"Wait, wait, wait, so what it's saying is that the Regulation Order has only been around since like 1900? What about before then? Who was stopping the crossovers?" Jacob gestured to the tome.

Blake shrugged. "Mostly it was individuals or small sects who took care of them. Monarchies usually had a court astrologer or someone like that. Villages would have witch-doctors or shamans or druids or whatever. Many religions had sects that specialized in it. I think the only one still surviving to this day is the Brotherhood of Saint Cypria. But, you gotta remember, the rate and risk of crossovers has exploded since the industrial revolution due to population increases and congregation in urban centres. That was the whole background for Arthur Dynas's writings. He foresaw that individuals like village shamans and these relatively directionless sects weren't going to be enough, so following the trends of the time, he postulated an international organization that would standardize the handling of crossovers. The Regulation Order isn't special because it takes care of crossovers—humans have been doing that forever. It's special because it's an international, standardized organization."

"Oh, I see now," Jacob said. It reminded him of Deputy Ola's story about her family on her home island in the Caribbean. No organization, just her family taking care of the crossovers. "So it's kind of like the UN for magic?"

Blake laughed. "Kind of."

Jacob rubbed his chin. "So, what about people like your parents who aren't strong enough to be Rangers? Do they just get normal jobs?"

"Sometimes. But more often they work within the Order. Organization and structure, right? You need logistics people, clean up people, exposure handling people, emergency response people, healthcare people. Anything a normal organization needs, the Regulation Order needs too. Look at Tisdale. Everyone who works here who isn't a golem is in the know about magic, but most of them aren't Rangers."

"What about scientists?"

"Like research? Sure, you need researchers for magic and the magical world."

"What about a magical ecologist?"

"Never heard of it specifically, but I'm sure someone's studying the magical creatures and world. We get our knowledge from somewhere."

Jacob flipped the page of the textbook. That was the end of the chapter. He clapped the book closed and looked out the window. The sky glowed with a violet twilight.

"Man, it got so late!" Blake sat up suddenly and checked the time on his phone. "Ah damn, we need to be out in the common area in a half hour."

"Wait, why?"

"Gonna meet Archie there before heading out to the quad in front of Schumann Hall."

"What for?"

Blake frowned. "The party, man. Celebrating the end of the first week."

Jacob ran a hand through his hair. Party? That made him nervous. All his newfound confidence evaporated and once again he was just a kid very far from home. A kid who had a 5:00pm curfew and got a thrill from shoplifting a single macaroon from Bulk Barn and always looked at his wild classmates with envy but who could never bring himself to do what they did. "Uh, I might stay here. I'm tired."

Blake shook his head. "Nah, man, come on. It'll be fun."

"I don't know... It's not really my thing."

Blake stood up and stretched. "Maybe it's not your thing back home, but you're not home right now. C'mon man, we're at Tisdale. Fresh start. Look, we're only first-years once. Just come, and if you don't like it, you can leave."

That was true, but it still didn't make the prospect any more appealing. A party was like the final boss of growing up. Something he would do in university when he was ready and he'd worked his way up to it. All the talking, the drinking, the people. It was terrifying.

But, hadn't he reluctantly done all those first-week activities? Look how fun they'd been.

Hell, why not?

Jacob sighed. "Alright, fine."

"That's it! I'm not trying to make you do something you'll regret. Trust me." Blake began rummaging around his pile of clothes on the floor. "Now, we gotta get dressed."

——————

"Whoa, buddy. Pause." Blake said.

Jacob finished sliding his arms into his hoodie, then glanced at Blake in the mirror. "What?"

Blake grinned and shook his head. He wore tight navy jeans and a checkered polo t-shirt. His short dirty blonde hair had been combed back. He looked like he was going out to dinner.

Jacob looked down at the hoodie and sweatpants he'd thrown on.

"You got jeans?" Blake asked.

"Yeah. What's wrong with this, though?" Jacob asked.

"Nothing, if you're going to the grocery store. We, however, are not."

"Should I wear jeans?"

"Yes. You got anything like this too?" Blake gestured to his polo t-shirt.

