Kylie - Chapter 2

Author’s note:

First, I suggest you read my revised first chapter in order to understand what's going on in this chapter. In this chapter, I wanted to focus on Katherine learning more about what kind of school Holloway is. I wanted to strengthen her relationship with Bridgette, and introduce a few more characters. I also wanted to introduce her legacy and some of the story behind it. I feel like there is a lot of dialogue in this chapter, which I think is because there’s a lot of information I felt I needed to provide. Should there be more moments of action, or is it fine how it is? Am I revealing too much, or not enough? I think I got carried away with focusing on the details of what’s going on, so I feel like I didn’t pay enough attention to Katherine's voice or to the other characters’ reactions and emotions. I’m also struggling with the pacing; there’s a lot of information to provide and characters to bring in, so suggestions about how I could control the pacing would be helpful. The chapter ended differently than I had planned, because the scenes in the chapter took longer than I expected, so if the ending doesn’t seem to do much it's because I wasn’t expecting to end there. 

Chapter 2

The room is strange and familiar at the same time. Cloudy moonlight casts shadows on the wooden walls and illuminates the few objects scattered around the room. The dusty floor creaks as I step forward, breaking the heavy silence. I freeze, but when a minute has passed and nothing has changed, I continue making my way across the room. Beneath the window in front of me sits a large olive-green trunk. I’ve never seen it before, but I am certain that it’s mine. I kneel down on the cold floor and run my fingers over the rough velvet. I take the rusted brass padlock in my hand and tug. 

Locked. 

I settle back on my heels and stare at the trunk, willing it to unlock, and with a dull click the lock pops open. I tentatively remove the padlock, grab the corners of the trunk, and lift the lid. 

The trunk is filled to the brim. There are books with faded covers, stacks of papers with curling corners, miscellaneous tarnished trinkets, jewelry, a few pieces of clothing. I lean over the edge and reach inside, shuffling through the piles and moving things from side to side. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but whatever it is, it isn't here. Which doesn’t make sense. Where else could it be? I stand up and turn around, inspecting the rest of the room, but other than a broken lamp, an empty bookcase, and a stained recliner, the room is empty. 

I should leave, look somewhere else. 

I’m halfway across the room on my way to the exit when I hear glass shatter as a bitter wind bursts through the window. I turn just in time to see a large bird flying straight at me, coal-black eyes glistening and beak open in a piercing screech, its claws clutching a silver chain. A silver chain attached to a small glowing orb. I urge myself to duck out of the way, but instead my hand reaches up just as the bird swoops overhead. I’m about to make a grasp for the chain when the bird’s claws open and the orb drops into my open hand and the room explodes in a flash of white.

* * *

I wake with a start, heart pounding and head spinning, as though I’ve just sprinted to the top of a very tall mountain. My eyes slowly adjust to the warm sunlight seeping through the closed blinds. I prop myself up on my elbows and look over at Bridgette, whose head is buried beneath her pillow. Using magic must take a lot of energy, because after her little demonstration last night she pushed her bags onto the floor and crawled under the covers of her bed. Then the lights went out again and moments later she was unconscious. 

Sleep hadn’t come as easily for me. The thoughts that had been swirling around in my head last night are still there this morning, with the added confusion of the eerily realistic dream I am still reeling from. 

The clock on the bedside table reads six-nineteen a.m., so I slip out of bed, grab a change of clothes and my toiletry bag, and lock myself in the bathroom. As my muscles begin to relax under the pressure of the warm shower water, I recall the cold room with the velvet trunk and the black-eyed bird and try to make sense of it all. But I can’t. It had felt like I was re-experiencing a vivid memory, but there’s no clear explanation as to why that cold room felt so familiar, or why when my fingers grasped that orb of light I felt as though I had finally found something I’d been searching for for a really long time. 

I shut off the water and spend the next ten minutes getting ready. I dress in jeans and a white tank top under a blue plaid button-down, then tie my hair up into a ponytail. When I return to the room, Bridgette is sitting on the floor rummaging through one of her bags. 

“Good morning,” I say, siting on the edge of my bed and slipping on my gray boots. 

“Morning,” Bridgette mumbles before disappearing into the bathroom. 

I finish lacing up my boots and start making my bed. All I have to do is even out the sheets, which is odd because I usually move around so much in my sleep that I have to spend a long minute untangling them. I run my hand over the last wrinkle to smooth it out but instead I hit something small and hard. I slip my hand under the sheets and pull out the object. 

And my breath catches. 

