The Magi

“Good morning,” said Detective Scott.

“Where’s my uncle?” Elijah snapped.

“He won’t be coming,” said Detective Scott. “You need to come with me.” He opened the passenger-side door to his car.

Elijah froze. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where my uncle is. He is my legal guardian.”

Detective Scott walked close to Elijah and spoke softly. “Not anymore.”

“What?”

Detective Scott huffed. “Not that I need to tell you, but we have reason to believe your uncle has been involved in serious unlawful activity for several years now. He was picked up five hundred miles north of here under criminal charges.”

“What charges?”

“That is not your concern. Now get in the car!”

“Where are you taking me?” Elijah hated the pleading he detected in his own voice.

“I’m taking you to a prep school in Canada called Saint Phillip’s Academy. It will be your new home.”

Elijah’s head began to spin.

“In Canada? Why not somewhere here?”

“For your protection,” the detective answered abruptly. Elijah found it hard to believe Detective Scott cared at all about his protection. He wanted to ask more questions, but words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. He stood motionless, staring at Detective Scott, unable to think or move. How could this happen? What was his uncle doing? Why didn’t he have other family who would take care of him? Elijah felt defeated. Abandoned. This was it—rock bottom. It couldn’t get any worse. He reluctantly got into the car and Detective Scott roared down the street.

They drove through the night in complete silence. Elijah felt like he was in a haze. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to sleep for days. To forget about everything. To make his mind stop racing for just a moment. But he couldn’t. Even the weather seemed to acknowledge Elijah’s despair and unleashed a sudden downpour.

By morning, buckets of water poured from the sky. Elijah stared out his window at a world being completely consumed by water. It didn’t stop raining until they reached the border.

After what seemed like years, Detective Scott stopped the car in front of a three-story brick building. It reminded Elijah of a small university. The walkway to the main building was long and made of cobblestone. The path was lined with beautifully trimmed bushes that made arches above them. A tall bell tower divided the main building perfectly in half, and farther in, past a large courtyard, were two smaller brick buildings with high arches for doorways.

“Let’s go,” said Detective Scott. “They’re expecting us.” Elijah shivered when he stepped out of the car. It was much colder here than at Uncle Stan’s. He put his hands in his jacket pockets and clutched his father’s pocket watch.

The front hallway of the main building was filled with long glass cases. Inside the cases were old books, trophies, student body photographs, and other artifacts special to the school’s heritage. Elijah was particularly impressed with the massive paintings of the different school leaders towering over them as he walked by. None were smiling.

The hall eventually opened up into a great circular room with banners hanging from the floors above. Detective Scott didn’t stop to look or ask anyone where he was going. He marched directly through the circular room toward a door labeled ADMISSIONS. He showed Elijah in.

“Hello, Jen,” said Detective Scott. “I have Elijah Hawk here to see the chancellor.”

“One moment,” said the secretary. She left her desk and rushed back into a corner office. Elijah looked around. A tall banner with the word DISCIPLINE hung on the wall by the office. On the opposite wall hung another banner with the word RESPECT. The office was very tidy. Even the secretary’s desk shined.

The secretary returned with a thin man dressed in a suit and a plain red tie. He wore glasses, and his black hair was perfectly parted to the side. He didn’t even look at Elijah. He walked toward Detective Scott, who stood by the doorway. They shook hands.

“Thank you, Nick,” said the thin man. “I can take it from here.” Without saying a word, Detective Scott turned on his heel and fled the office. In a funny way, Elijah was slightly uncomfortable with him leaving. Even though he couldn’t stand Detective Scott, he now felt truly alone.

The thin man turned and faced Elijah. He stood still for a moment studying him and then held out his hand.

“Hello Mr. Hawk, my name is Chancellor Hawthorne.”

Elijah shook his hand. “Hi.”

Chancellor Hawthorne furrowed his brow. “You shall respond to me or any of your adult superiors by name when addressing us. When answering me, you shall call me ‘sir’ or ‘Chancellor Hawthorne’. Also, the correct way to address someone in salutation is ‘Hello’ not ‘Hi’. Understood?”

Elijah gulped.

“Let’s try again. Hello, Mr. Hawk. My name is Chancellor Hawthorne.”

“Hello Chancellor Hawthorne, my name is Elijah.” His voice cracked.

“Much better,” said Hawthorne.

“Come into my office and we’ll have a chat. Would you like a glass of water?”

“No thank you, sir,” said Elijah.

Hawthorne ushered Elijah into his office and offered him a seat across the desk. Elijah had never seen such a neat office. Every fiber of carpet was not only clean, but in perfect uniform with the other fibers. The pictures on the walls were straight and evenly spaced. The books on his bookshelf were arranged by size, so none stuck out. All of the papers on his desk were in pristine condition and filed neatly. Hawthorne sat down and folded his hands on his mahogany desk.

