Page 35 of An Arcane Education
“I’m glad you’re here,” AJ says softly.
“Me too. This is beyond anything I ever could have dreamed.”
“And I’m glad we became friends,” he adds.
“Even though I’ll probably drag down your social status with my magical incompetence?” I glance over at him, smiling.
“Oh, that’s not a problem. It just makes me look better by comparison.” I elbow him lightly, and he laughs.
“Thanks for being my first real friend here. And also, as much as I’ve noticed your proclivity to flirt for sport—” he feigns offense at my callout, dropping his jaw andplacing his palm against his chest “—make sure you don’t overlook the people who are truly interested in you past that charming smile.”
He looks at me with curiosity as he opens the door to the dormitory building. “What do you mean?”
“I’m just saying, Joanna seems like a very kind, intelligent, and pretty woman.”
I swear he blushes, but it might just be the low light playing tricks on me. “Yeah, you might be right. Anyway, I’m this way.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder in the opposite direction from my room.
“Goodnight. Make good choices this weekend,” I add as one final taunt.
“No promises,” he calls out over his shoulder, stumbling over his feet as he heads down the hall, and I make it to my room with a smile on my face and an already sleeping roommate.
CHAPTER 13
On Monday, Professor Showen avoids eye contact with me during our class, and it’s clear she’s exhausted from the purple bags under her eyes and her frequent yawning during lecture. In my following class with Dr. Lowry, I chicken out of asking him if he knew my father due to his particularly impatient attitude during class. Callista also makes a beeline to me immediately after class has ended, asking me about how I enjoyed the party on Saturday, and I get caught up in conversation with her.
I do, however, take the opportunity to talk to Dr. Hagan after my Naturalism Spellwork class. During our class time, we create medicinal salves for minor injuries containing various combinations of calendula, comfrey, lavender, yarrow, and arnica. I can hardly focus because I’m so nervous.
She’s returning the herb jars we used today to their rightful places on the massive shelves, her paisley-patterned skirt swishing as she twists around.
“Excuse me,” I say, which seems to startle her out of whatever mental space she’s gotten lost in.
She looks at me expectantly, but not unkindly, with wide eyes behind thick glasses.
“I—I was wondering if you remember a man named Cameron Langley. He would have been your student about twenty-five to thirty years ago.” I hand her the picture I photocopied from the yearbook in the library earlier.
She squints down at it, studying his face, before handing it back to me. “I vaguely remember the face. Why?”
Disappointment sinks like a stone in my chest. “He was my father. He passed away before I was born, and I just found out a couple days ago that he attended Arcadia. I managed to figure out who was here at the academy at the same time as him, so I’ve been checking to see if any of those people remember him.”
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, dear. I can’t say I really remember any details about him. Such a shame for death to come for him so quickly, though.”
“It’s okay. Thanks for talking to me about it, at least. See you Wednesday.” I leave the classroom after she bids me goodbye then begins humming to herself softly as she returns to her task.
What a strange woman.
Tuesday arrives with a storm that batters the island from the west, the rain lashing against windows and cascadingfrom the rain gutters. Students huddle beneath umbrellas that do little to keep away the side-swept rain while others sprint between buildings with hoods up or backpacks held over their heads.
I’m drenched by the time I reach the Natural Sciences building for my ten o'clock class with Dr. Vale. Water drips from my hair down the back of my neck, and my slacks are plastered to my legs. My only solace is that my waterproof jacket has held up against the rain, so at least some part of me is dry.
Other students arrive in similar states of disarray, muttering complaints about the weather and the inadequate covered walkways between buildings. As people file in, the classroom begins to take on the musty smell of damp clothes plastered to warm bodies.
Dr. Vale enters five minutes before ten, completely dry, though I wonder if he’s been hiding out in his office all morning to avoid the rain. It’s somewhere in this building, according to the syllabus.
He begins the lecture as soon as the clock strikes ten, talking about plants as open thermodynamic systems. I take precise notes, ignoring the fact that AJ is beside me, sprawled out in his chair and casually tapping his pencil against an empty notebook page while he listens.
At the end of the lecture, Dr. Vale states, “Remember, today we begin lab work. We’ll be meeting in the greenhouse in fifteen minutes, so take this time to make sure you’re prepared. I’ll see you there.”
With that, the students file out, and I walk with AJ and Joanna the long way through the halls to get to the greenhouse with minimal rain.
