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Жанры

Midnight Academy. Born at midnight
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“We can,” the parent answered confidently and suddenly added: “Sally has no abilities.”

– How can he not? Nothing at all? – Madame Pelisey said dumbfounded, as if this fact surprised her much more than our appearance on the threshold of her academy.

“No,” my mother answered clearly.

But Madame didn’t seem to believe her. And that's right actually.

– No sensitive hearing? No sharp vision? No speed? Dexterity? Strength? – she listed, pronouncing each next word louder. – Nothing at all?

– At all.

The director of the Midnighter Academy, judging by her tone, was taken aback:

“Then how do you want your daughter to study here?” What will she learn if she has no even a hint of ability?

There's nothing worse than waiting. During the expressive pause, my heart managed to beat against my chest three times.

“Madame Pelisay, I am not asking you to teach her to be a Midnighter.” Knowing that the Dark Side exists will be enough for her. In our case, forewarned means forearmed. “I understand that my request may seem arrogant to you, but I really have no other options,” my mother chaotically and hastily made excuses, as if she was afraid that they would interrupt her and throw her out, which I personally would be very happy about. “I ask that you hide Sally in your academy.”

Silence reigned again in the office behind the wall.

I lived all my eighteen years in an absolutely normal, ordinary world. But the first sign that all was not well with me appeared four years ago. Then I was terribly afraid of the changes that came to me overnight.

I was a late bloomer. While my next new classmates were busy dating guys, going on dates in the evenings, I was poring over textbooks, because they were the only ones who were my constant friends on all our trips.

And the guys didn’t really notice me. Childishly angular, without outstanding forms, thin and silent. They only needed me if they needed to copy homework, and then they quickly forgot about me.

My transformation happened right on the road. Having rented a new car using fake documents, we had already been driving to the other side of the continent for several weeks when I began to notice the first minor changes in myself. The look became different. The shape of the face seemed different, and then the body slowly but surely underwent tangible metamorphoses.

I could boast of a figure no worse than my mother’s, and, probably, it was for this reason that I suddenly gained popularity at the new school. Now every second person wanted to make friends with me, and the guys kept asking me to go out after class.

But it was impossible. My mother watched like a hawk to ensure that I strictly followed her stupid rules. For example, we had a strict ban on creating accounts on social networks and accessing the Internet not in Incognito mode. I shouldn’t have invited any of my classmates to visit us, even if it was required for a joint project and threatened with failure for the assignment. I couldn’t have friends at all and every time we moved, I cut off absolutely all contacts. I was prohibited from personal communication with anyone, much less meeting outside of school hours.

However, my mother could not keep an eye on me at school.

It was there that I first felt that my hearing had changed. When concentrating on one thing – for example, a raven flying in the sky – I could hear the flapping of its wings. Or the conversation of classmates on the other side of the street when they were discussing someone too frivolously. Or…

In fact, I could clearly hear anything within a radius of about thirty meters, but this required real concentration, without being distracted by anything else for a split second. It was impossible to eat and listen at the same time, or walk and listen, but I rejoiced even at this advantage. It kept me from doing something stupid in high school, when I briefly became rebellious.

Pretending that I diligently went to bed, I ran out of the house through the window to go to the next party thrown by one of my classmates. Crazy dancing, loud music, nasty colorful cocktails and secluded corners where guys took their girls to kiss for a long time.

And not just kissing. Out of curiosity, having overheard the intentions of my “boyfriend” in his conversation with a friend, I left that last party for me before everyone else. Because she couldn't afford to fall so low. Yes, I didn’t want to – it’s not like that and not with him. I hoped that one day I would meet the one worthy, but with our nomadic life, even casual acquaintances were not possible.

When someone spoke to me on the street or in a shopping center, I silently turned around and walked in the opposite direction, even if the guy turned out to be handsome as God and had a damn incredible voice.

Any of the random passers-by could turn out to be the wolf from Little Red Riding Hood, who at all costs wanted to devour both the grandmother and granddaughter.

I discovered my second change in myself. I became curious if I had any other powers along with the superheroes from movies and comics. I tried to fly, I tried to jump far, run fast and even turn into a werewolf, which scared the neighbor’s ginger cat, who came for a walk on our balcony in another rented apartment.

So, through trial and error, I realized that my vision is still much better than that of completely healthy people. Where others only saw the big picture, I could see the smallest details. I looked at the number of the approaching bus about a hundred meters before it stopped, and if in the house opposite there was a woman reading in a chair by the window, then I confidently saw the text on the pages.

But this also required narrow concentration, which was not at all easy. I got tired too quickly and could fall asleep for several hours right in broad daylight. At the same time, my periodic slipping into a coma was not at all surprising to my mother. She was often busy working, staying at her laptop until late at night, or creating yet another escape plan.

Moreover, she always had several options in case something unexpected happened.

Until about ten years old, I sincerely believed that she was a former spy from some sophisticated intelligence agency, who cut off all ties with the birth of her daughter. But time passed, and we just ran away, never meeting our pursuer face to face.

It was precisely because my mother already had enough reasons to be nervous that I did not talk about my discoveries. I didn’t want to worry her even more, seeing how difficult it was already for her. And now she was even glad that she managed to keep everything a secret.

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