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“Most classes don’t have assigned seats, but some teachers make us sit alphabetically,” she explained.
I nodded and glanced forward just as Niall, a.k.a. Mr. Friendly, walked in. He scanned the room, his eyes moving over me as if I didn’t exist before walking to the very back and taking a corner seat.
When I faced back around, Hannah was watching me with a sly smile. “So, Niall caught your eye?”
“Mr. Haddon had him show me where to sit before the assembly. He disappeared as soon as he pointed to the row.”
She chuckled. “Yeah, he’s not really a people person.”
“Where is he from?” I asked, fighting the urge to look back at him.
“What do you mean?” She cocked her head.
“I thought I heard an accent, but I couldn’t place it.”
“Oh, right, he grew up in Ireland, but his parents moved to the States when he was like ten or something so his brothers and he could go to school here.”
“Why did they move? Couldn't they just send the boys here?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure. Maybe they wanted to be closer so they could come home during the holidays.”
I wanted to know more, but she didn’t seem to have the answers. The brooding boy scared off our classmates. At least I assumed that explained the two-desk radius around him. He caught me eyeing him, and his face darkened. I jerked my gaze forward.
“He’s kind of a loner. He used to be friends with a group of guys, but in our second year, he just stopped hanging out with them. I never bothered asking why.” She shrugged. “I’ve been in several classes with him, but he never talks. Just sits in the back and glares.”
Strange. Now I was really curious. Not that I could explain why. Maybe I had a weakness for the mysterious type as much as athletes.
“Welcome to Literature IV for witches, class. I’m Ms. Martin, and I hope you are as excited as I am to begin this term.” A short woman with a platinum blond pixie cut strolled into the room and handed out stacks of papers to each person in the first row. They each took one and handed the rest to the person behind them. When the stack made it to me, I took a packet, then glanced back. No one was behind me, but the girl next to me didn’t turn around. She either chose to ignore Niall behind her or was just oblivious.
I turned out of my seat and walked back, handing him a packet. Mr. Friendly took it from me without glancing up, so I spun around and went back to my desk and passed the extras forward.
Ms. Martin started reading through the syllabus and I followed along, dread growing in my stomach at how much went over my head. She referenced books we should have already read, and I rushed to write them down.
“We will not only be reading and breaking down spells to understand how they are constructed, but we will learn how to write our own. By the end of the year, you will have gained the understanding necessary to choose the perfect words to fulfill the purpose of your spells.”
I couldn't believe this was my life. I was in a literature class with the promise of learning how to not only read and practice spells but come up with my own? How quickly my life had changed left me dizzy.
Drexel didn’t have a bell system, but Ms. Martin dismissed us at ten till noon, and Hannah stretched as she stood. “Time for lunch.”
“Does everyone have their lunch break at the same time?” We followed our classmates out of the room and down the stairs. It was like a herd moving together, but it seemed like we were all going to the same place.
“Years one and two are together, then years three and four. The older students’ courses aren’t on the same schedule, so they just eat when they have time,” she answered. “Have you seen the other buildings yet?”
“Mr. Haddon pointed them out this morning,” I replied as we merged onto the path that cut in front of the lab building.
“Good. I was going to take us the long way to show you if you hadn’t.”
As we walked, I took in the people around us. I still couldn’t tell who was a witch, vampire, or shifter. That was something I wanted to ask her at lunch if no one else was around. I didn’t want to embarrass myself around new people if that wasn’t an appropriate question. Then again, how was I supposed to know unless I asked? I doubted anyone would be offended if I asked the wrong thing. I had ignorance on my side.
“How’s the food?” That seemed like a good distraction.
She shrugged. “It’s usually pretty good. There are normally three to four options per meal. Like this morning, there were eggs, French toast, fruit and yogurt, and oatmeal. You’re allowed to take as much as you want, too. They rotate the options, so you can usually find something you like each time.”
That was reassuring. At least I wouldn’t have to eat gross cafeteria food for the next year. Or longer. I still hadn’t quite accepted that I might be here for a lot longer than I expected. It all depended on how quickly I learned what I needed to know.
“This way.” She pointed to the line forming near the entrance of the enormous room. A buffet stretched on one side, and lines of long tables filled the length of the space. She handed me a tray before taking one for herself. We shuffled forward as the line moved, and she stood on her toes to look ahead.
“I think there’s salad, burgers . . .” She pursed her lips in concentration.
