Chapter Text
“ College Michani” the archway had read. Artfully sculpted statues of bizarre, eldritch creatures flanked either side of it. The recruits had been efficiently and ruthlessly sorted into groups by the officers at the gates. One group, one Professor. One Ghost.
Edmund dragged his feet forward. Each step was agonizing. He cringed as soreness lanced through his soles and ankles. His fellow recruits also seemed similarly distressed. They had been marching countless miles all day for a week. No rest, no break. A hundred miserable thirteen-year-olds trudging through the wilderness. One meal at dawn and one at dusk. If a small loaf of bread and wine was considered a “meal,” that is.
The marble floors of the institute squeaked as he slogged forward. No one dared to ask the Professor for a break. No one dared to ask anyone for anything, actually. During the march, one boy begged to sit down, only for a moment. The officers ignored him, and he was left behind. The Professor stopped suddenly, and Edmund nearly crashed into him. They had stopped at an inconspicuous wall.
Pure. White. Marble.
The wall looked identical to every other surface in the entire college. Edmund’s peers murmured amongst each other. The Professor stiffly swiveled around to face the class. His flowy black blouse, eerily enough, didn’t ruffle from the movement. Neither did any strand of the Professor’s perfectly manicured hair. He wore a white mask in the shape of a gentle, smiling human face. All of the Professors did, allegedly. Hudson had told him that they did it to look less scary. Edmund couldn’t possibly believe that. If anything, the masks only made them more sterile, more alien.
“Welcome, children.” For someone so lithe and threadlike, the Professor had a very deep voice. It seemed to shake the floor like a horrible force of nature. Edmund felt a hand grab his elbow. He turned. It was Hudson, who had managed to work his way through the small crowd.
“You all have been brought here because you are fortunate.” The Professor said, “Fortunate enough to be granted the opportunity to serve. Serve your families. Serve your countries. Serve the world.” He opened his arms wide on each side. “For four years, you will study under one of the greatest Ghosts in the world.” He paused for emphasis before striking a cutesy pose.
“Me!” The Professor’s voice now had a smile in it. “And then, one day, you all will graduate and be Ghosts just like me! Aren’t you excited?”
Silence.
“Hm!” He placed his hands on his hips. “Well, I suppose that’s no fault of your own! You poor little things must be exhausted from marching for so long!” The Professor leaned forward and pinched Edmund’s cheek with a black-gloved hand. Edmund froze like a statue as if he were trying not to attract the attention of a shark. The Professor had been quiet as the grave all day. His… bizarre demeanor was certainly disorienting.
“But fear not, little guppies! After we go through all of the boring routine, I’ll assign each of you to your suites. Doesn’t that sound fun?” The Professor clapped excitedly. Edmund exchanged confused glances with Hudson and the others. They hesitantly joined in with the clapping.
“Ohh, that’s the spirit!” The Professor did a jolly heel-click. He whipped around to face the wall once more. “Let’s get on with it, then, shall we?” He casually flicked his wrist, sending the wall sliding to the right. It noiselessly glided into a pillar, revealing a library. The Professor sashayed in, humming to himself.
“A library?” Edmund whispered to Hudson, his eyes pleading for an explanation. Hudson knew more than him about the college, after all. Hudson shrugged and mouthed ‘I don’t know’ with wide eyes. The other students began to filter after the Professor. Edmund smiled unsurely at Hudson and followed.
The library wasn’t so big as it simply was tall. Dozens, hundreds, thousands, millions of books, all pristinely aligned. Each row was packed to the brim with tomes. Row upon row of books stacked on top of one another for infinity, each supported only by a humble plank of wood. Edmund looked up, gazing at the forever continuing expanse of books. There was no ceiling in sight. A single lantern suspended by a chain hung down from the abyss. It washed the whole room in a dim glaze of light. The Professor traced the shelves with a loving finger.
“Ahhh!” He sighed. “Smell that, kids? Dust, paper, ink…I do love the library!”
