor Whitley, wasn't there. Instead, Headmaster Carrington stood at the podium, waiting patiently for the students to trickle in. Leo faltered at my side. "The Headmaster? What do you reckon he's doing here?"

"No idea," I shot back in a low voice. "Come on. Let's sit down."

We took our usual seats, and waited for the last students to trickle in. The Headmaster had his hands folded before him and peered placidly out from behind his spectacles. Only once everyone was seated did he start speaking.

"Good morning, students," he said. "Now, I suppose you're all wondering where Professor Whitley is. All I can tell you is that he was called away from the school on important, governmental business. I can't say when he'll be back. Now, for today's lesson, we'll be examining different forms of modern torture and their impact on human psychology. Open your textbooks to page one-hundred-and-twenty. Let us begin."

We spent the period in rather gruesome fascination. At the end, as we were packing up our things, Abby muttered, "I hope I never have to use any of this information."

I agreed with her wholeheartedly. The idea that I might ever be tortured, or that I'd have to torture someone, scared me more than I would ever care to admit. Yes, I liked fighting, but that was fighting, not torturing.

The rest of the day passed rather quickly. International Relations was a blur, Physical Fitness was practically a joke, since we were learning sword fighting footwork basics, which I already knew. We were excused from riding because Jeannie had to prepare for the competition tomorrow, so we decided to spend the rest of the afternoon in the Old Castle library.

Abby sprawled across a sofa, her head in Daniel's lap, and let out a massive sigh. "That Psychology lesson scared me!" she announced. "I mean, who wants to know exactly how pain can drive you insane?"

Charlotte laughed ruefully. "Nobody wants to know it, Abbs. Sometimes they just need to."

"That's an incredibly pessimistic way of looking at it," Leo remarked. "I myself am of the philosophy that if you know it, you won't need to use it."

"So, essentially, you're at school so you won't have a career in anything you're interested in when you're done?" Will teased, leaning his elbows on the back of the sofa.

"Git," Leo muttered.

Nelly giggled. She was leaning against the side of the sofa, sitting on the floor with her knees pulled up to her chest. "Don't insult someone who could floor you in seconds," she advised.

Leo moaned. "Is no one on my side in this?" he demanded.

"No," we all chorused.

Leo huffed in annoyance and flopped onto his back–he was sitting on the floor near Nelly. "Oh, come on! Well, you're all wrong, and I'll prove it."

"Yeah, yeah," Charlotte said, her tone bored, waving a hand before her. "It'll be funny watching you try, mate."

I had to laugh. Charlotte sounded so frank, so innocent, her face looking practically angelic. But it was Charlotte. She wasn't serious, though she sounded it. My stomach gave the usual flip-flop, and I had to look away from her.

It was undeniable. I was still head over heels in love with Charlotte d'Albury. And she wasn't in love with me. Damn.

"So," Nelly cut in. "Has there been any news–any at all–about the National Party?" Our gaiety faded away as quickly as it had come upon us.

"No," Abby said soberly. "Not a word. Charlotte, when was the last time you heard from the Queen?"

Charlotte shrugged languidly. "I don't know. January? February? Something like that. In her last letter, she said she was sick of writing when there was nothing new to say, and that she'd only write again when something 'interesting' happened."

"So we know nothing, except that being queen isn't as fun as people like to imagine it would be," Daniel said flatly.

"Basically? Yes," Charlotte replied tersely. "It's frustrating, is what it is." She let her head fall back to loll against the back of her chair.

"And now we're all bashing our heads against the wall," I said, feeling just as fed up as Charlotte looked. "Metaphorically speaking, of course."

"I hate waiting!" Abby griped. "I wish they would just do something, waiting's such agony."