BLINDFOLDED

Charlie slid into his seat tentatively.

"Okay, I know this meeting is unexpected," Olivia said slowly, "but I was just wondering if you felt it, too."

They were at the Pets' Café. In the middle of the circular table sat a plate laden with iced biscuits and slices of frosted fruitcake.

"Felt what?" Naren asked, leaning across the table to face Olivia.

"The—turbulence."

Fidelio raised his eyebrows. Charlie was taken by surprise as well. He dropped the iced biscuit he held in his hands.

"Oops—sorry." Charlie bent down to retrieve his cookie. As he made to rise from the floor, he dropped it again.

He couldn't believe his eyes.

Fidelio's hand was intertwined with Olivia's beneath the table. Pretending he had not seen anything, Charlie rose to his seat and continued eating his biscuit, waiting for a distraction.

"What turbulence?" Naren asked gently, as Olivia slipped a slice of cake into her mouth.

"The balance. It's lopsided. I think that's why Dr Bloor might have chosen a majority of the good endowed to leave to the Institute. Remember Cook? She said she was the lodestone."

"And after the addition of bad endowed—Belle, Inez and Idith—in that first term as a second-year," Fidelio added, "she failed."

"Right," Charlie said. "And now that they've lost Inez to the Cast Exam, I think Olivia's right."

"Very possibly," Gabriel Silk agreed. He had been feeding his gerbil, Rita, a finger-full of cake frosting the entire time, but despite his masquerade, he had definitely been all ears.

"It's sneaky," Olivia remarked.

"It's devious," Fidelio agreed.

"It's downright brilliant," Charlie protested. "Of course Morvan and Loth would need helping hands, but after Asa and his wolf incident the previous term, and Inez's death this term, I doubt they'd be able to find a more ... underhanded way to handle it. Pretending that they weren't the cause for the leave is so—so—"

"Clever?" Naren put it.

Charlie nodded. "Clever."

Had Charlie been able to see the facts as an outsider, he would probably not have arrived at such a conclusion.

In fact, he was as far from right as far could go.

Emma Tolly hated her new job.

All she had to do was organize papers into the filing cabinets, help the students with their work, collect homework, mark test sheets, and manage the classroom when Instructor Perez was away.

But still, she couldn't help the dislike.

Instructor Perez was very kind. He was the kind of man who you would often associate with as a child; one of those gleeful relatives who would always crouch down, congratulate you on your work, and speak as if he cared deeply.

It wasn't the Instructor's fault his class, subject, and room were so boring.

The classroom's crepe wallpaper was beginning to peel at the corners. The desks, including hers and Perez's, were all mahogany. The door was mahogany. The seats were mahogany.

Everything about the room was old-fashioned, ancient, dilapidated, and completely in harmony. There was nothing out-of-place to stare at, nothing to marvel at. Emma hated the classroom.

His subject—genealogy—was more boring than the classroom itself, if that were possible.

Learning about how to retrace other endowed children back to their ancestors was completely off the Need-to-Know list. The three words Emma only caught in Perez's lectures were The Red King.

His class contained children who were entirely focused on genealogy. None seemed to slump in that dreadful torpor her French lesson back at Bloor's provoked her to. In fact, if it hadn't been for Perez's dependence on her, Emma would probably have collapsed onto her desk and fell asleep long before this.

In short, the students were as monotonous as Instructor Perez.

As she sat contemplating this in her dormitory, when she should have been marking Perez's quarter-term quizzes, Emma heard a noise at her window.

She slowly rose to her feet and made her way over to the far wall. The window was closed. Nothing was in sight but a full landscape of trees littered with powdery, soft snow.

A beautiful scene, but she hadn't found what she'd been looking for.

"Hello?"

It was barely a whisper, but Emma hoped whatever—or whoever—that was lurking by her window would hear. She didn't want to upset the other students.

Once, she'd been speaking to Seth, who had snuck in as a blinking bird. They had kept the conversation rational, and fortunate they did, too. It appeared that through the walls dividing the dorms, students could eavesdrop as easily as they could overhear as if the speakers were in their room.

"Hello?" she repeated, her curiosity dwindling.

Before her ray of hope could vanish altogether, a pigeon returned, pecking at her windowpane.

She hurried to open it.

"Seth, don't break my windowpane!"

She could always recognize Seth. The feathers of the pigeon were slightly ruffled and messy. It could be connected with Seth's brown curls instantly.

"Sorry." The pigeon blinked before returning to its normal state.

"Why're you a pigeon, anyhow?" Emma questioned casually. "I thought you preferred toucans and Laughing Gulls."