Edmund did have to admit that the must of the library was somewhat pleasant.
“Now, I know you all are dying to have a book of your own, but organization is crucial!” said the Professor. “Do you like that? That’s a little motto I just made up. ‘Organization is crucial…’ yes, yes, I like that…oh! That’s perfect, actually!” The smile returned to his voice. “We need a class motto anyway, so why not make it that? ‘Organization is crucial!’ Say it with me everyone!”
“Organization is crucial!” The Professor chimed.
“...Organization is crucial…” Edmund and the students mumbled.
“Oh, come on, now! More gusto!” He pumped his arm.
“Organization is crucial..!” Edmund and the students mumbled, slightly louder.
“Eh, it’ll do for now. But listen.” The Professor leaned in seriously. “In a few weeks, we’ll have the first school conference of the year, when all of the Ghosts bring their classes together to meet each other. And I want each and every one of you to be perfect.” All the whimsy deserted the Professor’s voice. “Not a hair out of place. Not a shoe un-shined. And when I say, ‘This is Class Gear, and our motto is-’, you all will scream it. I don’t care if your voice goes hoarse. Scream it.”
Edmund’s mind had become so choked with fear that he hadn’t realized every other student had backed up nervously.
“Yes?” The Professor honed in on Edmund, leaning in close. Edmund tried to swallow, but couldn’t. He tried to back up, but couldn’t. He opened and shut his mouth like a dying fish.
What should I say? What should I say?
“Yes…”
What do I call him? Ghost? Professor?
“...sir.” Edmund managed. The Professor chuckled and pinched his cheek again. When the Professor took away his hand, Edmund rubbed his face. It was now twice-pinched and a little red.
“Ahh, ‘sir!’ I like ‘sir!’ Good job, boy!” The Professor exclaimed. “Everyone, from now on, whenever I say anything, you say ‘yes, sir,’ okay?”
“Yes, sir,” The class chorused.
“Now, what was I saying?” He paused. “Oh, right! Organization is crucial, guppies. As much as I’d love to skip straight to the fun books and suite-assigning, we have to do things systematically.” He paced in circles as if he were talking to himself, and Edmund and the class were just figments of the imagination. “That’s how things get done around here, after all! Systematically. Organized. Like our motto! Our motto…” He trailed off, looking at the class.
“ORGANIZATION IS CRUCIAL!” Everyone screamed in unison.
“Very good!” The Professor laughed. “You all are quick learners! This is going to be such a delightful class, I just know it!”
Edmund blinked, and suddenly, the Professor was holding a gigantic ledger. In his other hand was a reed pen.
Where did he get those? None of the books were missing from the shelves. The Professor opened up the ledger and cleared his throat.
“Adams, Cordelia?” He announced.
A meek girl peeped like a frightened chickadee. She hopped forward. The Professor mused to himself and jotted something down. Edmund’s pulse began to hammer.
What is he doing? Is he…is he sizing us up, or something?
“Blackwell, Jane?” The Professor called. No one answered. The mask revealed nothing, but Edmund could feel that the Professor was frowning. It was as if his emotions leached into the air like caustic ooze. “Blackwell, Jane?” He repeated. He received a similar response, that being absolute silence.
“Blackwell. Jane.” It was no longer a question, but a statement. A summoning. Edmund shuffled to the side, eager to escape the harshening gaze of the Professor. It seemed that everyone else had the same idea as they parted left and right. Only one girl was left standing in the open. She was short and stocky. Curly, platinum blonde hair was cropped short near her skull. She leaned to the side, placing all her weight on one leg. She propped a hand on her hip, and inspected her nails with the other. The girl looked up, almost bored.
“Here.” She paused, almost daring the Professor to say something. “...sir.” Edmund had never heard anyone put so much contempt into a single word.
