Circle of Wands

Chapter 1- The Letter

 "Mail call!" Toran sat up and sighed. It was mandatory to go down and wait in line, even if you never got mail. He checked his watch and squinted.

"A bit early for mail, I reckon..." he muttered. Toran swung his legs off his thin mattress and padded out of the medium boy's rooms. The room for boys who aren't quite teenagers but have passed their child years.

Toran stepped carefully, not wanting to wake Westin as he passed the boy's teen section. He tugged on his too-small sweater with stripes on the cuffs. His khakis were, thankfully, silent as he tiptoed past.

Toran crept down the stairs and regained a normal pace as he reached the bottom. A line was already forming. He rushed over, as the further he was in the line, the faster he could escape. After a few minutes, he reached the front of the line.

"A letter," said the nurse at the front. Toran raised his eyebrows.

He took the envelope and dashed away. His socked feet thumped against the cold tiles and he found a small, dingy bathroom. Toran locked himself in a stall and unfolded the envelope.

Immediately, a handful of paper that seemed much too big for that singular envelope came pouring out. Something long and wooden went clattering to the filthy floor and Toran tried to untangle the papers. He found the first one, which was a letter written in curly handwriting.

"Dear Toran Marcus Holester," he read out loud. "As now you are thirteen, you have been enrolled in Southwinds Magic Academy. Your wand, which has materialized in the envelope especially for you, will help you with your magic. From now, you need a black windbreaker, a black cauldron, and chemistry goggles. Pack your chest with clothes, textbooks, and supplies. You should be able to buy them with emmins, but if you aren't able to, Southwinds will supply your things for you. Best regards, Headmistress Valeria Ginott."

Toran gasped. He bent down and picked up the stick.

"So it's a wand," he muttered excitedly. He flipped to the second sheet of paper. "You shall find your way to Southwinds if you go to 33 West Downer's Street on the thirteenth of August," he read out loud. He was getting more excited by the second, today was the twelfth. . He unfolded the third and final sheet of paper. It was long. It was... a contract?

Toran went back to the first and second pages. He found something.

"The third page is a contract stating that you are going to a reform school for troubled children, a boarding school." Toran read with a smile. All he had to do was ask the head nurse to sign this and he would be on his way. That shouldn't be hard, she was usually tipsy.

He raced out of the bathroom and up the stairs. He skidded to a stop,

Panicky, at the top of the stairs. God forbid we wake Westin, or he'd never get out of here into this Southwinds place. He tiptoed past the teens' room and into the mediums. He set the papers down on his cot and spread them out, staring at them with a grin on his face.

Toran picked up the fake contract and made his way back downstairs. Being excited, the journey took no time at all. He stood in front of the Head Nurse's office, preparing himself. He rose his thin hand and knocked, sending a blast of noise through the otherwise quiet corridor.

The door yanked open and the head nurse, Miss Peters, stood there, circles of rouge on her cheeks and an abundance of eyeshadow on her upper eyes. Tipsy, yes. Angry, no. You'd have to spend a while in this particular orphanage to know that she always looks angry, and not to take it personally. A long time, like Toran.

"What?" Miss Peters boomed.

"Could you sign this?" Toran asked meekly as he held up a pencil and the form. Miss Peters grabbed the pencil and signed on the line without even looking.

"Go back to your room, wretched child," she snarled, her neck red. Toran caught a glimpse of a half-empty bottle of gin behind her.

"Okay, thank you, bye," he said hurriedly and ran back upstairs, not worrying about waking Westin.

"Blimey," Toran whispered breathlessly. He was almost the only person in the mediums, besides a few other boys and Toran's rabbit, Twinkle.

Twinkle sniffled at Toran.

"Oh, hush. We're leaving," Toran said playfully. Twinkle twitched her nose and sniffed again. "Hello," he said fondly, stroking her small round nose. Or snout. Whatever it is. Twinkle closed her eyes and stood stock-still, enjoying the attention. Toran tilted his head, watching Twinkle with love in his eyes.

Toran turned back to his things. He had a duffel bag set out on his bed, along with his clothes. He folded each clothing article neatly and stuffed it in the bag. He carefully picked up his wand. Toran twirled it in the air randomly and...

"Woah," he breathed as a stack of books, a gleaming black cauldron, and a set of white and clear goggles appeared on him bed.

He picked up the books and put them, along with the goggles, in the cauldron.

How is this going to fit? he thought. He set the cauldron on top of his clothes in the bag and found he could zip up the bag with ease. He smiled. Magic, he thought with overwhelming glee. I am magical. He unzipped the duffel bag one more time to get another look at his school supplies.

He caught a glimpse of shiny black material when he shifted his cauldron. He pulled it out carefully. Toran had also magically received a black windbreaker. Now he had everything on the list, and he hadn't gone anywhere to buy anything.

I guess that means I don't have any "emmins", he thought part grimly, part excited. Not because he didn't have any of this supposed magic money, but because he was finally getting out of the orphanage.

Toran looked outside. It was already noon. Toran hurriedly put his windbreaker back in his bag and zipped it. He shoved it under his mediocre bed and raced downstairs for lunch. Mealtime was the only time that Westin was not snoring. Toran slid down the railing on his bottom and laughed as he landed.

"Magic," he whispered. "I'm magic!"

Toran ran to the meal room, his socked feet thumping on the floor. He whirled into the dining room, excited. Tomorrow he'd be gone. Tomorrow he got to be around people like him. He flung himself onto a bench and waiting for the food to be passed out.

"Grilled cheese," a chef called out. "Today is grilled cheese."

Toran sighed. Of course, he couldn't have everything, so naturally he was bound to have some bad luck before his life-changing transition. Toran received his grilled cheese and he picked it up with two fingers.

"Ugh," he groaned while wrinkling his nose. He bit into the crust and his gag reflex immediately flared, making him feel like he was trying to swallow a greasy brick. Toran forced himself to swallow it and pushed it away.

"I'm done," he whispered, beads of sweat and effort glistening on his forehead. He stood up stiffly and started to walk away, leaving his wretched sandwich behind. His stomach rumbled loudly. Oh, well, he thought. He could just have something later. Toran trotted up the stairs and past the teens rooms. He arrived at the mediums. He looked fondly around the dorm and smiled.

Toran was going to get moved to the teen rooms. Next summer, when he was fourteen. Twinkle jumped up onto his cot and he picked her up.

"You're the best," he cooed quietly. "You're my only friend." Everybody at the orphanage had their own little groups, cliques, and clubs. Toran was a part of none of them. They all excluded him, and that's why he'd kept Twinkle when he found her in the street.

He stroked her soft grey fur, watching her stiff ears twitch and move. He couldn't stop thinking about the letter, the letter that would and already has changed his life. Toran picked up Twinkle and lay down on his cot, placing her on his chest. She sniffed his sweater and her whiskers bounced and twitched. 

"We're leaving," he whispered giddily. Twinkle looked him directly in his eyes. He smiled and looked out the window. The clouds were dark and miserable, but to Toran, the sky had never looked happier.