Coiled in my hand is a silver chain, and on the chain hangs a silver circular locket engraved with swirling lattice designs. Buried in the center is a glass stone filled with a swirling purple smokey substance, and wrapped around the stone is a silver leafy tree branch. Also attached to the chain, about an inch up from the locket, is a silver bird in flight. 

It can’t be the orb from my dream, but it is. I hold it out in front of me and realize it’s a necklace, and the longer I look at it the more I want to put it on. But I don’t know where it came from or what the smoke is. So I shove it into my pocket instead. 

When Bridgette comes out of the bathroom, wet hair drying into loose curls, I’m lying across my bed reading The Call of the Wild. Or rather, I’m reading the same sentence over and over again, because I keep getting distracted by all of the questions bouncing around in my head. So when Bridgette asks if I’m ready for breakfast I close the book and jump up, hoping the day will bring some opportunities for me to get come answers. 

About half of the new students are already in the lobby, sitting on couches or against walls on the floor with plates of food. Bridgette and I grab various fruits and muffins from the food table and take a seat against the back wall. I look around the room as I extract a wild-berry muffin from its wrapper, and I spot AnnaRose across the room, perched upon the arm of a red couch and talking animatedly with a group of girls. She’s wearing ripped skinny jeans and a loose white blouse, with black strappy heels. And fastened around her neck is a black choker, in the center of which is a glass stone set in a gold pendant. I can see orange-tinged smoke swirling inside the stone. 

“Hey, Bridgette, can I see your bracelet?” I ask.

A wary look crosses her face. “Why?”

I don’t expect her reaction; then again, legacies are apparently really powerful, so it makes sense that she would be protective of hers. “You don’t have to take it off, I just wanted to see if it has a stone in it.”

“Oh,” she replies, the suspicion fading from her voice. “Of course it does. All legacies do,” she replies, and holds out her right arm. The bracelet is made of a vintage brass rope chain and a pearl chain, and one of the pearls has been replaced with a glass stone filled with vibrant yellow smoke. 

“What’s the smokey stuff inside the stone?”

Bridgette touches the stone gently, and the look on her face is one of great respect. “It’s magic.”

I’ve never actually tried to picture what magic would look like if it were real, but this definitely isn’t what I would have imagined. It seems so… vulnerable, in this form. 

“Why is it yellow?”

“My brother told me the color of your legacy corresponds with your aura. I’m not entirely sure what that means, but I’m guessing it has to do with your personality, and probably your family lineage, too. So everyone’s legacy is unique, in color, shade, brightness.”

I resist the urge to retrieve the necklace from my pocket. From everything Bridgette’s told me, this necklace could very well be my legacy. Which would be great if I hadn’t mysteriously found it in my bed. I have no idea where it came from. Not to mention legacies are passed down through the family, and my family is gone. My parents never mentioned any of this to me, which can only mean one of two things. Either this entire thing is a sham and I don’t belong here any more than I belonged with any of the foster families I lived with. Or, my parents kept a a fairly serious, life-altering secret from me. And though I’m not sure which one I’d rather be true, I know I need to find out.

Which means I need to talk to President Pearce. 

Just then Paul Rogers walks into the room and AnnaRose skips over to him. How is it possible for one human being to radiate that much energy? I wonder if her magic is orange because of how happy she always seems to be.

I wonder what it means that the magic in my legacy is purple. 

If it is my legacy. 

But I don’t get to wonder about that for very long, because after Paul and AnnaRose exchange a few quick words, they come to stand in the middle of the room and Paul clears his throat to get everyone’s attention.

“All right everyone, we’ve got a busy day ahead of us,” he says, glancing down at his clipboard. “First, while everyone is finishing their breakfast, I’m going to go over a few of Holloway’s main rules. I know all of this is probably a little overwhelming, so if you have any questions or concerns, please let me know.”

A boy with floppy hair sitting to my left raises his hand and says, “Are we really not allowed to use cell phones here?” 

“Actually—“ AnnaRose begins, but Paul cuts her off with a sharp look. 

“New students are not allowed to use cell phones. Once you’ve been initiated into your permanent House, you’ll be given access to that Hall’s main server and you’ll get your phones back, which will have been updated to accommodate the work you'll be doing. For now, you’ll be working through a temporary server so you can access the computers for your classes.”

“But how do we keep in touch with our parents?” another kid asks.

“It’s advised that you don’t contact your families very often. A lot of the work done here is not public knowledge and must be handled carefully. Any contact with the outside world poses a possible threat to Holloway. The safest method of contact is by writing letters.”

