A long table in the cafeteria was already surrounded by about twenty students, each with a matching binder before them. The table was book-ended by decorative purple and gold balloon displays. Winsbury colours, Jessa had learned at the Open Evening, when she’d visited with her parents and been shown around by the captain of the Winsbury football team, who had thoroughly bored Jessa with his many tales of the inter-school football league final and “the power of purple and gold.” Winsbury had won, 4-0.
Jessa eyed a seat next to a small blonde girl. Almost everyone else at the table was deeply engaged in the artless chatter of teenagers meeting each other for the first time, but the blonde girl had empty seats either side of her and her face bore down into a book.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” said Jessa.
The girl’s face lit with a grateful and welcoming smile.
“No, please do. I’m Maggie. Nice to meet you,” she offered her hand hesitantly.
“Jessa,” she responded with a courteous shake. “What are you reading?”
“The Call of the Wild by Jack London. Have you read it?”
“Nope.”
“What do you like to read?”
“Do you know a magazine called Loud!?”
“My brother reads it. It’s about bands and stuff, right?”
“Yeah. That’s mainly what I read.”
“Cool. Well, I can lend this to you when I’ve finished, if you like.”
Before Jessa had time to reply, a tall, pale, stern-faced woman entered the room and forced them all into silence without even saying a word. Jessa found herself sitting taut and upright, and noticed Maggie doing the same. Mrs Hoopey shuffled into the room alongside the other woman, and stood in front to announce her to the group, but Jessa remembered her from the welcome assembly at the Open Evening. She mostly remembered that she’d found the headteacher thoroughly frightening, and now, seeing her up close, even more so.
“Young ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the headteacher of Winsbury, Dr Mortlock.” Mrs Hoopey pulled out a chair for Dr Mortlock, who came forward and stood before the first-years’ staring faces.
“Good morning, students,” she said without emotion.
“Good morning, Dr Mortlock,” they responded together, polite, nervous and monotone.
Jessa wondered Dr Mortlock’s age, but it was hard to tell. Her initial appearance was austere and cold. Militant, even. In her pristine black suit and turtle-neck, she was smart but categorically old-fashioned. It wasn’t until a slight smile crept onto her face that a gentle softness came upon her.
“Welcome, and congratulations on your acceptance to the Winsbury School of Parapsychology. I’m sure you heard of Winsbury a long time ago and have known of our reputation, but now that you can see just how few first-years we admit, I hope you can fully appreciate how selective we are. Admittance to Winsbury is a great honour, and you should be very proud.”
Jessa cast her mind back to the written test. She’d left the testing room feeling dismayed at her performance, so much so that she’d been convinced at first that her acceptance letter from Winsbury must have been a mistake.
“We analysed you all by your written exams, parapsychological aptitude tests, and your personal interviews, and in the twenty-six of you, we discovered something special that we’d like to nurture.”
Jessa looked around the table and wondered how everyone else had done in the testing. Did she have the lowest grade of everyone there? Jessa Baxter was a mostly B or C student. She started racking her mind trying to remember if she’d ever been given an A in school. She did recall receiving some gold stars in playgroup, but she doubted that such high praise for correctly naming colours would be given at the Winsbury School of Parapsychology. Jessa suddenly felt very much out of her depth.
“We like to hold our first-year orientation here in the cafeteria to provide you with a more informal way in which to interact with your new classmates, and to help you relax into student life here. Please know that while we do hold you all to very high academic criteria, we want you to feel comfortable. We’ve always maintained that students should enjoy their schooling, which is one of the reasons that we have no uniform code. You may use clothing to express yourself as you wish—within reason, of course,” Dr Mortlock cast a critical glance around the table.
“You’ll be split into two form groups, and each group will be assigned one of two tutors. Students with the following names, please pay attention, as you will be in Mr Fletcher’s tutor group: Claire Adams, Sandra Allanberg, Jessamine Baxter, Elijah Cannon, Cecily Graves, Flynn Howard, Annora Huff, Phillip Jackson, Jodie O’Connor, Tonia Pitts, Thomas Stevens, Graham Townsend, and where is my number thirteen?” she trailed off, somehow lacking the final name for the group.
The students sat patiently as Dr Mortlock flipped through a couple of papers, scanning the page for the missing name.
“Aha. Margaret Turner, please make yourself known.”
“Here, miss,” Maggie croaked from Jessa’s side.
“There you are. Number thirteen. Not going to be unlucky, are you?”
Maggie’s face turned bright red under the gawp of everyone at the table.
“I…uh… hope not, miss.”
“Very well. Though I would kindly request that you never again call me “miss.” My name is Dr Mortlock, and I shan’t respond otherwise.”
