Chapter Twenty-Three: Senior Trip | Part 1
Thirtyx had always loved the energy the day the seniors left for the senior trip.
The potency and complex flavor had puzzled him as a kid. How could a long weekend of fun and relaxation spark so much deception? Around his fourth or fifth year, he finally caught on to what mischief and debauchery a class of teenagers could get into off-world with little adult supervision.
Planning his own mischief and debauchery had been a welcome distraction from the ever-present anxiety that followed Varmarin’s murder—not that the authorities currently had enough evidence to call it murder. He’d been found near a busy highway, which made isolating the murderer’s essence from those of passersby nearly impossible. There were no traces of magic, and Varmarin had been stabbed by his own sword, the same one that had killed Grimmary’s guard and subdued the security at the Liamer Forge.
In the absence of physical evidence, authorities had turned to deciphering his motives and associates, but even that proved tricky. For instance, had he been returning to Everis for further instruction or leaving Everis for another job?
Was his death an act of vigilante justice, disposal of evidence, or an unrelated coincidence?
No. Thirtyx was done dwelling on this for a few days. He’d made that decision when he left his room for breakfast. He relaxed into his chair and breathed in the energy of furtive anticipation.
Before exchanging another covert glance with the subject of his own planned shenanigans.
“We bought him a lovers’ retreat,” Benn grumbled into his breakfast hash. “All that negotiation with Grimm, and we’re never going to see him this weekend.”
Thirtyx glowered at him. “You know it still isn’t wise for Seerla and I to spend all our time together. Maybe Dexy won’t be around to catch us, but our classmates will.”
Rhea snorted. “You think anyone on this trip is going to care what anyone else is doing? Half of Seerla’s friends are Selkies, and with all the hidden cave pools in the area, I doubt any of them will breach the surface the whole time we’re there.”
“Oh, well, in that case, I do get to see you two every day—”
Thirtyx winced as Rhea’s fist connected with his arm. “Very funny. You know, it isn’t too late for us to turn that gift into a loan.”
Thirtyx’s face fell as he cast another look around the dining hall, not for Seerla but for Mr. Blackstone. “Well, you might have to wait a long time for me to repay that loan. Here comes my next stack of rejection letters.”
While he often deflected with jokes, the rejections were starting to genuinely wear on him. He’d sent off his final few applications last weekend, bringing him to a grand total of 48. He’d only planned on 47, but Benn, Rhea, and Seerla had convinced him that 48 was a far luckier number.
And perhaps he’d need every application he could manage. He’d already received 21 rejections and not a single acceptance.
“You’ve still got a long way to go,” Rhea said encouragingly. “A lot of places get their rejections out of the way so they can mull over the real candidates. Twenty-one rejections means 27 piles you’re still in.”
Mr. Blackstone slapped a formidable stack of envelopes onto their table and chuckled as he sauntered away.
“He’s going to feel really sheepish if there’s an acceptance in there somewhere,” Benn noted.
There wasn’t.
Benn and Rhea had helped him open the envelopes so he could unfold each letter and scan it for the verdict, a task he completed as a cacophony of excited squealing carried across the dining hall from one of the larger tables. Limbs flailed. Hugs were exchanged.
Someone had been far luckier than Thirtyx today.
He sighed and stuffed the letters into his book bag. Best to spare himself some humiliation by disposing of them privately. But a great deal of whispered shushing, followed by a familiar voice, drew his attention back to the large table. “Dear Miss Seerla Devinsmeade. The legal practice of Hyral Dexerro is pleased to offer you an apprenticeship in interstate law, with an effective start date of Nirys 9, in the city of Rasmerran, Corcoroll.”
Thirtyx tried not to make himself too obvious as he joined the twins in some light cheering. He’d have all weekend to make sure she knew how proud of her he truly was. They almost didn’t notice that the headmistress had entered the dining hall for the morning announcement and now stood expectantly in the middle of the room.
