Chapter 132: not my responsibility

Chapter 132 — Not My Responsibility

Roxanne read the coordinator’s message a third time over her porridge, as though the words might offer her a way out. They did not. The academy wanted volunteers to welcome a group of visiting students arriving for a short inter-academy exchange, and it wanted an answer by the end of the day.

"It could be fun," Isla said, buttering her toast. "New faces. Different academies. Different customs."

"We should volunteer together," Tessa announced, then paused with her spoon in the air. "Assuming I’m free. I haven’t checked my schedule. I never check my schedule. It only upsets me."

Roxanne turned her cup in its saucer. She had loved organising the social. She had also noticed that every day since had arrived carrying some new thing for her to manage, like a tide bringing in driftwood, and she was tired.

You want permission to say no, her wolf observed.

I don’t need permission from anyone.

Then you should say it.

I’ll check what the job actually involves first.

That is a very long way of arriving at the same place.

Roxanne ignored her, folded her napkin, and went to find out.

The activities office smelled of ink and stewed tea. The coordinator, a brisk woman named Ms. Farrow with spectacles pushed up into grey curls, spread a sheet across the counter.

"Volunteers show the visitors around campus, help them find their classes, and answer ordinary questions. Where the library is. Which dining hall to avoid."

"How long does it last?"

"The arrival afternoon. A few hours. No ongoing committee work, I promise." Ms. Farrow’s mouth twitched. "I know what the last one did to you."

"And if something goes wrong?"

"Volunteers work in pairs, and staff handle anything formal. You would not be responsible for solving anyone’s problems."

Roxanne considered it honestly. She liked the idea of meeting people who knew nothing about her, or nothing worse than the truth. She disliked the idea of being a safety net for strangers.

"The afternoon only," she said. "Nothing before, nothing after."

"Done."

She signed the sheet, and noticed that she was not signing out of duty. She simply wanted to. It was an odd, pleasant discovery, like finding a coin in an old coat.

At lunch she told Isla and Tessa. Tessa whooped, and Roxanne held up a hand.

"I haven’t signed you up. I signed me."

"Betrayal," Tessa said happily. "I’ll sign myself."

"Is this seat taken?"

A girl with a thick dark plait and ink on her cuff stood at the end of the table, tray in hand. She looked a year or so older. "Nadia Bell," she said, sitting down without waiting. "I’m helping with the welcome too. I saw your name on the sheet."

"Roxanne."

"I know. Everyone knows. I won’t mention it." Nadia stabbed a potato. "I volunteered because I’m tired of eating lunch with the same eleven people. Is the academy as intimidating as it looks from the outside?"

"The buildings are," Roxanne said. "The people are a mixed bag."

Nadia laughed, loud and unashamed, and heads turned two tables over. Within minutes the four of them were comparing the most confusing corridors, the staircase that led absolutely nowhere, and the Thursday stew, which Tessa swore had once moved. Nadia was blunt and funny and asked questions as though she actually wanted the answers. When she left to return her tray, Roxanne realised she was looking forward to the afternoon more than she had an hour before.

Later, crossing the recreation grounds, she met Liam and Kai coming the other way. Liam was carrying a ball he had plainly stolen from someone.

"I hear you’re guiding the visitors," Liam said. "Will you give them the official tour, or the version with all the embarrassing stories?"

"I’m only showing them where things are."

"A tragic waste of material. I have forty stories."

"Have you enough time for it?" Kai asked. "Alongside your classes?"

"I checked before I agreed."

He nodded once and said nothing more. He did not offer to rearrange her week or lift any of it from her shoulders. It was, she thought, a more considerate answer than a dozen offers would have been.

"I volunteer as a guide," Liam said.

"Nobody asked."

"I’m volunteering anyway."

"If you teach them something ridiculous, I am not responsible."

"I promise to be only moderately irresponsible."

"That isn’t a promise."

"It’s the best I can do," said Liam, and tossed the ball at Kai’s head. Kai caught it without looking.

The afternoon before the visitors arrived, a message came from another volunteer, a boy named Edmund whom she barely knew. You know the academy best. Could you put together a full campus guide? Maps, tips, everything?

She had typed Of course before she noticed her thumbs moving. She deleted it.

Instead she wrote: I’ve only agreed to help on the arrival afternoon, so I can’t take on preparation. But I’ll send you the academy map and the official campus information. Both are in the activities office.

She sent it and sat there with a small, unreasonable pang. He would think her unhelpful. Then she remembered that the guide had never been assigned to her at all. It had simply landed in her lap, because she was the person people expected to catch things.

An hour later Edmund replied. No problem, thanks for the map. I’ll take it from here.

That was all. Nothing had collapsed. Roxanne put the phone down and understood that being helpful and being indispensable were different things, and that she had been confusing them for a very long time.

That evening she laid out a clean uniform, her volunteer badge, and a notebook she did not expect to use. Isla watched from her bed.

"Nervous?"

"Curious," Roxanne said. "Especially about students from academies with different customs. I don’t even know what their mornings look like."

"We know so little about anywhere else," Isla said. "I’ve only ever lived in two places."

"I’ve lived in a few more, and I still know almost nothing." Roxanne sat on the edge of the bed. "It’s strange. When I first came here, my whole world was one problem. Now it feels larger than that."

Curiosity suits you better than suspicion, her wolf said.

You may offer useful opinions occasionally, Roxanne told her, provided you don’t become unbearable about it.

I have never been unbearable.

You have been unbearable twice today.

That was commentary, the wolf said, with great dignity.

The next afternoon the sky was clear and cold, and Roxanne stood at the front entrance with Nadia and four other volunteers, her badge pinned slightly crooked. Two carriages rolled up the long drive and stopped before the steps. The doors opened, and the visiting students began to climb down, stretching and blinking and looking up at the towers with the wary awe she remembered feeling herself.

Nadia stepped forward with a bright smile and began sorting luggage. Roxanne turned to follow, and stopped.

One girl lingered behind the others at the foot of the steps. She was slight, with cropped brown hair and a travelling coat a size too large, and she was staring up at the academy’s crest above the doors with an expression Roxanne could not quite read. It was not awe. It was closer to recognition, or dread.

Roxanne walked over. "Can I help you find your way?"

The girl lowered her eyes from the crest and looked directly at her.

"Are you Roxanne Silver?"

Roxanne paused. "Yes. Do I know you?"

The girl hesitated, one hand tightening on the strap of her bag.

"No. But someone at my academy told me I should meet you."