Miss Mabel's School for Girls Read Online Free Page B

easy to distract.
    “I love Miss Bernadette,” she said with a dreamy breath. “She’s just lovely, isn’t she? She’s so kind and patient. She’s even been helping me with geometry after class. I’m terrible at math.”
    Camille took over the conversation for the rest of the meal, chattering about people I should meet, and who to avoid. A third-year with a tilted nose and porcelain skin, the famous Priscilla, shot a few curious looks my way. I ignored her. She had the sour pinch of someone sucking on a pickle.
    Once conversations began to slow and the pastries disappear, Miss Scarlett stood up. She didn’t have to say a word to get total silence.
    “I trust all of you will let Miss Celia know how much you appreciate her hard work in the kitchen, as well as the third-year Culinary Mark students who helped. Michelle and Rebecca, you have done an exemplary job in such a short time. It’s no wonder the students from Miss Mabel’s are first pick to work for the High Priestess at Chatham Castle.”
    A polite smattering of hands came from the crowd, and two students standing near Miss Celia in the back flushed and waved. It died down shortly, and Miss Scarlett continued.
    “The Competition is a centuries-old tradition that dates back to the time when the five Networks formed, when mortals and witches coexisted in peace throughout all of Antebellum.”
    Smoke from the fire twirled in the air near her, forming two groups of people at war. Her voice lowered, resonating through the room. I’d heard the legend hundreds of time, but it never felt more real than now, watching it unfold.
    “Then the great division took place when greedy mortals began killing witches for their land. The witches cursed the mortals in retribution, and so the Reformation began. Witches grouped together for protection and birthed the five Networks.”
    The smoke people fled, running to each other and forming five separate groups.
    “Banded together, the Networks drove the mortals out of Antebellum and sent them across the ocean to find a new land. The race of witches won. Esmelda, the first High Priestess of the Central Network, formed special schools to educate natural born leaders from a young age.”
    The vapor twisted into a haunted building like the school.
    “Only the worthy enter these schools as students. You are the chosen few, evidenced by the circli on your wrists.”
    As one, almost all the students looked down at their wrists. I kept my eyes on Miss Scarlett, preferring not to look at the ring of ancient words. Legend had it that the words were different for every witch, encompassing their strengths and weaknesses, written in a language that none remembered.
    “You will attend this school for three years. The first two years of your education will encompass knowledge of our witching world. Potions. Alchemy. Geography. Algebra. Herbology. Divination. History. Symbology, and the like. But the third year, the final year, you’ll work for the three marks that will determine your place in the Network.”
    The smoke building drifted apart, forming a wide circle in the air, shimmering from the embers of the fire. Symbols appeared. Triangles. Circles. Interlocked lines. There were too many to see them all.
    “The three marks you earn will appear in your circlus. It’s a sign of education, of pride, that will never leave.” Miss Scarlett elevated her chin. “One you should remain worthy of at all times.”
    The vapor twisted again, churning into several willowy, girlish figures. Shadows climbed the wall behind Miss Scarlett, giving her a ghostly, ethereal look. Most of the students watched, transfixed, leaning forward in their seats until the edge of the table stopped them. Even I couldn’t fight the draw of her storytelling.
    “But this is not all Esmelda began.” Miss Scarlett shook her head, her voice dipping low. “She instituted the Competition. The prize was a one-on-one education with the High Witch of the school to the girl