Lucky Rabbit

After Governance and Leadership came Small Group, which meant it was almost time for Pandy to play the part of Ms. Wellington again. So, while Thaniel happily chatted with his classmates, taking full advantage of the free time Mrs. Lovett gave them, Pandy found herself focusing more and more on the upcoming class period. What was she going to do? As far as she could tell, the children just expected her to let them run wild, but if she was really going to convince anyone that she was a teacher, she needed to…well, teach.

Pandy had never had a truly inspirational teacher. Most of them seemed as eager to be elsewhere as their students. The teachers at Falconet were significantly better, but Pandy could already see significant differences in their styles. Mr. Rowe, the homeroom teacher, taught straight out of the textbooks, using exercise to both break up the tedium and drive the lessons home. Something happened in 1822? Make the kids jog in place for twenty-two seconds. Sixteen jumping jacks for a king with sixteen children, but no explanation for how said king ended up with so many offspring.

Mrs. Lovett, on the other hand, seemed about as hands-off as it was possible for a teacher to be. Yes, the first week had been a setup for today’s lesson, but it sounded like she planned to continue as she went on, giving the children general guidelines and then letting them figure out their own solutions before telling them what actually happened. There was something appealing about this method, but Pandy wasn’t sure how much children like Micah would actually get out of it.

The stable master left most of the teaching to the horses and stable hands, just having everyone walk back and forth, without going too fast or leaving the paddock. Stable hands taught pairs of children to pick the horses’ hooves and take care of their tack, but Pandy wouldn’t have any assistants, so that was out.

One thing Pandy had noticed was that almost all of the teachers used the more advanced students to help with the ones who were lagging behind. That kept both groups engaged, and wasn’t there a saying about people learning the most when teaching others? That seemed like a good way to go, because Eleanor seemed to know everything, while Thaniel, Geraldine, and Abbington all struggled with different things. Isidor, of course, would probably be bored no matter what they did, and Pandy wasn’t sure he would be a good helper anyway.

When the bell rang to let them know it was time to go to their last class, the students were actually reluctant to go. Some found a few last fingerfuls of frosting on abandoned plates, while others seemed to have formed real friendships through their shared experiences in the class. Thaniel was one of these, eagerly discussing with the former mayors of his two towns what they would have done differently if they hadn’t been annoyed by Micah’s constant demands. Micah, on the other hand, seemed to have become a bit of a pariah, hurrying out as soon as he could, leaving a half-eaten cupcake behind.

Out in the hall, Thaniel waved to Suzanne, who actually waved back, before hurrying on toward her own Small Group. There was no noticeable difference in the way the rest of the students avoided touching her without even seeming to realize they were doing it, but Suzanne stood straighter, with her head up as she made her way through the gaps that opened before her.

Halfway up the stairs to the music room, Pandy realized that if no one saw her being Ms. Wellington, there was no point in doing it. If a rabbit went into the room with Thaniel, and a rabbit came out, anyone who was watching would never know the children weren’t in there alone. So she wiggled, squirming until she slipped from Thaniel’s grasp, tumbling back down several stairs.

Thaniel, of course, had no idea what was going on, and she couldn’t explain it, but she caught his eyes, wiggling her nose and twitching her ears, trying to say, Somehow, Thaniel seemed to understand, because he nodded, grinned, and trotted the rest of the way up the stairs, while Pandy stared after him, feeling oddly abandoned. She’d half-expected him to chase after her, but he didn’t seem worried at all. It was almost like…like he believed in her.

By the time Pandy got over the idea that someone, even a child, was actually counting on her, the stairwell was mostly clear. A few children moved more slowly, either distracted or looking tired, but few of them looked down, even as they walked up the steps. This meant Pandy had to stay out of the way of their feet, but only once had to evade capture by a girl who gave up fairly quickly and hurried on to class.

