Acacia's a stupid name.
So is Ace. But here we are.
I look you up and down as you stretch and clamber out of bed. I've been waiting outside your dorm room for at least an hour. "Hurry up!" I call, and you roll your eyes at me, before closing the door in my face and walking off to take a shower. I sigh. Okay. I can wait a bit more.
Class only starts at ten. It's just eight now. But breakfast will start soon, and the early risers have time to wander the castle. But now, the hallways are overflowing, students milling about and chatting noisily. I just sit against your doorframe.
I hear a yell and a crack through the air. Startled, I open your door. You've burned your bedside table. Again. You sheepishly get to your feet, brushing your hands off on your pants. "I'm okay, my powers are just a little wild today." I shrug.
"Okay, let's go. Breakfast is starting." We somehow manage to push through the crowd of students. After finding our seats, we settle down, waiting for the rest of the school to arrive. About ten minutes later, the dining hall is packed, students laughing and moving along the long wooden benches to sit next to their friends.219Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4GzCv3HkX7
Madame Broker waves a hand and breakfast appears, raining down from the ceiling in showers. Students squeal and reach for the gently floating paper bags, everyone searching for their own name. Mine is tiny; Madame Broker knows about my curse. I can only eat one bite of a food per meal. I open mine, take out a piece of a hash brown, and scarf the thing down.
Everyone here has a curse. Yours is...well. I don't know what yours is yet. You don't either. You open your brown paper bag, eyes glittering.
Grabbing a silver-tin wrapped block of cake and box of something, you set everything out on the table. Opening the box, a mass of milky golden scrambled eggs drowning in butter is revealed, nestled alongside a few nearly-charred mini sausages.
I sit there, stomach empty. Oh, how I hate this curse.
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