As is customary for youths all across the globe, any child displaying signs that mark them as nonhuman (witch, warlock, medium, vampire, etc) must enter a local or privately run academy where they not only learn skills to help them better survive in a society that does not always look kindly upon them, but to also learn how to harness the power that makes them so special. For many, this journey into adulthood is an exciting experience, for others it is a time to rebel. After turning 18 those troubled teens often find themselves pulled from their respective academies and thrust into one meant to curb their attitudes and rehabilitate them. Some who show promise may be transferred upon acceptance to other universities and continue on with their futures. For the rest, depending on their crimes, this is the last chance they have.
Welcome to Foxglove Academy for Troubled Girls, a place for those souls touched, or tainted by magic, to grow, learn, and with hopes, survive.
*****
Leona washed the potting soil from her hands and frowned when she was unable to remove some of it from under her nails. They'd been finely manicured once. Painted and buffed to a nice shine. Now after two weeks in this place, they were worn and chipped.
"I'm so damn tired of sticking my hands in dirt. How many times do we have to plant tomatoes for the cafeteria." She looked to the young woman beside her at the sink. "Can't they do it on their own?"
Amanda laughed. "Why would they do that when they have free labor right here? Besides, technically this is horticulture class so we get graded on the school garden." A dark tattoo of what appeared to be a celtic knot poked out from beneath her blouse along her forearm. She was one of the only girls she'd managed to get to know and still didn't really know at all.
The petite teen smiled. "I guess I see your point. Why not use us while they have us."
"Finally, you're learning your place, little girl."
Both erupted into laughter. Leona flicked a bit of cold water in her direction. "Unlike the rest of the sheep here, I'm not going to 'learn my place'. That isn't in my blood. In fact I'm surprised you're so willing to accept the way things are run." She playfully nudged her with her shoulder. "If my father had any idea of how this place was being run..."
Her friend smiled back at her but she could tell it wasn't entirely genuine. "I told you, Leona. You're gonna learn that there's worse things than detention here."
She shook her head. "They don't have anything I haven't already seen."
"Ladies." The deep voice cut through their discussion like a hot knife. Turning her head, Leona saw Professor Devereux standing behind them, watching the pair behind dark framed glasses. "I said get back to your stations."
Amanda dried her hands and did as she was told without so much as a hesitation. Leona on the other hand did not submit so easily. She took her time turning off the sink before leisurely moving toward her potting station
"We don't have all day Leona." He warned.
Passing him she realized just how tall he was, not that it took much given her petite stature. Still, the man towered over her with his broad shoulders, his expression forever stoic. Of course it would take more than his height to shake her into submission.
Rejoining the gaggle of young women she could do nothing but listen to the hum of countless conversations happening all at once. Most were of more superficial topics, while others were whispered in secrecy. None of which involved the new 'first year'. In fact the pale girl might as well have been a ghost living among them for the past few weeks.
"Ladies, some of you may hate me for this, but it's time for a quiz." Professor Devereux stood at the head of the class while the afternoon sun poured through the greenhouse window panes, turning his shoulder length, ginger hair into gold. Only a few responded with groans and those that did were careful to keep it as quiet as possible. "I think I've been too lenient with you all and, as I'm sure you heard during morning announcements, The Headmaster will be returning to the Academy soon and I'm sure he will be eager to see how much you've all learned since the beginning of this semester."
The apparent return of the Headmaster meant little to Leona. The figurehead of the Academy had been absent during Open Ceremonies, making the service feel that much more ridiculous as all she could do was stare at his empty yet heavily decorated chair.
Smoothing his tie down against his grey dress shirt, the professor grabbed a stack of papers from his perpetually messy desk. Without needing to be told every girl took a sheet and passed the stack on to the next.
Tests, quizzes, lectures... they were all three reasons why school life had never worked out for the teen. Was it so hard to simply allow her to do as she pleased without boundaries? Authority? By the time the paper reached her, and the professor retired to his desk, her mind refused to work. Sure knew some of the answers, but to figure them all out was a chore she didn't want to tackle. Leaning casually toward the left she spied on her neighbor's paper. That would get her by, after all it always did.
At the end of class they all began filing out after turning in their quiz. Placing it on one of the many piles on his unkempt desk, it was a wonder he'd be able to even find them. When it came time for the petite blond to place hers with the rest, the warlock somehow knew she was there even with his back toward her.
"Leona." Her name always fell so roughly from his lips when he spoke it.
She stopped in her tracks, letting the rest of the class pass her by. The girl watched her teacher clip a few miniature branches off the twisted bonsai resting on his window ledge. "Yeah."
"Your skirt goes against Foxglove dress code.I don't want to see it again." The tall man glanced over his shoulder to look at her. "Am I understood?"
Leona ran a hand down her leg. Unlike the rest of her classmates the skirt lay well above her knees. She made him wait an extra beat before answering. "Sure. I understand."
His amber eyes flicked up to the clock on the wall. "When is your last class of the evening over?"
She shrugged, already knowing where this was headed. "Around 8 o'clock."