A few kids groan, some roll their eyes, others nod their heads in understanding. I refrain from asking what kind of work is done here; this place is starting to sound more like a secret agency than a boarding school. Deep down I know I can’t be the only new student who knows nearly nothing about this place, but I don’t want to say anything, for the sake of drawing too much attention to myself and my lack of knowledge.

“So, rule number one, no cell phones; write letters. Rule number two, no one leaves campus without permission from their House prefect, who must get permission from President Pearce. The only time you will leave campus while classes are in session is for the occasional field trip or if there is an emergency.”

I look around the room, and though no one speaks up I can see a few kids are not happy with being confined to the school. But really, where would they want to go? If I’m remembering correctly, the closest town is at least forty-five minutes away, and we’re almost entirely surrounded by mountains. 

“Rule number three, consistent attendance in your classes is necessary in order to succeed at Holloway. Therefore, absence from class will not be tolerated, unless you provide an excuse approved by President Pearce.”

Paul flips over the page he’s been reading from and hands it to AnnaRose, who continues with the rule-telling. “Rule number four, students are only allowed into their own assigned Houses. All other buildings are open to the students, except for the faculty’s housing, which students are permitted to visit through invitation only. Curfews are suggested, but not enforced.”

“Now, as for your legacies.” The excited whispers that had started at the mention of there bring no enforced curfew die out almost immediately. AnnaRose takes a moment before continuing, looking around the room at the thirty-odd students. The serious look on her face seems out of place, which somehow makes it more significant. “Your magic is a gift. I know it’s exciting, and all you want to do is find out what you can do with it. But even for those of you who grew up knowing that magic exists, this is new and different, and controlling and using your magic is a learned practice. So the only restriction for using magic is doing so with ill-intentions. Holloway is a school for those who are serious about making a different and finding a way to use their magic for good. Any action performed in opposition to this idea will be strictly punished. But I do want to point out that accessing your legacy’s magic requires a lot of energy, so be smart and mindful when you do use it.”

Liz had been right, Holloway does give its students more freedom than I’d expect from a regular boarding school. Then again, Holloway is obviously anything but normal.

“Now, When I call your name, come up and get your class schedule and student manual from AnnaRose. In there you’ll find a more detailed list of the rules, a map of the campus, faculty contact information, and a bunch of other things you can go through on your own time.”

With that he begins calling out names, and one by one the new students collect their packets. As each one stands up, I try to catch sight of their legacies. I see a lot of bracelets and several necklaces with stones glowing various colors, and a girl with waist-long auburn hair named Samantha is wearing a ring that gives off a dull pink glow. 

I’m the only one not wearing a legacy, which means I’m the only one whose parents weren’t around to hand it down. The thought makes me feel very alone in this crowded room.

“Katherine Claire Lewis,” Paul calls, and I stand up quickly, letting the motion distract me from the sudden urge I feel to cry.

AnnaRose studies me as I approach her, and I’m not really surprised when she asks me where my legacy is. 

“The, uh, clasp broke,” I tell her, patting the pocket where I stowed the necklace. 

She doesn’t look convinced, but she hands me my packet without saying anything else, so I take it and sit back down next to Bridgette, who is skimming over a page titled Guidelines for Success at Holloway Academy. I look down at my own packet. The first page is my class schedule, and the classes I’ve been signed up for aren’t exactly what I’d been expecting. Along with World Literatures, Biology, and Algebra, I’m also enrolled in History of Holloway, Legacy Studies, and Introduction to the Careers: Observers, Keepers, and Seekers.

“The six classes on your schedule,” Paul begins as the last student sits down, “are what every new student at Holloway starts off in. You all have the same schedules. After initiation, you’ll be placed in your permanent House, and will share the same schedules as the students who enter the House with you. Every students takes the same core classes, but once you determine your own career path, you’ll start taking more career-oriented classes and there will be many different electives to choose from.”

“When is initiation?” the floppy-haired boy from earlier asks. 

“You’ll go through initiation during the first week of December, before you leave for break,” AnnaRose replies. 

So in five months, if I haven’t flunked out or if President Pearce doesn’t come to her senses and realize I don’t belong here, I’ll be taking a test that will quite possibly determine what I’ll be doing for the rest of my life. I thought I'd at least have until college to decide what to do with my life, and the fact that I’ll apparently be making that decision in only a few months doesn’t sit too well with me. There’s so much out in the world to learn, and I’m not ready to limit myself to one particular field just yet.

“All right,” Paul says, setting his clipboard on the table behind him. “How about we get outside and see the campus.”

