Episode Three: Worlds Collide

Poppy opened the front door to reveal a pile of brown and tan suitcases tumbled across the porch. A tall girl with ruby red hair stood in their midst with an outraged expression.

“Not just genuine Louis Vuitton, it’s vintage,” she hissed at the man scrambling to restack the luggage on a cart he’d evidently lifted up the porch steps. “If you’ve scratched one of them…”

“I’m so sorry, Miss Stropharia,” the man said, although I could now see he was more of a boy and probably barely our age. “Where do you want me to…”

“Oh, right in here,” Poppy piped up. She opened the door a little wider, and I stepped aside so the boy could wheel the cart of very expensive, very vintage luggage inside.

“You must be September,” Poppy said, holding out her hand in welcome.                    

The new girl lowered the huge black sunglasses covering her face and eyed Poppy from head to toe in what I thought was a rather insulting way. “Yes,” she said, ignoring Poppy’s outstretched hand. “And you are…?”

“Poppy,” she said. “I’m the Caster in charge of your house.” She grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me forward. “And this is Dana Bolete, one of your housemates.”

I struggled not to shrink in September’s presence. She was tall and slender and looked as fashionable as a supermodel with her red hair piled in an artfully messy bun on top of her head. I wasn’t normally one to notice clothing, but it was hard to ignore how well the plunging neckline of her blouse or the sky-high height of her stilettos highlighted her assets.

“Hi,” I managed to say.

She nodded, and then pushed her sunglasses back into place. “Someone just point me to the nearest bathroom.”

Poppy took her into the house and left me standing on the porch with nothing to do. I stewed in my thoughts for awhile before remembering the unfinished novel in my backpack. I had just started in to retrieve it when Natalie came down the street leading two girls who couldn’t have looked more different from each other if they tried. I stopped to watch them approach.

The girl on Natalie’s right was a petite blonde wearing a strapless sundress and pastel pink wedges. She seemed to be smiling at everyone and everything her gaze fell upon. Honestly, she looked pretty much like a walking dumb blonde stereotype and I feared for my sense of patience around her. Miss Fashionista seemed bad enough…

On Natalie’s other side was a much taller girl sporting cut-off jean shorts and a ponytail of curly brown hair that had been liberally streaked with purple. She strode along with purpose, and I even caught her rolling her eyes at something Natalie was chattering to them about. Nice, I thought. Maybe I’ll have an ally who realizes how ridiculous this place is.

“Hi again, Dana,” Natalie said as they came up onto the porch. “I’ve got two new friends for you and Poppy. Did Miss Stropharia make it over here all right?”     

           

I nodded. “I think she traumatized that boy who was carrying her stuff,” I said.

Natalie chuckled. “That’s the Dean’s son. And he could use some traumatizing.” She turned to the newcomers. “All right, girls, I’m off to look for your last house mate. You’ve got a couple of minutes to get acquainted before Poppy brings you up to the Cauldron for your orientation.” She trotted off again before I could ask her what the heck the Cauldron was.

The blonde girl waved at me. “My name’s Echo Morel,” she announced with a bright smile. “And you look an awful lot like Audrey Bolete. Are you her daughter?”

I was taken aback. Most witches my age didn’t pay much attention to current events. “You know who my mom is?”

“Of course! She’s only done more for the acceptance of witchcraft than – oh hey, is that a vintage Louis Vuitton purse?”

She was pointing past me so I turned. September stood in the doorway surveying us over the top of her sunglasses.

“Yes, of course it’s vintage Louis Vuitton,” she replied coolly. “Who are you?”

“She’s Echo,” the ponytailed girl said, brushing past Echo and holding out her hand to me. “And I’m Angelica Chanterelle. Sorry, I didn’t catch your first name.”

“Dana,” I said, shaking her hand and feeling grateful that there was someone who seemed able to take control back from September. “Nice to meet--”

“Well, I’m September Stropharia,” September interrupted. She glanced Angelica up and down the same way she had with Poppy earlier. “Where are you girls from?”

Angelica arched an eyebrow at her. “New Jersey. I’ll prove it if you want me to.” She smirked.

September sniffed disdainfully and gave Echo and me a pointed look. “And you?”

