Minnie directs me to Winslow Auditorium, with the assurance I'll find my belongings in my dormitory. "Now, hurry along. You have to register, and you don't want to miss the commencement ceremony. I hear it's going to be something special this year." She glances back toward the car at Margaret sitting there stiffly. "Now, I must go record the success of our outing."
"You're leaving?" I ask, thinking that she worked here at the school.
"Our offices are back in Boston. Oh," she says abruptly, patting her pockets. "I almost forgot, if you need anything consider me your official CWC, or magical liaison if you like." She leans in close. "I'm new. Please don't tell Margaret that I almost forgot to give you this." She passes me a thin coin with the same two wands crossed as on her badge. "Tap that three times with your wand, and I'll be in touch as soon as possible. Best wishes, Maija."
With that, she hurries back to the car and pulls away. I stand in the drive a moment, watching the red tail lights get smaller and smaller as though the tunnel of trees swallows them up and with it, my life as I knew it.
I turn in a circle, take a deep breath, and walk in the direction of Winslow Auditorium. I follow a path lined with pruned hedges, past a fieldstone building, another with columns, and several houses so overgrown with ivy they practically blend in with the forest bordering the campus. I'm starting to wonder if there are any other students here when a dull clamor issues from somewhere near a sidewalk covered by a stone archway, leading toward what must be the auditorium.
I pull open a heavy door as another closes on the opposite side of the atrium. It suddenly goes quiet.
A woman dressed in canary yellow sits behind a table and shuffles a few papers. When she looks up at me, her glasses slide down her nose. "You must be Maija Wessels."
I nod.
"We thought perhaps you weren't coming." She looks at me sternly as if this is a federal offense. However, thinking back to the letter I received and the conversation about the constabulary earlier, it said my attendance is required, so maybe in the magical world not showing up is a violation of some sort.
"Let's get you squared away." She passes me a green card, but doesn't let it go. "Here you'll find your dormitory assignment: Fiona Pennylegion House. Classes: the usual. Ah, and the seminal seminar. Hmm." She glances at me above her glasses and releases her grip on the schedule. "Well, it's all there on the card. I recommend you get in there," she points to the inner set of double doors, "because you do not want to miss the commencement ceremony."
When Minnie said as much, the ceremony sounded exciting; this woman makes it sound foreboding.
"Get a move on," she says, pointing at the door and getting to her feet.
She practically shoves me into the auditorium. "Find a seat," she hisses and flitters away.
I take a tentative step and the floor of the old building creaks. The room is relatively dark except for bands of tiny lights running in arcs along the domed ceiling. I can make out a lot of polished wood. The silhouettes of the tops of students' heads fill rows and rows of seats. I glance to my left, but don't see one available. To my right, there's a single open spot, but it's halfway in, meaning I have to squeeze by everyone.
What sounds like the low peeling of a bell comes from somewhere high above in the building. Without another thought, I hurry past the row of students and scramble to the open seat. I whisper apologies as the bell's ringing continues.
I plop down, slightly out of breath and with my cheeks flushed even though no one can see them in the relative darkness. The bell stops and it's even quieter than before.
A single light comes up on the stage, illuminating a podium. A woman with features as sharp as a blade appears from the shadows. Her black bob doesn't move as she glides to the podium. Without any preamble she says, "For those of you who are new, I'm Professor Derrington, co-head teacher at Applemoor." Her eyes narrow at the word co-head before she continues.
"A few items for you to know before we get on with the program. Students must abide by the three Cs: cooperation, communication, and commitment. To cooperate means you'll review the rules of conduct and not act in any fashion that suggests disrespect to members of our community or school property. You will not bully or otherwise misuse your magic. We are strict about that at Applemoor. Infractions are met with severe recourse. Second, communicate. Should you have a problem, communicate with your fellow students, your teachers, or any of the pertinent faculty or staff about your issue. Finally, commit. We are an educational institution. You came here to learn how to employ properly your special talents and we expect you to do so with utmost effort. Each of your teachers and heads of house will discuss the three Cs at greater length. But given the enormity of our endeavor this year," she clears her throat as though making an invisible point, "I imagine repeated review will be required. With that, I turn the podium over to co-head teacher, Professor Popperwell."
The entire auditorium is as silent as the grave until the roundest man I've ever seen takes her place. He wears a tweed suit and the buttons on the jacket threaten to burst.
A polite round of applause rises when he waves at the student body. His face is ruddy and his smile bounces between cheerful good nature and amusement. "What a warm welcome from Professor Derrington. Thank you." Or perhaps it's sarcasm and amusement. "Welcome students, faculty, and staff. As noted, I'm co-head teacher here at Applemoor. Our two main areas of focus are creation and conservation. I lead the courses in creation and Professor Derrington's attention is on the conservation side of things. New students will take primary classes with us. Return students, secondary classes as you well know. Depending on your schedule, you'll also have arithmetic, language arts, alchemy, futurism, the arts, and for some of you lucky individuals, a bonus class."
I didn't have a chance to read my schedule except for what the lady said at registration about the seminal seminar.
Professor Popperwell goes on. "After the commencement ceremony we'll meet in the dining hall for dinner and then off to your dorms to settle in. I'm looking forward to a wonderful year ahead as we expand our magical community."
He exits the stage to a round of applause louder than the one that welcomed him. However, instead of quieting, it amplifies when what I can only describe as the wizard of all wizards takes the stage. He has long white hair and silver, shimmery robes. Actually, his hair and robes almost match. I glance to the girl sitting next to me as if to ask is this for real, but his voice booms through the auditorium. He lifts his arms as though receiving the full blast of excitement.
"Gratias tibi." Only when he says these words a third time does everyone quiet.
His smile is generous. "Gratias tibi," he repeats. "This means thank you and is the school motto at Applemoor Academy. You may find it strange that it isn't something grander like dream, believe, achieve or a fierce chant, or even something about magic. No, our founders chose this motto as our guiding principle because as bearers of magic, we must first operate from a place of gratitude. Our special abilities should never been taken lightly or for granted."
He's pacing, but the spotlight doesn't follow him. He glows on his own against the otherwise black stage area. "Professor Derrington mentioned the three Cs. These are guidelines you'll follow when you're here and long after convocation and you leave this campus. Professor Popperwell mentioned our focus of study: creation and conservation."
He stops midstride. It's like he's gazing right into whatever it is that connects us all because I feel my pulse thundering fast and hard along with at least a hundred more. "You're charged with these gifts, but they're also responsibilities. Each time you use your magic, first say thank you because when we operate from a place of gratitude we're less likely to do harm and more likely to do good, which is precisely why we've been given our gifts, to do good. I believe that of all of us. Everyone in this room."
The man returns to the podium, clasps his hands and adds, "This year, as we embark upon our first integrated class, I ask you to set aside any preconceived notions about your fellow students and say thank you. Thank you for this opportunity to learn and grow into a more dynamic, well-represented, and compassionate magical community." He wiggles his fingers in a sort of wave and says, "I'm going to go get a slice of pie while there's still some left. Peach tonight, I believe. But I sure am looking forward to the apple."
Then he disappears.
Poof.
The dude left the building.
A low murmur rises among the students. I turn to the girl next to me. Even in the near dark, her skin is luminous, her hair smoothed away from her face, and her eyes bright.
"Who was that?" I whisper, but before she can answer, the stage lights come on and a pair of unicorns prances onto the stage.
I am not even kidding.
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