“Get in line.” The Professor’s voice was dangerously smooth. Even, pristine, and slick, just like the marble floor. Jane shrugged and moseyed up next to the first girl. She acted as if she had nothing better to do. The Professor gripped his hand on her shoulder. Edmund could see his nails digging in from across the room. He leaned in and hissed something into Jane’s ear. She blanched, and immediately fixed her posture. The model of a perfect student.
The Professor cheerfully continued taking attendance like nothing had happened. A few names weren’t even present. Whenever he discovered this, the Professor clucked his tongue disappointedly.
“Oh, shame. They must have been left behind at the march. Oh well.” He said with the same intensity of someone bemoaning cold weather. “Maybe they’ll turn up sometime this week. Or not.” He continued calling names with a shrug.
“Rhodes, Edmund?”
Edmund sucked in a breath and lined up with everyone else. The Professor nodded and marked a page.
“Rhodes, Hudson?” He said. The Professor paused, then became giddy. “Oohh! Two Rhodes? Are you two twins, or something?”
“Cousins,” Hudson answered faintly.
“Speak up, guppy! I can’t hear you,” The Professor placed a hand to his ear.
Hudson’s lower lip trembled. Edmund knew him well enough to know exactly what was happening inside his head. Overthinking, panicking, screaming. He could feel the Professor’s frustration mounting as he waited for an answer that would never arrive.
“Cousins,” Edmund blurted. The Professor turned around.
That was a mistake. Edmund realized with dread. He wasn’t addressing me! Edmund decided to double down.
“We’re cousins, Hudson and I.” He continued. “Our mothers are twins, though. Identical.”
The Professor paused for a full second, frozen.
Is he thinking? Is he going to punish me? An icy claw of fear gripped Edmund’s stomach.
“Is that so?” The Professor perked up. “That’s fun! I’m a twin myself, actually.”
Edmund untensed. Hudson also decompressed with relief.
“Anyhow, back to attendance.” The Professor said as Hudson lined up next to Edmund. When the Professor had finished calling names about twenty students were lined up beside Edmund and Hudson. The Professor shut the ledger with a satisfied sigh. He tossed the ledger to the side. Edmund waited to hear the heavy thump of the book colliding with the floor, but it never happened. It had vanished.
“Ooh, this is my favorite part of every year!” The Professor did a small dance. “Are you all ready to choose your books?”
“Excuse me, sir.” A lone hand raised from the line. Edmund spun to look at the person who had the bravery (or stupidity) to speak up. He was…painfully unremarkable. Straight face, average height, forgettable features. But there was a hint of wolfish intelligence Edmund saw in his eyes. His boring, ordinary eyes.
What did the Professor call him? His last name was…Poiser? Something like that?
“Yes, Pointon?”
“Forgive me for interrupting, but could you please explain what book we’re…’choosing?’ And…for what? Are these for our classes?” He rubbed his chin in thought.
“Excellent question, my boy!” The Professor ruffled Pointon’s hair. “As I’m sure you all have gathered, there’s one of me and…” He promptly counted the students. “Twenty-five of you! I couldn’t possibly teach each and every one of you!” He playfully danced his hand down every student’s shoulder. Edmund watched Hudson flinch at the sudden, fleeting touch. “Well, I can give you lessons and try to keep most of you from perishing horribly, but the minds of us humans can be so varied! So each of you will be receiving a book. A tutor. A friend. Your book will help you learn in a style catered to you, specifically! How lucky!” The Professor shimmied with excitement. Edmund was beginning to become annoyed with how he never sat still.
“Ahh, I remember when I was a student, just like you all! My book was really quite lovely. Mean, sometimes, but lovely, really!”
“So, we’re choosing a book to help us learn?” Edmund interjected, trying to nip the Professor’s tangent in the bud.
“Well, you won’t be choosing them so much as the books will be choosing you,” The Professor said enigmatically, giving Edmund a playful tap on the nose.
“Oh. I understand.” Edmund said, not understanding.
“That’s that! Who wants to go first? Any volunteers?” The Professor craned out his neck like a bird of prey. Edmund glanced over to Hudson, who looked like he was about to pass out.
