Home Sweet Home

I weaved through the bustling halls, a blur of grey uniforms and textbook-clutching arms, my heart thrumming an erratic beat. This couldn’t be happening. I must be dreaming. Right? Never, in the past six years of regulated existence within these walls, did I think I’d actually be getting out of this place, let alone going to an actual, honest-to-goodness home. My first few months here, sure, I’d prayed every night that my mother would be found, that she’d burst through the doors and sweep me away. But the more time stretched, days blurring into weeks, weeks into months, the easier it was to accept the grim reality. Solus was my life now. And then, out of nowhere, this. Not only was I getting out, but my best friend, Farrah, got to come with me. And, holy smokes, I might even have a safe place to make my first shift, a place where I wouldn’t be under the scrutiny of the Councillium.

That last thought, the incredible weight of it, brought me to a dead stop in the middle of the hallway, two doors away from my destination. How was I going to explain things to Tilly? The whole tribrid thing, the werewolf side, the parts of me that weren't supposed to exist? Would she understand? Would she be horrified? Oh God! Would she kick me out when she found out? Even worse, would she kick Farrah out? My stomach clenched, a cold dread washing over the giddy excitement. I violently shook my thoughts away, literally wobbling my head from side to side. No. One day at a time, that’s what Mom always said anyway. I took tentative steps forward, forcing my feet to move. I could deal with this.

I knocked on the door to our Spells and Magics class, the sound a dull thud against the solid wood. I knew Farrah would be pissed. Practical magics was the most anticipated subject for everyone in our year, a chance to actually do something exciting. A voice, dripping with sarcasm, cut through the quiet hum of the classroom. “Ms. Adams, so nice of you to finally join us.” Ugh, Mr. Thorpe. His voice grated on my nerves, like chalk on a blackboard. I was already looking forward to never having to learn anything from him again. He was, without a doubt, the worst teacher here. And not just because his lessons were drier than old toast. He smelled, all the time, like a repulsive mixture of lizard spit and toad pee. It was a bizarre, stomach-churning scent that seemed to cling to him like a second skin.

“Sorry to interrupt, sir,” I said, keeping my tone as neutral as possible, ignoring the urge to hold my breath. “But I was sent to get Farrah. Headmaster requests her.” I glanced at Farrah, who had gone completely white at the mention of the Headmaster. Her usual vibrant energy had drained away, leaving her looking utterly terrified. Mr. Thorpe, clearly annoyed by the interruption, made a curt shooing motion with his hand, and Farrah, looking like she’d just seen a ghost, practically scrambled out of her seat and to the door.

Once outside, I began walking down the hall, ignoring her frantic, sputtering questions. “The Headmaster? Why would he want me? What did I do? Genesis, what is going on?!” Her voice was a hushed, panicked whisper. At the end of the hall, I stopped and took a right at the staircase that led down to the main floor. Farrah, still interrogating me, pulled to a dead stop, her eyes wide. When I turned to look at her, the fear was gone, replaced by a wave of pure, unadulterated frustration that radiated off her like heat.

Then she took two steps towards me, her finger jabbing accusingly into my shoulder. "You cannot possibly be serious right now. Today, of all days, to be a rebel, and you choose today?! During spells?! How can you be so inconsiderate, Gen? Like, come on!" True to form, she spun around, her strawberry hair flying, and started marching back towards the classroom, clearly done with my antics.

“Farrah, wait!” I called out, a little louder than I intended. She stopped dead in her tracks, whirling back towards me, rage flashing in her eyes. “I’m not being rebellious,” I insisted, rushing the words out. “I have something to tell you, something really, really good. I just wanted to be out of earshot of the nosy Nellies around here.” That’s when she looked at me, actually looked at me, her anger draining away as she finally registered my expression. She finally saw the uncontained excitement bubbling over, the way my smile split my face in half, practically threatening to crack it.

Her eyes narrowed. “Okay, cut it out. That smile is creeping me out. Just tell me what it is.”

I grabbed her arm and pulled her further up the stairs, into a quieter alcove, making sure we were truly out of earshot. In a low, urgent voice, I quickly explained my time in Headmaster Winthrop’s office: the mysterious woman, the revelation of Tilly being my grandmother, the unbelievable offer to take me home. And then, the ultimate gamble, the desperate plea that Tilly take her too.

When I was done, she only looked at me, utterly speechless, like I had just sprouted a third head or announced I was moving to the moon. No excitement. No gasping. Just wide, unblinking eyes and an open mouth. My own excitement, so recently bubbling, quickly died out, replaced by a cold wave of doubt. Had I wrongly assumed that she would want to go with me? Had I been so caught up in my own whirlwind that I hadn't considered her feelings?

“Say something. Please?” I urged, a flicker of panic. “You never go this long without talking. You’re starting to worry me.”

I was totally taken off guard when she suddenly threw her arms around me, a bone-crushing hug that nearly knocked me to the floor. “I don’t know what to say,” she mumbled into my shoulder, her voice muffled, thick with emotion. “Thank you doesn’t seem like enough.” She pulled back, her eyes glistening. She wiped them quickly with the back of her hand, a wide, slightly watery grin plastered on her freckled face. Then, without another word, she turned and started practically bounding up the stairs, taking them two at a time. “Well, come on, Gen! Let’s get out of here!”

