Abbie knew she should not be here. Students of the New York Academy of Magic were never allowed in the lower floors of the building unsupervised, much less in the restricted Transcripts Room in the middle of the night. In the petite, auburn-haired girl’s hand was a transcript forged to more ‘accurately’ reflect her academic ability; her grades were just below that of her despised rival Natalie, which was, of course, unthinkable. “If they won’t recognize my excellence,” Abbie thought, “then I’ll do it for them.” She pocketed the forgery and went off in search of her records.