Please don’t choose him, Professor…
“Rhodes!” The Professor announced. He paused, and for a moment, Edmund hoped that the Professor meant him. “That Rhodes!” He clarified loudly, pointing to Hudson. “Huh! That’s going to get annoying fast. I guess I can’t call you by your last name, then? What was your first name, again…?” He beckoned Hudson with his hand.
Edmund bit his tongue. He couldn’t express why, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the Professor remembered fully well.
He’s toying with him. Edmund felt irritated on Hudson’s behalf as his cousin stumbled over his own words.
“Hudson, sir.” He said.
“Hmmmmmmmm?” The Professor seized Hudson by the collar of his shirt and hoisted him close to his mask. “You should learn to enunciate, little guppy. I can’t hear you when you’re stammering.”
Hudson took a deep gulp of air.
“MY NAME IS HUDSON!” He bellowed.
“WELL DONE!” The Professor screamed back, abruptly dropping Hudson to the ground. “Hudson, my boy, would you care to choose your book first?” The Professor motioned to the endless bookshelf.
“If you would like me to, sir!” Hudson answered as clearly as he could.
“I very much would! Go, go, we haven’t got much time to spare! We’ve got twenty-five of you little ankle-biters to get through, after all!” The Professor mimed checking a pocket watch. Hudson stumbled toward the bookshelf, glancing uncertainly over his shoulder. Edmund gave him a reassuring nod. Hudson returned it, looking steeled. He shakily stepped onto the ladder propped up against the shelf. It, too, stretched on into the distance.
“And I can pick anything?” He asked.
“You can try,” The Professor said. “But only a book that likes you will come out.”
“‘Likes me…?’” Hudson repeated to himself. He hoisted his short legs over the huge steps of the ladder. “How can a book like me? It’s just a book.”
“‘Just a book,’ he says!” The Professor cackled. “Yes, good one, Hudson! I think you’ll find our lovely college’s books are far from the ordinary sort.”
Hudson shook his head, mystified. He began to trace his fingers across the endless tomes. A full minute of hesitant scanning ensued. The Professor tapped his foot impatiently. Even Edmund was starting to get a bit antsy.
“Come on, then! Pick one! We haven’t all day, little guppy!” He said.
Hudson’s shoulders clenched as his scanning became more frantic. Just as he was about to choose a book, the Professor interrupted him.
“Oh, but do take thought into which you try to pick! After all, it’s going to be your best friend for four whole years!” The Professor chimed.
Hudson immediately swung back into indecisive paralysis. Edmund sighed. This was going to take all day, at the current rate.
“Hudson!” He yelled. “Try that…um…that gray one?” Edmund suggested, pointing at the weathered grey journal to Hudson’s left.
“Oh!” Hudson smiled, thankful that someone was telling him what to do. He tugged at the gray book. It didn’t budge. He tugged again. Nothing.
“Aw, bad luck.” The Professor folded his arms. “I guess that one isn’t very warm toward you. I wouldn’t pull on it again. It might try to kill you, haha!”
Edmund was afraid that Hudson was going to faint and go careening off the ladder. To his credit, though, his cousin stayed strong. He snapped his hand away with only a reasonable amount of fear. After a few seconds of reconsideration, he tried a different book. It stayed. And another. It stayed. And another. It stayed. And another. It stayed.
The Professor let out a long, exaggerated yawn. He glanced back at the line of students.
“I hope all of you aren’t going to take so long.” He muttered.
Hudson must have heard the remark, because he increased his book-tugging rate by tenfold. Tug, tug, tug, tug, tug. He began to climb up and down the ladder, desperately searching for any book that would pop loose for him.
“Gee, they’re picky this year!” The Professor scratched his head curiously. “Or maybe they just hate you,” He added in a snide, barely audible voice.