Believe it or not, the packing process did not take long. Like, literally no time at all. There was no agonizing over outfits or shoe choices. All we possessed were two pairs of plain canvas shoes – the kind that were utterly non-descript, not Converse or Vans or anything with personality – and about five uniforms each, plus two nightdresses. I know you’re thinking, ‘Y’all were rocking those Converse sneakers, though!’ but no. Farrah had actually never even heard of the brand Converse before I’d brought it up a while back, which just highlights how different her world was. So, with our meager belongings bundled into one scuffed duffel bag, we trudged back to the admin building to meet Tilly. Grandma? Gran? I don’t know, we can figure that one out later.

Tilly, God bless her, couldn't stop fawning over Farrah. And Farrah, the attention-seeker she was, was absolutely basking in it. I’d never seen her so genuinely shy before, her cheeks faintly pink, her usual chatterbox mode momentarily muted. But it only took two minutes, maybe even less, of Tilly complimenting her bright eyes and pretty hair for her to burst at the seams, the words tumbling out in a joyful torrent. When Tilly saw our one pitiful bag and what little was inside it, her expression tightened. She sent a hard, piercing look Headmaster Winthrop’s way, a silent accusation, and told us to leave it behind. She then ushered us out the door quickly, her hand gently guiding us, but not before shooting one last, meaningful glance back at the Headmaster. “You’ll be seeing me soon,” she announced, her voice low and firm, filled with an unmistakable, underlying threat. It was safe to say no one missed it. The Solus Institute, I suspected, would soon be under serious investigation. I’d always wondered if all the institutes were like this one, sterile and cold, and my guess was maybe, but it’s certainly not the way they are supposed to be.

So, two hours later, after a forty-minute drive to the airport – which was its own adventure for Farrah, her first time outside the Institute – and an hour-long plane ride, we were in yet another private car heading to Tilly’s house. Farrah looked a little green around the edges, her face a pale shade of chartreuse, a clear indication that this was her first time in any moving vehicle beyond the regulated Institute vans. I held in another laugh as she groaned loudly beside me, one arm circling her stomach, the other clamped over her mouth, clearly fighting a losing battle against motion sickness.

“I’m sorry, dear, we’re almost there,” Tilly assured her from the front passenger seat, her voice gentle, just as the car made another gentle turn, eliciting another theatrical groan from Farrah. Shortly after, the car slowed, then came to a stop outside a massive, intricately wrought iron gate. The driver leaned forward, his finger punching in a code on a keypad, and with a soft whirring sound, the gate swung open, revealing a long, winding driveway. He slowly, almost reverently, moved the car down the drive, and a gasp escaped me. It was just as my mother had described it all those years ago, her voice painting vivid pictures in my mind.

Perfectly manicured blue hydrangeas flowers lined the driveway, their vibrant blooms a riot of color, pruned and trimmed to absolute perfection. The sprawling lawn, a carpet of emerald green, was freshly cut, and I could actually smell the sharp, clean scent of the trimmings in the cool April air. In the far distance, majestic trees, spaced evenly apart along the outer wall of the property, cast inviting patches of shade on the benches nestled beneath them. Somewhere on this sprawling property, I knew there was also a greenhouse, a magical sanctuary filled with every plant and herb one could ever need for a potion or spell, even the rare ones, and, as my mom used to whisper conspiratorially, some truly illegal ones.

The driver finally made his way up the circular drive and came to a smooth stop at the foot of giant, imposing double doors. In the middle of the circular drive, a classical fountain stood, a graceful stone fairy pouring water from a bowl, the soft, trickling sound of the water a soothing background hum. Tilly turned to us, her face glowing with anticipation, but before she could even say a word, her door was opened from the outside. A moment later, she was gently, almost reverently, lifted from the car. I watched, fascinated and a little embarrassed, as an older gentleman, handsome and well-dressed, embraced her tightly and planted a genuinely smoldering kiss on her lips. She was completely drawn in by the male, who I was now pretty sure was my grandfather, Joseph, and for a moment, seemed to completely forget that she had two impressionable teenagers watching their impromptu reunion.

The man, with his mop of perfectly styled grey hair and eyes that twinkled with the same deep green as Tilly's, finally released my grandmother, who was thoroughly flustered and blushing, her face a soft, rosy pink. That’s when his eyes, still warm from the embrace, landed on me and Farrah. The easy smile that had graced his face dropped, replaced by a look of intense, almost bewildered scrutiny. Tilly, smoothing her hands down her dress, finally seemed to notice his distraction and turned to look at us as well. “Oh, that’s right. Sorry, girls.” She motioned for us to exit the vehicle, and we did as she asked, stepping out into the cool April air. I immediately felt self-conscious, fidgeting from foot to foot under the man’s extensive gaze. It was like he wasn't just looking at me, but straight through me, all the way to my soul.

“Genesis,” Tilly said, her voice brimming with quiet triumph, “meet your grandfather, Joseph. Sweetheart, I told you I’d find her.”