Lucky Rabbit

The children chorused a greeting, though the new boy, Abbington, slumped visibly in his chair, and his voice was barely audible. Ms. Wellington gave her tight smile, turning to Mr. Rowe, who now stood and held his papers to his chest. She acknowledged his presence with a regal dip of her head, then focused on the children again.

“Come with me, then,” she said, and departed as abruptly as she’d entered, the sound of her shoes and the scent of pungent perfume the only sign that she’d been in the room at all. None of the children looked particularly enthusiastic, but they did as they’d been told, offering Mr. Rowe a polite farewell. Pandy didn’t think she imagined the pity in his eyes as he watched them leave.

Up the stairs they followed her, turning right and traveling down to the very end of the hall, where she opened the door of one of the classrooms. This room had no desks or tables, but there was a large piano, as well as several other instruments neatly placed on shelves near a stack of chairs. The floor was wood, with no rugs or carpet to soften the sound of those distinctive sharp-heeled shoes.

“This is the room used to teach dance and music,” Ms. Wellington said, her voice suddenly sounding louder and richer. “We will be using it to work on our magic, however.”

At this, three of the five students brightened, though Abbington’s excitement quickly dimmed again. He seemed to be trying to hide behind Isidor’s height and Geraldine’s skirts, and Miss Cupcakes wasn’t particularly pleased about the latter, since that was her spot.

The teacher began to pace, click, click, clicking back and forth in front of the five children. “As some of you are no doubt aware,” she said, “most humans have both innate magic and elemental magic. Innate magic is simply that with which you were born. It can be used for small things, such as lighting candles, cooling drinks, finding nearby lost items, or holding together one’s coiffure.” She gently touched her own intricate hairstyle, which involved several combs used to pile the hair high before allowing perfectly coiled ringlets to fall in front of her ears.

Geraldine and Thaniel both smiled a little, but when Ms. Wellington’s expression didn’t soften, their small faces wilted again.

“Sometimes, certain people find some of these innate abilities to be easier than others. There is a theory that someone who will eventually be a fire elementalist will be better able to light a candle than a future water elementalist. I am here to tell you that this is exactly backward.” She stopped, turning sharply on one heel so she could sweep her gaze over them.

“The more someone focuses on certain skills before their revelation, the more likely it is that they will have a matching elemental affinity,” she went on. “If someone finds lighting candles easy, of course they will do it more often, thus making it more likely that a fire elemental will eventually come to them. If they find filling animal troughs easier, they will do so repeatedly, eventually catching the attention of a water elemental.”

Here, her gaze slanted toward Abbington, who flushed and stared down at his shoes. “Two of you still have not had your revelations,” Ms. Wellington said. “We shall endeavor to guide your eventual affinity toward a desired end, and, of course, the three other students shall gain important skills by following my curriculum as well. I warn you that I am quite strict, but it will be well worth the effort.”

She stopped, a small but genuine smile curving her lips at last. It was almost as if she was expecting applause, but Pandy wouldn’t bruise her fluffy bunny paws by clapping for this person. She had just flipped around everything Pandy had read in the lore of Gacha Love, which said that indeed people’s affinity was decided at birth, though for the small spells most people could do without elemental aid, it was difficult to tell any difference. The children seemed equally disinclined to give Ms. Wellington the admiration she sought, with Thaniel, Geraldine, and Abbington all looking completely gobsmacked.

The little smile faded back into the pinched expression that usually lived on the woman’s face, and she gave a small, beleaguered sigh. “Well, we shall simply have to try it, shan’t we?” Lifting her hand, she flicked her fingers, creating a flame that danced on her palm. Like a stage magician, she passed it back and forth between her hands, twisting and turning until she dropped her hands entirely, leaving it hovering in the air. Then she closed a fist around it, snuffing it out.

“One would think that creating fire would require Fire, but one would be quite mistaken,” she said, stepping in front of Geraldine. “Quickly, girl, make a flame.”

Geraldine flinched, but gamely flicked her fingers, just as Ms. Wellington had. Nothing happened, and nothing persisted in happening as she waggled her fingers and even tried snapping them. Red-hot embarrassment began to heat the little girl’s cheeks, and soon she looked like she would start to cry.

