Dictator Dick took center stage, adjusting the microphone to a comfortable level and the lights dimmed twice indicating it was time for silence.
“It is my pleasure to introduce the creator of the Academy of Souls and our beloved Headmaster, Barnabas Abernathy.”
Mr. Abernathy appeared on stage in his usual grand entrance. A man with a flair for the dramatic stood as smoke billowed around him hazing the purple spotlight circling his frame; all of it a contradiction to his plain black suit. His long white hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, added a softness to the many lines in his face. Abernathy had been around for nearly a thousand years. Joining the old ways of education and blending it with modern day, he guided with a stern hand but a soft heart.
Standing center stage, he cleared his throat. The raspy strain resonated into the microphone and drifted out to the enormous room, filling the space with command, and gaining recognition from the students.
“Attention! Attention everyone! Nice to see you're all looking fine today and on time, Mr. Burkletter.” Abernathy eyeballed Kyle.
“Right on, Headmaster.” Kyle flashed a peace sign.
“I wonder why those other men are on stage with him.” Ophelia whispered.
“Why and who? They’re like the secret service, only not.” Amry stretched her neck.
“You having trouble seeing?”
“Yeah. It’s okay. I’m not so sure I want to,” Amry chuckled.
“What did you mean?” Ophelia leaned in closer.
“Check it out, Lia. Notice they’re wearing khakis and golf shirts. Have you ever seen the Secret Service dress like that? I mean on all the occasions they came here attached to some political parody; did they ever wear anything other than a dark suit?”
“You have a point.”
“Their clasped hands, straight posture, and scouring of the surroundings, suggests something similar. Maybe military. I guess we’re about to find out.”
Mr. Abernathy motioned for the two gentlemen to move forward. They stepped up, framing the Headmaster.
“I’d like to introduce Mr. Coal and Mr. Rain.” Their benign last names didn’t fit their ready for action stance. “They'll be monitoring the halls for the next few weeks. Pay no attention to them and continue to go about your daily business. They'll do their best not to interfere with you,” he said. “Mr. Coal and Mr. Rain are an addition to the security team. Being entry level sorcerers, I think they'll be a welcome aide to the Academy, and to Mr. Cander, who I'm sure can use the help with some of you unruly students." The Headmaster glared at Roger Mooring, who sat in the first row. A penance he was given because of his outburst at the last assembly.
"Did you see Headmaster look directly at Roger?" Amry whispered, "That boy is nothing but trouble."
“How can you tell it’s him? All I see is the back of their heads.” Ophelia frowned.
“Because he’s the only airhead who would be in the front row and catch the Headmaster’s attention. The rest of them are copasetic.”
"Now, this brings me to the nature of our assembly today. I need all of you to listen intently to what I’m about to tell you. We'll be getting a new student tomorrow, Zachary Kowal. This is the main reason Mr. Rain and Mr. Coal will be joining us.” The Headmaster let his gaze travel from the two men to the teens.
“Mr. Kowal has a dark history. The council wanted to send him directly to The Nowhere. But I have hope for him. I’m instructing all of you to stay away from him for now. If he's in your class, be mindful of his presence, but try to avoid engaging. Your safety is very important to me as well. I'll need time to fully assess his capability for rehabilitation. After which, his fate will be determined.”
“All right, he’s starting to scare me.” Ophelia rubbed her forearms.
“Chill. It'll be okay.”
Ophelia glanced at her friend. Amry was always the textbook definition of calm. The girl took things as they came. Her motto was, don't sweat the small stuff. They were already dead, how much worse could it really get?
Ophelia wanted to be more like that, but she was born with a very different kind of psyche. In the dictionary, her picture would be right next to the word anxiety.
There was a low buzz of voices echoing through the room.
“Quiet, please. When I ask you for complete cooperation, I expect it," demanded the Headmaster.
“That's all for now, you may all go back to class. Except for you, Miss Wetherton, Miss Goodman, Miss Smithson and of course, the fourth member of your merry men, Mr. Burkletter. I would like all of you to meet me in my office promptly.” Mr. Abernathy glided off stage.
Ophelia sat unable to speak. She wiped the moisture off her palms on the sides of her pants. Struggling to swallow past the lump in her throat, she began taking quick shallow breaths.
“Lia, you okay?” Amry rubbed her back.
Ophelia closed her eyes and concentrated on slowing her breathing to a normal pace.
“Damn. I still can’t figure out how you do that.” Kyle stood up.
“Kyle. Stop it, don’t be such a drag.” Bethany grabbed his hand and tugged him forward.
“I’m just saying. How is that even possible?”
“Never mind. Come on, let’s go.” She led him toward the doors.
“You guys go on ahead. We’ll be there in a minute.” Amry smiled.
Ophelia knew why Kyle was confused. She was confused. It never made any sense how anxiety could still overwhelm her. And the breathing, she couldn’t even begin to understand where that came from.
“Hey, it's okay. We'll stay here as long as we need to.” Amry caressed Ophelia's hair.
“We better go. I don't want Abernathy to be upset with us." Ophelia got up.
Floating up the aisle, the only thought Ophelia could focus on was, why did the Headmaster pick them? And what for?
The halls were brimming with chatter from students rushing to class, but all Ophelia could see were the large double Mahogany doors leading into Abernathy's office.
The Headmaster’s office was a close second to the Grand Hall when it came to luxury. A century-old cherry desk was the focal point of the room. Headmaster Abernathy was seated, hands folded, and posture erect. Mr. Coal and Mr. Rain were on the left side of the room, each man sat on a yellow and blue, floral wing-back chair. They were as stiff in the office as they had been on stage. Dictator Dick was a different story. His grin was so wide, the Cheshire cat would’ve been jealous. He took up space in a small chair to the right.
“Come in children. Sit, please.” Headmaster motioned toward a plush four-cushion couch with a light blue paisley print, positioned in front of his desk.
Ophelia trembled. She hated confrontation of any kind. She wedged herself between Amry and Bethany. The friend sandwich was comforting.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you here. I need more eyes and ears than we have available right now. I'm not asking you to befriend Mr. Kowal, just keep a watchful eye."
“Why us?” Kyle leaned forward.
“None of you display any initiative to be a part of other social activities. Other than the time you spend together, you keep to you yourselves. You won't attract unwanted attention.”