“So, tell me about yourself.”

Elijah didn’t know where to begin. “Well . . . my entire family died a few weeks ago. I went to live with my uncle, but…well…then the detective brought me here…sir.” Hawthorne continued studying Elijah intensely. Elijah fidgeted with his hands.

“Were you close with your family?” asked Hawthorne softly.

He didn’t know why it happened at that moment, but for some reason Elijah’s lip started to quiver. He quickly looked out the window, breaking eye contact with Hawthorne. Elijah thought surely he would be scolded for turning away, but Hawthorne remained silent and continued watching Elijah.

“Yes sir, I was,” Elijah managed.

Hawthorne paused for a moment, and then said, “Such a shame. I’m sure in time you will come to think of us here as your new family. How much do you know about Saint Phillip’s Academy?”

Elijah was thankful for the change in conversation.

“Nothing.” Hawthorne glared at Elijah with an expectant look. “…sir.”

“Very good,” Hawthorne said. “Well, Elijah, we expect three things out of every young man who walks through our doors. Honesty. Respect. Discipline. Follow these expectations, and you will succeed here at Saint Phillip’s Academy. Fail to do so, and you will be punished.”

Elijah never had trouble obeying the rules of his house and school, but for some reason these expectations seemed like a big task.

“Every teacher here will give you their very best each and every day,” Hawthorne continued. “In return, you will give them yours. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Elijah.

“Our teachers are superior to you in both intellect and discipline. Therefore, you will address them as ‘Master’. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Elijah.

“You will be given a set of uniforms, books, school supplies, and a room with a roommate. If you want to eat, breakfast starts at seven. Lights out at ten. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Elijah.

“Since you are coming to us mid-term, I expect you will find time to catch up on the studies you have missed. Your roommate is named Samuel. Do you have any questions?”

“No, sir,” replied Elijah.

“I leave you with this. There are two paths you can walk here at Saint Phillip’s. One path will lead you to greatness. The other will lead you to failure. Make every choice directed toward greatness.” Hawthorne stood up and gazed above Elijah’s head as if he had just delivered the most remarkable and inspiring speech of his entire life. Elijah, on the other hand, wasn’t really sure what he was talking about. He wished the chancellor would just give him a list of rules for him to study.

“Follow me,” Hawthorne commanded. He led Elijah out of the office and through the back exit, which opened into a beautiful courtyard. They passed large lawns of green grass and trees, hedged bushes, and a very impressive fountain as they headed toward one of the smaller brick buildings called Phillip’s Hall A. On the way, they walked by many students studying and reading. Some of them peeked nervously over their books as Hawthorne passed.

Inside the hall, Hawthorne’s shoes gave a commanding thump as he marched Elijah up the stairs. “Your room is on the second floor. It will always be unlocked in case we need to inspect it. You will find instructions for the term on your desk. On it will be your classes and a list of chores.” Elijah had a hard time keeping up with Hawthorne’s pace as he walked briskly up the stairs, each step making a loud echo down the hall.

When they reached the room, Hawthorne turned the knob without knocking. Sure enough, it was unlocked and a small boy sat at his desk reading. The boy hopped up and frantically tucked in his shirt.

“Samuel, this is Elijah. Elijah, this is Samuel.” They shook hands. Samuel was short and frail-looking, with dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a sheepish smile. “Samuel, Elijah lost his parents a few weeks ago. I’m sure you can help him feel at home. Have a nice day, gentlemen.”

“Thank you, sir,” both boys replied in unison. Chancellor Hawthorne left the room, and they each let out a sigh of relief. Samuel peered down the hall to make sure he was gone.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you,” Elijah said. “If you want, you can finish your work.”

“What work?”

“Weren’t you reading?”

Samuel giggled. “I was holding a book in front of my face, if that’s what you’re referring to. It’s a good thing Hawthorne wears those clunky shoes. It’s like a siren letting us know he’s coming.”

Elijah chuckled.

“I’m sorry to hear about your parents,” Samuel said. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. They were killed by someone.” Elijah thought about telling Samuel more, but he held off. After all, they had just met.

“Wow,” Samuel said softly, shaking his head. “Do they know who did it?”

“No.”

“Well, I’m new here too. My parents just left me here a couple weeks ago.”

“Why?” Elijah asked.

“Beats me,” said Samuel. “They said something to the chancellor about not being able to handle me anymore. I don’t know what they had to handle. I barely saw them anyway.” He looked down and kicked an imaginary object with his foot. “They just didn’t want kids, I guess.”

After an uncomfortable silence, Samuel said. “Well, I hope you don’t mind, but I actually do have work to do. We can talk some more after class tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Elijah agreed. “I need to read my list anyway.” Samuel picked up a book and sprawled out on his bed.

