The Thief

“Camille Teague, I see you at least made it through the doors without incident,” she said, offering a hand to another girl, who I hadn’t noticed close by. She had been leaning so casually against the edge of the stairs, she had looked like she belonged here. She was short and pale, with long, unruly blonde curls. She gave the woman a wary look, but shook nonetheless. She was new as well? Was I miraculously not alone?

“And you must be Juliet Graham,” the woman said, turning to me.

“Yes ma’am,” I said, shaking her offered hand.

“I’m the principal of Havenwood School,” she said, inclining her head to us both. “Rin Umino. Ms. Umino, to you.” Other students flowed around us like a river around a boulder. “We are pleased that you have finally come to join our school.” Her narrow smile was strange, but I smiled back as best I could. “You may not be aware,” Ms. Umino said, “but we have been talking to your father,” she looked at me, “and your...guardian,” she looked at Camille, “for several years now. It is unfortunate, Ms. Graham, that you come to us in such circumstances, but we are happy to have you nonetheless.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. “Thank you...” I said uneasily.

“Come into my office, there is much to discuss,” she said, a slight foreign accent slipping into her English for a moment.

She began walking across the atrium to a room at the back of the hall. Camille followed first, though with a distrusting frown. I moved to follow as well, but before I went inside, I glanced back to get a better look at the lofty atrium, now nearly cleared of students. That’s when I saw him, standing in front of the doors.

He had inquisitive almond-shaped eyes and short ink-black hair. He was standing in the atrium, and I swear the sun from the front doors was streaming in around him, tipping his silhouette in gold. Everyone else was rushing around the edges of the atrium, desperate to get who-knows-where, but he just stood in the center, framed in sun, observing something on the second floor with the faintest, contented smile on his face.

He looked like certainty. He looked like peace.

His gaze slid across the room and landed on me. The corners of his mouth lifted the barest fraction. It was a smile worthy of the Mona Lisa. A smile that knew everything and would give away nothing.

My heart didn’t literally skip, but I definitely stopped breathing. Did time stop? It might have. Either that, or it went very fast.

“Graham,” I heard, and I jumped, turning back to Ms. Umino’s office. She looked at me expectantly from behind her desk. Camille was already seated in one of the two chairs across from it. How long had I been staring...?

“Uh, I’m sorry, the uh...the school is very lovely,” I said.

“That it is,” she replied evenly. “Come have a seat.”

I snuck a final glance at the atrium, but he was already gone. Who was he...? My heart hammered. I shut the door behind me and sat in the chair next to Camille. I tried to focus on the present. Here was someone in my same circumstance. Maybe she needed a friend as badly as I did. Was it rude to hope that?

I took in the principal’s office in a glance. Everything was as squared off and pristine as her appearance. The recessed shelving and her desk were made of glass. Certifications hung neatly from the walls. An orchid with impossibly small orange blooms craned over a corner of her desk. One frame behind her chair held a piece of aged parchment under glass, curiously blank.

I tried to glance surreptitiously at the other new girl, Camille, as well. She was dressed in an oversized faded red hoodie and threadbare jeans. A camo-patterned shoulderbag sat beside her. But what really stuck out was the enormous bracelet on her left arm - I use the word bracelet sparingly, because it covered her wrist to almost elbow. It wasn’t even pretty. A dull gray metal - maybe iron? Very unusual. She hunched slightly in her chair, looking like she wanted to be somewhere else.

“Well. Let’s get started. Let me first say, Havenwood School is not for everyone,” Ms. Umino stated. “We pride ourselves on the unique talents of our students and expect excellence. In return, we can offer you a first- class education and the tools you need to achieve greatness. Through our exceedingly good reputation we have attracted applicants from all over the country, and the world at large. You will find yourself in a very diverse company, so you will be expected to respect the cultural differences of your classmates. This goes for your teachers as well - some are what you would call ‘locals.’ Others hail from foreign shores, myself included. I must insist that you show respect to your teachers based on their position, rather than any sense of familiarity you may come to feel.”

Was that a roundabout way of saying don’t forget I’m the one in charge?

Ms. Umino pushed two identical folders towards us across her desk. She sat straight and stiff in her chair. “These are your introductory materials,” she stated. “They contain a map of the school, your locker numbers, and your class schedules, minus electives. You will find that we run things a little bit differently than other schools that you may - or may not,” she said, flicking a glance at Camille - “have attended. As we have a smaller student body than most, we are able to provide a more involved education. Accordingly you may see certain of your teachers multiple times a day. They also teach at all levels, so that as you advance to higher grades, you maintain and ideally improve upon the rapport you have built. The first class you attend in the morning is your homeroom. That teacher will be the one primarily responsible for you. Your homeroom teacher, Mr. John Tailor, covers English literature. After that you and the rest of your class will cycle through the remainder of our tenth grade curriculum: chemistry, algebra, and American history. In the afternoons are your electives. As for those...”

She shifted in her seat, hands folded on her desk, looking at us each in turn. “They are called electives, but in truth every student is required to take at least one a semester, and we try to assign them based on your strengths. We believe very strongly in helping our students cultivate their potential. So that brings us to you. Ms. Graham,” she said.

I sat up straighter. “Ma’am?”

“What are your hobbies?”

I blinked, taken aback. “M-my hobbies?”

“What do you do in your free time?” Ms. Umino asked, her narrow gaze on me.

“Um, I guess...I read a lot,” I said. There was really nothing else to do. I kept the apartment clean and I read. I didn’t have an allowance, so I got all my books from the public library.

“And your friends? What do you do with them?”

I swallowed, feeling my cheeks warm. “Well I...I never really...” had any. My father had never let me go out for sports or clubs or anything. And let’s face it, I’d never had the most sparkling personality. People didn’t just walk up and befriend me. If they did, I’m pretty sure my stuttering would drive them away immediately.

“I see,” Ms. Umino said, apparently astute at reading between the lines. She made a little note on her tablet, saying, “Perhaps we’ll revisit the subject later, when you’re more settled.”

Done with me, she focused on Camille, even chillier now. “Ms. Teague. I understand that despite your lack of formal education, you’ve received some training in the martial arts.”

“Kendo,” she replied. Her accent immediately struck me as odd.

Ms. Umino smiled, but I wasn’t sure it was friendly. “Unusual for a girl such as yourself to have learned the art of Japanese swordplay, but at least in one thing Mr. Katsura has prepared you. We have an elective class that should suit you perfectly. You may continue your training with Mr. Ikeda in kendo and karate.”

Wait, she knew how to swordfight? I looked at the other girl in awe.

“As for the rest of your evaluation...” she glanced upward, briefly, as the bell rang. “I’m afraid we’re out of time. Teague, expect to return to my office at the end of the day to finish your placement. I should also mention,” she said, making another note on her tablet, “that while you will see the same classmates throughout your regular classes, your electives are comprised of students from all grade levels. As such, you may find yourself in situations with very...advanced students.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what she seemed to be hinting at, but Camille seemed to. Her face remained impassive as she made a stiff bow of the head to Ms. Umino.

“You may take your packets and go.” The principal waved her hands in a brief shooing motion.

I picked mine up, feeling a little dizzy. Had that been intended to be informative? I felt more confused than ever. I followed Camille out the door and into the now-empty hall. She looked around dully, sharing none of my nerves. Her stoicism only made me feel more panicky by contrast. Maybe she knows what to