Faith Heights

Chapter 3

She cleared her throat against the microphone. "There are over three thousand and two hundred students currently attending Faith Heights Academy. Of the one thousand and five hundred students in the high school campus, only seventy currently hold long-term scholarships. This year, Faith Heights received almost twenty thousand applications for assisted entry, and of those thousands, only the forty-two students standing before me were accepted for your age group. You should all be very proud of yourselves for making it this far." She paused, smiling. Something in the way she worded her speech did the opposite to reassure me.

She continued with another harsh cough. "That being said, Faith Heights is known for nothing if not its exclusivity. Commencing this afternoon, each of you will partake in a number of individual interviews to assure the faculty here that you are perfectly suited for the education we offer. After today's interviews, I regret to say that some of you will be asked to pack your bags and return home by the end of the week."

A dismayed rumble seeped through the crowd as my jaw hit the ground. Rhea's wasn't far behind, her eyes almost the size of clenched fists. How was this ethically legal? We'd only just arrived, and they were already preparing to kick us out?

Leclair raised a hand. "I assure you, the conditions of your scholarships were presented quite clearly in the documents your parents and guardians signed when they left you here. Each and every one of them was made wholly aware of the continued selective nature of your scholarships."

Documents? I though my parents left the campus as soon as they'd left my dorm. If they had been told about these interviews before dropping me off, they'd undoubtedly have warned me. If Dad had had prior knowledge of the scholarship's fragility, he would have been on the phone swearing like a sailor to administration within the hour.

The headmistress' spiel continued for another ten excruciatingly long minutes, explaining that we were all to remain in the hall and mingle until we were called for our short interviews. Rhea kept up a nervous babble constant enough to drown out the idea that I may have just moved into a school I would be immediately thrown from.

There was a platter of snacks to the right of the room, but most of us were too tense to eat. Slowly, one by one, the older man at the podium – Professor Blexley – called us forward in a clipped tone, where he then directed us to the interview room. It was to be a small room within the headmistress' office building, the closest structure to the forest's dark edge.

I was one of the first names shouted. I couldn't figure out the order in which they listed us, but the cluster of girls I'd seen left the hall in a consecutive march. As I scuffled back to the hall's exit, Rhea wished me luck, and I wished her the same.

I spent the walk across the grass attempting to memorise the information inside the school's brochures, clenching and unclenching my fists. I didn't see a trace of any of the other students already called, but I was glad that I'd at least be interviewed in private. 

I'd barely walked through the building's entrance before I heard Leclair's voice call softly, drawing me further inside. Something in her smooth, strong voice caused the hairs at the back of my neck to rise, and I had to resist the sudden instinct to fly from the room before being pulled further into a web.

I entered the cozy room, painted a deep wine red, where her voice had resonated from. The headmistress waited calmly with her hands folded in her lap. Other than a dim lamp next to her leather armchair, the room was obscured by the approaching nightfall. Unlit candles sat on the small glass table between us, encircling a porcelain teapot and two cups. 

She gestured to the grey couch to her left. "Please, have a seat. Lila, isn't it?"

"Yes, thank you." I sat awkwardly at the edge of the stiff couch, feeling her bright, cerulean gaze scouring every inch of me, almost luminous in the shadows.

She let out a soft sigh, gently raising a hand to her forehead. "I apologise- it has been a very long day. For both of us, I'm sure. Would you like some tea before we begin?"

I would have preferred to have the interrogation over with, but I could hardly refuse her. "Yes, please."

She slowly poured a stream of misting water from the spout into the two cups. I watched every drop fall as if in slow motion, sitting as still as possible. I waited for her to speak, but after she placed the pot back down, her piercing eyes latched onto mine with an unnerving focus. 

Finally, she gestured down to my cup. "Please, enjoy. It's my own herbal brew. And try to relax; we'll be done within a few minutes."

A loose breath rattled past my mouth, and I took a long swig of the hot liquid. It was a little bitter at first, but as it trickled down my throat, a soft, honey quality replaced the unpleasantness. It almost seemed to thicken, like syrup, but I forced myself to swallow.

As soon as I placed the tea down, Leclair refolded her arms, and leaned forward with alert eyes.

Then we began.