My apparition.
I hadn’t seen him in a while; I thought he was gone. But I should have known. The man in a suit was always there, since my earliest memories. Never changing, never aging, and always filling me with dread. I thought I’d be able to escape him by leaving, but maybe I was wrong.
***
Eighteen hours, one layover, two coffees, and three bland meals later I arrived at Heathrow Airport. I could feel my eyelids drooping from lack of sleep, and my mouth felt gummy.
I still couldn’t believe this was real. I got to live on my own and attend a private boarding school. The autonomy and adventure of it overshadowed the lingering sadness over leaving home.
I glanced around for my ride. I was supposed to meet Professor Blackmore at the baggage claim. As my gaze grazed over the various homemade signs, I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“Gabrielle Fiori?”
I turned and faced an older gentleman wearing a tweed coat, brown pants, and a red bowtie. A bowtie! All he needed was a monocle and a pipe to complete the look.
“Professor Blackmore?”
“Nice to meet you Gabrielle,” he said, extending his hand. I shook it, relieved that I didn’t have to scour the congested waiting area for my ride. “You were the last person we were waiting for. Why don’t you grab your bags from the baggage claim, and then I’ll go over our plans for the day.”
Once I had collected my luggage, I joined the teens grouped together.
“Now that everyone on my list is here, welcome to the British Isles. As many of you probably know, we still have another leg of the journey ahead of us. I have a ticket for each of you—don’t lose it—it’s for our flight to the Isle of Man.”
Shocked, I looked around me. No one had mentioned another flight. And where was the Isle of Man for that matter? The address on the school’s website indicated that Peel Academy was in London.
Around me, students were smiling and happily whispering to one another. They definitely did not look surprised.
“Um, excuse me.” I cleared my throat and stepped forward. “I didn’t know we had another flight.”
“Miss Fiori, it is customary for us to not publicly disclose the school’s actual location before arrival,” Professor Blackmore said.
“But what about the address on the school’s website?”
Why the secrecy? I didn’t say it out loud, but the shadowy way the school conducted business had bothered me. Not enough to dissuade me from enrolling, but enough to trouble me. Just accessing the website practically required fingerprinting.
Some of the other students glanced at me. Their looks clearly said I was an idiot.
“That address belongs to our London offices, where most of the school’s official business and paperwork is processed.” He faced the rest of the group, dismissing me. “Now, everyone, make sure you grab your boarding pass and follow me.”
Had I missed a memo? No one else appeared to find this situation strange. And Professor Blackmore’s answer only added to my growing unease. Reluctantly I took my boarding pass. My mother was going to freak when she found out. Oh well.
As we walked down the terminal, a student fell into step beside me. “I noticed earlier you sounded like you were American.”
I glanced over at the girl next to me. She was curvy and had long golden hair that perfectly matched the color of her eyes.
“Yeah, I’m California grown,” I replied. I noticed she also had an American accent. “You from the U.S.?”
She nodded. “I’ve bounced around a bit, but I’ll always consider Boston home. I’m Leanne by the way.”
“Gabrielle.” Because she seemed willing to talk, I decided to ask, “Were we sent something that I didn’t get? Because this is the first time I’ve even heard of the Isle of Man, and I seem to be the only one surprised by this.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. Most of the students are legacies, so we already know the school’s location. It’s just not public knowledge.”
I decided not to mention that I too was a legacy—there’d be too much backstory to cover.
“So you had a relative go here?” I asked.
“Yeah. My grandmother, and her grandmother before that.”
“Dang.” I was impressed. Some legacy.
I thought back to the dream I had so many hours ago. The memory-turned-nightmare was the last I had of my biological family. My mother back in California had adopted me as a little girl. Now I finally had the chance to find out more about my biological parents.
I couldn’t wait.
***
The flight took a little over an hour, during which I was able to get my hands on a map. The good news was that I was able to locate the Isle of Man. The bad news was that the map only depicted a meager dot between Ireland and Great Britain.
Fat lot of help that did me.