“Oh, I’m from nowhere really,” Echo said with the same cheerful tone she’d introduced herself in. I got the feeling she was cheerful about pretty much everything and wondered again how someone so seemingly naïve kept up with my mom’s career when these other girls didn’t appear to have a clue. “I’ve lived here and there, you know. I guess I’ll say I’m from Holyoak when people ask me after this year.”

“Suburbs in Connecticut,” I muttered when they all looked at me.

Echo poked her head through the doorway to get a better look at the parlor. “Hey, let’s go inside. It’s so pretty!”

We followed her in. While Echo explored the room, September sat herself gingerly on the edge of a couch and began fishing in her purse for something. Angelica nudged me and rolled her eyes. I smiled a bit at her, and she grinned in return.

“Oh good, you’ve all met.” Poppy had returned with the Dean’s son in tow. His face was flushed and sweaty. “Jake’s put all of your things upstairs. Isn’t he a sweetheart?”

We all murmured something like assent except for Echo who crossed the room and flung her arms around Jake. “Thank you!” she said, and she kissed him swiftly on the cheek. Jake flushed even brighter red.

Poppy gave Echo an indulgent smile and sent Jake on his way. He watched Echo as he left, nearly crashing into the doorframe instead of walking through it. I shook my head, and noticed Angelica doing the same. This time we smiled much wider at each other.

“All right, girls,” Poppy said. “I guess your house mate is late, so we’ll just have to start without her.” She stood in our midst like a tiny general marshalling her forces. Echo was the only one even close to her in height, and she was still several inches taller. “My name is Poppy, and I’ll be in charge of you for the next year. You’ll find I’m pretty nice, but don’t test me or you’ll be talking to the Dean of Students, Professor Henderson. I believe in the three strikes policy, so mess up too many times and you’re out of here.” She grinned suddenly, and the effect on her round face was a bit manic. “But don’t worry. We’re going to have fun together!”

I glanced around the room at the other girls to find they all looked as uncertain as I felt about Poppy’s speech. But we didn’t have much time to contemplate it. Our Head Witch motioned us all toward the door.

“We’ll go over the rules in finer detail later. For now, it’s time for the Dean’s welcome speech up at the Cauldron. Follow me, please!”  

Poppy tried to keep us all in a tight knot as we trooped up the hill, but Echo drifted away to introduce herself to some of the other groups of girls emerging from their houses. I was walking behind September and wondering how in the name of the gods she was managing her heels on the cobblestones. Ahead of us, Angelica asked Poppy when flying lessons might start, and the older girl laughed.

“Think you’re ready now, do you? Have you even mastered Listening yet?”

Angelica frowned. “Well no, but how hard can the basics be?”

Poppy answered her with more laughter, which I wasn’t quite sure how to take. Listening wasn’t that hard. I’d had a pretty good grasp on it since the age of fourteen.

The street wound itself in a loop at the top of the hill. It was bordered by three huge brick buildings as well as another house like ours only even more ornate, if that was possible. Poppy pointed it out as the Dean’s house and then directed our attention to the large white statue in the middle of the roundabout.

“Serilda Shepherd,” she said with a proud look. “She’s the witch who founded the school. When she died in 1930, they buried her right there. And now her spirit watches over her students for all eternity.”

Yeah right, I thought. I’m sure Serilda has better things to do with her afterlife than watch a bunch of girls try not to blow themselves up.

Poppy led us to the largest of the brick buildings. “This is the Cauldron. You’ll have your first classes here in a few days,” she told us. “And all of the administration’s offices are here too.” She took us straight through the building to the auditorium built off its back. Thankfully, this building was decorated far less garishly than the Honeybee House. Portraits of famous witches were hung on the walls (which I found pleasingly off-white after the assault of color in our parlor), and an occasional niche held small shrines to known goddesses. It looked like the school had managed to maintain the original wooden floors and crown molding of the place quite well, so everything felt clean and comfortable. I felt some of my tension ease – even if it was just a tiny bit. At least this felt like an environment I could learn in.  

