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“I’ve got your work uniform ready,” the irritating voice continued. “You’re wearing one of mine until we can order yours. I’d have loaned you Shasta’s, but she was around ninety pounds of dandelion fluff. Your boobs alone would burst the seams.”
The words jolted me awake as realization dawned on me like being doused in cold water. The events of the night before flooded back in sound and color, and I bit back a groan. It hadn’t been a bad dream. I really was on the headmistress’ shit list and demoted to what amounted to a fast-food worker.
Astrid Depraysie = the modern-day Cinderella. Astridella.
Wonderful.
I cracked one eye open and craned my neck to see who had woken me up. A petite girl with mousy brown hair hovered near the end of my narrow bed, clutching a candlestick in one hand and a bundle of cloth in the other.
“Where are all the woodland creatures?” I grumbled.
“What?” she asked, understandably confused.
“Nevermind,” I groaned as I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes.
The girl watched me through wide, wary eyes as she set the candlestick on the dresser and began to back away.
“I’ll let you get changed,” she said quietly. “Just don’t take long, okay? I’d hate for you to get in trouble on your first day.”
“Wait,” I called after her. “I... uh... don’t know your name.” And I was still debating whether or not I should thank her for the wake-up call. I mean—she was saving me from getting in trouble, but she’d still woken me up way too early.
The girl blinked, lips parting in surprise and dismay, as though she couldn’t believe she’d let her manners slip. “O-oh. Right. My name is Elly.”
“Astrid,” I said, peeling the covers away so I could reach for my work uniform. I hadn’t bothered to change out of the uniform I’d donned the night before, too tired and discouraged to do more than wallow in my own unfortunate circumstances until I fell asleep. “Nice to meet you, Elly. Maybe we can talk and get to know each other while we work… and whistle,” I added with a little dry chuckle as I realized I was getting my fairy tales confused.
Her lips trembled like she might smile, but it didn’t bloom. She looked uncertain, like she expected me to start flinging hexes at her for daring to enter my room. Which, when I thought about it, might be the case. We witches didn’t exactly have a stellar reputation outside of our own little self-obsessed culture.
“Maybe,” she said.
Then she backed out the door, shutting it hurriedly behind her. I sighed. So much for making friends.
***
The kitchen uniform turned out to be a pair of loose-fitting khaki pants, a polo shirt with the academy’s logo printed on the left side, and a crisp white apron. Wanda would have had a conniption if she saw me wearing even one element of this ensemble, let alone the whole thing. She’d always been fashion forward and she would have found the plebeian style insulting. I wasn’t too thrilled about it either but it wasn’t like I had much say so I put it on. It was better than staining my school uniform.
I exited the room in time to join a line forming at the kitchen doors. Elly was near the front and offered me a half-hearted wave when our eyes locked. I returned it with more enthusiasm than necessary, earning myself a few odd looks, and felt my cheeks heat. They were probably wondering what was wearing me as a skin suit. Witches weren’t friendly on the whole, and the ones I’d met here were particularly nasty. Though two was a small sample size, I felt pretty confident in my assessment. When the headmistress’ daughter didn’t like a witch, the rest would fall in line after her. It was simple survival when you ran with a coven.
And that meant my time here was going to be all kinds of fun.
A moment later, the front doors banged open and Mads appeared in the gap. She’d pulled her snowy hair into a tight knot at the base of her neck and tucked it beneath a loose hair net. She looked upbeat, despite the early hour, which was a crime against nature, if you asked me. Morning people were the worst, always trying to get you to roll out of bed and do things with them at ungodly hours.
“Time to earn your keep, you lot!” she called out with a big grin. “Inside then an’ on the double! We’re making omelets, bacon, and breakfast potatoes this morning. I’ll divide you up into groups of three. You’d better get chummy with whoever you end up with, because they’ll be your work buddy for the remainder of the semester. No complaints. Got it?”
Grumbled assent. I was the only one who piped up with a clear, “Got it!” That earned me more stares, and I fought not to wilt under their intensity. My first days at Blood Rose were not turning out at all like I expected.
We trooped into the kitchen, lining up along the wall. There were around thirty of us, and we looked to be the same age. That didn’t mean we were though. Most supernatural races were long-lived, which meant I could easily be the youngest here.
Mads began listing off names, assigning two groups of girls to hand-squeeze pitchers of lemonade and orange juice. Two groups of boys were dispatched to the coolers to grab the meat and eggs, while still more were poised at the ovens, ready to begin cooking when the ingredients arrived. And so it went, until there were only three of us left.
“Elly, Oleander, an’ Astrid will be peeling and frying the potatoes. I’ll be chopping the onions an’ overseeing all o’ you. Now, hop to it.”
Elly shuffled forward obediently; head down, very interested in the stone floor of the kitchen. The remaining young man, Oleander, I assumed, pushed away from the wall, hands shoved into his pockets, and followed after her with considerably more pep in his step. He was at least a head taller than both of us, with a frame so thin that even the form fitting polo bagged off him. His hair was a bright, summery yellow. He’d pushed a pair of glasses up the bridge of his beaky nose. He smiled faintly when he spotted me still pressed to the wall. Between his height and the faint greenish cast to his skin, and that hair, the first, uncharitable thought that sprung to mind was: beanpole.
“You coming, new girl, or you just going to watch us work?”
“I’m coming,” I said, belatedly realizing that I’d be learning by doing, instead of observing for a day or two. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Oleander said, elbowing me when I fell into step beside him. “Just peel your fair share and I won’t have to sour your milk or anything.”