Jacob rummaged around in his suitcase until he found a purple polo t-short he distinctly remembered his mom forcing him to bring. "This?"

"That'll do."

Jacob eyed the purple colour. "You sure?"

"Don't overthink it."

"But I wasn't."

"Okay." Blake laughed. "There's a difference between not thinking, and not overthinking."

Jacob grunted and threw on the jeans.

"Don't worry about it, man. I got your back." Blake said. "First time I went on a date I wore sweatpants. Came home afterwards and my sisters made fun of me for like two months."

"Alright." Jacob filed that away for when he actually went on a date.

"I'm lucky, though. One advantage to having older sisters is that they'll prep you for this type of stuff like there's no tomorrow. But, that's about the only advantage, though."

Jacob had never thought about that before. It must be so weird having siblings. He finished getting dressed, then ran his hands through his hair a couple times at Blake's direction.

"Let's go."

Jacob followed Blake out of their dorm and down the hall to the common area. Anxious regret at having agreed to this and a jittery excitement over all the possibilities battled for control of him like contrasting electric currents.

The common area was a playroom-like space with several couches around a big TV high up on one wall. A couple tables where students usually played cards had been pushed up against the walls. A dozen boys from their class were there. They'd all dressed as if they were going out to a formal event. Lots of polos and jeans. Some long sleeved lumberjack flannels. Jacob recognized them all, but he only knew Archie by name.

The big boy sat in the centre of the biggest couch in a full three piece suit, his hair slick and glossy from a gel or oil.

"And so I said to the security guy, 'look, this was clearly just a mistake. It was still in my bag from when I was in Mallorca. Just throw it out and we can forget all about it.' The guy shakes his head and they take me into this back room that looks like something out of a cop film: two chairs facing each other across a table. A long, black one-way window. The works. Probably where they take all the guys they catch smuggling hard drugs or weapons in, and here I'm sitting, thinking to myself, am I about to do ten years in a jail in Singapore because of a Swiss Army knife I won in a Poker game in Palma? No, they're quite serious about that stuff there. It's not like the American system at all. An older looking gentleman enters and interrogates me in perfect English. He tells me that the charge for trafficking arms is five to ten years and, get this, punished with caning not less than 6 strokes. Caning. Can you believe that? Barbaric. I spend probably an hour trying to explain to them the scramble of having to get to Singapore from Mallorca in 28 hours for the meeting of an international organization where I am representing my suddenly preoccupied father and am going to be late to if they hold me any longer. Ended up having to give up the knife, but kept my ass." This drew a few chuckles. "And that is why you will never find me in the domain of Singapore ever again." Archie shook his head, then noticed Jacob and Blake and jumped up out of his seat. "Ah, McGinnis, Caibo, good to see you both."

Archie shook each of their hands. Jacob felt like he was shaking hands with a top lawyer.

Archie rolled up his suit sleeve and checked the glittering watch on his wrist. "I believe that is everyone from this floor. Shall we go, then?"

"Yeah! I'm getting bored sitting here. Let's head over to Schumann." A lanky dark skinned kid in a tight navy blue shirt with a bowtie at the neck sprung up out of his seat. He nodded to Blake and Jacob. "I'm Tobi."

"Blake."

"Jacob."

"Save the introductions. Let us get this show on the road!" Archie exclaimed. The big boy strode purposefully down the hall, and everyone followed.

They met up with another group of boys from the first floor and left Harrison Hall.

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"Where are the lads from the third floor?" Archie asked a a short, dark haired boy who was shockingly well-muscled for seventeen and seemed to be the leader of the other group.

"They already went ahead."

"Rats." Archie smacked his fist into his palm. "Well, no time to dally."

They left Harrison Hall in a slow moving pack. The night was warm, the air crisp with early summer. The campus seemed mostly deserted. The floating orbs that lit the pathways between buildings bobbed up and down like buoys, but there was no one out. Since the vampire attack campus quieted around nightfall. If any of the other boys were worried about vampire attacks, they didn't show it. Most of them look excited. Blake practically skipped instead of walking. Jacob actually felt pretty safe in the pack.

