Petunia and the Little Monster

June 1975

Petunia stared at the building rising before her, her eyes trailing over the gaps between the evenly layered grey bricks. Small dots and traces of brown snaked over its facade, leftovers from the clinging vines that were ripped down every autumn only to grow anew every spring.

Petunia couldn't exactly claim the feeling churning inside her stomach as nostalgia. She had never cherished her time in school, always the outcast, the stuck up girl who no one wanted to befriend, only well-known for her pretty sister who went to a fancy boarding school far away from dreary Cokeworth. Petunia's good grades had been motivated by a wish for validation and not because she actually held any academic ambitions.

But now that it was over and she would never set foot in the narrow hallways smelling like lemon-scented cleaner and dry chalk again, her memories were tinted with longing, painted with a softer brush.

Graduating school marked the end of a part of Petunia's life, her identity. She was no longer a student. Now it was up to her to claim a new label.

And the freedom was fairly daunting.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Mrs Fairweather pushed through the crowd of excited students and tear-eyed parents, stopping in front of Petunia, the lines on her stern face relaxed for once, her ashy hair not as meticulously pulled back as usual.

"Ms Evans. How are you faring?"

"Good, Mrs Fairweather."

Her teacher nodded with approval. "Well, I wanted to let you know that I talked to your father about the typing course in London. I still think it would be a perfect opportunity for a young lady as principled as you."

Petunia swallowed against a rush of dread. "Thank you, Mrs Fairweather. I'm considering ..."

"What is there to consider? Higher education is being offered to you so easily. If you put in the effort I'm sure you'll be able to get a good job at a big company, maybe even a position as private secretary."

Petunia felt as if Mrs Fairweather wished to be in Petunia's position, voicing the longings of a time long past veiled in advice for her student. Moving to London, becoming a capable working woman, joining the leagues of other young girls with dreams of the big city sounded glamorous and enticing, but Petunia felt as if it was actually a sour lemon trying to hide beneath a sprinkling of sugar.

She would be alone and her future would be set in stone. Where would she keep Aspen if she lived in a small city apartment? Where would she find the leisure to think about magical creatures and secret wars when she started working a full-time job, her mind filled with other, mundane but much more immediate concerns?

But what was the alternative? Petunia could stay here in Cokeworth, try to get a job through her mother's employment, serving lunch to workers, slowly dulling and turning grey.

"It is an opportunity not afforded to everyone, I assure you," Mrs Fairweather continued. "You should consider your options carefully, Ms Evans."

Petunia managed a stiff smile, noticing her parents lurking at the edge of the crowd. They had apparently socialised enough, ready to award their daughter with an awkward hug for her accomplishment before resuming their regular day. For them it was just another Thursday, not the end of life as they had known it.

"Yes, Mrs Fairweather."

"I know you will make the right decision, Ms Evans, you're a bright girl."

The right decision ... Petunia's smile turned a bit more brittle.

How would she ever know what decision would be the right one? Or would she realise it only when it was already too late?

While the other graduates around her looked towards the future with excitement, rosy cheeks and glittering eyes, Petunia felt almost like an imposter among them, her heart weighed with dread.