Trash Affinity? No—Genius

va Stu

to the School of M

e against his black suit, her face tilted up in a mask of horror. Tears already glittered in her blue eyes. Above her br

ffin McBride-is a madman, everyone says so. Th

mahogany desk. The air was thick wi

ty, our family's own crest, embossed in gold. The other was heavy parchment, sealed

n in this exact moment. T

letter was hers. She wept for it, pleaded for it, right here in this room-and Father never denied her anything. She went. She never came home.Her mem

ad-my magic, my years, my name-and built them into what they are. And when there was nothing le

had the cold

the rise," Bella went on. "Every

ace going soft. "Of course, my little princess. You'll stay.

gaze sl

t was familiar-the old, chilled d

l go to the Schoo

t. A sentenc

cked two fingers at the parchment. "Perhaps that motley crew of freaks out th

s never that they thought me weak. They thought me "untidy". Useles

at my ribs. I

, Fat

her mask slipped-she had braced for a fight, for tears, f

flooded him, and he shoved the parchment across

aint pulse rose to meet my touch-a whisper that

letter. Not an admission.

d, sweet as poisoned sweets. "Good

hout looking back. Behind me, she was alread

d shut, sealing one w

house was expensive. Nothing was warm. A family portrait hung at the turn: Edmund, his l

ever ha

k curled across the page: "On the eve of the first ter

ted on no map a m

ge-Oxford, the dream I had fought for in another life. I dragged t

ke. From downstairs drifted Bella's little celebration

the letter to my chest, fee

is family everything

I would liv

hey were sendi

y had just opened th