“Enough,” Ms. Wellington finally said, clearly dismissing Geraldine as she began to pace back and forth again. “This girl is supposed to have the Fire element, but she is completely unable to summon the smallest flame. You,” she pointed at Eleanor this time, “make a flame.”

Eleanor hesitated, watching Geraldine, whose shoulders were slumped. Then she lifted a hand, and when she opened it, a flame jumped in her palm. It didn’t quite look like real fire, since it was a hazy sort of white, rather than any warm color, but there was no mistaking what it was. She rapidly began to pale, however, and said, “I’m sorry, I-”

Ms. Wellington cut her off. “Never apologize for your own excellence, my dear. You may put that out.” She watched benignly as Eleanor did so, her hand shaking slightly as she closed her fingers. “Now, do you suppose that both of these girls have Fire magic? No, of course not. One of them is simply better able to control her own power than the other.”

She had each of the boys try to produce a flame as well, and Pandy thought Thaniel very nearly managed it, with the briefest flicker of something that appeared and then vanished above his palm. The other two failed as badly as Geraldine, and Ms. Wellington didn’t even seem to notice Thaniel’s near-success.

Only when four of the children had been shown just how incompetent they were did Ms. Wellington seem satisfied. She proved that Eleanor could also move a piece of paper as if in a breeze, and cause a glass of water to become ever-so-slightly colder. Eleanor seemed to want to say something, but whenever she tried, the teacher simply cut her off with extravagant praise.

At long, long last, the bell rang for the end of class, and Ms. Wellington stopped. Glancing at the windows behind them, through which the sounds of other students could be heard as they began to move back toward the main school building, she said, “We shall begin from here tomorrow. I hope you all understand just how much you have to learn, and can now appreciate what I have to teach you.”

Pandy gritted her teeth, happy for once that she wasn’t able to speak. If she could, she would have told this woman exactly what she thought of her. Ms. Wellington hadn’t taught anyone anything, and had only succeeded in turning what had been a challenging but fun day into a defeat, at least for Thaniel, Geraldine, Isidor, and Abbington. Even Eleanor looked abjectly miserable, as well as exhausted.

“Return here tomorrow for Small Group,” Ms. Wellington went on, ignoring the children’s crestfallen expressions. “In the meantime, attempt to use your innate magic whenever possible.”

And how, exactly, were they meant to do that? Pandy knew, of course, since she remembered the instructions Clara’s teacher gave her during this same class, three years in the future. Raising Clara’s Innate Magic skill was one of the best ways to get more Stamina, especially early in the game. But Pandy couldn’t exactly help Thaniel or the others, given that she still couldn’t talk. Which meant it was about time to Do Something.

Ms. Wellington clicked her way out of the room without a backward glance, leaving behind the dejected children. As soon as the sound of those shoes faded away, Eleanor burst out, “I had private tutors! That’s the only reason I can do all of that. I didn’t mean to…to…” Her pale cheeks had bright spots of color blooming on them, and the other children stared at her, obviously taken aback by the anger radiating from the usually quiet princess.

Geraldine’s hands fisted at her sides, and she lifted her eyes from her shoes for the first time in quite a while. “It’s okay,” she said. “We know you didn’t mean it. Can you…teach us how to do all that, though?”

Thaniel and Abbington immediately began to nod, but Abbington caught himself and sank backwards, as if trying to disappear into his own shadow. Thaniel frowned at the other boy and caught his arm, pulling him forward again.

 “We wanna learn to use ‘nate magic, too,” Thaniel said. “D’you think we can really make our elemental magic be whatever we want it to be?” He looked terribly hopeful, but Eleanor shook her head.

“I know Ms. Wellington said we could, but…that goes against everything my tutors taught me. I don’t even know why she said that.” Eleanor told him.

Isidor nodded. “My master taught me that we’re born with our affinities in place. He even taught me to use my innate magic, at least a little.” he held out his hand toward Geraldine’s throat, where a necklace hung over her collar. The cat-shaped pendant lifted toward his hand. He then ran his hand down Geraldine’s sleeve, not quite touching it, and cat hairs lifted away from the fabric in a small cloud, falling to the floor.

