Turning Tail [Reader x Doldia Girls]

01 | Natural Selection

"We are pleased to inform you — you have been graciously accepted into Ranoa's Magic Academy as a gifted student. Please look below to find the list of many benefits we offer to you and your fellow classmates, though few of your caliber, and please enjoy your stay."

It plays through your head a thousand times on repeat. It wasn't even that long ago that you received that letter from the academy's officials, yet you've already engraved it in the thick of your mind. Like a broken record, it loops through your ears. To ease your nerves or to stroke the ego you aren't yet aware of, you don't quite know.

What you do know is that you feel good. No, great. Being accepted into this prestigious-ranking school is certainly no easy feat, and you've already crossed that line. Haven't broken a sweat.

You don't let it get to your head though. You might have been a genius from birth, taking into account your raw understanding of the magic arts from such a young and blooming age, but you're not arrogant. You know your place, you've learned your manners — both inside and out of the dinner table — and you definitely aren't a brat like some gifted people.

As you make your way down an empty corridor, you have to wonder: just who are you about to be grouped with? If you know anything about those who happen to come upon an opportunity to be labeled 'gifted' or 'special,' you know the majority of these people are cocky douchebags. Plain and simple.

That, or they act humble until they learn they actually hold power over some weak, lonely soul. This begins a power trip, and then they become a cocky douchebag.

Regardless, you're prepared for the worst. Before you push open those doors to your new classroom, you stop and take a breath.

"Relax. Play it cool. Everyone's probably gonna be gawking at the newbie, so introduce yourself casually," you reassure yourself, patting your cheeks. Get your head in the game. "No pressure. Stay cool. I got this."

Hesitant, fueled only by the frantic beating of your heart, you push open the doors. The hinges shriek in cold agony as they slide open, their pain subsiding abruptly once the doors can move no further.

There in the doorway you stand, the stranger, the outsider — an alien to these gifted students. Your heart thumps on an unstoppable rhythm, pounding your ribs. Your breath catches in your throat as this new world of privilege is bestowed upon you; the realm of the gifted, of the special, of the prestige!

...

It's oddly anticlimactic, considering the meager three other students seated in the class don't even bat an eye toward you. At the absence of a teacher, even, the room is caught in a deadly, awkward silence. You stare. No one stares back. There's a young dark-haired boy seated at the front of the class, quietly indulging in his studies. And in the very back two seats closest to the door, two gray-haired girls.

Seriously?

How embarrassing. Here you were, thinking this would be some grand entry to a whole new world of learning where the students would either love you or hate you. All there truly was lies in the letter of approval you received.

They were right. There really are only a few gifted students. You can't even believe it. Six seats for six students, an empty chalkboard up front for a teacher who doesn't exist — what is this?

You just decide to go with it. No use trying to solve the unsolvable. You carry your bag, find an empty seat in the middle row and settle down.

There's really not much to do. The officials weren't kidding. You had true free reign, not a worry in the world. You could kick back and look as carefree as the girl behind you if you really wanted to. Feet up on the desk, bored look on her face, a little pebble in her hand, fingers poised to flick it at you...