Tobi moved up beside them and Jacob nodded to him.

Odd, being with all these guys outside of school. Everyone seemed like some ethereal mage in class, but seeing them all dressed up, excited and nervous just like him, he realized they were just random kids from around the continent who happened to have magical strength. It had surprised Jacob to hear from Blake that he played high school volleyball. Surely someone from a magical family wouldn't be engaged in mundane activities like that? But then again, Camilla had seemed like a normal girl until that day she'd saved him from the Dream Tiger.

"Do you play sports?" Jacob asked Tobi.

"What? Yeah, soccer. You?"

"Not really."

"Why you ask?"

Jacob debated telling the truth but said, "Just wondering."

Something moved behind a tree in front of the pack. A shadow leapt out at Archie and the short boy.

"Raaaarrr!"

A white-faced vampire in a tuxedo landed on the grass in front of Archie and the shorter boy. Its hair was slicked back and long fangs hung down over its lower lip, which was smeared with blood.

The short, strong looking boy moved instantly. Magic flared out from him. He blurred forward and punched the vampire in the stomach.

"Oof!" The vampire went sprawling back onto the grass.

Everyone froze. Jacob felt a half dozen people engage magic around him. He engaged his own.

The vampire rolled over onto its butt and sat up, holding its stomach. "Ow, that hurt." Then it chuckled. "You should have seen the looks on your faces...ow..."

Wait, beneath the slicked back hair, the fangs, the now clearly fake blood, Jacob recognized the vampire as the 'average' boy who'd done his Strength Chart testing a few people before Grace. He was a class clown named Stephen.

"Stephen?" The short boy said, his voice dangerous. He stomped over and picked Stephen up by the scruff of his tuxedo. "Are you serious? I could have killed you."

Stephen waved his hands. "I was just goofing you guys. You should have seen-"

"It isn't something to joke about! You-"

Archie came over and extracted Stephen from the strong boy's grip. "Victor, relax. It was in poor taste, but it was still just a jest."

Victor grumbled something, then turned to the rest of them. "C'mon, let's go."

Stephen brushed himself off and joined the pack. A couple of the other boys joshed him, but with the fresh reminder of the vampire lurking on campus the life seemed to have gone out of the group. Jacob couldn't believe someone would be so crass.

Faint music drifted from up ahead, something fast with heavy bass. A big group of people were out on the quad in front of the brightly lit Schumann Hall. Some boys, and a lot of girls. It looked like everyone from their class was already there. The residence loomed over them like a vindictive chaperone.

Greetings and cheers met them as their two groups joined. Jacob saw Camilla and Grace and nudged Blake. They went over. Camilla wore a black dress that came down to just above her knees. She'd let her curly, dark hair down and had put on a little makeup that brought her eyes out. Jacob was suddenly glad Blake had helped him get dressed.

Archie beat them there. He bowed to both of the girls, who giggled, then took Camilla's hand in his and raised it to his lips and kissed it. "You light up the campus tonight, Camilla dearest." He turned to Grace. "And you are as beautiful as ever, Ms Lin."

"Yo, what's up!" Blake said to the two girls.

"Hi," Jacob said lamely.

"Took you guys long enough," Grace said.

"We got held up by that buffoon, Stephen." Archie relayed the story of Stephen's faux vampire attack.

"What a moron," Camilla said. "Victor could have killed him."

"He might have deserved it," Grace said.

Archie cleared his throat. "Camilla, I was telling the boys about that time I got stopped at the airport security trying to get to the Order's International Conference in Singapore."

"Oh boy." Camilla rolled her eyes. "I remember that. Grace, you were there, right?"

"No, I missed that one because of my uncle's wedding."

"Wait, you guys have been to the International Conference?" Blake asked. "Isn't it super exclusive? How'd you get invited?"

The trio exchanged uncomfortable glances.

"Well, Camilla's father is Antonio D'Angelo, and-"

"I can explain it, Archie," Camilla said. "Yes, that's my father, and he opted to bring me with him ever since I was little."

