I never regretted the scars—they were all I had left of my mom.
But that didn’t help me now. Now that I was staring at my limited, mostly winter weather wardrobe, and realizing that I had moved to a place where tank tops and short shorts were probably the local uniform of choice. And tomorrow I would be going to school in long sleeves and jeans.
God, the first day of school was going to suck. Hard.
The key at my throat throbbed as if in agreement or maybe just to remind me of its hateful presence. I brushed it with my fingertips again and I swore it jumped at my touch.
Right. I would be going to my new school in long sleeves, jeans, and a freaky magic necklace that wouldn’t come off.
I didn’t see how things could get any stranger.
3
“Meggie are you up? Are you getting ready? I have such wonderful news!” Aunt Delliee’s voice echoed down the hallway and I opened the door to my room to see her standing outside, nearly dancing with excitement. She was holding an oversized envelope made of some thick, creamy cardstock. It looked like a wedding invitation of some kind and she shoved it into my hands as though I should know what to do with it.
“What’s this?” I asked, looking at the envelope blankly. It had my name—well, sort of—in gorgeous calligraphy on the front, Miss Meagan Latimer.
Only Latimer was my mother’s maiden name—my last name was Foster. I said as much to Aunt Delliee but she waved a hand in dismissal.
“Never you mind that, Meggie. You’re a Latimer and you come from a long and distinguished lineage through your great-great-grandmother’s line.”
Which was kind of weird, but the envelope itself wasn’t exactly normal. Turning it over, I saw it was closed with an honest-to-God wax seal, like you’d see in a movie about kings and counts in the 17th century or something.
Someone had actually dribbled scarlet wax on it and stamped it with an elaborate crest that looked like a castle with battlements and towers. Curving over the top of the castle in flowing script were the words, Nocturne Academy. Under it, in what I assumed was Latin, I read, Qui Dominatur in Omni Noctem.
“What does this mean?” I asked, pointing to the phrase.
“The Night Reigns Over All,” Aunt Delliee said quickly, as though such a weird motto was of no consequence. “It’s just the Nocturne crest—quickly Meggie, open it!”
“Okay.” I sort of hated to break the elaborate wax seal but it peeled easily up off the paper as I lifted the edge of the envelope, so I didn’t have to worry after all. Inside was a single sheet of creamy paper folded in threes. I pulled it out and opened it.
Dear Miss Latimer, (it read)
It is Nocturne Academy’s very great pleasure to inform you that you have been admitted to our venerable institution of Superior Learning and Other Studies, said admittance effective immediately. Please present yourself to the North Tower at Nine of the Clock on Monday the Tenth of September, the Year of our Lord, two thousand and twenty.
Very Truly Yours,
Isabel Nightworthy, Headmistress.
Post Script: Despite your current Null status, a strong case has been made for your distinguished lineage and the possibility of talents which may emerge in the future. Therefore, no remuneration will be required for your tuition. Your room, board, books and uniforms will likewise be provided completely gratis. We welcome you.
Qui Dominatur in Omni Noctem.
I stared at the paper and its strange message. I had never seen a letter which actually spelled out “post script” before. Then again, I had never been summoned anywhere in “the year of our Lord” before either. What was going on?
“Oh, they gave you a full scholarship! I knew they would. You see? You’re not a Latimer for nothing, my dear!”
Aunt Delliee had been reading over my shoulder. Her gray-green eyes—the same color as mine and all the women in our family—were shining with excitement.
“But what is Nocturne Academy? I never applied there.” I turned the paper over as though I might find something else on the back—maybe a history of this strange place which had apparently accepted me out of the blue. There was nothing though—just creamy blankness.
“My dear, it’s only the premier Learning Academy for Other Studies in the entire Southeast quadrant!” Aunt Delliee exclaimed. “I applied you for admittance the minute your father promised he was sending you here to live. I didn’t want to tell you before because I wasn’t quite sure about you getting admitted,” she added. “And they certainly took their time about deliberating but the envelope arrived just in time!”
“But where is it?” I asked, frowning. “Today is September the tenth and it’s eight o’clock now. How can I possibly get there in time?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” Aunt Delliee said, plucking the letter from my hands and putting it carefully back in its envelope. “The Academy’s just down Orange Blossom Lane in the old Pearson orchard. Come on, Meggie—we have to go.”