Maggie looked like she might burst from embarrassment.
“Now,” Dr Mortlock continued, “those of you whose names I didn’t mention, you will be in Mrs Reid’s tutor group. Your tutors will be with you shortly. Until then, feel free to spread out around the room and chat with your comrades. Share stories, and share your abilities. This is the beginning of a very special journey.”
And with that, she stood up and strode from the room. Mrs Hoopey picked up the pile of papers and shuffled off in Dr Mortlock’s wake.
The sound of chatter slowly returned to the room.
“I’m definitely a telekinetic, but I’d love to work on my telepath skills too,” Jessa explained to Maggie as they moved to a quieter part of the cafeteria. “I know it’s pretty rare to be really good at two parabilities, but I’d still like to improve both. There’ve been a few moments where I’ve had a sense connection with someone… what’s that called again?”
“Sensoreading?”
“Maybe. Is that the one where you can feel someone’s emotions?”
“Oh, no, sensoreading is a form of telepathy for actual senses, like smell or hearing. I think what you’re describing is just empathism.”
“Yes, that’s it. Empathism. Thanks. So what about you?”
“I’m an empath too, though my skills are broad at the moment. I don’t really score much higher in one area than another. But I want to be a vet someday, so I’m aiming to study telepathy and healing psychism so I can be a communicari.”
“Awesome. Can you already communicate with animals at all?”
“Not really. I have a dog, but I can’t read him.”
“I heard communicariism is one of the rarest abilities.”
“Yeah, very few people are born with it. But I’ve read that once you have the foundational skills like telepathy and empathism, then communicariism is pretty learnable. My older brother makes fun of me for it, though. He’s a parapsych too but he wants to be an engineer. He thinks communicariism is silly. He calls it ‘fairy science’.”
“That’s mean,” said Jessa. “What do your parents think?”
“They’re totally supportive. They said being a vet is a very respectable career. What do you want to be?”
“I don’t really know,” Jessa shrugged.
“No bother. You have plenty of time to decide.”
“Excuse me,” said a tentative voice. The girls looked up to see a boy standing before them. “Is it okay if I sit with you?”
He waited until they agreed before pulling out a chair for himself as if totally prepared to walk away if they declined his company.
“Yeah, ‘course you can,” said Jessa.
The boy slumped into the chair with a sideways smile. “Thanks. I’m Flynn, by the way. I was at that big table, but that group is, umm… not my kind of people.”
They all looked over at a table where a girl wearing a lot of make-up was showing her classmates a hand-held device. Not only were the people at the table leaning to get a closer look, but other students were standing behind her, bending themselves to glimpse the desirable gadget.
“That’s Cecily Graves,” Flynn told them. “Apparently, her dad just gave her the new Folio smartphone. The one with the gold case.”
“Wow,” said Jessa. “I know they’re cool phones and all, but that is so bloody gaudy. It looks like a disco ball.”
“Spending that much money on a phone is what my mum calls having more money than sense,” said Flynn.
“Most importantly, it’s one hundred percent against the rules to have one in school,” Maggie declared. “It says so right here in the welcome pack,” she flipped through the pages. “Here, on the 'Rules and Regulations' page. It very plainly says that students may bring a personal device to school but it must be handed in at reception in the morning.”
“Yep,” Flynn nodded. “She’s been a student here for half an hour and she’s already breaking the rules. That’s ballsy.”
“Or stupid,” Jessa finished.
The loud clatter of desperate laughter sounded as Cecily played comedy videos on her phone. They looked over just in time to see Cecily mockingly holding her nose and wafting her hand. They couldn’t hear what she was saying, but the girl standing next to Cecily promptly ran from the room, on the verge of tears.
“Yep. Definitely not my kind of people,” Flynn reiterated.
“So Flynn,” Maggie addressed him cordially. “I’m an empath and Jessa here is a telekin. What’s your psych skill?”
“I think I’ll be a telepath,” he said, “though I have a little telekin ability that I’d love to improve.”
“Nice,” said Jessa, “I’m the opposite. When I was younger, all I wanted was to be a telepath, but telekinesis just came more naturally to me.”
“It’s pretty fun,” said Flynn. “My mum helps me practice. Sometimes she’ll think of a song and then I’ll have to try and tune-in to her thoughts and guess the song. I have to be in the exact right mood to do it at all, but hopefully one day I’ll be good. Maybe. I dunno.”
“Wow, that’s super advanced!” Maggie marvelled. “You’re definitely above average for your age.”
Mr Fletcher and Mrs Reid entered the cafeteria together.
“All right, everyone! I’m Mr Fletcher. All of you in my class, gather your things, follow me and get ready for the grand tour.”
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