"My grand papa was on the Order's East Asia Council for decades, so our family still gets invites," Grace said.

"Nothing so magically grand as that, but my father is the Chairman of the Board of Magical Interests, and my family does a lot of donation work within the Order. The main building here at Tisdale is named after my ancestor, who donated a lot of money to get this campus off the ground."

"Wait, so are you like a Vanderbilt Vanderbilt?" Blake asked.

Archie grinned. "Yes. I'm an 8th generation descendant of Cornelius Vanderbilt."

"Wow, Jesus," Blake said.

Jacob looked between the rest of them, confused. "Um, who's Cornelius Vanderbilt?"

"Ah, I suppose you're Canadian, not that it's exactly common knowledge in the states these days. I'm a little surprised you knew about him, McGinnis. In brief he was the richest man in the US back in the late 1800s."

"Oh." So that explained the three piece suit and the watch. Didn't it? He looked between Archie, Grace, and Camilla, and something he should have realized days ago clicked into place. They were too rich, well dressed, dignified; too mature and worldly to be normal seventeen year olds. Christ, was everyone at the Academy some sort of ultra rich, high society, generational magician? Jacob couldn't believe he actually knew these people and they hung out with him.

He looked over at Blake, who seemed equally baffled. Well, Blake seemed like he had a normal enough background, even if his family was full of mages.

"Enough talking about dusty old families!" Grace said. "I'm too excited I'm finally at Tisdale for that!"

"Amen!" Archie said. "Can't believe we're finally here. Feels like I've been waiting my whole life for this."

"I'm just glad to finally be out of the house and away from father," Camilla said.

"Ah, you need to travel more, Camilla," Archie said. "Your family has the money. What is your allowance right now?"

"Not as much as you might think," Camilla said.

"Well, then you could come travel with me. After the term I'll probably head over to Mallorca."

Camilla folded her arms. "I've been there already."

"You should both come to Bali with me," Grace said.

"Sounds like fun," Archie said. He turned on Blake and Jacob. "What about you boys? Got any exquisite places you've been to or want to go?"

Jacob shared a look with Blake, who shrugged and gestured at him to answer.

"Uh, I'd never been outside of Vancouver before coming here."

This sent Archie into an exasperated fit, and opened the floodgates for him to regale them with tales of his travels for the next half hour.

They were joined by Victor, who had his arm around the shoulders of a pretty girl with dark hair in a simple blouse and jeans. They leaned into each other as if they'd known each other a long time.

"Archibald, thank you for reigning me in earlier. Shouldn't have grabbed Stephen like that." Victor said.

"You're very welcome." Archie dipped his head.

"Here, let me introduce you to some people outside your little snobby, rich kid clique," Victor said.

"I'll have you know both Jacob and Blake are at most upper middle class." Archie scoffed.

They followed Victor to another small crowd of people who were introduced like objects at a rapid fire auction. Jacob was nervous at the first few introductions, to a boy named Mark from Indianapolis, and the tall, powerful Producer Sophia, and Victor's girlfriend, Maria, who was from St Louis like Victor. But a little while later, he was standing near a boy named Carl, who happened to be one of the other Canadians at Tisdale—from Mississauga—while Archie and Victor and Camilla chatted nearby to some people he didn't know. They were orbiting the fringe of the conversation, not really contributing anything, but not confident enough to break away and strike up a conversation with someone else.

Carl rocked back on his heels and looked down at his shoes and muttered. "Ugh... I'd rather be reading a book right now."

Jacob blinked. It clicked into place. His classmates weren't these ethereal magician-children. They were just kids like him. And they weren't all these outgoing, social-facile savants. Okay, maybe Archie and Grace and Victor and a couple others were, but a lot of them bumbled their words and goofed the introductions just like him and forgot names, and on and on. They just weren't as worried about it as he was. Suddenly, everything seemed a little more fun, a little more there.

The rest of the night was a blur of putting names to faces, laughter, little stories, and humanization of his ethereal classmates. People lamented the lack of alcohol, and cursed Tisdale's Orwellian security. A fight broke out between two boys Jacob didn't know. Some of the other boys egged them on, but most of the girls cried for them to stop. It was broken up by Victor before it could digress into a magical brawl, though both of the fighters bristled with unspent magic.