The auditorium was barely the size of my high school’s smallest gymnasium. There was a stage framed by curtains and rows of folding seats with red cushions filled the floor. It had the air of an old movie theater. I filed into a row with the other girls in my house and sat down, grateful that it was cool and dark and I had a second or two without someone trying to talk to me. I sat next to Poppy who was now embroiled in conversation with another older girl that I took to be the Caster in charge of “Toad House” from her glitter painted t-shirt. I felt a pang of relief for avoiding that fate.

I looked around at my peers. For only thirty girls, I was surprised by the diversity I saw. And most everyone looked like they were already making friends. I was the only one not talking to one of their neighbors, and down the row from me Echo seemed to be carrying on a steady conversation with four or five others. Her little section erupted in sudden laughter and Poppy whipped her head around so fast that I started. She glared at Echo and her gang hard for half a minute or so before she turned back to her friend. I didn’t know what to make of her reaction, but I was a little scared of ‘testing’ her now.

I seemed to be the only one looking at the stage when a group of women including the hyperactive Natalie and tweed-wearing Anna came out and sat on the chairs lined up in a row before us. One of them remained standing in front of the rest. She had pure white hair woven in an intricate braid that fell below her waist, and she wore a flowy skirt and blouse combination that would have been on trend at Woodstock.

“Merry meet!” she said, and the sound of her voice seemed to expand and fill the auditorium. The girls around me fell silent almost immediately and faced forward, some with awed expressions. I smiled. Vocal enhancement spells were not overly complicated, but they did produce astounding effects.

“Greetings, girls, and may the goddesses of our ancestors bless you all. I am Belinda Lona, the Dean of the School.” There was a smattering of applause that I joined in on. Dean Lona smiled at us. “I am going to keep this short and sweet,” she said. “Today marks the beginning of your four year journey to mastering the thirteen sacred powers of our craft. The ladies behind me are some of the accredited witches who will guide you on that journey. Most of you probably met Miss Anna Henderson at our front gate this morning. She is the Dean of Students this year, and will be a special friend to you Neophytes.”

Anna smiled warmly at us all.

Dean Lona introduced the other women by name and title as well. Anna had an assistant named Pearl. There was Imogene Ivy, the Dean of Admissions who had personally penned each of our admissions letters. And then there was a separate dean for each of the four classes of students. Ours was a petite woman with a mohawk and a Russian surname that I couldn’t have repeated if I tried.

“I won’t be introducing you to all of your professors today, of course,” Dean Lona went on. “But we do have two representatives here. Professor Vega will be your first Listening teacher. And Professor Wilde is Head of the Casting department.”

Professor Wilde turned out to be Natalie, and she stood up and waved with all the enthusiasm of Kara seeing One Direction for the first time. I was less than thrilled. I had almost mastered my casting technique at home under the tutelage of my mother, and I shuddered to think of what kind of teacher Natalie Wilde would turn out to be.  

Dean Lona smiled gently as Natalie sat back down. “Well, now that you’ve met our coven, it’s time for you to go out, meet each other, and form your own covens. We have pre-assigned you to your houses based on a set of criteria meant to match you with the girls most capable of helping you grow in the craft. I trust that your Caster sisters can answer most if not all of your questions, but please know that my door is always open to curious minds who come knocking.” She opened her arms as though to embrace us all. “I hope you enjoy your time here at WCH as much as I have. Blessed be, daughters.”

“Blessed be,” we murmured in return. Well, I murmured. Echo and some of the others practically shouted it back at her as though we were the audience at the Rocky Horror Picture Show or something equally crass.

Poppy chivvied us along back to the Honeybee House (“You’ll want to decide who gets what room and set up all of your things before the ice cream social tonight…”) not that any of us but Echo had any intention of dawdling. She seemed intent on trying to make as many friends as possible before being almost physically pulled back to the house by Poppy who was frowning by the time they finally walked through the front door.

“Okay, girls,” Poppy said, pushing Echo toward one of the chairs. The blonde girl flopped down with a grin, and I thought I heard her quietly humming an Elvis Presley song. “As you might have already guessed, there are five empty bedrooms in this house. As the resident Caster, I am living in the first bedroom off the second floor landing. But you lot are free to divide and conquer as you sit fit.” She waved at us. “Go on. We have plans tonight, and you’re going to be very busy the next few days – you’ll see once you get your schedules – so go unpack now while you have time.”