As the last stragglers moved past her, momentarily leaving the stairwell empty of anyone but her – and possibly a certain sneaky air elemental, but there was nothing she could do about that – Pandy thought,

Shifting Faces has already been used today. You have 01:29:57 remaining. Would you like to use it?

She’d cast it very, very briefly that morning, before they left for breakfast, so she didn’t have to use any of her limited Corruption Points to cast it later. It had cost sixteen Mana, rather than twenty, so it seemed that all of her spells now cost twenty percent less than they had before. Which was really, really good. Suspiciously good, in fact, since good things didn’t happen to Pandy. Except that they did, and had ever since coming to this world. That was something she’d been avoiding thinking about, however, in the same way you didn’t think too hard about where the twenty-dollar bill you found on the bus originally came from.

Everything shrank, her view shifting from one that showed everything around her to one that focused on what was directly ahead of her. In her old life, she’d never questioned the way she saw the world, but now, every time she shifted, she felt a little more vulnerable, like something was sneaking up in her far-too-large blind spots. It hadn’t mattered so much at first, but the more she got used to the transformation, the more she noticed the differences, both subtle and not-so subtle.

She summoned her clothes, and this time when she hefted her skirts, climbing the stairs and running down the empty hall, she remembered to drop them back into place, gathering herself before opening the door and stepping into the room. She felt terribly proud of herself for a brief moment, until her gaze caught the amused gray eyes of the chancellor.

“You’re a bit late, Ms. Wellington,” he said. “I’m glad to see you’ve recovered enough to make it here, however. We missed you at lunch.”

Lunch? She was at lunch. She was right there, under the…table….

Oh. Pandy’s face blazed. She had – what was it called? – lunch duty on Tuesday, didn’t she? Or Ms. Wellington did. No wonder Mr. Blackwood was here. Not even one day in and she’d already messed up. Any fragile sense of accomplishment Pandy had managed to gather dissolved.

The chancellor’s amusement drained away as his brows drew together, hiding behind the rim of his glasses. “I explained to the rest of the staff that you were still suffering from headaches after your injury. They were most solicitous.”

Was he…trying to reassure her? Or was he just letting her know what excuses he’d used to cover for her, so no one would become suspicious? Maybe Pandy would have been able to tell if she could bring herself to meet his eyes, but she couldn’t. Fortunately, Thaniel broke the moment by throwing himself at her.

“Bun- Ms. Wellington!” he cried, smiling up at her as he tried to wrap his little arms around her substantial girth.

Without thinking, she stroked his hair back, smiling at him affectionately, then remembered she had an audience and looked up, flushing anew. The rest of the children had come forward when Thaniel did, and now they stood around her, looking more than a little uncertain. Well, except for Isidor, who was trying to look tough, or possibly just aloof. Mr. Blackwood stood behind them, his own expression unreadable.

“I thought I might come and make sure you didn’t need any help,” he said. “And make a suggestion.” He lifted a brow, and when Pandy finally managed to meet his eyes, he smiled slightly. “I know you,” the original Ms. Wellington, she mentally translated, “asked for this room, but most of the first-year Small Groups meet outside. It gives the children an opportunity to get some fresh air, and you have space in case of, ah, mishaps.”

Mishaps? Pandy frowned, and then it dawned on her. In Gacha Love, the students used this class to learn about their own powers, as well as practice magic. If a Fire mage had a little accident outside, well, that wasn’t nearly as much of a problem as if they started a conflagration inside the school. First-years, while still only coming into their magic, also had little to no control, and the school would probably rather not clean up after a student had a breakthrough.

“Oh, um, where should we-?” She gestured toward the window, through which she could see the tops of some trees, and not much else.

“I believe Abbington’s capybara lives in the stables,” Mr. Blackwood said. “You cannot, of course, use the pasture out back, where students are generally not encouraged to go,” his gaze swept over the five children, and even Isidor had the grace to flinch a bit, “but the common space between the stable and the gardens is quite large, so you should be able to find an unoccupied area.”

