“All students have the same required core classes,” Conner says. “And the choice of special electives like accents, martial arts, coding, boxing, archery, and horticulture. While levels of specific skills vary within each year of students, there is a strict divide between the elemental-level students in their first two years and the advanced-level students. If an elemental-level student cannot transition properly to advanced-level expectations, they are not permitted to stay.” Conner pauses in a way that makes me think he wants me to understand the gravity of his words.
“And because I’m seventeen, I’m guessing I’m in my third year and therefore an advanced-level student?” I say.
“You are. Now, we’ve been assured that your physical skills are sufficient. But the core class that links everything we do here is history. Unfortunately, you have missed two and a half years of lessons that not only reveal the stories of the original Families but also analyze the major historical events they influenced. It’s the strategy discussed in the context of these historical events that will shape your education here. Headmaster Blackwood only hopes that your tutors have been good enough that you do not slow down the other students. As I said, excellence is a must.”
History Is the Teacher of Life now makes perfect sense as the school motto. Also, I’m pretty sure my dad would kill me if he spent a ton of money to safeguard me in a remote private school only to have me sent home because I failed some cryptic history class. I rub my hands together. “And if I wanted to do some independent studying just in case? Is there a book I could read or something?”
Conner frowns for so long that I cough in the hope that the sound will make him stop staring. “I fear that if you don’t realize there’s no written record of that history, it may be altogether impossible for you to survive here with the other students.”
The word survive sends a chill through me. So I laugh. I laugh because I’m good at it, because it’s been my lifelong go-to in order to make people feel at ease, and because I get the distinct impression that I just revealed my hand and need to recover—fast. “I didn’t mean a book about Family history. I meant a book that might help me with, you know, the subtleties.”
He huffs like he’s unsure, but the threat has disappeared from his eyes.
“Or anything else you can think of,” I say. “I’m all ears.”
He relaxes into the pillows behind him. “Well, now, that is something you will just have to figure out for yourself.”
I open my mouth to respond but catch myself. What a jerk.
Dr. Conner stands. “Now if you’ll follow me, I have one final thing for you to do this morning.”
I get up off the plush couch and push my braid over my shoulder.
Conner pulls two chairs away from the wall and sets them up facing each other. I wait for him to sit down, but he doesn’t. Instead, he straightens his vest and stands behind the chair on the right. “Sit, please, in whichever seat you like.”