I was halfway to the stairs before any of the others had even gotten up. Finally, a chance to choose my room and set up an oasis of solitude! But I stopped in my tracks when I reached the second floor landing. It seemed that the conscientious Jake had left our suitcases stacked according to owner, and September’s tower of stuff had teetered and crashed into the others. Four sets of suitcases were now piled all over each other in a confusing jumble of canvas and leather. A few with clasps had popped open and articles of clothing were strewn all over the floor.

Angelica was right behind me. “Oh what the f--”

“That boy!” September shrieked, seeing her admittedly beautiful clothing mingled with ours.

“What’s the matter?” I heard Echo say from halfway down the stairs.

I stepped aside to let the others assemble near me and we all stared at the mess, speechless. And then Echo started laughing. The rest of us turned to stare at her.

“Don’t you think it’s funny?” she said. She pointed at a pair of soccer cleats tangled with a lacy bra. “Pretty good icebreaker, huh?”

“My lingerie!” September’s voice ratcheted up another notch. Her eyes were growing huger by the second. “My dresses! My Manolo Blahniks!” She seized another pair of stilettos from the floor and clutched them to her chest like a mother saving her child from certain death.

Angelica made a strangled noise in her throat. “Are you serious, girl?” she said with evident disgust. “They’re just clothes. What’s the big deal?”

“What’s… the… big deal?” September spluttered.

“Hmm,” Echo murmured. “They are Manolo Blahniks.” She nodded at me as though I would understand. “Classic.”

September wailed something wordless. Angelica pushed her out of the way and grabbed the soccer cleats, throwing them in one of the open cases. I glanced at what hadn’t spilled, saw a lot of athletic wear, and cringed. I had been feeling like Angelica and I understood each other, but I was so not an athlete.

“Don’t, don’t! You’re ruining my things!” September had found her words again. She dove in beside Angelica and soon things were flying in every direction. I saw one of my books go over Angelica’s shoulder and land with the pages crushed.

“Hey!” I said. I picked it up and tried unsuccessfully to smooth the bent cover.

“Ooh, look, my lotion spilled,” Echo said. “Mmm, doesn’t it smell good?”

“Gods above, if you’ve destroyed my one of a kind leather jacket made especially for me by-”

“Oh shut up, Princess,” Angelica sneered. “I’ve seen that leather jacket a million times. She can get you a new one at Sears.”

September’s face turned almost as red as her hair in what was evidently an apoplectic fury. She screwed her eyes shut and hurled the sneaker she was holding at the ground in frustration. Unfortunately, Echo had just reached out to gather her spilled jewelry and the shoe slammed into her hand. The petite girl let out a startled yelp and yanked it back.

“Spoiled brat!” Angelica growled. She raised a fist and I sincerely thought she would have clobbered September in the face if our fifth house mate had not reached the top of the stairs at that very moment.

I couldn’t blame Angelica in the least for stopping mid-step and gaping like a fish. The new girl stared at us too, and I guess I couldn’t blame her for that considering what she’d just walked into, but her physical appearance was so startling that I simply could not think about anything else. She wore black lipstick and a eyeliner. Half of her head was shaved, and the other half had been cut in a severe angled bob of black and navy blue. She was pierced in at least half a dozen places that I could see, and probably more that I couldn’t because she was wearing a black military-style jacket that covered her from neck to wrist. Her tiny pleated skirt and fishnet stockings seemed almost normal next to the knee-high platform wedge boots she wore. They had so many silver buckles on them that I couldn’t see how a girl so slender could walk, let alone come up the stairs.

“Girls, this is… What is going on here!” Poppy showed up behind the new girl with a shocked expression. Angelica seemed to awaken and dropped her upraised fist. Poppy shook her head.

“Clean up this mess right now and put your things away.  You only have an hour before dinner, and then anything that’s still here is going straight to the garbage heap.” She had puffed up her ample chest in her anger, but it suddenly deflated as she gently pushed the new girl toward us. The girl stumbled, but caught herself and stood looking at us wide-eyed. “And this is Nicola Whitecap. Why don’t you make her feel at home, huh?”

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Episode 4: Poetry and Tact -->

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