That would be the area with paths and trees that Ms. Wellington’s window overlooked. They could sit on benches and talk, or the children could play or practice their magic. Involuntarily, her eyes went to Thaniel, who had released her waist, but still clung to her hand. Most of them could practice. A private space would be best for Thaniel, at least until he figured out how to use his magic in some way that didn’t involve making anything shrivel into ash.

“Could we come back here sometimes?” she asked. “Or would you give it to someone else?”

The chancellor shook his head. “Everyone has an alternate, indoor location. They’re mainly used in the winter or when it’s raining. This room would remain yours, though you might need to share it in particularly bad weather.”

Pandy nodded. “Then we’ll do that. Thank you.”

Silence fell over the room, with the children looking back and forth between the two adults, until it dawned on Pandy that he was waiting for something more. Awkwardly, she said, “And I’ll be ready to work at dinner on Wednesday?”

The chancellor gave a small chuckle, which he belatedly attempted to cover with a cough, then walked toward the door. Holding it open, he gestured for Pandy and the children to pass through. Together, they all walked back down the stairs, to the exit door, and passed through into the sunlight. Mr. Blackwood led the little menagerie along the path near the stables, pausing to allow Abbington to collect Brook, who seemed utterly nonchalant as she walked along next to the boy, possibly for the first time since arriving at Falconet.

To Pandy, it felt as if everyone was staring at them. Other groups of children and their teachers watched, some more covertly than others, but none seemed oblivious. Mr. Blackwood found some reason to pause and speak to several of the teachers and staff members, giving everyone a good chance to look Pandy and the others over. She definitely heard the name, ‘Ms. Wellington’, whispered more than once. This was obviously intentional on the chancellor’s part. He wanted to make sure everyone knew she was there.

Once Pandy realized this, she also remembered that she had a role to play. She tucked a few strands of her bedraggled hair back behind her ears, making a mental note that she needed to find some time to do a better job putting it up. Maybe Eleanor or Geraldine would have some suggestions? Forcing herself to leave it alone, she stiffened her back into Ms. Wellington’s perfect posture, pasting what she hoped was a disdainful expression on her face. She didn’t attempt to speak to any of the teachers, only giving them each a nod before sniffing and looking away.

As Mr. Blackwood had said, there were groups everywhere. Several children were attempting to use their magic to grow plants, light candles, or move the water in a cup or bowl. Older students engaged in mock battles, or worked together to complete tasks, much as Clara and the four male love interests did in the early part of Gacha Love. Pandy only caught a few glimpses of what might have been low-tier elementals: flickering droplets of water in the air, or unnatural gusts of wind that caught a student’s hair or clothes.

“Here we are,” the chancellor said at last as they stopped at the very bench Pandy had twice ended up dangling over. He gave her an amused glance before turning to address the children, who had become restless during the fifteen minute walk over a distance that should have taken no more than five minutes.

Addressing them, he said, “From now on, you’ll meet here, unless Ms. Wellington tells you otherwise. I’ll see you all at dinner.” He offered them all a small bow, and Eleanor led a round of curtsies and bows in return, with Pandy the last to realize she should probably join in, too.

Once he was gone, vanishing down the return path at a far more rapid pace than the one he’d used to guide them here, Pandy turned to the children, all of whom looked almost as uncomfortable as she felt. They were all too aware that they were visible here, in a way they hadn’t been in the music room. Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to agree to come out here today. Was it too late to go back?

Pandy cleared her throat. “Does anyone have any-”

A flicker of movement caught her eye. Something moved in a tree nearby. Something that was definitely larger than a squirrel or a bird. She hesitated, distantly aware that she was still talking, but having no idea what nonsense might be spilling from between her lips. All of her attention was focused on a patch of shadow that moved in ways no patch of shadow had a right to do.

For the barest of instants, a face formed in the deepest part of that shadow, pale eyes flickering in and out of sight, giving Pandy an exaggerated wink before fading away entirely.