My name is Dylan Marshall, I'm fourteen and I'm attending a magic school.
Well, it's not really magic, but rather ‘a school for children with special abilities’, as the man from Lowell Academy tells it.
Two days after an incident at my prior school involving a fellow student, my ability and a horrible mistake, the vice principal from Lowell Academy, Andrew Hearst,
a school neither my parents nor I had heard of, showed up on our doorstep.
He explained that the academy was a secret from most of the public, as was gifted’s, people with supernatural abilities and powers.
The next thing he told us surprised both my parents and I; I had telepathic powers.
I guess I had always been that way; I can remember the deep connection I had to my dog, Andrew. Maybe there was more than a physical connection between us.
Up until a couple years ago, I wasn't able to communicate telepathically with other people, especially ones older than me.
I was to finish the last week of school at Richard Newton Secondary School, then start Lowell Academy in August. (Yes, the school year starts in August)
The summer flew by fast, especially because I was dreading August. I had a normal summer for a fourteen year old kid; going to the beach, visiting grandparents in Edmonton, etc.
But then the summer ended and the prospect of going off to a boarding school alone became all the more real.
I had been in public school my whole life. I don't want to share a room with a complete stranger; what if they were incredibly messy? Or just plain mean?
But what if this new school didn't have any serious classes, like AP or honours?
I've decided; I'll attend this school for a year, then convince Mom and Dad to let me transfer. That might be difficult, though.
They were pretty enthusiastic about Lowell Academy once Mr Hearst talked it over with them.
But I'm sure that if this Lowell Academy doesn't have ideal classes for me, it will be easy to convince them to let me transfer.
“Is this it? It's a lot…newer than I thought.” My mom’s voice causes me exit my day dream.
The building in front of us is so tall I have to crane my neck upwards to catch a glimpse of the many towers adorning the roof.
The building itself looked like a modern castle; made of brick but painted blindingly white. This is not at all what I expected.
My imagination painted a traditional boarding school; old, castle like building, rolling green hills and posh looking kids in uniforms.
Outside Lowell Academy, the green lawn was filled with students; lugging overflowing suitcases up the stairs or chasing each other around and shoving their fellow students aside. Uh.
Nothing extraordinary about this school yet. No invisible or fire breathing children yet.
My dad pulls my bags out of the trunk while my mom holds me in a bear hug.
“Call us often. We want to hear all about everything,” she says with tearful eyes.
My dad hugs me then my mother and him get back in the car and drive off. I watch their car drive out of sight. A suitcase in both hands, I walk up the pathway to the massive oak door.