The Magi
Saint Phillip's Academy

“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’mnot going anywhere until you tell me where my uncle is. He ismy 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 unclehas been involved in serious unlawful activity for several years now. He was picked up five hundred miles north ofhere 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 SaintPhillip’s Academy. It will be your newhome.”

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 DetectiveScott cared at all about his protection. He wanted to ask more questions, but words wouldn’t come out of hismouth. He stood motionless, staring atDetective Scott, unable to think or move. How could this happen? What washis uncle doing? Why didn’t he haveother family who would take care of him? Elijah felt defeated. Abandoned. This was it—rockbottom. It couldn’t get any worse. He reluctantly got into the car and DetectiveScott 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 amoment. But he couldn’t. Even the weather seemed to acknowledgeElijah’s despair and unleashed a sudden downpour.

By morning, buckets of water poured from the sky. Elijah stared out his window at a world beingcompletely consumed by water. It didn’tstop raining until they reached the border.

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

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

The front hallway of the main building was filled with longglass cases. Inside the cases were oldbooks, trophies, student body photographs, and other artifacts special to theschool’s heritage. Elijah wasparticularly impressed with the massive paintings of the different schoolleaders towering over them as he walked by. None were smiling.

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

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

“One moment,” said the secretary. She left her desk and rushed back into acorner office. Elijah lookedaround. A tall banner with the wordDISCIPLINE 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 anda plain red tie. He wore glasses, andhis black hair was perfectly parted to the side. He didn’t even look at Elijah. He walked toward Detective Scott, who stoodby the doorway. They shook hands.

“Thank you, Nick,” said the thin man. “I can take it from here.” Without saying a word, Detective Scott turnedon his heel and fled the office. In afunny 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 andthen 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 adultsuperiors by name when addressing us. When answering me, you shall call me ‘sir’ or ‘ChancellorHawthorne’. Also, the correct way toaddress someone in salutation is ‘Hello’ not ‘Hi’. Understood?”

Elijah gulped.

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

“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 aseat across the desk. Elijah had neverseen such a neat office. Every fiber ofcarpet was not only clean, but in perfect uniform with the other fibers. The pictures on the walls were straight andevenly spaced. The books on hisbookshelf were arranged by size, so none stuck out. All of the papers on his desk were inpristine 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 weeksago. I went to live with my uncle, but…well…thenthe 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 somereason Elijah’s lip started to quiver. Hequickly looked out the window, breaking eye contact with Hawthorne. Elijah thought surely he would be scolded forturning away, but Hawthorne remained silent and continued watching Elijah.

“Yes sir, I was,” Elijah managed.

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

Elijah was thankful for the change in conversation.

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

“Very good,” Hawthorne said. “Well, Elijah, we expect three things out of every young man who walksthrough our doors. Honesty. Respect. Discipline. Follow theseexpectations, 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 andschool, but for some reason these expectations seemed like a big task.

“Every teacher here will give you their very best each andevery day,” Hawthorne continued. “Inreturn, you will give them yours. Do youunderstand?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Elijah.

“Our teachers are superior to you in both intellect anddiscipline. Therefore, you will addressthem as ‘Master’. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Elijah.

“You will be given a set of uniforms, books, schoolsupplies, and a room with a roommate. Ifyou want to eat, breakfast starts at seven. Lights out at ten. Do youunderstand?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Elijah.

“Since you are coming to us mid-term, I expect you will replacetime 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 towardgreatness.” Hawthorne stood up and gazedabove Elijah’s head as if he had just delivered the most remarkable andinspiring 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 hima list of rules for him to study.

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

Inside the hall, Hawthorne’s shoes gave a commanding thumpas he marched Elijah up the stairs. “Yourroom is on the second floor. It willalways be unlocked in case we need to inspect it. You will replace instructions for the term onyour desk. On it will be your classes anda list of chores.” Elijah had a hardtime keeping up with Hawthorne’s pace as he walked briskly up the stairs, eachstep making a loud echo down the hall.

When they reached the room, Hawthorne turned the knob withoutknocking. Sure enough, it was unlockedand 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.” Theyshook hands. Samuel was short andfrail-looking, with dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a sheepish smile. “Samuel, Elijah lost his parents a few weeksago. I’m sure you can help him feel athome. Have a nice day, gentlemen.”

“Thank you, sir,” both boys replied in unison. Chancellor Hawthorne left the room, and theyeach let out a sigh of relief. Samuelpeered 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. “Iwas holding a book in front of my face, if that’s what you’re referringto. It’s a good thing Hawthorne wearsthose clunky shoes. It’s like a sirenletting us know he’s coming.”

Elijah chuckled.

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

“I don’t know. Theywere killed by someone.” Elijah thoughtabout 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 meanymore. I don’t know what they had tohandle. I barely saw them anyway.” He looked down and kicked an imaginary objectwith 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 actuallydo have work to do. We can talk somemore 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 alamp and a stand. Two simple desks satsnug 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. Hischore for the remainder of the year was to clean the hall bathrooms, andapparently, 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. Probablyright after classes in case you get inspected.”

“What’s yourchore?” Elijah asked.

“I work in the kitchen for breakfast. Not a bad chore except that I have to be upat 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 thatkitchen. You could call me the BreakfastMaster.” Samuel made a sarcastic salute.

Elijah tried to soak everything in. He hoped he could adjust to his new life, butno matter how well he cleaned those bathrooms, he never wanted to be known asthe Toilet Master.

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

The literature teacher, who was writing on the chalkboard, lookednothing 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 hairthat didn’t quite get to his shoulders. Insteadof a suit and tie, he wore a plain shirt and jeans, and a necklace with an odd symbolon it. His face was unshaved around atrimmed goatee. His eyes were dark brownand lively. He looked rough. Wild. Outof place.

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

“Yes, sir—I mean Master—er—sir.”

The teacher laughed. “Soundslike Hawthorne got to you. I’ll let himknow his scare tactics are working. I’msurprised 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 ofweeks, but you’ll need that textbook today.” He looked at Elijah. “So, I hearyou’ve been through quite a lot. How areyou 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 couldmake a wet dog smell good. I think hebrushes with sewer water.”

Elijah giggled.

“I’ll tell you what,” Roddick said. “When your day is over, come replace me. I might be able to answer some questions toease 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 allperiod 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 ofthe crusades. Elijah drew swords andshields during the discussion. Math wasthe same. He did some problems, but itwas very dull.

Science, on the other hand, was not at all what Elijahexpected. It was the one class he lookedforward to the most. He and his fatherliked to tinker with machines and talk about how the world worked during longwalks together, so he always had a heart for science. This teacher, however, was very differentfrom his father. His name was MasterCorgan, and he was built like a tank—wide and burly with a short, thick neck. Elijah walked in prepared to be extrafriendly to him.

“Hello, Master Corgan. My name is—”

“Never—speak to me—unless you are spoken to,” Corganinterrupted in a very low, crackly voice. He talked very slow, as if Elijah wouldn’t understand unless hedid. “I know very well who you are, andI 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 bemiraculous. There is power to be foundin it and power to be taken from it.” Heput 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 withhimself. Elijah found a seat in the veryback and hid. He counted down theseconds until the bell rang.

By the end of the day, Elijah was exhausted and very muchlooking forward to his meeting with Master Roddick. He had twenty minutes before Roddick wasready to meet, so in the meantime he wandered over to the front hallway to lookat the photographs in the glass cases. Oldpictures amused him. He looked at allthe changes throughout the years and was intrigued by the different styles andtrends that came and went.

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