Page 62 of Evergreen Academy (Society of Magical Botanists #1)
Chapter Sixty
“ L eonardo da Vinci?” Yasmin gasped as I filled her in on what had happened in the library earlier that night. “As in the Leonardo da Vinci? The one who painted the Mona Lisa?”
I nodded, and her hands moved to her mouth.
“Many of the students here have interesting magical ancestry, but this is a whole other level,” she said. “Your artistic skills must be a family trait, then.”
“This can’t be real, can it? I didn’t even realize how precious those books were when I was flipping through them last fall. Hand drawn and annotated by the Leonardo da Vinci? They should have had a sign on them! I should have had to wear special gloves!”
I felt borderline hysterical now, talking to Yasmin. In the library with Callan, Professor East, and Professor Tenella, I had heard but not absorbed. Now, though, it was starting to sink in .
“Oh, don’t worry about that. All the books here have been sealed by natural protectants. You couldn’t even light them on fire if you tried.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” I said, though I didn’t feel much better.
How important was having this history, anyway?
I wasn’t a founder’s descendant who could help with the problem of the school’s verdant shield, and despite my affinity powers, I was falling further behind the other students because I could no longer do botanical magic at the academy.
Aside from my heritage being a fun trivia fact, I couldn’t see how it improved the school's situation or mine at all. Still, I couldn’t deny that the connection fascinated me, and I was already formulating a plan to research my ancestor—if that was who he truly was.
“By the way, can you keep this to yourself for now? I’m not sure if this information means anything yet, and I’d rather not be more of an outlier here than I already am.”
“But darling , don’t you want everyone to know that not only do you have all the affinity powers, you can’t use them on campus grounds due to trying to help save the school on the vernal equinox, and oh, by the way, you’re also a descendant of one of history’s most famous painters and your magic was activated through some form of magical storage that most people don’t even know exists?
” Yasmin’s voice had taken on a dramatic flair.
We exploded into laughter, and I relaxed at the experience of discussing this so playfully with her. Everything she had just described felt like less of a confusing burden when it came out in a humorous waterfall of words .
“It is kind of ridiculous,” I said once I’d caught my breath from laughing.
“Of course, your secret is safe with me, B,” she added in a more serious tone, and I gave her a hug before leaving her room.
When I left the academy, I headed straight for the bakery. While I couldn’t talk to my Aunt Vera about this new information in detail, I could at least try to gather some insights.
My aunt was kneading her famous olive bread when I stepped into the kitchen.
The café was busy preparing extra baked goodies for the variety of graduation parties that were already starting to happen at the local schools.
After exchanging a few pleasantries, I dove in, trying to keep my voice casual.
“Aunt Vera, do you know much about our family history? I know we’re Italian on your side, but do you know any more details?”
“Nonna always told us we were mostly French and Italian but probably a mix of some other things too. Belrose is French—I know that much—and that came from her husband. The Italian was on Nonna’s side of the family. Beyond that, I don’t know much.”
“Thanks. That’s what I thought.” None of this was really news to me. My family had been passing down Italian recipes and phrases for decades, and my grandma had always joked about marrying the least romantic Frenchman on earth. But apparently, his baguettes were to die for.
“Now that you bring it up, I think your mom was doing some kind of ancestry project for one of her college classes before she left the university. I can’t remember what she found out, though.”
My ears perked up at that. My mom had been researching our ancestry?
If it was when she was in college, that would have been eighteen to twenty years ago.
Was it a coincidence? Lots of people researched their family history.
My stomach dropped in a familiar way. For the millionth time in the last seven years, I wished my mom were here to ask her.
“Any reason you’re wondering?” Aunt Vera’s voice was gentle, and her eyes flicked up to mine as she continued to work the dough.
“We were talking about ancestry at school a bit. Famous people we might be related to, that sort of thing,” I said, trying to keep my explanation close to the truth.
Aunt Vera snorted. “My bisnonna Marie used to say that we were descended from some old prominent Italian families, but who knows? Every family has their stories, and they tend to get exaggerated over time.”
“Mm-hmm,” I murmured, thinking that Great-Grandma Marie may have been doing the opposite of exaggerating.
“Are we still on for your birthday tradition next week?”
I sat up in surprise, for the first time in my life having forgotten that my birthday was drawing so close. As a kid, I’d been the type who started planning my birthday party months in advance.
The tradition—of us taking a midnight plunge, the exact time of my birth, into Castle Lake—had been started by my mom when I was five, and Aunt Vera and I had kept it up, even in those first few years when doing it without my mom had been like doing it without a limb.
After the plunge, we each gobbled down a piece of confetti cake as we towel dried under the light of the moon .
“Of course,” I said, tinkering with the emerald birthstone ring. Amazingly, my aunt had never asked about its origins.
“How are you feeling about finals at SCC? And is there anything you need to do to wrap up the year at Evergreen Academy?”
“I think finals will be okay. They’re next week.
” My answer was truthful. Thanks to Callan’s brilliant tutoring throughout the year, I was excelling in most of my SCC classes.
“Oh! That reminds me.” I pulled a flyer out of my bag and held it up to show her.
“My art class is having a gala to showcase the work we did this year. It’s next Thursday at six. Do you want to come?”
My aunt’s face split into a smile. “You’re finally showing some of your work! Absolutely. I’ll be there.”
I realized I hadn’t answered her question about wrapping things up at Evergreen Academy.
In truth, I didn’t know what the end of the year there held in store.
I knew that the top-achieving second-years were being selected for internships with the conservatories and field offices.
But since we didn’t have finals, I assumed the spring classes were going to end like the fall and winter anno uno classes had—with students creating summaries of their learnings and detailed descriptions of questions they wanted to pursue on the subject in the future, all carefully catalogued in our botanist journals.
The idea that my first year at Evergreen Academy was drawing to a close brought on a surprising sense of melancholy.
I’d always looked forward to summer vacations in previous school years—and I was still excited about the upcoming trips to the lake and long summer nights—but this year felt different. Despite the challenges I’d had, I was going to miss the magic of the academy and all the people in it .
One person in particular.
I said goodbye to my aunt and went up to our apartment, where I grabbed my notebook and headed for the balcony, a drawing session the only thing I could think of to calm my warring mind.