“Maybe speaking to her would make me feel calmer,” I said aloud to the stark room. Anything to dispel the stony silence. My nerves had eased up throughout the day, but I still didn’t feel peaceful. Frankly, I wondered if I ever would again. And, you know what? No matter how old a person gets, sometimes, you just need to talk to your mom.
I set my phone on the windowsill and dialed. It would only be about eleven in the morning where she was, so maybe she wouldn’t be too busy with work yet. Five rings later, the call connected.
“Persie!” My mom’s face appeared in slightly fuzzy hologram form, but her smile came through crystal clear. “I was just about to have lunch and give you a call.”
My hands fidgeted out of sight of the camera. “Oh. Did I interrupt you?”
“Not at all. I was just plowing through paperwork. Super boring.” She lifted up a folder, as though I needed evidence. “What time is it there?”
“Nearly seven.” There was something about technology that stilted conversation. If I were home, there’d be minimal small talk. We’d just jump into a rundown of our days over dinner or coffee, but it was different over the phone when we’d hadn’t spoken in a few days.
She chuckled. “Don’t you have more exciting things to do than call your mom? Socials, mixers—whatever they’re called now.”
I shrugged. “There’s nothing going on tonight except a movie in one of the common rooms. I didn’t feel like going, so I came to my room to do some… reading and stuff, but then I saw the sunset and thought of you.”
“You did?” Her smile turned bittersweet. She didn’t need to say it—I could tell, from the pitch of her voice, that she missed me. But my mom was a tough cookie. She wouldn’t say she missed me unless I said it first.
“Yeah.” I had no idea why I felt so shy. This was my mom, for Pete’s sake.
“It was your orientation today, right?” she prompted. “How did it go? Are you making friends? Do you know your way around yet? Have you started classes, or was it just an introduction to the Institute? Is there anything you need? I’m working on your art supplies, so don’t worry about that.”
I laughed, my discomfort ebbing. “I didn’t realize I’d called the Spanish Inquisition.”
“There’s just so much ground for us to cover, and I want to know everything!” She propped her chin on her hand and waited expectantly.
I didn’t know where to begin. Did I start with the good stuff and go into the dream and the panic attack afterward, or did I spill the bad news first?
“Well, we had a welcome assembly, then Charlotte Basani showed us around. I saw the training halls and library, and they’ve got really pretty grounds. We didn’t get to meet the scholars yet—that’s their version of preceptors—but I’m sure that’ll happen soon.”
I’d decided to keep it short and sweet. Weirdly, I found it a bit disappointing that I couldn’t produce more high-octane excitement. My first foray into the world of independence was, at present, a bit banal. But that would change when the hard work started, so I would try to enjoy the calm before the storm.
My mom’s eyes lit with intrigue at the mention of Charlotte, so maybe I hadn’t painted as boring a picture as I thought. “Charlotte Basani, eh? What’s she like? I’ve heard great things about her. They say she might actually deserve the title of legendary monster hunter, unlike her mom and her aunt. Are the twins at the Institute a lot? Maybe I should bring Finch one day, just to see their faces.”
I glanced at the sunset. The colors had turned darker and muted, like someone had accidentally streaked navy blue onto the palette. “She’s… kind of hard to gauge. You’d call her a cold fish, but I only met her while she was giving us a tour. Maybe she’s one of those people who grows on you when you get to know them better.” I paused, realizing what she’d said. “Chaos, no, please don’t bring Uncle Finch while the twins are here! I don’t want them kicking me out because he makes some joke about them being con artists.”
My mom grinned. “Good point. He’d definitely have a few choice words for them, after the stunts they pulled at the Mapmakers’ Monastery.” Her image sharpened as she leaned closer to the phone camera. “But you’re having a good time, right? Do you feel like you made the right choice?”
“I do.” I swung my legs, trying to unkink the knots that had taken root in my thighs. I ignored the other question because I didn’t have an answer to it.
Was I having a good time? I hadn’t really been here long enough to know yet.
Genie had partaken in more socializing than I had. She’d gone to a couple of the “organized fun” events during the settling-in time: lectures, a few dinners, a baking competition, and a “disco,” which showed the age of the organizers a bit. She hadn’t said much about them when she’d returned to check on me. I guessed she hadn’t wanted to hype them up since I hadn’t been able to go.
My banshee recovery had put a major dent in my mingling time, and so had the restless nights, but then I’d never been one for parties or gatherings. Besides, I would get to know my classmates better once classes started. It would beat standing off to one side with a soda in hand, painfully bobbing along to music I hated and wondering how much longer I had to stay, out of politeness, before I could vamoose.
“And Genie’s getting along all right?” If my mom noticed I’d skimmed over her question, she didn’t give anything away. “Her dad’s worrying about her.”
I toyed with a pencil, tracing random lines and shapes across the bottom of my sketchbook. “She’s fine. I think she might
