I rearrange the exhibit like Cynthia instructed. It must be a curse. Must be. He can't be my Alka. After doing a final check, I go stand by the door, making a head count of the students coming in.
They all are huge and burly. Even the girls. The boys all are in fitted t-shirts, exposing peaks and troughs of their ripped musculatures. The girls all are also in contouring tops and bottoms, leaving no room for imagination. Feeling small, overwhelmed, and a little short on fitness, I skid near to the stage to be closer to Cynthia who is unfazed by the sight of this many werewolves, and resume my headcount.
But I loose the tally the instant I see him enter. The boy who had sent me on a downward spiral the past week. He has freshened up after the fight, even changed his shirt. I give my brain a mental shakedown when it wonders how he might smell like.
I was in heaven when I realized my Alka was a hunk while his face was still manifesting inside the cauldron. Who wouldn't want to be pinned down by those arms? But then I was on the expressway to hell when I realized who it was.
Hayden briefly stops on his way, looks at all the students, then at the stage, and then at me.
I immediately look away, and pretend like I didn't just experience a mini heart attack.
When I dare to steal a glance at him, he's at the back and taken a seat with his friends. He's leaning back, and smiling at something he and the guys are talking about. It's only when a group of kids obstruct my view, I realize I've been staring at Hayden.
Cynthia starts her lecture by defining what a spell book is and how it's different from other books that can also have incantations on them.
Cynthia specializes in incantations and her lecture today is: The Model of a Spell Book.
She talks about materials. "Not every texture or fabric can be stamped with an incantation. The pages of a spell book have to be made of specific materials, following specific practices. It takes a person years of apprenticeship before they become a professional bookmaker. And those who are highly experienced and skilled can even embed the incantations into the very fabric of the pages itself. Here," she says, pulling out and holding up Kurntey's Special Hexes Volume III.
I briefly check up on Hayden. His eyes are forward, focusing on the lecture. In fact, everyone seems to be paying attention, except for me, at the moment.
Cynthia continues: "This is a very popular spell book among all races, because this book has a chapter full of incantations that can be used by anyone, even werewolves. Most people wrongly believe those incantations must be the sorts that can be cast by anyone who reads them. Let me tell you," she says, pointing at the room, "There is no spell, in this realm or any other, that can be cast by someone who is not a witch or a wizard."
My eyes sweep through the hall. A lot of them have a surprised face on, which surprises me in turn. So there really are people who believe there are spells that can be cast by anyone.
When I do a return sweep of the room back to my target, he's looking back at me.
Once again, I feel a mild cardiac arrest, panic, and avert my eyes. Does he have a third eye or something? How is he catching me?
Ignorant of my inner upheaval, Cynthia continues, "Does anyone know why those incantations in this book seem to work no matter who reads them?"
The room is silent.
I raise my eyebrows. In The Academy, there's never a class where at least not one kid had raised their hand, albeit that student would be me most of the times.
"It looks like what I'm teaching is too complex for all of you. But I'm afraid there's nothing more basic for me to teach. My student here, would've answered this question correctly when she was just six."
I bite my cheeks and survey the floor, hoping nobody turns their attention to me from Cynthia.
Cynthia's insolent way of teaching is not uncommon among the professors at The Academy. We students don't think much about it. But here at Thornton, Cynthia sounds out of line.
How could they've known the answer to this?
"The pages are under a spell to trigger the incantations printed on them when read," Hayden says, "The reason no one answered that is because you'd already given it when you said experienced bookmakers can embed incantations into the pages itself. You, see, professor, here at Thornton, our teachers don't give away the answers right before asking the questions."
While the students laugh, Cynthia looks far from being amused. At The Academy, there's a strict policy against disrespecting our professors. She points at Hayden. "What's your name, young man?"
"Hayden Paul."
Cynthia snorts. "I see. Alpha Brennan Paul's son. Makes sense. But I'm glad at least the future leader of this pack has the brain of a six years old."
Hayden shrugs. "Not everyone gets everything, professor. I'm stuck with a six years old brain. And your genius student is stuck with a six years old body."
There just comes a time when every woman has to kindle her inner wrath to defend her womanhood — I glare at Hayden, hoping he will shatter to pieces.
But he winks at me, causing me to fluster and drop my glare before it even got a chance to cause any damage. So much for the premiere of my wrath.
Mosley walks up to the center. "Hayden, out. His friends, too."
Hayden and three other boys get down the stairs, head held high, and walk out, looking rather proud of themselves.
Rest of the session continues without a hiccup.
After the lecture is over, Cynthia attends a meeting with Mosley and the principal in the principal's office.
Feeling bored waiting at the reception, I decide to walk around, but not before asking the receptionist, "School hours over?"
The school looks empty. However, thinking that, I don't want to walk into the site of another nasty fight like I did before.
She nods.
Even though the building looks colossal, it's very plain, lacking any ornateness. But I've a feeling it's better this way, otherwise the boisterous students of Thornton will destroy anything that can be described fancy.
After sightseeing the top floor, I start climbing down when Hayden's voice comes from above. "What's your name?"
