Samara’s alarm tore her out of a deep slumber many hours after the unpleasant dreams had faded away. It did this three more times until she finally forced herself into a sitting position. She groaned.

Moments later Samara sat down with a sigh behind the desk directly across from the front door and breathed in the mixed fragrance of many woods. The office, which at one time had been the dining room, living room and entryway, took up most of the main floor of the house she called home. Only the kitchen, upstairs and basement survived Jake’s flurry of aggressive renovations intact when he decided to convert his house into an office/showroom for his work. Cabinets, dressers, cupboards, tables and various kinds of trim lined the walls and sprawled out into the living room, all built of a variety of different woods. It was necessary to have a diverse range of products in the showroom so the entire area ended up looking a bit chaotic, even if Jake had done all he could to avoid cluttering the limited space.

At the end of her oak desk, constructed carefully by Jake several years ago, the coffee maker whirred quietly under her watchful eyes. Samara rested her head on the hard, borderline indestructible desk and thought of how Jake joked that the house would rot away and collapse years before the desk would. That was probably true, but at the moment she only wished it was softer. She spent most of her late teenage years sitting behind this desk helping customers and booking appointments. Samara had complained dramatically many times, but knew that she could use the money and she did not want to watch Jake struggle to find and train someone new. Now that she was going to attend the Academy, she wondered if she would have time to manage the office and showroom. 

The clock said 8:46. She forced herself off the desk, raided the fridge for supplies and stuffed them in her backpack. She was too lazy to make sandwiches so she just put the peanut butter, jelly and slices of bread in her pack, tossed in the last apple, a handful of carrots, a power bar and considered herself ready for anything. 

She almost leaped on the coffee maker when she saw it was finished. There was no cream or milk, so she took it black. It was bitter. It was beautiful.

His steps sounded quietly on the stairs as he descended.  She did not even have to look. She could hear the familiar, consistent stride of his movements. When she was younger she accused him of swaggering as if he had some secret desire to be a rapper or something. He looked offended. What she realized later was that his stride, consistent, purposeful and controlled as it was, pointed to a more foundational truth about Jake; namely, that he had incredible self control to the extent that he never even wasted ordinary everyday movements. He either stood still, or he moved confidently. Samara did not think she had ever seen anything in between. 

Jake glanced at her where she sat behind the desk. “Morning.” He said.

“Morning,” she mumbled through her mouthful of coffee. 

He stopped abruptly and looked at her face. “What happened?”

Samara touched her black eye gingerly as the memory of being elbowed in the face at the concert leaped into her mind. “That obvious huh?”

“Yeah.”

“I caught an elbow in the pit.”

“Maybe you should avoid mosh pits.”

“Not a mosh pit,” she responded firmly. “The pit. Mosh pits are for lame rock bands. The pit is metal. The pit is life.”

“I’ll get you some ice.”

“Thanks.”

Jake disappeared into the kitchen as Samara felt gently around her eye. She didn’t really remember too clearly what happened, but it hurt like hell. It almost knocked her out and if the people around her had not lifted her to her feet she probably would have gotten trampled. Jake reappeared with some ice.

“Who did you see? Infant Doom or something?”

“Close,” she replied as she grabbed the ice. “Humans for Dinner.”

“Humans for Dinner?” He repeated, not quite believing what he just heard.

“Yeah. They’re a vegan death metal band.”

“And they eat humans? Seems hypocritical.”

“It’s supposed to be ironic or poetic or something.”

“Right.” Jake said, unconvinced, as he always was by her musical taste. “Anything booked for today?”

“Just that one in-home consult at two. You post a help wanted sign somewhere yet?”

“You still trying to quit?”

“Well I have to go magic school so I don’t know if I’ll have time.”

“I figured studying magic would just make you a better saleswoman.”

“Of course you did.”

Jake leaned on the desk for a moment with a distant expression. It was a familiar pose for him. Samara iced her eye in silence. Even though she was used to his long silences, she always found herself wondering what he was thinking about, something to do with the Courts perhaps, or maybe some part of his past he kept secret. For perhaps the millionth time she wished she could see his aura. So far he was the only person she had ever come across who did not seem to have an aura. He just shrugged when she demanded an explanation. 

“We’re out of ice cream,” he said suddenly, demonstrating how futile her speculations were.

“Oh.”

“I’m going to go get some.”

“You’re going to wait until after I leave though right?”

“Sure. I can wait until then.” He walked back into the kitchen. 

She smiled in relief. Samara was more nervous this morning than she had been at any time since Jake had told her he got her into the Academy, and she would take any kind of comfort Jake could offer, even if it was just a goodbye hug. Samara threw herself back in the chair and groaned out loud from behind the ice pack. She wondered if she had made the right choice by begging Jake to get her in. There was a completely unknown world a little over an hour away and she had no idea if she was prepared to face it. The fact that Deborah would be with her every step of the way was immensely comforting. It made the possibilities seem less frightening and more inviting and mysterious. Her heart was beating fast. Samara closed her eyes and took several deep, calming breaths.