Edmund heard it, and it made him want to sucker-punch the Professor right then and there. He was not eager to spend four years learning from this man. Hudson had become so frenzied in his book-tugging that he wasn’t even looking at their spines anymore. He tugged a different book with each hand, skimming the rows as fast as he could manage.
A book popped loose. It had a soft, faint blue cover. A four-point star was etched in gold on the front cover, surrounded by intricate patterns in similar gold. The corners of the book curved out bizarrely, like the top of a column. Edmund blinked, then blinked again. He still couldn’t believe his eyes. The golden etchings were…moving? They danced and swirled hypnotically, swaying like grass in a gentle breeze. Hudson stared at it, fascinated.
“Ding-a-ling-ling! Winner!” The Professor cheered.
Hudson opened the book. Silver mist began to pour out of the pages, swirling around Hudson like a pod of friendly dolphins. A cloud of fog crept around his forearm and onto his wrist. It encircled it, slowly solidifying to become a shackle with a long chain. A very long chain. Long enough for the Professor to lean over and give it a sharp tug. The yank snapped Hudson out of whatever stupor he had entered.
“Come on down, champ! You and your new best friend!” He ushered Hudson down the ladder with open arms. Hudson clambered down the ladder. He paused halfway down and screamed, looking at his wrist. He dropped the book, and it went plummeting to the ground with a thump.
“What-?! WHAT IS THIS!?” He screamed, scratching at the misty wrist cuff. His fingers phased through the intangible fog. Hudson started to flail his arm helplessly, hoping to shake away the magic chain somehow. The Professor, cool-headed yet irate, grabbed Hudson’s chain and tugged again. This time, however, the pull was so strong that Hudson toppled to the floor on top of his book. The Professor yanked Hudson to his feet and raised his arm to–
CRACK.
The slap echoed throughout the library. Hudson fell mute, stunned. Before Edmund knew what he was doing, he sprinted at the Professor.
You–!
A strong hand grabbed his shoulder, stopping his assault before it began. Edmund stumbled, whipping around. Pointon had seized his shoulder.
“Don’t.” He said. One word was enough for Edmund to come to his senses and jump back into line. What was he thinking? The Professor was a fully-trained Ghost. He could probably turn him inside-out with a humble snap. Thankfully, the Professor hadn’t noticed Edmund’s flash of rage. Instead, he was bent down to pick up Hudson’s book.
He brushed its blue cover with reverent care. Quietly, he put it back into Hudson’s hands.
“Do not throw your book.” He instructed. His voice had once again returned to its eerie calm. “You are lucky it didn’t kill you for such a show of flagrant disrespect.” The Professor spat.
No one moved, including Hudson or the Professor.
“Alright-y! Who’s next!” He wheeled around, beaming at the class. Unsurprisingly, no hands raised. The Professor groaned. “Oh, seriously! Are we going to have to do this every time? Someone volunteer, please! I’m begging you! Begging!” He lamented.
“Um, sir?” Pointon raised his hand again. The Professor gasped.
“You’d like to go next?”
“Oh, I just had a question.” He smiled.
The Professor deflated.
“Yes, yes, question, what is it..?”
“What is the chain and cuff for?” Pointon said. “If you don’t mind me asking, of course,” He added hurriedly.
“Oh, that? Just security measures, you understand.” The Professor crossed his arms. “If any of you ever try to desert the college before your time here is up, the books will tell the closest Professor, that’s all!” Hudson stared morosely at the cuff around his wrist. “Or they’ll kill you. Hah.” The Professor snickered to himself.
“Please don’t kill me,” Edmund heard Hudson whisper.
“You can’t blame them, really. We couldn’t have our precious little students running away, now could we?” The professor walked his middle and index finger along his other arm.
“Sir!” Cordelia piped up. “Professor, sir!” She waved her arm enthusiastically.
“Yes, another question?” The Professor turned to her. She bashfully hid her face with her hands. “Out with it, turtledove.”
“I don’t have a question, I…I want to go next, if you would allow me.”
