Delilah watched, smiling, as this year's batch of fresh students filed into her classroom, guided by an older student who had not, if he knew how to follow the rules, answered a single one of the many questions the teenagers no doubt had.
Once all six children were in the room, the door closed, suddenly and with a small snap. Catherine and Isabella, names Delilah knew from the files she had studied carefully in the weeks before the start of the semester, looked around suspiciously, but quickly decided that the noise posed no threat.
After all, they didn't know that the door had closed of it's own accord.
All in good time.
Delilah gestured towards the six cushioned chairs, each behind a sizeable desk, and the children took their seats, some more reluctantly than others. Catherine immediately slouched in her chair and crossed her arms in defiance. Ian rested his head lazily in one hand, elbows on the desk. The rest were still nervous about making a bad impression, and sat upright, perfectly still.
It was a difficult day for the children. Each had arrived late the night before, chauffeured by dedicated drivers who also weren't allowed to answer questions and ushered immediately to their individual, private bedrooms on the school's premises. There was nothing stopping them from exploring after they were left alone, of course. But in Delilah's experience, few ever did, not on that first night, anyway.
Each child had been tracked and contacted as soon as they turned fourteen. Some were easy to find. Lilly, for example, was the youngest of seven girls, all of whom had gone through the school before her. She would have been expecting the summons, fretting, no doubt, that she would be the first member of her family not to be chosen. Ian, Mikey, Isabella, and Tina were all found easily, at or near their parents' homes. Only Catherine had proven difficult, runaway that she was, but the recruitment department had found her anyway, gotten her into a foster home, and brought her here, as planned, in time for school.The Owl Academy was a unique, elite school for a very select group of students, but Delilah doubted that anyone except Lilly and perhaps Ian had heard of it before. Ian's father was very, very rich and was possibly one of the many wealthy individuals who had heard of the school and tried to buy their child a place. By all accounts, he was certainly the type to try. No one knew what the school taught, exactly, or what it's methods were--the only thing that those in the know were certain of was that every child who had ever gone there had grown to be highly successful in whatever field they chose.
But no one could buy their way into Owl Academy. There was no application process, no entrance exams, no open days--through a process known only to higher administration, students were selected from across the country and invited to attend. Few refused, although there had been some, from time to time. Very few invitations were sent each year.
This year, all six invitations had been accepted.
Delilah smiled at the now seated children. The room was perfectly silent and, so far, not a word had been spoken.
Delilah had been teaching first years for longer than anyone could possibly understand. She had learned in that time that there was little to be gained from easing the children into things. By accepting the invitation to attend, their lives had changed forever, and the sooner they realized that, the better. Throw them in the deep end, and be their to help them kick their way to the surface--that was how she operated.
"Okay class!" she said in a clear, commanding voice that rang out through the silence, making Mikey jump. "Pop quiz."
No introductions, no welcoming speeches, no books handed out or timetables examined. Just straight down to business.
In the seconds before the quiz began, Delilah noted the facial expressions that spread across each child's face. Tina, Isabella, and Mikey looked panicky, but also slightly relieved. Pop quizzes were normal, if unwelcome. Perhaps this wouldn't be a completely crazy experience, after all. Catherine huffed with annoyance and Ian groaned audibly, but Lilly just sat quietly, smiling to herself.
Delilah raised her hands in front of her body and held them there until the room settled once more and every eye was fixed on her. Then, suddenly and without warning, she brought her hands together in a single, loud clap.
The class jumped. On each desk, an owl appeared, instantly, with no indication at all from where it had come. Each was unique, each meant something different. They were all representations of owls, rather than living creatures (only once in Owl Academy's history had a live owl appeared on a child's desk, but Delilah was always hoping to be the teacher that was there to see the second).
Delilah loved this part. She found it it extremely illuminating.
The room filled with gasps and murmurs and silent questions that the children had no idea how to ask, let alone answer. The timing was critical. Before anyone could start panicking in earnest, Delilah's voice rang out once more.
"Question one: Tina, what does your owl mean?"
Tina was the obvious child to begin with. She had an undiagnosed anxiety order, one that manifested in part in a strong desire and drive to perform well on everything, always (lest the world should end). She would try to answer, despite her confusion and uncertainty, because not answering would seem impossible to a tired, frightened, electric mind like hers.
"Um. . ." Tina glanced nervously from her desk to those around her, noting with growing horror that all the owls were different, what did that mean, why were they not the same, which one was right? But she couldn't say that she didn't know. That was not a skill that Tina had developed.
Yet.
"Look at it more closely," said Delilah, kindly.
Nervously, Tina picked her owl up. It was soft, a small plushie toy in bright shades of pink and orange and purple. A small tongue protruded from its beak, and one eye was closed, blinking mischievously.
"I think it means. . .I think. . ." Tina deflated and slouched in her seat. "It's the only colorful, silly one," she said, her voice cracking. "It means that it is silly for me to be here."
"I am very pleased to be able to tell you that you are completely wrong," said Delilah, cheerfully. Tina's eyes widened in shock, not just that she'd gotten something wrong, but because Delilah seemed to think that being wrong in this instance was good. "Your owl is here to tell you that there is softness and silliness in this world as well as hard work and seriousness. Both are needed for a successful life."
Delilah turned to Ian, not waiting for a response from Tina. Tina would need a lot of guidance, and too much attention this early could cause her to shut down.
"Ian, what does your owl mean?"
"What? I have no friggin idea," said Ian, defiantly, a child who wore ignorance as a badge of honor, as a way to defend himself against the unfair expectations of a rich father."Good," said Delilah, her smile widening. "Knowing when you don't know something is an excellent skill!"
Ian blinked. Not the response he was used to. While he was off guard, Delilah added, "Why don't you look more closely?"
