Valhalla High (A Magnus Chase Fanfic)

All For the Extra Credit

February 4

I got home to see a stack of letters bearing my name. Ever since I became a senior, colleges had been sending me letters telling me how great their programs were and why I should go there. They highlighted their affordability ("you couldn't buy two houses with the cost of tuition here!"), their academic programs ("ranked number one in the county!"), their dorm rooms ("ours don't look like prison cells!"), and their prestige ("[insert semi-famous person] went here!").

I expected these letters were much the same, but as I glanced at the envelopes, I noticed a lot of them were from places I'd applied to. My mother patted my back. "Open them up when you're ready."

I looked from the letters to my mother. "What if I don't get in? What if they all reject me?"

"We'll cross that bridge if we see it," my mother said firmly.

I nodded, my stomach a conservatory of butterflies. My palms felt sweaty as I opened the first letter from a local community college. I sighed in relief as I saw it said that I was accepted. I had a path forward, one way or another.

I opened further letters. A couple of them were more advertisements, but the rest were either acceptance or rejection letters (those ones hurt the most). The final one was from Asgard University. I opened it up and my lips curled into a smile as I saw it was an acceptance letter encouraging me to apply for financial aid.

My mother ruffled my hair. "I knew colleges would accept you and those that didn't — well, they'll wish they had. You're a hardworking, intelligent, and diligent student."

     "Or maybe they accepted me because of my great taste in memes," I suggested.

   My mother shook her head, but she was smiling. I felt a bubble of warmth expand in my chest. I was going to go to college. I could become a nurse. I was going to be able to help people. I remembered all the people who had told me that I couldn't do it and I thought: if only they could see me now.

***

   Blitzen came over later that evening to help me pick out my costume for the Shakespeare recitation on Friday. "So what are you planning on wearing?" he asked me.

I shrugged. "Jeans and a plain t-shirt?"

Blitzen shook his head. "You cannot do that."

"Why not?" I asked.

Blitzen sighed and shook his head. "It's not Shakespearean at all! This is why everyone should take a fashion course. I think it should be taught in elementary school."

"A travesty, yes, indeed," I said, "but my education has been patchy in general."

Blitzen raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "You aced your finals."

"You don't know my grades!" I protested.

"Yeah I do," Blitzen said. "Your father was boasting about it while I was over at my mother's place."

     I sighed. I was going to have to talk to my dad about his violation of the FERPA Act. "So what do you suggest I wear?" I countered.

     Blitzen's eyes lit up. "Let's go see your closet."

     "It's very plain," I warned him.

      He waved away my concern. "It will be fine."

***

     "I understand what you said now," he said as he looked through my closet and wardrobe. "You wear about eleven shades of grey and the occasional pop of color from a band t-shirt. I had hoped you had more colorful things in your closet, but I was wrong."

    I shrugged. "I like it that way."

     "Don't worry," Blitzen said. "I'm here to work with your style — not against it."

    He rummaged through my closet again and then stood still. "What are you thinking Blitzen?" I asked him.

    "I'm thinking we could go thrifting," he said.

     We went downstairs to ask for my mother's permission. "Do you need a ride there?" she asked.

     Blitzen shook his head. "I have a car."

    My mother nodded. "Magnus, text me when you get there and when you're heading back. Follow the usual rules."

    I grinned. "I'll be as virtuous as a choir boy."

    My mother rolled her eyes and said goodbye. Blitzen drove me to a local thrift store. "What are we looking for?" I asked.

     "Your Prologue costume," Blitzen replied.

      "I don't see why the prologue needs a costume," I said. "And if I do, why don't I just get a white t-shirt and write 'Prologue' on it?"

     "We'll keep that in mind if we cannot find anything better," Blitzen told me.

     He led me through the store. Blitzen shopped like an expert. When he saw something that caught his eye, he examined it thoroughly before putting it in our shopping cart. "I think it's time for you to try some things on," Blitzen said.

      "You think?" I said. "The shopping cart is overflowing with clothes!"

   We went to the dressing room and Blitzen started organizing the clothes into groups for me to try on. The first set he gave me was made up of leggings. As I tried them on, I realized Blitzen had really taken my style into account: they were all black or various shades of gray. I'd never worn leggings before (and they were so comfy that I saw why girls wore them).

    After I tried them on, Blitzen told me sort them into best or worst and then handed me another pile of clothes to try on. This went on until I'd tried on everything. I changed back into my normal clothes and met Blitzen who was hanging things up on the return rack. "You got an outfit together?" I asked.

He turned to me and smiled. "The grey leggings with some darker grey leg warmers to make your calves bigger—"

"What's wrong with my calves?" I asked.

"Nothing," Blitzen said, "but men in Shakespeare's time often wore padding to make their calves look bigger. Then, the grey top I will alter to have balloon sleeves. I'll also make your one of those accordion-style collars."

"Oh gosh," I said. "I'll end up looking ridiculous."

Blitzen patted me on the shoulder. "You don't have to do this, but there is extra credit at stake."

So I bought the clothes and we headed back home.