“INITIATIVE!” The Professor exploded. “Yes! Yes! That is what I’m looking for, little guppies! That go-getter attitude! You’re on track to being Class Gear’s president, if I do say so myself!” He clapped the baffled girl on the back. “Go ahead, Adams! Pluck a book, any book! Tug to your heart’s content!” The Professor pushed her over to the ladder, giving her a complimentary cheek-pinch.
Cordelia chose not to step onto the ladder. Instead, she rounded it and beelined towards the lowest shelf. She barely even looked at the spines. With a decisive grab, she snatched a book out of its place. The Professor whooped with excitement.
“First try! How impressive! And what a–er, unique book, too!”
Ugly is how Edmund would describe it. It was bound in slimy, plaque-yellow scales. It dripped with a viscous, gooey substance that Edmund could only imagine smelled terrible. A singular red bookmark protruded from the top of its tattered pages. Not to mention, it was an enormous book. Poor Cordelia and her tiny arms were struggling to even hold it. Just as Cordelia was about to open it, the book began to shudder. Her eyes widened in alarm, but she held fast to its covers. Twelve sinewy legs burst out from both covers, scrabbling at Cordelia’s hands. The bookmark, no, a leathery tongue ran across Cordelia’s face. It knocked her glasses to the floor as it desperately strained to escape her grasp.
Edmund watched in horror as one of its legs plunged into Cordelia’s arm. She gritted her teeth and stubbornly dug her nails into the book’s grotesque surface. Edmund looked at the Professor–he would intervene, surely! He stood stoically with crossed arms, patiently observing. The book snarled, rapid foam seeping from its pages and drizzling onto the floor. It fought Cordelia for what felt like forever, but she refused to let go.
She gritted her teeth, her face turning red as she clung to the tome. Eventually, the book tired itself out. The bookmark hung limp, and the legs begrudgingly retracted. A thick, heavy chain emerged from the pages and clamped around Cordelia’s wrist. It was long, but not as long as Hudson’s. She let out a huge sigh, falling to the ground in exhaustion.
“Well done, Adams! Truly, truly, truly magnificent!” The Professor trotted over and hauled Cordelia to her feet. “It’s extremely difficult to win such a wild book’s respect like that! Though…er, it may be a year or two until it fully stops trying to act out, I’m afraid.”
Cordelia’s face dropped. Her eyes squeezed shut, likely to stop tears from leaking out. Edmund frowned, feeling sorry for her. She seemed nice. Terrible luck to be stuck with something so violent…and for four years, at that.
I hope I don’t get a book like that! Edmund thought with terror.
“Ohh, I’m sure it’s not all that bad!” The Professor patted Cordelia’s head. “Go back in line and open it up. Maybe it’s willing to introduce itself now.” He gently prodded her back into her place. “See? Hudson’s communing right now.”
Edmund looked to his left. Hudson had opened his book. He was staring vacantly at the pages, his brow knit with slight worry. He looked a little less distressed than he had before, though. Edmund peeked over his shoulder, curious to what was on the page. It was…nothing. Why was Hudson so entranced by blank pages? He nudged him with his elbow.
“Hey, Hudson.” He said under his breath. “Hudson? Hello?”
Hudson waved his hand weakly.
“Not now, Ed, I’m…ah…” He trailed off, eyes still fixed on the book.
“Don’t bother him during introductions, Rhodes, that’s rude!” The Professor chided. Edmund jumped, unaware that he was being watched. He turned to look at Cordelia, who had also opened her book. She was staring at the pages with a pained, crumpled expression.
“Professor!” She cried. “Is it…is my book supposed to be screaming at me?”
The Professor raised his hand to speak. He paused. He put the hand to his mask’s chin.
“Huh. No. No, it is not.” He hastily closed Cordelia’s book. “Mmmmmaybe wait a few hours?” The Professor suggested. Cordelia groaned and buried her face into her elbow.
“Alright, we’ve got to pick up the pace, class.” He announced. “Rapid-fire, let’s go! No volunteers, I’m choosing everyone! Hup-hup!” The Professor did a jumping-jack for emphasis.