"A toucan was too—out of place—for a school," Seth shrugged. "And I would have morphed into a Laughing Gull if it hadn't been for the occasion."

"My favorite bird was the barn owl. I think it's the prettiest bird of every—" Emma paused. "What did you say?"

"Occasion. I would've came as a Gull if it hadn't been for the occasion," Seth repeated coyly.

"You're dead if you don't talk."

"Alright, already." Seth smoothed his hair away from his face and spat a feather from his mouth. "Euch. Anyhow, I've got a delivery to make."

"You're leaving?" Emma stood up. "You can't go. Not yet."

"I'm not going anywhere, Em," Seth laughed. "You can relax. But don't get used to my visits. This was only for a friend. Or should I say—your friend."

"What?" Emma couldn't understand a single thing. But Seth merely grinned as he reached into his pocket.

"As I said, I've got a delivery to make. Here you go."

He handed her a folded note. The ink was smeared in places, and the paper seemed crusty and crude. She wondered who it could have been from, and why she had been the addressee.

She opened the note.

Emma,

Hope you're having fun up in the school. You won't see me often, but I'll be around. What're you reading?

Friends? : )

Emma groaned.

"Great. Now I have to play a guessing game to see who my mail is from."

Seth's grin widened. "It's not a guessing game, but that doesn't mean I'm going to tell you. He's your friend."

"So it's a he," Emma pondered. "And he's not in the school. Seth, how long ago did you accept this delivery?"

"I would have to say—ten minutes. He treated me to fruit." Seth licked his lips in satisfaction.

"Ten minutes—I was reading Divisadero. So he can see me? Hm. Wait here, Seth, and I'll give you something to take back. Don't worry about constant exchanges; I'm sure this is a one-time thing."

"Alright," Seth conceded, "But you're not following me. Promise me you'll draw the curtains the moment I'm outside. I'll loiter until you do."

Emma smiled, nodding. "Absolutely."

She returned with a folded letter in her hands, delicately slipping the note into Seth's mouth apprehensively.

"Will your beak puncture the note?" Emma asked.

"You should know. You were bird-girl once."

"The Cast Exam," Emma explained. "I've forgotten everything."

"No, it won't harm the note. Open the window while I morph."

Emma obeyed, unwilling to watch her cousin shift his shape. She was face to face with a nodding, airborne pigeon, which soared straight through the window with a folded note carried in his beak, still intact.

True to his word, Seth lingered outside her window until she drew the curtains. Emma decided she preferred it this way, not knowing, and returned to marking Perez's quizzes.

Speak of the devil, Emma thought wryly, as Instructor Perez entered the room.

"Emma, I've something I'd like you to know. Your surname is Tolly, is that right?"

Emma nodded, expectant. What was coming next?

"I think it's fair for you to know—I—I'm your relative. Your Uncle, in fact."

"But your surname isn't Tolly," Emma protested. "It's Perez!"

"I hid myself from the Bloors after Dr Tolly died. I found no trace of you. Julia was gone—in hiding, I suspected and half-hoped—and I had nowhere to go. I supposed the best place to be was away from Harold Bloor. He's got connections, and it's not easy to hide in such a small town. Everyone knows everyone. You can't fart without getting away with it. Like I said, such a small town."

"I see," Emma said hesitantly. "Instructor Perez—I mean, Uncle, who are you?"

"My name is Abravius Locklear Tolly, but I go by Bravy. When Mostyn—your father—passed away, I was the courier. I spoke with him earlier after his death, and he told me of his intentions. How he would be sending all his possessions to Julia. How he planned to awaken you. Oh, how I wished I could have been there to help you find yourself. It would have been easier, because I knew how everything was supposed to run. It would run like clockwork, if I had been there."

"But it didn't," Emma said. "But you weren't."

Bravy shook his head sadly. "No, I wasn't. No, it didn't. Nothing went according to plan. I couldn't stay with Dr Bloor watching. I knew he would track me down and hurt me, or hurt my family. I have no children, but I do have a wife I adored."

Emma noted the past tense. "She's gone?"

"Past tense doesn't necessarily mean she's dead or missing, Emma," Bravy said gently. "She's just—not who I married. Years ago—eighteen, to be exact—I fell in love with a wonderful woman. Her name was Fallon, a gorgeous blonde like yourself. In fact, I rather think you're prettier."

Emma blushed, but didn't interrupt.

"Fallon was everything I needed, and wanted. She was friendly, gentle, caring, beautiful, and intelligent. We spent a good nine years of our lives together as a wed couple, with solid careers and dependable incomes. We got through."

