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20
MIA
I’m so behind with my classes it’s not funny. In my final school year, no less. How did that happen? Ophelia said that I’ve been sick for a few days—a bug making the rounds at the Academy. It’s nice that I have my cousin here at the Academy to look after me. She wants the best for me. She was in my room—
I frown, stop in the process of stuffing my books inside my backpack. She wasn’t in my room, though. I wasn’t, either. I was in another room…
… probably her room. That has to be it. Good God, I never knew that a bit of fever can make you this confused.
I close my bag and take a look around my room. It could use some cleaning. I’ve been so distracted lately with… With what? Books. Reading. That’s right. I have a stack of books on my desk. I approach, glance at the spines.
Books on magic? That’s funny. I’m as magical as a doorknob. Must be for a project—but it’s so weird that I don’t remember which one it could be. It’s unsettling.
I should probably return the books to the library. Or ask my classmates which project they were for.
Not remembering has left me uneasy. I’m new to this school, to any school really, and if I fail my assignments and exams I’ll be sent back to the Church and I…
I can’t go back.
Huh. I don’t know why. Only that the thought of returning home makes my skin crawl. I don’t belong there anymore, I think, and can’t remember why.
Surely memory will return as my strength returns. I feel weak-limbed, my head spinning if I move or get up too fast. It will pass. I should find Melissa, the first friend I made at the Academy, see if she would like to grab lunch with me, catch up.
Though I don’t have much to tell. I was in bed this whole time…
… even if I don’t remember it. Frowning, I glance at the mirror—hair in a ponytail, a short skirt and a blouse I found in the closet, pumps—and I’m out.
How strange is it that I can’t even remember buying these clothes?
Maybe I should go to the infirmary, have the health officer check me over. Make sure I’m not still sick. I remember reading once that even a constant low-grade fever can temporarily affect memory.
I need my wits about me if I’m going to catch up with all these classes.
Lit class is reading the Tempest. I’m not completely lost because I’ve read it before and I kind of remember some classes where we explored various themes in the play. In fact, there’s an echo in my head—someone saying, “But what about forgiveness?”
No idea why I remember that. What about forgiveness? Why is the question so haunting?
French, Art, History, Calculus. The faces in the classes are mostly unfamiliar. Strangeness is piling upon strangeness until I feel like I want to take off my skin, find another shape.
Another identity.
I have to shake my head at myself. Here I am, so lucky to be attending the prestigious Pandemonium Academy together with my cousin, and a few days in bed make me doubt myself and feel out of place. All that is needed is hard work and self-denial.
“Sinful thoughts must be punished. Sinful dreams redeemed.” Father’s voice.
“A tattoo activated by sinful thoughts?” A girl’s voice.
I jerk when the shadow of the calculus teacher falls over me. “Mia. Good to see you back in class and taking notes. You know you can ask any of your classmates for help to catch up. You’ve fallen behind a lot lately.”
“Thank you. I will.”
The moment the teacher turns around, a piece of rubber hits my back. When I turn around, two girls grin at me, holding a piece of paper with “Slut” written on it.
A tattoo. Activated by sinful thoughts.
Frowning, trying to grasp at a memory that keeps slipping away, the moment the class is over, I gather my stuff and head out. Time to hit the infirmary and get some answers.
The health officer smiles at me. “Mia. How are you? You didn’t bring any guy for me to stitch up today?”
