Midnight. Derek Landy

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       4

      Education, Omen Darkly mused as he examined the test he’d just got back, may not have been the area in which he was destined to excel.

      While Corrival Academy was indeed a school for sorcerers, that didn’t mean all the lessons were about throwing fireballs or shooting streams of energy out of your hands/eyes/mouth – although there was a fair bit of that stuff.

      Mostly it was sitting at desks, reading textbooks and scribbling answers – pretty much the same experience Omen had had when he’d gone to a mortal school, back in Galway. A lot of the time, in fact, things at Corrival were worse. Because there were more subjects to cover – Omen not only had to study history and science, but also mortal history and mortal science – the school day was longer. PE wasn’t just about combat training and self-defence, as tough as those things could be – it was also about picking a sport and playing it, magic not allowed. Students were taught to be the best sorcerer they could be, but they were also taught how to live, behave and thrive in the mortal world. Which meant more work, more tests, and more opportunities to fall short.

      Omen folded the test paper, hiding the big red E from view. It wasn’t that big a deal. It had been a difficult test – everyone said so, even the smarter kids. What chance did he have, really, when even the smarter kids were finding it tricky? Sure, they still technically passed, as did just about everyone else in his class, but he wasn’t a big believer in grades anyway. He preferred to get his education out there, on the streets. Where it mattered.

      Omen chewed his lip. That said, his parents were probably going to kill him if they found out.

      He stuffed the test paper down into his bag. That was one of the good things about Corrival being a boarding school, he supposed – less exposure to disapproving parental figures. Of course, there was a pretty fair chance that they wouldn’t actually care about a failed test. Omen had, quite by accident, cultivated a relationship with his folks that depended entirely on their low expectations. He sidled along in the background of their lives while their focus was on his twin brother, Auger – the subject of an actual prophecy, destined to face the King of the Darklands in a battle to save the world. In order to aid him in this battle, Auger had been born strong, fast and smart – not to mention naturally talented, extremely hard-working, courageous, decent, resourceful, charming, funny, tall and good-looking. Because being good-looking was obviously a vital quality in any self-respecting Chosen One.

      Omen had missed out on being the Chosen One by virtue of being born second, so he didn’t possess any of Auger’s attributes. What he did have, however, was a plucky demeanour and a never-say-die attitude – but he didn’t really have them, either.

      Life was one bitter disappointment after another. Sure, there had been glimmers of hope along the way. His best friend was pretty cool, for a start, and seven months ago he’d helped Skulduggery Pleasant and Valkyrie Cain stop an ancient evil from being reborn. Well, sort of.

      No, he had helped. He had been right there, sharing in the adventure. He’d come away with the bruises to prove it. The problem was that the ancient evil hadn’t actually been stopped. Abyssinia, after all, had succeeded in coming back to life. Taking this into account, he supposed that meant he had helped Skulduggery and Valkyrie fail in their mission. Which may have explained why they hadn’t called on him since.

      What made things worse was that word of his involvement hadn’t spread through the school like he’d expected. A few people knew a little of what happened, but it was as if his fellow students couldn’t be bothered to spread cool rumours about him. There were no whispers in the corridor as he passed, no wide-eyed stares, no clusters of girls giggling whenever he smiled. After a brief spell as an adventurer, he was returning to being that insignificant little speck of a boy he’d always been.

      Unless he did something about it.

      His stomach in knots, Omen went over what he was going to say once more in his head. He’d practised this conversation again and again, planning for all possible contingencies. A part of him wondered about the grade he would have got in the test if he’d devoted as much time to it as he had to rehearsing how he’d ask out Axelia Lukt, but he easily swatted such thoughts from his mind. He had more important things to worry about.

      Axelia sat in the common room, chatting and laughing with her friends. She was so nice, so smart, so pretty, and she had the loveliest accent and the happiest laugh Omen had ever heard. He could have listened to her laugh all day, as weird as that would have been.

      Omen stood up, took a deep breath, and walked over.

      He bumped into October Klein and mumbled an apology, turned round and went back to his corner.

      He took another deep breath, and another. And another. He went light-headed, and collapsed back into his chair.

      When he felt certain he wasn’t going to faint or fall over, he got back to his feet. Focusing on breathing normally, he made his way across СКАЧАТЬ