Sky is staring at me- again. That short blonde was always staring at me, her short bobcut swinging as she walks towards me. i turn around, my back to her, pretending to be engaged in weeding the flower beds in front of the senior girls' dorms. her soft steps echo throughout the courtyard, coming to a halt directly behind me. I couldn't stand the litlle spell-caster, she had been watching me since she got bumped up to my year, i still don't know how she pulled that one off.
she watches me for a few minutes in silence, then opens her trap, "You know, i would have thought that sorceresses had spells to weed gardens." her voice is high-pitched, like the whine of a bomb falling. i yank a thick plant out. "That was a daffodil." her voice is so snooty that i just want to punch her out. no one would notice, so far there were only twenty or so seniors housed in the dorms, and most of them on the east wing, so they shouldn't even hear anything. unfortunately, i have a history of violence, and it's very doubtful anyone would belive this shrimp would get a black eye and a broken nose by slipping on the path.
i stand up, turn around, and do the next best thing to knocking her out, i toss the daffodil- catching her straight in the face, "Well then, why don't you replant it, little Miss Know-it-all."
i walk away, grabbing my books from the nearby bench. i was headed to my first class: history of magic. it was the only class i had all week, and the only reason i was at school a week before most sorceresses. i had elected to take this class over potions- which was basicaly for witches anyways. The Academy is screwy that way: the people in the oldest three years had learned everything that made their craft a specialty, so they were all shoved together in one big lump, expected to become the best of friends. of course, no one ever did- old rivalries from the previous years were hard to diminish.
i stride down the path, a couple other people falling in behind me. Finally, i reach the right building- the "Basics" is what it is called since all the boring classes are held there- history of magic, mathematics, and battle strategy to name a few. the halls are quiet and dusty, except for the echoes of someone's (a girl) laughter in the hallowed halls. dust motes float in the air, illuminated by the sunlight streaming through the stained glass arched windows. all in all, it's quiet and ancient, like some forgotten castle.
students begin to fill the halls. i've always wondered if J.K.Rowling ever came here, her descriptions of hogwart's halls fit The Academy to a T. probably not, since the books are so widely circulated- if she had ever been a student here, she would have been thrown in wizard prison for writing the books, and all copies would have been destroyed. wizards and their secrets.
i enter through massive oak doors and find myself at the top of a very large auditorium. a few students are already there. the room is made to have several layers, with a row of tables on each level, so that all the students can see the teacher. dominating the center of the room is a huge pink holograph, congured by a spellcaster, that dictates where everyone sits. a seating arangement? what are we- humans?
i circle the room to the steps that lead to my table, drift down the steps, and lay my books down. there's already someone in the adjacent seat. She has long black hair slipping over one side of her shoulder so that that is all i see of her. i clear my throat as i sit down.
she twists her head around, her hair flying over her shoulder as it barely misses me. the first thing i notice are her eyes; they're bright purple, with a slight glow to them as she takes me in. then the glow fades as she raises an eyebrow, "Do you want something?" she asks in a voice that says she doesn't want to talk to me.
I extend a hand out, smiling "Hi, I'm Olivia. Olivia Brooks."
she stares at my hand for a few minutes pointedly. in the awkward silence that ensues, i slowly lower my hand to my lap and clutch it into a fist. okay, so she's not the social type at all. probably witch. figures, i fume.
i almost miss it, and jum,p at the sound of her voice, quieter and less hostile than before, "come again?'
she looks at me, her purple eyes dark, "My name is Zen."
then the teacher drifted in on a wave of air that gently lowered her to the ground, cutting off another awkward silence that would have definitly ensued between us if given the time.
let The Academy's lessons begin.