After that, people started trickling back into the dorms.

The five of them had settled at some point on a bench and the surrounding grass beneath an old oak tree. Grace and Camilla and Archie were lamenting the gala where they'd first met.

Jacob checked his phone. Christ, it was past midnight. He laughed out loud. Usually staying up past ten was pretty ambitious for him.

"What?" Blake asked.

"Nothing." Jacob shook his head, suddenly feeling those late hours piled up on him. "Can't believe it's past midnight."

"Pretty sweet, eh?"

"And the best part is, I could stay up til dawn and no one would stop me," Jacob said.

Blake slapped him on the back. "Ay, that's the spirit. So, you glad you came?"

Jacob looked around at the pockets of people chatting away on the grass, beneath the lights of Schumann Hall. He wasn't entirely sure if he was glad. He wasn't entirely sure if it had been a good thing or a bad thing. But it had been a thing, a thing he knew he would remember for the rest of his life. A thing he knew he'd been missing out on in high-school because he'd been too timid to just get out and be around a bunch of other kids. And now that he'd done it he felt foolish that he'd been so afraid to do this in the first place.

"Yeah." He said, smiling.

Archie stood, and with a stage magician's flourish, whipped out a bottle of dark brown liquid from his suit jacket. "I may have been waiting for Tisdale my whole life, but this bottle has been waiting even longer than that."

"Beer?!" Blake and Grace cried with the enthusiasm of the deprived.

"You troglodytes." Archie scoffed. "This is bourbon, from the family distillery."

"How'd you get it in?" Camilla asked.

"I have my ways," Archie said. "Once upon a time I may have wanted the whole bottle to myself, but there isn't anyone in the whole world more deserving of sharing it with than you four."

Grace rolled her eyes. "So dramatic..."

"Here's to Tisdale." Archie opened it with a whisker of magic and took a sip. He passed it around to Grace, who took a healthy swig.

A part of Jacob was going insane. His parents would kill him. He was underaged. Alcohol? Not a chance.

Grace passed to Blake, who took a swig, then quickly put his mouth into his elbow, coughed, and shook himself. "Strong."

The others chuckled.

He handed it to Jacob. Jacob grasped the cool bottle in both hands and looked down the neck to the sloshing dark liquid.

"Just a little bit. It's strong." Camilla said.

Jacob looked over at her. He hadn't told her—or anyone here—that he'd never drank before, but he could see in her eyes that she knew, somehow. Yet she was encouraging him instead of making fun of him. "Okay."

He tilted the bottle back and drank a trickle and swallowed quickly. You didn't want it to sit on your tongue for too long, right? It caught fire high up in his throat and he spluttered.

"Don't spill it!" Archie cried as if someone were about to shoot his dog.

Jacob swallowed again, coughed, and handed the bottle to Camilla. Tears came to his eyes. Warmth blossomed in his stomach.

"Atta boy!" Blake said.

Camilla took a swig and handed it back to Archie. Archie chugged two big swallows, shook himself, and corked it. There was a silence as they all digested the moment, felt the aftertaste on their tongues. The conversation started up again, slowly, different this time somehow. Jacob lay back on the grass, not caring that he was probably staining his nicest shirt. The others talked about what they were most excited for at Tisdale, about what classes they were going to work the hardest in, about what they wanted to do with their magic when they graduated. They'd all given it a lot of thought over the years, it had seemed. Jacob was content to lie back and look up at the stars and just listen. He felt good. Was it the bourbon, or was it that he was just having the time of his goddamn life here? He'd only sipped a little. But then again he had no tolerance. What percentage was bourbon? Did it matter? Ha ha. It didn't fucking matter. All that mattered was that he felt good.

Crazy. This whole place was crazy. Camilla and the others were crazy. He was crazy. And he loved it.

He smiled as he lay on the imported grass and stared up at those stars that he knew were fake, in a night sky that he knew was fake, and wondered how it could all be so perfect.