Page 3 of With the Key in the Office
Before they left, Ava looked back at me. “If anything changes—dreams, echoes, new lights—tell us immediately.”
“Dreams?” I asked, skeptical. “I already dream about forgetting pants in front of the class. Is there a checkbox for that?”
“A convenient amulet remedy,” she said dryly, then almost smiled. “We’ll be around.”
They moved on to Vanderflit again, low-voiced and quick. Pressure rose in the room like barometric guilt. We were dismissed after that, told to go to class, eat lunch, and act normal. Which was hilarious.
By noon, “normal” consisted of the entire student body funneling into the Great Hall for an assembly. The student body consisted of our small group of future sugar daddies and godmothers, but also all the other students throughout the castle, many of them being kids. Banners hung down the stone, bright as fruit peels. A breeze nosed through the high windows, and a whisper ran the length of the benches. Jessie and I sat together, excited for whatever the day might bring.
Headmaster John stepped to the dais with Headmistress Beth beside him. “Thank you for coming on such short notice,” John began. “We’ve had an exciting start to the term.” Understatement of the century. “We’ll address security privately with our staff. For students, I’ll simply say your jobs remain the same. Learn, practice, and be kind to one another.”
“We also have a few introductions,” Headmistress Beth added, and a small woman edged onto the platform as if she’d been pushed by her own nerves. She was petite, with a rumpled, misbuttoned cardigan, round glasses slipping down her nose, and hair in a frizzed bun that had declared war on hairpins.
“Maribelle Maple,” Headmaster John said, inviting her forward. “Our new librarian.”
She managed a birdlike nod and a tiny wave. “Hello, ah, sorry, yes, hello,” she said, voice rushing ahead of her breath. “Books. I mean. I like them. Obviously.” A muffled chuckle ran through the room. “I’m, ah, here if you need help. With books. Or, um, wards. Or shelves. I’m very good at shelves.” She pushed herglasses up, realized she’d smeared them with her thumb, and fumbled for a cloth that wasn’t there.
She reminded me of a spooked rabbit with a library science degree. It was oddly endearing.
Headmistress Beth smiled at her, then turned to the crowd. “Please make Ms. Maple welcome.” We all applauded politely.
“And one more thing,” Headmaster John said, letting the pause stretch. “We’re pleased to announce a promotion. Jessie Crayne has served as a mentor with distinction. Effective immediately, she joins our teaching staff and will lead the new Job-Shadowing Program.”
For a hot second, the room forgot about keys and ghosts and let itself be delighted. Jessie’s hands flew to her mouth. The cheers were loud, even from some students who usually preferred to sneer at me from behind their chalices of gossip, and from others who probably had never even met Jessie due to their programs. From two rows up Robbie whooped, from amongst a group of children, and turned to grin at us.
I grabbed Jessie's arm. “You did it! You did it. Oh my gosh.”
Her eyes shone. “I didn’t know they were—” She laughed, breathless. “I mean, I hoped, but I hadn’t gotten the official word.” She shook her head, then composed herself and marched up the aisle to the dais, cheeks bright. When she turned to face us, she had that particular Jessie mix of chaos and competence that said, yes, I can absolutely stack chairs one-handed and teach you a protection charm with the other.
“Thank you,” she said into the charm-amplified air. “I promise to do my best and, uh, teach my small, but wonderful, group ofstudents how to be the best godmothers and sugar daddies you can be.”
The rest of the assembly breezed by. Schedules. Some reminders about hall curfew, which everyone took as a challenge, and a stern “no independent portal experimentation” from Headmistress Beth that cut a look straight at me and Jessie, which seemed unfair but also… fair.
We spilled back into the corridors in a confetti-spray of conversation. Students I barely knew thumped Jessie on the shoulder. Robbie caught up to us in the flow.
“Teacher Crayne,” he said, mock-solemn.
“Don’t you start,” she warned, but the corners of her mouth wouldn’t obey.
“Party,” Robbie announced. “Small congratulations thing. After dinner. Common room in the Godmother wing. We’ll keep it quiet.” He winked. “Which means it will be less quiet than we intend.”
“Jaylyn?” I asked.
“I already invited her,” Robbie said. “She said she’ll come. She deserves something nice after everything.”
“Agreed.” I gave my friend one more hug.
After dinner, we detoured back to my room first. Tilly and Simon were waiting, doing that cat thing where they behave as if they’re starving orphans five minutes after a meal. We bribed them with treats and told them we’d be right back.
Robbie had gotten a head start. He’d commandeered a corner of the common room and transformed it with blankets andcushions dragged from everywhere. There were string lights and a plate of cookies that kept replenishing itself with suspiciously perfect timing. Someone had smuggled in a bottle of sparkling apple cider and something stronger that declared itself by smell alone.
People filtered in. Some I knew well, some who usually gave me a sideways glance in the cafeteria, now drawn by the promise of cake and curiosity. Jaylyn arrived with her hair down and a tentative smile that tugged at my heart. She slipped into the pillow nest between Jessie and me like she’d been doing it forever.
“To Jessie,” Robbie said, raising a glass. “To the teacher we all want and the chaos we all need.”
“To Jessie!” the room chorused. She blushed crimson and downed her drink like a champion.
For a long, gentle while, we let ourselves exist as students at a party, nothing more. The talk skittered from classes to who’d accidentally turned their teacup into a hedgehog, to the scandal of someone seeing Mr. Bently buy scented candles in town. “No one tell him we know,” I said. “He’s terrifying enough without imagining him with a lavender obsession.” Laughter loosened the tight band that had gripped the day.