“I can actually create a light as well,” he said, showing them what looked like a flickering lightning storm in his palms, “but it’s not a flame.” Everyone looked impressed, and then four sets of eyes turned toward the last member of their group, the only one they didn’t really know anything about.

Abbington shifted from foot to foot, drawing Pandy’s attention to his shoes. They were meticulously clean, but definitely well-worn. Unlike Thaniel, Geraldine, and Eleanor’s shoes, they were scuffed and stretched, bulging out on one side where a toe was beginning to push against the leather. Pandy glanced at Isidor’s shoes, seeing that they, too, looked brand new, albeit oversized, as if bought too large so he could grow into them before they needed to be replaced.

“C’ndosmb’nomch,” he mumbled, then, seeing the uncomprehending looks the others gave him, carefully said, “I can do some, b’not much.” He pointed at the little cup of water Eleanor had cooled, and the liquid inside began to swirl slightly. It stilled again almost immediately, but by then Abbington was almost as pale as Eleanor, in spite of his tan.

Thaniel smiled at him encouragingly, then said, “I can’t do anything. I don’t think Marta and Cassie had anything but ‘nate magic, but Marta just used hers to keep the food hot or cold, and Cassie, um…” He obviously couldn’t think of anything that Cassie did, which was fair, because Pandy couldn’t either.

Isidor nodded. “Many people never learn to summon elementals, much less work with them.” For some reason, he glanced at Abbington as he said this, and the shorter boy pulled his head back, shoulders lifting protectively.

At this point, Thaniel’s stomach growled so loudly that everyone heard it, and he blushed bright red, then grinned. “I’m awful hungry,” he said apologetically, then looked at Abbington. “Do you want to come sit with us? And maybe after dinner we could meet your pet. What is it, anyway?”

Abbington brightened. “Shesacapy,” he said, and for the first time Pandy thought she could almost understand what he’d said without clarification. What was a capy, though?

“What’s a capy?” Thaniel asked, and Geraldine nodded. Eleanor looked like she’d been lit from within, however.

“A capy?” she squealed, for once forgetting her careful poise. Almost lunging forward, she clutched at Abbington’s hands. “Can you show me? Please? Oh, what’s her name?”

The boy went pink, but his smile was as bright as Eleanor’s. “Name is Brook. Surean see‘er.”

Thaniel’s stomach growled again, and this time Geraldine’s joined in. The two children turned red, and then all five broke out into laughter.

“Let’s go eat,” Eleanor said, settling back with a hand to her own stomach. “I didn’t think I was hungry, but I am now. And Abbington, I do hope you’ll sit with us, and introduce us to Brook.” She cast a teasing glance at Thaniel. “After dinner and chores, of course.”

Thaniel groaned. “I forgot about chores. How do you know what you’re going to have to do?”

“It’s by group, so we’ll be together unless someone has a separate assignment,” Eleanor said. She’d obviously made good use of the time she’d spent at the school before Thaniel got there.

Geraldine grinned. “That’s good! But,” her fists tightened again, “will Ms. Wellington be there?”

“Oh. I…don’t know,” Eleanor said, and the enthusiasm drained out of the group again.

Thaniel huffed a breath. “I’m still hungry, and I think we’re supposed to get dressed up to eat, so we should hurry.”

That was most definitely correct, since dinner at the schools was for live-in students only, and it was supposed to be an opportunity for them to practice both etiquette and conversational skills. Pandy just wished she could assure them that they wouldn’t have to deal with Wicked Wellington again today. Gacha Love had a whole series of events that occurred between Clara and the boys during shared chores, and those wouldn’t have been possible with a teacher staring at them. Admittedly, this was Falconet, not Condor, and the children were six, not sixteen, but hopefully it wouldn’t be that different.

“All right, let’s go then,” Geraldine said, lifting her chin so she once again looked like the imperious miss who had confronted Thaniel when he arrived, a stranger invading her home. Stomping to the door, she flung it open, peered out into the dim and empty hallway, and headed for the stairs, with the rest of the group trailing behind her like a gaggle of particularly determined ducklings.