Page 10 of An Arcane Education
Next, a hand with the palm turned up and materials floating over top of it.
A stack of books with a quill follows.
The final window shows a crescent moon and a lit candlestick.
I’m so caught up in the beauty of the windows that I’m startled when one of the massive wooden doors opens before me.
I jump, then laugh nervously at my own awkwardness.
“Excuse me,” I call out in a friendly voice to the woman leaving the building. She looks to be about my age, maybe slightly younger, with straight black hair that barely brushes the tops of her shoulders. Framing one side of her face is a stark white streak in her otherwise dark hair. She’s wearing burgundy lipstick, and her eye makeup is just as distinctive, with dark eyeliner that swoops out in perfectly pointed wings in a stark contrast against her pale skin. She’s dressed entirely in black, with dark jeans, combat boots, and a leather jacket.
She stops in her tracks, and her expression is cold as she looks me up and down and raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?” As she tilts her head in what seems like irritation, her multiple ear piercings catch the light.
“Um, do you know where the housing office is?”
Her gaze is somehow simultaneously bored, assessing, and annoyed. She points directly behind me, and I turn to look at the cluster of four identical towers she’s pointing at.
“It’s directly to the left of those. There’s a big sign. You can’t miss it.”
“Thank you, I—” I turn around to realize she hasn’t even waited for my response. She’s already walking away. I watch her disappear around the corner of a building and try to brush off the disappointment of her blatantdismissal. Could she tell that I’m new to magic? Is there some sort of elitism regarding those who come from magical families and those who don’t?
I had already been worried about making friends after spending so many years more focused on my responsibilities than my personal relationships, but this opens up another entirely new fear. What if I’m written off by everyone before I even have a chance to prove myself?
The pathways to the dorms are mostly empty, with only the occasional person rushing to their destination. The misting rain has let up for now, allowing me to make my way across campus without the moisture soaking through my clothes. Mental note: get a better rain jacket as soon as possible.
Finally, I make it to the building the woman had directed me to, and outside, there’s a sign that reads, “Housing Services.”
I drag my suitcases clumsily across the threshold and inside to the small lobby area where there’s a young man at a desk—likely a student worker—propping his head up with his hand and tapping a pencil lazily with the other. When the door shuts behind me, he sits up straight and glances over at me.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m a new student here to check in.”
He points down a hallway to my right. “It’ll be the first door on the left. Welcome to Arcadia,” he adds with a smile.
Finally, someone friendly. “Thank you so much.”
The building is old but well-maintained, and the stone walls give it a formidable air. My footsteps echo in theempty hallway as I make my way to the first door on the left.
Inside, a woman in her sixties looks up from the paperwork she’s filing by hand, no computer in sight. Behind her, the wall is entirely covered by filing cabinets with neat labels.
“Hello,” she greets me cheerily. “Are you checking in early?”
“Yes. I’m a new student.”
“Oh, well, welcome! What’s your name, dear?”
“Vivian Harver.”
She nods and turns to the massive sets of filing cabinets behind her, skimming her long, red fingernails across the alphabetical labels before opening a drawer and pulling out a folder. Returning to her desk, she flips through the folder and pulls out two different papers.
“I’ll just need you to read and sign this one,” she states, sliding one of the sheets toward me. I skim the paper, which is just a standard waiver regarding room and safety rules, then sign it and slide it back across the desk to her.
“Wonderful!” She takes the form, transfers it to a larger folder already on her desk, then hands me the other paper, showing me one side with written information and another with a campus map. “This has your room assignment. While this set of buildings right outside contains all the undergraduate dormitories, your room will be in one of the two graduate dorms.” She circles the building and traces a pathway from our current location to the residence hall.
She opens yet another drawer and pulls out a set oftwo brass keys that look like they’re from a different century. “Here’s your room key and your key to your mailbox, which you’ll find in the lobby area of your dormitory. Try not to lose these. The locks are all enchanted to prevent anyone from accessing someone else’s room, and there are only a few people on our staff who have the information needed to unlock the doors, so it can become a bit of a hassle.”
“Got it.”
