Awakened (Unbound, Book 3)

Chapter Two

It took all of fourth period to calm down. Still, I made progress, and for the first time since I lost my memory, made it to fifth period art class. Not that I was productive, but it was fun to see where everyone was in their projects, especially those that began before the boat trip occurred. And since everyone still thought my marbles were loose, I was able to stare without concern of appearing rude or simple.

Did that make me seem dense?

I was the last one out of the classroom aside from Mrs. Martin, which gave me time to look through my projects to date and avoid Calin and Maible. After the fifth missed phone call, though, I shut the ringer off and continued going through projects, biding time. A half hour later I waved goodbye to Mrs. Martin and circled the room once more before wandering the halls.

Getting my memory back was like coming out of a dream without something to brace you. Like, for weeks I was underwater, unable to think and numbed by dulled senses, and then pulled out into a chilly breeze without the heat of the sun. Since I wasn't in Wickenton long enough to get familiar, Grimas was still unexplored territory, and I stopped at every door that wasn't a classroom. With only one level, it didn't take long. I literally walked in circles.

The track in the back was still my favorite place, but the library came a close second.

Every corner had a locked door, which must lead to the towers I could see from the outside. Old, but impenetrable, they were identical, and at odds set against the modern layout of the school. Were they closed to students because they weren't safe? No. A few weeks ago, my energy was too low to notice anything but its appearance. Last week, it felt as tingly as the sign welcoming people into Wickenton by the clearing.

Today it knocked the breath right out of me.

Too curious for my own good, I looked left and right, just to make sure nobody was there, and then reached out to grasp the doorknob. It wiggled but never clicked. A keypad posted on the right-hand side of the frame flashed with a blinking red light, denying me access. Attached to a scanner with a pad meant for a finger, how could I jimmy it using my magic?

What could be there to require security?

I raised my hand to see if it would let me in.

"Miss Dwyer."

It took a moment to remember that was the name Devland had somehow managed to get people to call me after waking from the accident with amnesia. I dropped my hand to my side and took a calming breath, closing my eyes. A second later, I turned, full of smiles.

"Mr. Corbin! Hi!" Swallowing, I darted my eyes to the keypad and pointed. "I was just trying to get reacquainted by walking around . . . What is that?" I switched the direction of my finger to the corner behind me at the end of the opposite end of the hall and then waved my hand in a circle before dropping it to my side. "Why is there a locked door at every corner?"

"Because only qualified students take classes within the towers, Miss Dwyer," he said, making me cringe at the sound of my own name, and came to a stop in front of me. His hand rose to rest on his swollen stomach, much like a woman in her ninth month of pregnancy, but served to hide a popped button. "You are one of those students."

"Pardon me? No." I shook my head. "None of my classes are in the towers."

He took a paper out from the stack under his arms and held it out for me. "They are now. This is a revised schedule, Miss Dwyer. As of tomorrow, you will be in session with the guidance counselor right after lunch, and in WC-1 for fifth period instead of art."

"But... why?"

"You suffered a trauma—"

"I see Dr. Stanzo for that, Mr. Corbin. You had no right switching my classes. I mean, I like art. It's one of the few things I do remember, and . . ." I looked down, squinting at the schedule, and then held it back out, shaking my head. "I don't even know what WC-1 is. There's only a month until finals, so I'm not switching."

"It's already done."

Mr. Corbin held my gaze without blinking, but I could tell he was enjoying this. After how many times he'd called me into his office to blame me for pranks, I'm surprised he wasn't screaming at me for the tires, but I guess Devland used his clout when it suited his needs. Pinning me for that might trigger memories he didn't want me to have, so Mr. Corbin used changing my schedule and calling me by what he knew was the wrong name as a way to have fun. To punish me.

"This isn't going to be enforced. When I talk to Devland—"

"He is the one who asked for the changes in your schedule, Miss Dwyer," he said. "You'll finish the semester with these changes."

"What is WC-1? I'm a senior. Putting me in a class that sounds like a freshman course is unacceptable."

"You won't be graded. This placement is to assess your knowledge and skill within the subject, and then you will be advanced into the appropriate level for your final term prior to graduation."

My stomach dropped. WC... it was like nothing I had heard of, and I could think of only one subject that might fit the abbreviation. Combine that with living in a town where eighty percent of the population practiced the Craft, my knowledge and skill would be assessed, who my parents were, and the fact that I hadn't admitted my abilities to anyone but Calin and Luna? Yeah . . . I was definitely not going to be happy.

I held the new schedule up between us at eye level and slowly crinkled it into a ball, and then dropped to the floor without looking away from Mr. Corbin. "You can tell my father that this schedule can go in the shredder. I won't be needing it, and with only two credits needed to graduate, you can't make me."

"Miss Dwy—"

"See you tomorrow, Mr. Corbin," I said, pasting on a fake smile, and side-stepped him to walk away.

The moment he could no longer see my face, my grin disappeared. It took effort to keep an even pace instead of giving in to the urge to run. At least my control was back and no clouds had formed on top of the horrible man, but I wouldn't mind being able to give him a teacherly punishment for his outright disregard. Something like writing on the chalkboard a hundred times would do.

I will not abuse my authority over the students.

Noreena Dwyer is Noreena Fallyn.

I'm an asshat who needs a better toupee.

If he wrote, "I'm an idiot—please fire me," I wouldn't even make it write it again. But even though I knew my abilities were strong enough again to pull it off, I couldn't risk him figuring out I was better. Mentioning only needing two more credits was enough to plant suspicion—no teenager kept their transcripts lying around, and Devland had robbed my room of anything from before the accident. Nothing with my name on it existed for me now.

Besides, earlier I had no control, which meant I could just as easily turn him into a pet worm—tempting, but risky, and hardly covert. If someone accidentally cut him in half, there'd be two—worms regenerated. Since suicide wasn't an option, I'd have to be capable of murder if that happened.

How suspicious would it be if I didn't go to the class and counselor? By going, it felt like I was obeying commands like a dog expecting a treat, and that didn't sit well. But by not going, I raised the question of why, and I didn't need anyone looking for those answers until I supplied it on my terms. When I am ready. Until then... ugh!

Why the hell couldn't I get ahold of Zachariah?

I reached the parking lot at the front of the school and jumped in my car, and then started driving to Celestial Java. Luna would be in the midst of the afternoon rush, but I could sneak into the back and wait, maybe even meditate to calm my nerves. I had to talk to someone, and if she couldn't help me with a new plan, I was screwed.