Cordelia was unluckier than Edmund had first assumed. Most of the books were actually quite beautiful, or, at the very least, tolerable in appearance. Edmund watched with rapt attention as every other student stood and selected their books. Each of them were different, whether it were size, shape, color, or…demeanor, in Cordelia’s case. Pointen’s book was impossibly narrow, with only five pages at the very most. Dozens of page-markers and bookmarks stuck out from every angle of the book, some of them curved like scimitars. His chain was the shortest of anyone’s, barely long enough to dangle from his hand. He seemed satisfied enough with it, though.
Jane Blackwell took her sweet time picking out her book. She intentionally wasted time by repeatedly going up and down the ladder in a form of protest. The Professor flexed his hands in and out of fists.
“HURRY UP, BLACKWELL! I ORDER YOU TO HURRY UP!” He shouted. Jane spun around, fluttering her eyelashes.
“Aww, but Mr. Professor-Ghost, sir! If this is going to be my best friend for four whole years, I want to take my time!” She pouted mockingly.
“Hurry. Up.” He seethed.
“Am I allowed to go up as high as I like?” Jane asked. The Professor massaged his temples.
“Yes, you may select a book from any level you would like. But please don’t–”
Jane was up the ladder before he could fit in another word. The Professor let out a shriek of frustration before sitting down on the ground.
“Get comfortable, everyone. We’re going to be here for a while.”
They were there for, in fact, a while. So long that Edmund’s feet were starting to get tired. He eventually gave in and sat down. The marble floor was cold, but better than standing. Everyone else began to sit one by one. Those who had received their books still stared wordlessly into the pages. Edmund shivered. It was starting to creep him out. Even Hudson was too occupied to even look at him.
“She has been gone…for half an hour…” The Professor wheezed. In his boredom, he had laid spread-eagle on the floor, face-down.
“Professor, sir…can’t I choose mine in the meantime?” Said Edmund. He was by no means eager to choose a book, but if there was literally nothing else to do, he figured he should get it over with. The Professor rolled over.
“I wish!” He wailed. “But no. We have to wait for every student to individually choose their book before the next one. Those are the rules, unfortunately.” The Professor sighed.
“I’ll change that, someday.”
Edmund and the Professor jolted in surprise at the sound of Cordelia’s voice.
“What?” Edmund looked at her. She had tucked the book neatly under her arm, as if that would somehow disguise its hideousness. She turned her head and stared intensely at Edmund. It was a funny expression to see on such a round, innocent face.
“I said ‘I’ll change that, someday.’ The rules. I’m going to change them.” She gripped the bulky steel chain hanging from her wrist. “I’m going to be a General, leading troops into battle inside the Well.” She adjusted her glasses. “That, or a Professor at the college.” Cordelia said as if she hadn’t listed two of the most prestigious and difficult-to-obtain occupations to exist.
“Hah! I like your spunk, Adams!” The Professor stood. “You’ll go far with an attitude like that, especially here. The headmistress likes ambition. And I do, too!”
“I’m back!” Jane’s distant voice echoed from above.
“Finally.” The Professor mumbled sourly.
After a few moments, she climbed down to the floor. She looked very smug in having wasted so much time.
“Did you go to the top?” Edmund couldn’t help but ask; he was just curious.
“Psht. Nah,” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t even think I got close. Who knows how tall this thing is? Teach?” Jane said, turning to the Professor.
“That’s sir, actually.”
“Sir.” Jane said with an ever larger eye roll. “How tall is the library?”
“I don’t know! Feel free to ask the Headmistress.” The Professor hissed. He stopped. “Where is your book?” There was an edge of panic to his voice. Edmund felt it, too. He did not want to sit around any longer.
“Relax.” Jane took her hand out of her pocket, revealing…revealing..?
