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10

OF DROPPED BOMBSHELLS & STALE SECRETS

Three weeks into her time as the new Headmistress, and Magdalene felt she had approached one of the inflection points of her tenure. It was time.

In her office, now finally purged of macrame and the smell of stale beverages and rotten food, she made herself comfortable in her chair, crossed her legs, took a sip of coffee, and without looking at anyone in particular, dropped the bomb.

“I am doing away with the Houses.”

Shocked gasps, stunned silence, and Sam choking on her water with George pounding her on the back were all worthwhile responses to such a pronunciation. Magdalene congratulated her more theatrical side for this singular display of drama. She took her small pleasures where she could get them these days.

Sam wheezed, George tsked over her, Timothy raised his eyes from the latest thriller he kept bringing to the meetings. The weasel leering at Sam, also known as David Uttley—the newly confirmed History Chair and the latest addition to the Transition Committee—had his jaw hanging somewhere near the floor. Even Joel seemed speechless.

Magdalene had expected the reactions. The Houses, one for each dragon—Sky Blue, Viridescent, and Amber—corresponding to the cliffs that the school perched upon, were deeply ingrained in the life and routine of the institution, with the student body being divided into them from their first day at school. Their removal would be like pulling off a bandaid that had become a second skin. She might as well amputate instead of flay, considering the amount of perceived damage she was about to inflict.

Except Magdalene knew she was right. The Houses were a problem. A much bigger one than anyone around the table recognized or wanted to acknowledge.

After her rather rash declaration to Sam that she would do what she could for the school to persevere, Magdalene knew there was no going back. Moreover, when all was said and done, did she really want to renege? She didn’t have an answer to that particular question, her heart still split between detesting this island and this school and these people, and something small and warm that had taken residence in her conscience and would not let go.

So maybe she’d keep this rusty barge afloat then. Magdalene was unsure how she would go about the entire thing, but that much seemed doable. Difficult, but for someone with her acumen and experience, achievable. She could cut the budget and fire the teachers and cull the school of curriculum frivolities and perhaps even manage to attain that elusive fiscal balance. However, to merely keep the school open, she wouldn’t need to delve as deep into the heart of Dragons as the damned Houses were.

So why was she actually developing a plan to not just ensure the survival of this damn place, but was actually setting it on a course to thrive?

The past few weeks hadn’t managed to answer that question for her, and the wound in her chest still gaped wide open.

Still, Houses were a risky business, particularly because of how deeply ingrained belonging to something was in human nature. The old Dragonettes, the school alumni, were certain to burn her in effigy on the quad when all of this would be over.

Since silence continued to reign, Magdalene infused her voice with as much malice as she could before breaking through it. She might as well interject some more drama.

“From your highly intelligent facial expressions and lack of opposition, I can surmise that you are all on board?” She knew she was pushing it, and as much as she enjoyed the theatrics and the whining, their reaction was still infuriating. If she walked into the room and stated her intention to burn the school to the ground, she would bet she’d not have gotten this level of shock.

Sam found her voice first. Because, of course, she did.

“With all due respect, Headmistress—”

Oh no, she was not going to go down this road, especially not in front of all these people and George, who—fully in the know about the plans in her role as Magdalene’s confidant—was staunchly observing everything around her, ready to jump to her defense at a moment’s notice. Magdalene lifted a hand to stop whatever Sam was going to sputter next.

“Every time I hear anyone begin their tirade with ‘all due respect,’ I assume none of the said respect is about to be given.”

George laughed out loud, and Joel gave out that scratchy half-giggle of his before quickly sobering, probably remembering that it was Sam’s attempted defense of the Houses he was laughing at. He coughed, pinched the mangled bridge of his nose, and extended a tentative hand towards Magdalene.

“Surely you’re joking?” His tone was incredulous, as if deciding whether to view the whole proposal as a ruse or to start puffing up in outrage at the realization that she was completely serious.

“Headmistress—” Sam tried again.

“If you are about to tell me that the Houses are the oldest tradition, that they unify, that they teach teamwork, that they band the girls together in battle or whatever utterly inane demagoguery they’ve been feeding you since you were a student here yourself Professor Threadneedle, I would ask you not to proceed any further.”

Sam bit her lower lip and nodded. Magdalene did not deign to provide any further response. She was well aware this was not the end of this issue. In fact, it was only the very beginning of it, judging by how slowly Sam was packing up her things and letting all the others vacate the premises in a clear attempt to stay behind.

David Uttley, the aforementioned weasel whom Magdalene did not like for reasons she didn’t care to verbalize—other than George declaring him and Sam to be an adorable couple and thus ruining Magdalene’s evening two nights ago—clearly recognized Sam’s attempt to continue the conversation and gave her one of those big, goofy smiles that grated on Magdalene’s nerves.

If he wasn’t as good at his job as he was, Magdalene wouldn’t have rehired him. God knows, she had tried her best to turn his interview into an unmitigated disaster. He’d passed by the skin of his teeth, and she’d been forced to admit she was somewhat impressed. Somewhat. His lovesick smile and his cringeworthy thumbs up made her clench her teeth and reconsider.

Joel stood up quickly, his nostrils flaring and his mouth agape, almost trembling at the prospect of a confrontation, whether from fear or anticipation. But Magdalene had dealt with overbearing bullies like him her entire life. She raised her hand again, the gesture as effective the second time as it had been the first. Seeing him shut his mouth with a snap of that weak jaw sent a small thrill through her.

“Joel, we can discuss this further. I’m sure your knowledge, understanding, and insightful advice will guide me and shape my opinion further on this matter, and if all else fails, you can help me articulate my position better.”

He puffed up at the praise, and out of the corner of her eye, Magdalene could have sworn she noticed Sam suppressing a gag. She just hoped it was because Sam saw through her maneuver to tie him to her side without giving him the opportunity to sidestep her trap and was disgusted by how easy he was to manipulate.