“Seriously?” Mama Rawlins had home schooled us, but my education had eventually taken a back seat to Alicia and her magical lady parts. “There’s no wiggle room there at all?”
“What did I just say about special treatment?” Bard rolled his eyes and grinned, but his voice remained serious. “As a first-year and second-year, your curriculum includes regular schoolwork, in classes with the non-powered student population. The evaluations are designed to ensure that all of our students meet the same minimum academic standards.”
“No problem. I’ve got this.” I said, trying to convince myself as much as Bard. “So do I take the tests… now?”
“I think you’ve had enough excitement for the day,” he decided, “especially given the presumably joyous news of your non-pregnancy. Agnes will schedule your examinations for tomorrow, and arrange a dorm room for you to stay in until orientation. Tonight, you should clean up, let one of our two resident Healers take a look at those scrapes, and get some rest.”
Sleep sounded amazing, but passing my exams sounded even better. I’d take a shower and visit the Healer, as suggested, but after that? I was going to find some food, borrow a Glass, and study my ass off.
CHAPTER 13
“Do you want the good news or the bad news, Mr. Banach?”
I was back in Bard’s office the following afternoon, officially regretting the two hours I’d spent sleeping and not studying. Not that the studying I had done had seemed to make any difference with the tests I’d taken.
“I’m kind of shocked there’s any good news,” I told him tiredly, for the first time wondering if learning to take off Alicia’s bra one-handed had really been the best use of my time.
Which just went to show how tired I really was. I mean… of course it had been.
“Surprisingly, there were a few bright spots,” said Bard.
“Seriously? Like what?” I’d left the testing convinced that I had not only failed, but done so in so spectacular a fashion that future generations would use me as an example for others.
“English.”
“No fucking way.”
Bard winced. “Despite all evidence to the contrary. You also eked out a score of 63% in Math.”
Fucking-A. If the whole Cape thing didn’t work out for me, I could become an accountant. An insane accountant, sure, but who would be able to tell the difference? “What about the other tests?”
“You bombed them all. Life Science, Physics, Geography, and both Pre-Break and Post-Break History—although you did somehow ace the Powers-related questions.”
Some of you are probably wondering how anyone could fail Geography, given what little was left of the known world to be quizzed on. Let’s just say I had a gift.
I sighed. “I’m guessing I know what the bad news is.”
“That was the bad news. The good news is that you have friends in high places.”
I risked a glance upward—when people can fly, you can’t afford to assume someone is speaking figuratively—but there was nothing but ceiling above us. “Huh?”
“This morning, while you were singlehandedly disproving the merits of home schooling, I received a phone call from Mr. Isaac Clearwater. The Secretary of Superhuman Affairs,” he clarified, when I gave him a blank stare.
“We have one of those?”
Bard shook his head slowly. “I guess it’s a good thing political science isn’t part of our academic screening. Yes, we have one of those. Despite being on his way to a budget meeting, Mr. Clearwater was taking the time out of his busy schedule to inquire about the promising Necromancer prospect his top Finder had personally delivered us.”
I blinked. Since when did the government give a shit about me? Let alone this Secretary guy, who—from the way Bard had said his name—had to be at least somewhat important.
“I make the final decision on who attends my school,” continued Bard, “but the Academy does not exist in a vacuum. When a member of the President’s cabinet calls, even I have to listen.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning your life just got busy. I will not design a new curriculum to accommodate a single student, so you’ll be taking the same classes as every other first-year. I’m assigning you tutors to help you actually pass those classes… although that depends on your willingness to put in the work, I suppose.”
“You mean I’m in? I can stay?” After the awful morning of tests, I was having a hard time wrapping my brain around that fact.
The two hours of sleep probably didn’t help either.
“It’s not going to be easy,” Bard warned me. “The life of a first-year is intentionally frenetic, but at least they get weekends off. You’ll be spending every weekend with your tutors. If you can’t pass those classes… not even Sean Weatherly will be able to keep you here.”
I wanted to ask who that was, but didn’t want Bard to think…
“Sean Weatherly,” he sighed. “President of the Free States.”
Bard wasn’t the only one glad we’d skipped the political science test.
INTERLUDE
Jonathan Bard sat at his desk for almost twenty minutes after Damian’s departure, reviewing the many steps still needed to make the young Crow’s enrollment a reality. Parent notifications, waiver agreements, and legal contingencies in the event that things went poorly… it was a mountain of paperwork, and he pitied whichever assistant ended up having to complete it on his behalf.
Before he could set those wheels in motion, however, there was one thing only he could do. Bard reached over to his desk phone and dialed a number he knew by heart. A number that very few other people in the country even had access to.
It rang for a few seconds then stopped. Whoever had picked up on the other end remained completely silent, but Bard was used to the security measures by now.
“It’s Jonathan,” he said into the silence. “Remember that student we talked about?”
“Yes.” The voice was slow, smooth, and unmistakably female.
“Now there are two of them.” He shook his head even though she couldn’t see