Edmund squinted. Jane held the ittiest-bittiest book that Edmund had ever seen. It was the size of her palm, if that. The covers were two thin slabs of ivory bound together with braided green thread. A somewhat short, incredibly delicate copper chain ran to her wrist and connected to a beautiful cuff. The copper cuff was so shiny and thin that it could have been mistaken for a bracelet.
“Good for you.” The Professor snapped. “Rhodes, you next!”
Edmund scrambled to his feet.
Okay. Okay okay okay. Is there some kind of strategy to this? Do I go high or low?
Edmund wrung his hands together in thought as he approached the ladder. He considered going high up the ladder, but he didn’t want to make the already-impatient Professor any more upset. On the other hand, Cordelia was the only one to choose a book from the lowest shelf, and hers turned out…interesting.
Don’t think too hard. There’s not even a guarantee that the first book will come out. Most people had tried eight or nine before one gave. Edmund elected to go for the second-to-lowest shelf and grab the first one to catch his eye: a small, red journal. It gave slightly, only to refuse to budge shortly after, as if it had changed its mind. Edmund frowned and tried another. That one refused to move at all.
“Don’t be discouraged! Third time’s the charm!” The Professor shouted from below.
Edmund nodded and searched for another. He ran his hand over a bumpy black spine. It was ridged to resemble a human’s vertebrae. Eerie, but intriguing. He placed his hand on it. It was hot to the touch, but not so much that it burned him. It felt nice. He gave it a small pull. It slid forward. His heart leaped up into his throat. He tugged it again, and it slid out further. It came free with one last pull. His arm immediately buckled, and it nearly fell from his hand. He gasped and grabbed it with his other hand, too.
This thing’s so heavy! He thought.
Edmund’s hands shook as he fought to keep his grip on it. The book was extremely thick, almost as thick as Cordelia’s. The pages were stained dark gray, as if someone had raked them through soot. It was bound with pitch-black leather and embossed with titanium corners. The front cover was encrusted with one large garnet, as well as twelve smaller ones above and below it. He clutched it to his chest, very mindful not to drop it. Edmund turned around and smiled sheepishly at the professor. He had done it!
The Professor stared at him wordlessly. Or was he staring at the book?
Before Edmund could say anything, a chain snaked out from its pages and clamped down on his wrist. He yelped. As the wrist cuff clamped down, the black metal seared molten orange. Billows of black smoke pooled out from underneath the cuff. The chain was hot, but comfortably so. He peeked at his skin underneath the wrist cuff, and sighed with relief upon seeing his skin unscorched. Edmund pulled his hand back and forth from the book. The chain was definitely not very long, but it wasn’t as short as Pointon or Jane’s.
I…I think I can work with this? Edmund gave the book a cautious grin. He wasn’t exactly thrilled to be chained to a book for four years, but things could definitely be worse. At least his book didn’t grow teeth. Probably.
Edmund looked at the Professor again. He still had said nothing. Edmund took a step back, puzzled.
He said something for everyone else, didn’t he? Even just “oh, fun!” or “lovely color, little guppy, it suits you.”
“Next,” The Professor said nonchalantly.
Edmund took his place in line. Hudson was still occupied staring into his book, as was Pointon. Cordelia, perhaps wisely, had yet to open hers again. Jane, too, abstained from opening hers. She had actually left the line. The girl leaned against the marble wall, glowering at the floor. Edmund calmed his nerves as he turned his attention back to his book.
What did the Professor call it? ‘Communing?’ He said something about introducing yourself…I…I guess I have to open it? Edmund hesitated.
I can’t do it! It’s creepy! He squeezed his eyes shut. The book’s heat seemed to pulse in his hands. Hot, warm, hot, warm, hot, warm. A heartbeat. It should have unsettled him, but it was somehow quite comforting.
I’ve got to carry this thing around for four years. I have to open it. He reasoned, opening his eyes. A glint of light shivered across the garnets. It beckoned him. With trembling fingers, he flipped open the cover. The first page was blank gray.
Sup, kid.