Obscure

two

SOPHIE DRAGGED HER SUITCASE up to one of the chairs and sat down on the edge of the velvet seat. She frowned at the space behind the desk, trying to locate the origin of the voice. The darkness moved and an oblong figure shifted, until suddenly a man was sitting in front of it. He leaned against a patch of darkness. With a jolt, Sophie realized it was the back of a chair –one of those super expensive kinds with the extra padded cushions.

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the edge of his desk, his fingers steepled. "So, Miss Brooks," he said, thin lips tugged back into a gentle smile. " Or Sophie, if I may call you that. What is your impression of the academy so far?"

"So far it's full of models," Sophie grumbled under her breath. The skin on the bridge of her nose crinkled when she realized what she'd said. Despite its truth, the remark made her look shallow. She just hoped that he hadn't heard her.

The corners of his mouth twitched with amusement. His deep set eyes seemed focused on her face, barely visible due to the slender strands of silver hair that streaked across his face. Despite the obstruction, Sophie could still clearly read the bits of interest that floated around inside of them like fallen leaves in a pool. "That's a fascinating observation," the man remarked.

Several strands of his hair fell forward around his shoulder, and it pooled on the desk near his elbow, coiled almost like a snake. It wasn't the old kind of gray; it was too light, to shiny, and his face was way too young for his hair color to be aged. He really didn't look much older than Sophie.

His gaze suddenly deepened with an ageless sense of power. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up straight and the skin on her arms prickled with goose flesh. She tried hard not to fidget. His smile widened. "I am the Headmaster here. You may call me as such."

He leaned back in his chair, hair swooshing as he moved, and plucked a crisp piece of paper off the desk. Sophie's brow furrowed as she watched him. "Just Headmaster?"

"Just Headmaster," he echoed.

Headmaster passed the paper in his hands to Sophie. She took it carefully, squinting to read through the fancy (and almost unintelligible) print. Her name graced the top, along with a date and a room number, and after a closer examination, she realized she was holding her schedule. There were five classes total, and most of them centered around performance and art. No more math, Sophie noticed delightfully, and no crazy chemistry.

Instead, for core classes she had Historical Studies, The Art of Literature, Proper Etiquette, Free Gym (whatever that meant), and a choice between Creative Writing and How to Draw 101.

"All of our courses are designed to work with your strengths. We've taken the results from your standardized tests and created your schedule around that. You are free to choose between the two electives provided."

"Oh," Sophie muttered and pursed her lips. That made sense, since she had always sucked at math and science. Her gaze lingered on the elective choices. Drawing had always been fun, yet she'd never felt good at it. Whereas with writing...

Her gaze flickered up. "I guess I'll choose the writing class."

Headmaster smiled kindly and nodded. He scribbled something down on another piece of paper and said, "Great choice! I can assure you that all of our classes are of great quality. I'm sure you will enjoy them."

He filed the paper away and then returned his complete attention to Sophie. "Now I'll give you the rundown of school policies. There should be a handbook in your dorm room, you can read up on the rules in depth later."

Sophie folded her schedule into a small square as he talked. "For the first six months on campus," he said. "You will be considered a normal student here, taking daytime courses. After that, you will become eligible for an elite group of students called the Night Class. It will be a bit of an adjustment from what you are used to, as their classes are usually held at night."

"Night classes?" Her nose curled. What in the world did that mean? An elite class sounded nice but she wasn't sure whether she wanted to divulge into that sort of stuff just yet. She just got to the academy. She just wanted to focus on settling in and not hating everything. Plus, who would want to go to school at night?

Headmaster simply smiled patiently. "Here, the student body is divided into two sections: the Day Class and Night Class. Very few qualify for our Night Class and, once chosen, those students undergo special classes until the professors are convinced they are ready to enter the real world. After close examination of your records, I do believe that you could potentially be very successful in the Night Class, but we unfortunately never allow new students into it. There is a six-month requirement that starts from the moment you are integrated into the Academy. Once that time has passed, if you so desire, you will be tested and possibly put into the class."

"But aren't they like the gifted kids?" Sophie had never really been good with school. Her grades weren't the most important thing on her agenda and it showed every report card. She'd never been considered for any kind of gifted program.

"Not quite," he said, and something flashed inside his chartreuse orbs. "I wouldn't worry about any of that now. You still have six months to learn about it. Our first and foremost priority is that you become comfortable here at the Academy."

That made Sophie feel somewhat better. She briefly wondered if Aubrey was in the Night Class. If it was as special as the Headmaster made it sound, she seemed like the type of person who would be right in the center of it.

The rest of the meeting carried out in a boring fashion. Headmaster quickly explained some of the basic rules at Insurrection, like no fighting and curfews and no boys in the girl's dorm. It was essentially a speech regarding all of the rules for proper conduct at a reform school. After that, he handed her a small, delicate silver key. It sat heavily in her palm as she examined it carefully. The end was all twisted and gnarled like those old fashioned brass keys. Then Sophie was dismissed. 

As she opened the door and stepped out into the lonely hallway, a surge of disappointment washed through her. Aubrey wasn't there, and Sophie had a few questions about the Night Class. "Great," she muttered under her breath and started to walk. She had no clue how to get back to the main hall. Maybe if she found Ms. Liza, maybe she could get some sort of direction as to where to go.

Then a brick wall ran into her.

She hit the ground with a startled, "Ouch!" Her wrist twisted painfully beneath her and she hastily yanked it up to her chest, cradling it. A startled noise sounded above her head.

Sophie looked up, into the most stunning baby blues she'd ever seen.