Ian snatched his owl from the desk. It was light and hollow. "It's just a cheap, plastic thing," he snorted. "It's--" He broke off.
Delilah gently prompted him to continue by asking, "What color is it?"
"Sky blue. . ."
"Which was. . .?"
"Mom's favorite color. . ."
"And on its wing it has. . .?"
Ian held the owl up to his face, then gasped and dropped it on the table as if it had caught fire.
The violent thud didn't bother Delilah. The owls couldn't break.
"How did you know?" Ian whispered.
"I didn't," said Delilah. There was nothing to be gained by explaining to the rest of the class that the handwritten letter A on the owl's wing was written in the same hand with which Ian's mother had signed the little notes in his lunchbox every day, right up until the day she'd died. Ian would share that himself, in time.
But the bigger lesson did have to be completed.
"Ian, your owl is here to remind you that cheap isn't the same as worthless, and that some things can't be bought. And that's wonderful."
"Mine looks like the drawings I used to do when I was a kid," said Mikey, the first to speak without being prompted." Except 3D and hard and stuff." He was examining it closely. "In fact. . ."
"Yes," said Delilah. "It's the exact drawing you had on the wall in your bedroom when you were five. Isn't it lovely?"
It was. A beautiful owl, surprisingly well proportioned and shaded for the age of the child who had created it, a clear sign of talent that had been snuffed out by teachers and parents who were more concerned about Mikey's inability to sit still and pay attention than anything else.
"But I still can't answer the question," whispered Mikey, clutching his owl tightly. "I never know the answers. . ."
"Your owl is here to tell you that not everything grownups do or say is right, and that the things we love as children don't have to be stifled as we age."
"Leaving aside for the moment that this is all completely insane," said Isabella, "I know exactly what mine means. It means I'm supposed to be at home looking after my brothers and sister, and that coming here was a mistake."
Isabella's voice was sad and resigned, and Delilah's heart swelled with sadness for a childhood lost.
"Not at all, Isabella," said Delilah. "In fact, your owl wants to remind you of something completely different. Look again."
Isabella held her beautifully crafted, ceramic owl up to the light. Under it's wings were three baby starlings, one about to take flight, and another ruffling it's feathers in preparation to do the same.
"Your owl is here to tell you that your brothers and sisters are not your children to care for. Your level of involvement in their lives is entirely up to you. You can ask for help. You can say no. And they will, one day, take flight and learn about the world for themselves."
Isabella looked at her owl, skepticism writ large across her face, but Delilah trusted in the Academy--she knew that Isabella wouldn't be here if she couldn't learn what was needed.
"Look," said Catherine. "What the hell is going on here? How did these things just appear out of nowhere?"
Delilah turned to the runaway rebel with the problem with authority and said, calmly, "Magic."
"That's not actually an answer," said Catherine, impatiently.
"No. But the real answer is a bit harder to comprehend. It takes a long time to understand. About four years, in fact. So, for now, 'magic' will have to suffice."Catherine snorted. She scooped her own owl up from her desk and held it up to the light where it glinted and shone. Her owl was made up entirely from bits of broken, colored glass, and it was one of the most beautiful Delilah had ever seen.
"What does it mean?" Delilah prompted.
"It means," said Catherine, "that you went to the same psychology school as all the social workers and shelter employees I've ever met. Broken doesn't mean 'not beautiful.' Right?"
"Right," said Delilah, infusing every bit of warmth she'd ever felt for anyone into her voice. "Absolutely correct. Well done!"
Catherine snorted derisively, but her eyes didn't leave the glinting, dangerously sharp item in her hands. As Delilah turned away, Catherine placed her owl carefully on her desk, already treating it with the respect that all students at the Academy were taught to show to their owls.
Last but not least: Lilly.
"Lilly, what does your owl mean?" Delilah asked, gently. Like her six sisters before her, Lilly had received an owl of solid gold, a gemstone embedded in it's chest. Each sister's gemstone was different, each hinting something about the ability the child would show during their training. Lilly's owl sported a glinting emerald.
It was also far smaller than any owl her sisters had received.
"It means," said Lilly in a flat, expressionless voice, "that I will always be the smallest and the least important."
Delilah leaned closer and said, quietly. "Pick it up."With a sigh, Lilly obeyed, reaching one reluctant hand towards her owl. She wrapped her fingers around it's tiny surface, lifted, and gasped. "It's so heavy!" she said.
"Yes," said Delilah. "Because it's here to remind you that being the littlest doesn't mean that you can't have an enormous impact."
Delilah straightened and returned to the front of the classroom.
"By the end of this year, your owls may have changed, some a lot, some hardly at all. By the end of your second year, your owl will have a fixed shape, and by the end of all four years here, you will have developed a clear understanding of what your owl means for your journey as an adult out there in the 'real' world."
Delilah pulled her own owl out from beneath her sweater where it hung on a golden chain. Her owl was an iron creation, a book held in one wing and a quill in the other. All around the owl, words and figures swirled, some the children would recognize, some that they had yet to learn about. Each character was fixed in midair, floating in perpetuity around Delilah's owl, held in place by nothing at all.
"My owl reminds me of the importance of receiving and imparting knowledge at every chance I get. I am here to do exactly that; to teach you and to learn from you and to grow together with you as your journey here begins."
She returned her owl to its place against her chest. The faces in front of her sported a mix of skepticism, wonder, awe, and, yes, fear.
It wasn't anything she hadn't seen before.
"You are all here because you have the power to impact and be impacted by this world in ways that most people are completely unable to understand. Together, we will uncover your potential and teach you to become all that you are be destined to be."
She straightened her shoulders and looked proudly over the future leaders that sat before her.
"Children," she said. "Welcome to Owl Academy."