Emma nodded, waiting for the climax.

"But Fallon became insistent. She wanted children. And only later did I discover her true motive. She wanted to manipulate them, like puppets, to achieve what she wanted. I knew nine years was far too long for a masquerade. Fallon must have once been a good and kind woman. If I had been the cause for the sudden turn, I would never forgive myself."

Bravy was very emotional, Emma noticed.

"She wanted to use them to her advantage, for her personal gain. I hated that. I wanted to destroy her. I wanted to tear her to pieces. But instead, I merely left her, telling her she disgusted me. And now that I'm top Instructor at the Institute, and Vice Headmaster beneath Morvan and Loth, she's coming to visit."

He was also extremely melodramatic.

"She's coming to wallow in my power. She's always been a greedy moron, but now more so than ever. She knows of you, Emma. She wants to use you to her advantage now. To gain."

Emma understood now. All the caring gestures and childish feelings Emma had experienced alongside "Instructor Perez" made sense. He was her relative, and he loved her.

Love was her endowment. It had been telling her something, had been showing her something. Had it been she who hadn't been listening? Had she blindfolded herself, unable to accept the possibilities that now were real and factual?

"You've been blindfolded nearly your entire life, Emma, to the possibilities and options around you," Bravy said, echoing her thoughts. "This time, I'm trying to show you before you meet your test. Fallon will be here momentarily."

Emma leapt up.

"I can't meet Aunt Fallon this way!" She stared at her clothes. "I'm a mess, Uncle Bravy!"

"Don't worry," Bravy laughed. "I'm a wealthy man. I can find you something. I've been preparing for this moment almost my whole life, since I left town. When Morvan and Loth spoke of transferring students, I requested you. Fallon was an obstacle. I couldn't make her postpone her visit. My apologies."

"If you're already wealthy, why is Fallon greedy? She doesn't need much more than money."

"You don't see the point, Emma," Bravy sighed, though not unkindly. "Fallon is the kind of woman who can never get enough. Once she's tasted something sweet, she needs more. It's impossible to be too wealthy when you're with Fallon."

"I see." Emma wasn't sure if she'd enjoy Fallon's company, but Bravy had already emphasized that it couldn't be helped. "So what have you for me to wear?"

"I've plenty of dresses, in fact. All your size, I hope. You are twelve, right?"

"I'm thirteen."

Bravy shrugged. "You're rather slender for thirteen, so the size for age-twelve girls should fit like a glove. My dormitory is number 60. I might be a while."

Emma nodded. She understood.

As Bravy exited Emma heard a peck at the window. She turned, surprised. When her eyes fell on the pigeon, flapping frantically, she laughed and opened the shutters.

"Seth!"

The pigeon soared gratefully inside, morphing into a boy once more.

"Good gracious, I had to wait for Instructor Perez to leave," Seth sighed.

Hearing her Uncle Bravy called Instructor Perez bothered Emma a little, but she let it fly as she waited.

"What have you got there?"

For Seth was withdrawing from his pocket another note. "Sorry; I know you said it wasn't going to be a constant exchange, but your friend bothered to reply. And don't worry about me, I don't mind flying. It's awesome."

Emma had to agree. But she couldn't quite recall what was so great about the sensation you received when in flight. She had forgotten largely everything about birds and flying after the Cast Exam.

"Thank you." She accepted the note, unfolding it twice until letters appeared before her eyes. These were scrawled in a naturally untidy font, but Emma could tell the writer had been trying to make it neat.

Definitely a boy.

The boy was also a student on campus. He might be in the other building, which sat directly below her window. That way, he might be able to monitor her actions. After all, he had seen her reading Divisadero, hadn't he?

Divisadero is a good book. It's one of those few I've really read.

And no, I'm not going to tell you my name. Who was that in your dorm?

SB

Who was SB?

"Seth, wait here." Emma reached into her bookbag and handed Seth a watermelon lolly.

She then proceeded to write a response.

SB,

I won't ask anymore. I didn't know boys read Divisadero. It's a love story.

That was Instructor Perez in my dorm.

Emma paused. Should she tell SB about Bravy? If the secret correspondent was a Bloor, or possibly even Morvan or Loth, Seth would know. She continued to write.

He's really my wealthy Uncle Bravy. His wife Fallon is coming to visit. And now that she discovers I exist, she's going to use me to get what she wants.

Emma

Jacky: If you figure out who SB is, don't say it in a review.

You: Okay. Some people don't know yet.

Jacky: Exactly. I hope you like the story, and please give feedback.

You: I'm so glad Emma has a rich relative. She deserves one.

3 Definitely. : )