Psionic

My name is Mia, and I am so screwed.
I didn’t even know my name until I found it on a bracelet on my wrist, but in the past weeks at The Conjurer Academy I’ve learned more about myself—just not about my past. Where I came from and how and why I ended up on the railroad tracks in the middle of nowhere remains shrouded by the mists of amnesia. Or something like it.

Turns out, I got skills...or rather a skill
Everyone at the academy has magic. Well, everyone I’ve encountered in my classes so far. But for some reason, I don’t. Or none that I can access. Who am I kidding? I probably don’t. But I do have one ability the majority of the others don’t, and I gotta say… It kicks butt...hard.

And then there is psychometry
Something I’d never heard of but that seemed so familiar when we studied it in class. Of course, inanimate objects hold the feel of their owner can convey an array of information about whoever touched it last, or most often. It seemed a no-brainer to me, but when it was introduced, I seemed to be the only one in class who already knew how to read these things without even trying. Where did I learn that?

Oh yeah… Did I mention the guys here?
I ran into three of them. Icarus, Puck and Rad. And oh my gods, each of them is totally different and totally drool-worthy. I’m hoping I’ll get to know them better. Maybe go on a date and kiss one of them. Who knows? Maybe all three! Hey…a girl can dream, can’t she?