“Wards? Like magical wards?” Oakley asked.
“Right. And each wing and floor is secure to only those allowed in the area by residence or invitation. Safety is of the utmost priority at Raven’s Head,” Embry parroted, using the same language she’d used while assigning rooms at orientation the previous weekend.
At the dorm, the wards immediately released for Embry, recognizing her as a resident. Oakley tried to follow but bounced off the protective magic with a surprised “oof.” After locking the suitcase and all but one uniform in the prefect’s closet, Embry dusted her hands as she flung herself outside. Four minutes. “Come on. Martinelli is serious about the tardy marks. But Heston shouldn’t give you trouble. He’s a meathead but a sweetheart meathead. Now let’s get you across the quad.”
They set off toward the athletics complex, which, luckily for Embry, was right beside the STEM building. Raven’s Head had as many athletic nerds as it did nerdy athletes.
“If this is the quad, why does it have five sides?” Oakley asked.
“Raven’s Head was founded by witches.” Embry decided it might sound a little boastful to mention those witches were her relatives. And that they’d founded the town, the island—pretty much everything from here to the mainland. “The school adoptedquadas a generic and welcoming term for non-witches after the Great Reckoning.”
The new girl nodded. Embry was relieved that she wasn’t so out of touch as to not have heard of the Great Reckoning, when all the magical misfits banded together under the governance of the Table. Some of the more sheltered students didn’t know how many magical protections were in place to keep the outside world at bay.
At their current pace, they could make it easily before the bell, but it was the first day, and Embry was popular. With every step they took, students greeted her.
“Hi, Embry!”
“Embry, um, hey!”
“Embry, I love that blouse. Houndstooth? So classic!”
Prefect badge glinting in the morning sun, Embry greeted each call with a personal response yet kept up a brisk pace across the stately brick walkway, her hair streaming behind her in a shiny, endless, golden wave. Her only pause across the quad was when a transfer Frankenstein’s monster, Lydia, jogged over from a group of Stitches—all clutching coffees and looking exactly as aggrieved as any naturally nocturnal being would be at the start of the daytime school year—and thrust her newly mended knuckles in Embry’s face.
“The skin perfector salve workedperfectly. Thank yousoooomuch.” The girl then wrapped Embry in a hug, capturing her in a vise between her biceps.
“Anytime,” Embry assured Lydia, extracting herself with a wave and the discreet rearranging of her now wayward vest as she pointed herself back en route.
Oakley shuffled to catch up. “Are you homecoming queen or something?”
Embry laughed. “We don’t do queen and king here, just two all-gender royalty winners. Not to mention homecoming isn’t for another month.” It was true, though she was probably a front-runner, even on the first day. Only seniors were elected to homecoming court, and the list of seniors with Embry’s social and political capital wasveryshort. She shrugged. “Just a witch who happens to be good at zapping zits and repairing ragged body parts.”
She tugged three pouches out of her shoulder bag, each embroidered with the name of her top-sellers—skin perfector salve, stink stopper, stain-be-gone—vials clinking merrily within. The potions were marked with a price well below market value. She didn’t need the money, but her time was valuable and her skillbetter than any other witch on campus. And, honestly, every potion made her school a little moremagical—who would have an issue with that?
This was where it would be natural for the new girl to share where she fell in the magical continuum of Witches to Glitches, given that Embry had confirmed herself as a witch. Instead, she just eyed the pouches as Embry returned them to her bag. “Cool.”
Their progress improved as the number of people on the grounds began to dwindle. Oakley’s neck craned as they walked, apparently taking in the buildings’ brick facades as they pressed against the summer green canopy. “Wow, this place is the size of a university.”
It was actually one of the tiniest (and most exclusive) schools run by the Table. Raven’s Head prided itself on its cozy, idyllic setting, and small class sizes while providing the state-required “normie” education to its magical students. “Where were you before?”
Oakley’s pale cheeks flushed. “Oh, at… uh, home. I was homeschooled.”
“Hang on.”Embry clamped down on her marble-cold wrist, halting their procession. Oakley’s mouth popped open as she gaped from Embry’s grasp to her furrowed brow. “You were homeschooled for your entire education… and your parents dropped you off at an elite boarding school and peaced out for your senior year? Your last year in group education is your first and it’s at one of the most competitive and prestigious schools for the magically giftedin the country?”
The girl blinked, eyes wide. “Yeah?”
“Are your parents sadists?”
Oakley shrugged, one side of her mouth flickering upward. “Verifiably?” She laughed, revealing beautiful, bright teeth—a large smile on a small face. She was like a poorly dyed fairy withan addiction to kohl. Not that Oakley was a fairy. The lack of wings was a dead giveaway.
Still, no matter what she was, this new girl was in for it. She’d never attended school. Never sat in a full class. Never dressed out for gym. Never had to find a place to sit at lunch.
Oakley Riddle was a senior in high school and completely, utterly clueless.
In that moment, Embry decided it would be her job to help this poor girl survive Raven’s Head School for the Magically Gifted. She had the status, the popularity, the legacy. If anyone could ensure this girl didn’t get eaten by literal (were)wolves, it was her.
Embry checked her watch. Two minutes.
“Oakley, we’re going to walk through these doors, get you set up with a locker for your backpack with no tardy from Heston, then”—here, Embry again reached into her own bag and slipped out a vial of stink stopper—“you’re going to use a little of this, just in the sweaty places, put on your uniform”—she pointed at it, whispering a wrinkle-release spell—“and arrive to your next three classeson time, making an excellent first impression as you go.”
