“We’re not done talking about this, Autumn…” Mom’s voice filters from the other side of the door.
“I know,” I mutter under my breath as I close my eyes. “I just need a bit of time to decompress. I’ll be down soon.”
As much as I love my mom, her hovering can be suffocating at times. I’m twenty years old, for crying out loud. If I wanted to go, and could actually afford it, there is literally nothing she could do to stop me.
“Please, promise me you’ll just toss it in the trash. Because that’s what it is,” she says.
Refusing to answer her, I look up at the ceiling and breathe in slowly through my nose. I’ve never understood her extreme reaction to anything supernatural. I know something happened in her past, but she’s refused to clue me in. Who’s the one keeping things from whom?
Shaking my head, I whisper, “Maybe I should get a place of my own.”
It would set me back on my timeline for college, but it might be worth it. I’d gain more autonomy and be able to make my own decisions without a dramatic conversation over every little thing.
My gaze falls to the purple envelope, and I swallow hard.
Could my mom be right? Is it really an acceptance packet? Why would they even send me an acceptance?
Unexpected excitement bubbles inside me, and I can’t seem to contain it. However, the inner voice implanted in the back of my head by my mom tells me I’m being crazy. Even if it was, it’s not like we could afford the tuition. Windhaven is insanely expensive; without pulling a bank job, I’m pretty sure I’m a couple of hundred thousand shy of meeting their requirements.
I bite my lower lip and take a tentative step forward. Despite myself, morbid curiosity wins out. Taking the final few steps to the bed, I drop down and pull the monolithic envelope onto my lap. The setting sun streams into my room, creating a soft glow that entices me to live in the moment. I run my hand along the outside edge of the packet. The texture is more like soft silk than paper, and the stars across the top twinkle with multifaceted dimension in the sunlight.
However, I’m a tiny bit disappointed there’s nothing innately magical about it. It doesn’t fly, or talk, or do anything unusual at all. Surely a supernatural school has resources to do something like that, right? Or am I just being incredibly naive?
I take a deep breath. “Well, here goes nothing…”
Flipping the packet over, I pull the ripcord from the top edge. I half-anticipate letters to come flying out or a bright light to shine from the heavens. But again, I’m sorely disappointed. Inside is just a packet of paperwork. Ordinary, mundane paperwork.
We haven’t even met the digital age, I guess.
On the upside, the paper is the same graceful, soft texture, and I can’t help but wonder what it’s made of. Maybe magical spiders wove their silk into the fabric of the paper? At least that would be cool. As I shuffle quickly through the contents, I find, in addition to the papers, a large booklet of information about the courses available, the history of the school, and other details, like off-campus events for supernaturals. There’s a map, a few event flyers for the campus social groups, and of course, right on top...is my acceptance letter.
I suck in a quick breath and scan through it quickly.
Dear Ms. Blackwood,
Congratulations! It is with great pleasure that I offer you admission to the Windhaven Academy Class of 2024.
Your thoughtful application and magical aptitudes convinced us that you have the intelligence and innate talent to be amongst the best here at Windhaven Academy. Among the over 15,000 applications, yours stood out immediately, and our seers recognized the incredible gift your lineage brings to our ranks. As such, we are thrilled to welcome you and look forward to your unique and extraordinary contributions as you adjust to our academic and campus life.
The exciting next steps can only be taken by you. As I’m sure we are not the only university you’re considering in the coming weeks, I encourage you to learn more about us and the legacy we share. We invite you to attend our next orientation weekend called the Witching Stick, coming up on August 25-26. You’ll be given guidance on your particular gifts, as well as an introduction to the curriculum crafted especially for you and the dynamic campus we have here.
Should you choose to matriculate, I am also thrilled to inform you that your enrollment has been fully paid for by a donor who wishes to remain anonymous. This is truly a once-in a lifetime opportunity and one I sincerely hope you do not miss out on.
Once again, I congratulate you on your admission to Windhaven Academy and welcome you to our family. We look forward to seeing you in August.
Sincerely,
Marva Arlo
Director of Admissions
I stand up, practically squealing. “Holy shit.”
My brain spins out of control as I read it again, but this time more slowly, paying close attention to certain parts.
I don’t know which aspects to focus on first.
Thoughtful application? Lineage? Legacy?
I stand up, clutching the letter in both shaky hands. The rest of the contents from the packet fall to the floor, but my eyes can’t move from one small phrase.
Fully paid for.
Confusion and excitement tussle through my mind, fighting for a ruler.
Without thinking, I move to the door, opening it wide, and running down the stairs to find Mom.
Her wide eyes greet me as I rush into the kitchen.
“You opened it,” she says softly, disappointment rolling across her features.
I ignore it, walk up to her, and take a seat at the dining room table. “Mom, it says here I have a free ride. As in, fully paid for—” I shove the paper at her. “Look, right here.”
“I don’t need to read