I stand up with everyone else and make my way to the exit, hoping some fresh air will help clear my head. I make a mental note to keep track of how to get to President Pearce’s house, so I can pay her a visit when I get the chance. 

We’re still making our way down the gravel drive outside when a boy maybe a year or two older than myself jogs over to AnnaRose, who’s talking with a few students at the front of the group. After a few moments of conversation AnnaRose turns to the group. “Katherine Lewis, can you come up here, please?”

I knew this was all too good to be true. But for some reason I’d thought it would have taken a little longer before they found out they’d made a mistake by letting me in here. Bridgette gives me a questioning look, and I shrug my shoulders in response. As I make my way through the crowd I wonder if they’ll change their minds when I show them the necklace. I really hope they'll change their minds.

I return AnnaRose’s smile when I get to her, then look at the boy she’d been talking to. “Katherine, this is Nathan. President Pearce sent him to bring you to her office. Don’t worry about missing the tour, you can follow your classmates to your classes tomorrow and I’m sure one of them wouldn’t mind showing you around another day.” Then she’s gone, skipping down the gravel drive to catch up with the group, which is turning the corner and vanishing behind a wall of giant oak trees. 

“So, um, if you’d come with me,” Nathan says, taking a step in the direction he’d come running from. 

“Do you know why President Pearce wants to see me?” I ask as we walk. 

“Sorry, I don’t. But you’re brand new here, so I doubt you’re in any trouble. She’s big on one-on-one introductions, so she probably just wants to meet you personally.”

We walk in silence for a few more yards, then Nathan stops and looks around, like he’s making sure no one is watching. “What are we doing?” I ask.

“President Pearce’s house is on the other side of campus. How about we save some time?” He grins and holds out his hand, and I notice the blue stone set in the leather bracelet fastened around his wrist. 

I give him what I hope is a look that says “you’re-kidding”.

“Oh, come on, you can trust me. It’ll save us twenty minutes of walking.” Behind him a pocket of air begins to swirl, and then a hole opens up out of nowhere. “And I bet you’ve never traveled by portal before.” It’s hard to believe he just produced a portal, out of nothing. Especially because he did so without even breaking a sweat. It’s good to know that apparently magic gets easier to use with practice. Of course, I have to go find out if I’ll even be using magic, first. 

A part of me is still skeptic about this guy and his mysterious portal, but stronger than my suspicion is my excitement. The though of experiencing more magic just isn’t repelling enough to make me walk away. So I take his hand, and he guides me into the swirling hole. 

Instinctively, I hold my breath as the cool, silvery air splashes against my skin. Then everything goes dark, and for a second I see absolutely nothing, and Nathan’s hand is the only thing holding me steady. Then I see flashes of colors in front of me, and I stumble forward as Nathan pulls me and suddenly I’m standing in the perfectly maintained lawn in front of President Pearce’s house. 

“Wow,” I say, letting go of Nathan’s hand and looking around for the portal, but it’s gone. “When did you learn to do that?” I ask as we make our way across the yard. I understand now why he hadn’t been so keen on walking here; who would want to walk anywhere after experiencing something like that?

“Second year, Traveling Methods,” he replies. We pass an oval fountain and a cluster of rose bushes and walk up the steps. “That class is only offered to Seekers, though,” he adds.

Maybe choosing a career path won’t be as hard as I thought; if portal-travel is a perk of being a Seeker, I know what House I’m leaning toward now. 

“Okay, well you should get inside,” Nathan says. “Her office is up the stairs, down the hall to the left. I’ve got a meeting to get to. Good luck!” With that he descends the steps and as he jogs past the fountain he jumps into another portal, which disappears as quickly as it had materialized. 

The front door to the house is propped open by a small potted cactus. Clearly President Pearce is a fan of the open-door policy. I walk inside and am met by the subtly sweet scent of lilacs. The house is quiet, and as I make my way to the stairs I notice that all of the doors are closed, hopefully locked, if she's smart. President Pearce may want her students to feel welcome and at home here, but that doesn’t mean she should trust them enough to give them full access to her belongings. 

As I climb the staircase my heartbeat quickens. This is what I wanted, wasn’t it? To find out what she knows about me, if she knows anything. But I’ve just begun to feel like I might be able to grin a home here, and I don’t want to lose this chance. Laura was right, this could be exactly what I need. 

I don’t realize I’ve been walking down a dimly lit hallway until I find myself standing at a dead end. I back up a few steps and stop in front of the only door in the hall, so I assume it’s President Pearce’s, and I knock.

“Come in.”