Elijah’s room was small and plain. On the far wall were two beds separated by a lamp and a stand. Two simple desks sat snug against the wall closest to the door. Across from the desks were two closets. His uniforms were already neatly hung in one.

Sure enough, on his desk was his list of instructions. He had four classes this term: literature, history, arithmetic, and biology. His chore for the remainder of the year was to clean the hall bathrooms, and apparently, his work would be randomly inspected three times a week.

“When am I supposed to do the chores?” he asked Samuel. “It doesn’t say.”

“Whenever you can. Probably right after classes in case you get inspected.”

“What’s your chore?” Elijah asked.

“I work in the kitchen for breakfast. Not a bad chore except that I have to be up at five.”

“Yuck,” said Elijah. “That doesn’t sound fun.”

“I suppose cleaning toilets is much better?” Samuel grinned at Elijah. “That’s right. I looked at your chore list. You’ll get used to it, though. I’ve only been here a few weeks, but I own that kitchen. You could call me the Breakfast Master.” Samuel made a sarcastic salute.

Elijah tried to soak everything in. He hoped he could adjust to his new life, but no matter how well he cleaned those bathrooms, he never wanted to be known as the Toilet Master.

When Elijah woke up, Samuel had already left. Elijah had to scramble to find the cafeteria and then rush to his first class. Surprisingly, he arrived early.

The literature teacher, who was writing on the chalkboard, looked nothing like Elijah expected. In fact, he looked exactly the opposite of most of the other adults on campus. He was very tall with long, shaggy brown hair that didn’t quite get to his shoulders. Instead of a suit and tie, he wore a plain shirt and jeans, and a necklace with an odd symbol on it. His face was unshaved around a trimmed goatee. His eyes were dark brown and lively. He looked rough. Wild. Out of place.

The teacher walked up to Elijah. “Hello, young man. Elijah I presume?”

“Yes, sir—I mean Master—er—sir.”

The teacher laughed. “Sounds like Hawthorne got to you. I’ll let him know his scare tactics are working. I’m surprised he didn’t make you call him ‘His Lordship’–or did he?” Elijah liked this teacher immediately. “My name’s Glen Roddick. You have your books?”

“I think so,” said Elijah. He pulled out a large textbook and two Shakespearean plays.

Roddick glanced over Elijah’s materials. “You won’t need the plays for a couple of weeks, but you’ll need that textbook today.” He looked at Elijah. “So, I hear you’ve been through quite a lot. How are you handling all of this change?”

“I’m not sure I fit in here,” Elijah admitted.

“Hey, neither do I. That Hawthorne has the personality of a slug, doesn’t he?” He leaned in to whisper. “And between you and me, his breath could make a wet dog smell good. I think he brushes with sewer water.”

Elijah giggled.

“I’ll tell you what,” Roddick said. “When your day is over, come find me. I might be able to answer some questions to ease your mind a bit—only if you want.”

“Sure,” Elijah said. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s good to have you here, Elijah.”

Master Roddick had the class write grammar exercises all period that made Elijah’s hand ache by the end. He never cared much for writing. History was spent learning about medieval chivalry and the beginnings of the crusades. Elijah drew swords and shields during the discussion. Math was the same. He did some problems, but it was very dull.

Science, on the other hand, was not at all what Elijah expected. It was the one class he looked forward to the most. He and his father liked to tinker with machines and talk about how the world worked during long walks together, so he always had a heart for science. This teacher, however, was very different from his father. His name was Master Corgan, and he was built like a tank—wide and burly with a short, thick neck. Elijah walked in prepared to be extra friendly to him.

“Hello, Master Corgan. My name is—”

“Never—speak to me—unless you are spoken to,” Corgan interrupted in a very low, crackly voice. He talked very slow, as if Elijah wouldn’t understand unless he did. “I know very well who you are, and I will tell you what you need to do when I feel you are ready. Science is a gift. You either understand it, or you don’t. If you have the gift, the world can be miraculous. There is power to be found in it and power to be taken from it.” He put his hand on Elijah’s shoulder, but it was not at all comforting. “Some people do not have that gift. Don’t take it too hard, son. Some things are not meant to be.” Corgan strutted off, looking pleased with himself. Elijah found a seat in the very back and hid. He counted down the seconds until the bell rang.

By the end of the day, Elijah was exhausted and very much looking forward to his meeting with Master Roddick. He had twenty minutes before Roddick was ready to meet, so in the meantime he wandered over to the front hallway to look at the photographs in the glass cases. Old pictures amused him. He looked at all the changes throughout the years and was intrigued by the different styles and trends that came and went.

Elijah was just about to head to Master Roddick’s classroom when he passed a picture of two boys holding a trophy. Normally, a picture like this wouldn’t have made Elijah think twice, but this was different. He blinked again to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. He wasn’t. The two boys holding the trophy were his father and Uncle Stan, wearing their own Saint Phillip’s Academy uniforms.