Captain Gargrave must’ve sensed that rebellious spirit as well for he said even louder, “If you dare to challenge my authority or the authority of any of my men, you will reap the consequences.” He made an upward slash with the staff.
Nick let out a yell as he was hoisted into the air again. This time Captain Gargrave spun him around in several fast, nauseating circles. Eli and I both backed up instinctively, in case Nick tossed his cookies.
Just when I thought Nick was going to lose it, Captain Gargrave let go and Nick dropped to the floor again. He landed hard, but still on his feet. Gargrave stepped down from the table without another word. As he passed me, I felt the gag in my throat lift. The captain joined the others, and they started patrolling the cafeteria.
Eli and I exchanged a look. I could tell he was anxious to talk about what just happened, but we both knew it was better to let things settle down so we weren’t overheard.
His stomach grumbled. “I’ll be back in a minute,” Eli said, before stalking off to the breakfast line.
I sat down again as the silence in the cafeteria slowly began to dissipate. But the conversations remained subdued and nobody was doing any magic, legal or otherwise. I glanced at Gargrave who was eyeing the crowd like a hawk on the hunt. Way to make a nasty first impression, dude.
I had a feeling the nasty was only getting started.
4
Tragical History
While I waited for Eli, I contemplated my eggs and bacon for a couple of minutes, and then got up and threw the contents of my breakfast tray into the garbage. Something inside the trash can growled, and I realized too late that I’d forgotten to sort out my silverware. A moment later the fork came hurtling out of the can like a missile and whacked me in the forehead.
“Hey,” I said as I rubbed my stinging skin. Good thing I hadn’t used a knife this morning.
A head covered in scraggly brown hair emerged over the top of the can. The trash troll fixed a glare at me with its huge black eyes. It looked like a really ugly, twisted version of a Mr. Potato Head with a head and torso twice as long as its stubby legs and arms. It bared its teeth at me, mumbling incoherent words.
It dawned on me that I was being scolded. By a trash troll. Glaring, I shooed at it. “Go on, get back in there. It was just an accident.”
The troll muttered something more then stuck its tongue out at me before disappearing. I backed away from the trash can, on the lookout for more projectiles. It seemed even the trash trolls had developed their own spirit of rebellion, same as us students.
Eli arrived back at the table at the same time I did, his tray laden with food. I sat down across from him and watched with mild interest as he began shoveling. “Looks like the senate finally decided to do something about all the fighting,” Eli said between mouthfuls.
“It’s something all right.” I flashed a scathing glance at Gargrave. “But I’m not sure it’s the right something.”
“What is it?” Eli’s gaze locked on my face.
“Someone attacked Britney Shell last night.”
He stopped mid-shovel, a bit of egg falling off the tip of his fork. “What? How? What happened?”
I spent the next few minutes telling him about my adventures last night. He was thrilled at my success on getting such good details out of the sheriff, but when I got to the part about the almost-Paul, Eli dropped his fork onto his plate with a loud clang. “He was in the dream?”
I flinched at the vehemence in his tone. It was deserved—Paul had betrayed both of us to Marrow—but I was the one he’d pretended to date for several weeks leading up to it. I should be the angry one, but mostly I wanted to forget it.
“Yeah,” I said, “but I don’t think it was actually him. He looked different. And Lady Elaine said it didn’t mean anything since Britney’s not a dream-seer and her dreams are just dreams.” Good thing, too, I thought. Or you would be a suspect in the attack by now.
The bell rang before Eli could ask any more questions. I waited while he dumped his tray with considerably less trouble from the trash troll, and then we walked together to homeroom. For reasons unbeknownst to us, Eli and I had the exact same schedule. I didn’t mind. Any excuse to be with him. And walking was the best part, the way he leaned into me, our bodies touching more often than not. Every time his hand brushed against my fingers, my heartbeat lost its rhythm as I hoped that this would be the time he would finally take hold of my hand.
The morning announcements lasted three times longer than usual. The principal started off reminding us for at least the hundredth time about volunteer opportunities still available for the Beltane Festival on May first. They’d been hyping the festival for months now. Normally, Arkwell held its own celebration on campus, including a dance, the magickind equivalent to prom. But this year marked a centennial for the foundation of Lyonshold, the capital city of magickind in the United States, and the Magi Senate decided that the students should join the huge celebration. Volunteers would get to do stuff like light the bonfires and dance in some of the rituals.
Yeah, there was a negative two percent chance that I would volunteer for such a thing. Still, I was looking forward to going as a regular spectator. I’d never been to Lyonshold. Since it was hidden on a magical island somewhere in the middle of Lake Erie, students only visited during holidays and celebrations. Or capital trials, I supposed, thinking about Paul.
Next Dr. Hendershaw went into a detailed, and wholly unnecessary, introduction of the Will Guard. Then she delivered even more bad news when she informed us that not only was the Guard authorized to use magic on us, they could also hand out detentions.