I turn the brass knob and push the door forward; it’s heavier than I expected. The room I step into is bright with warm sunlight shining in through two large open windows. In the center of the room is a neatly organized desk, behind which is a brown leather swivel chair. Most of the walls are decorated with portraits and paintings, except for the one to my left, which is made up of crowded bookshelves. President Pearce is standing by one of the shelves, fitting several books into their slots. 

I close the door behind me, and when I turn back to the room she is walking toward me, smiling and holding out her hand. I shake it and smile back.

“It’s good to meet you, Katherine,” she says, her voice rich with sincerity. “Please, have a seat.” She gestures to one of two chairs facing the desk, and I sit down. She takes the other chair beside me and turns it so we’re facing each other. 

“I’m sorry to pull you away from your tour, but this is the only chance I may have to speak with you before you get busy with your classes.” As she speaks, I take notice of the shining white stone wrapped in a gold cage and hanging from a thin gold chain around her neck. President Pearce’s legacy. White magic seems very appropriate.

“That’s okay,” I say, and I immediately wish I’d found a more formal way to phrase my response. “I’ve actually been wanting to speak to you, too,” I add. 

President Pearce nods. “I imagined you would have a few questions,” she says. “That’s why I had Nathan bring you over. I can’t explain everything, but hopefully I can tell you enough to make you feel comfortable here.”

Okay, this is going a lot smoother than I expected it to. At least Nathan was right and I’m not in trouble. 

“Liz told me that I was recruited to come here, but why? How do you know who I am?” I ask, deciding to get right to the point. 

“I know who you are because I knew your parents. They were students here. Katherine, you’re here because you belong here.” 

“Why did they never tell me about this place? If they went here, then they knew magic, which means they had legacies. But they never said anything, and then they died, and nothing happened. Why—“

“Katherine,” President Pearce interjects. She waits a moment, takes in a long, steady breath. “Nick and Claire Lewis, the couple that died in a car crash five years ago. They were not your birth parents. They were your god-parents, friends your birth parents entrusted to take care of you.”

I want to say something, to comment on the obnoxious statement that my parents weren’t actually my parents, argue that she’s wrong, even ask another of my many questions, but I can’t form the words. I can hardly form the thoughts. 

I barely register President Pearce walking around to the front of her desk and retrieving something from an open drawer. When she sits back down, she holds out a faded blue photo album, which has been flipped to the first page. I take it with shaky hands, and find myself looking down at a photograph of two couples. One couple is my mom and dad, Nick and Claire. The other man and woman are strangers, yet as I study their faces I feel an odd sense of recognition. He has my narrow nose. She has my green eyes. I flip slowly through the following pages, taking in the pictures of the same two couples, always together, sometimes with other students. Even as I try to come up with an argument, I know President Pearce is telling me the truth. I’ve always felt a little out of place, not just in my various foster homes, but even at home with Nick and Claire. Now things make a little more sense. As does the fact that I never received my legacy. 

Except…

“If Nick and Claire were students here, too, then they still could have told me about magic. And why did my birth parents give me up in the first place?”

President Pearce leans forward, her elbows propped on her knees and her fingers interlaced tightly. “A few months after you were born, Holloway was attacked. Your parents were some of our best agents, and without them we had no hope of stopping the attacks. In time you’ll learn more about the part your birth parents played in that difficult time in Holloway’s history. But for now, all you need to know is they gave you up to protect you, and they made Nick and Claire swear to keep you away from magic for as long as possible. Nick and Claire stopped using magic themselves, hoping it would prevent drawing attention to them, to you.”

It makes sense. Somehow, I’m able to believe everything I’m hearing. But the more President Pearce tells me, the more questions I have. 

“As for your legacy,” President Pearce continues, “your parents hid it somewhere shortly after they gave you up. They told no one where it was, and… they never had the chance to retrieve it. I don’t know what this means for you yet, but-“

She stops when I hold out the necklace I’ve just withdrawn from my pocket. “This wouldn’t happen to be it, would it?” I ask, hopefully, uncertainly.

President Pearce looks from the necklace, to me, back to the necklace. I imagine she wants nothing more than to grab it and inspect it, to prove to herself that what I’m holding is, as I suspected, the very legacy my parents concealed years ago. 

“Put it on,” President Pearce tells me.

Cautiously, I fasten the necklace around my neck. The moment the locket settles against my chest, the stone glows and my skin tingles, and I know that this is my legacy. And though it comes from a family I never knew, and never will know, it may just be the greatest gift I've ever received. 

“Katherine,” President Pearce says, her voice quietly incredulous. “How did you get it?”

        “I found it in a dream.”