Remedial Magic Read Online Free PDF Page A

one, but the main road was the only one big enough for cars.
    The base of the mountain is completely surrounded by a thick, murky moat, the moat surrounded by a high, electrified fence. There are only four entrances to the city itself, one at each point of the compass. My dad was supposed to meet me at the Southern Gate. The taxi driver dropped me o? at the gatehouse—a three-story building about a half a block long—and I felt another pang of apprehension as I watched him drive away. It was possible for cars to pass through the gates into Avalon, but the driver would have to have an Avalon visa to be allowed through. Backpack over one shoulder, I dragged my suitcase through a series of rat mazes, following the signs for visitors. Naturally, the lines for residents were all much shorter.
    By the time I got to the head of the line, I was practically asleep on my feet, despite the anxiety. There was a small parking lot just past the checkpoint, and like at the airport, I could see people standing around there with placards. But as I waited for the customs official to stamp my passport, I still didn’t see my name on any of them.
    “One moment, miss,” the customs official said, after having examined my passport for what seemed like about ten years. I blinked in confusion as he then walked away from his post, carrying my passport.
    My throat went dry as I saw him talk to a tall, imposing woman who wore a navy-blue uniform—and a gun and handcuffs on her belt. It went even drier when the official gestured at me and the woman looked in my direction. Sure enough, she started heading my way. I saw that the official had handed her my passport. This didn’t seem like a good sign.
    “Please come with me, Miss…” She opened the passport to check. “Hathaway.” She had a weird accent, sort of British, but not quite. Meanwhile, the customs official gestured for the next person in line.
    I had to step closer to the woman to avoid getting trampled by the family of five that came up to the desk behind me.
    “Is there a problem?” I asked, and though I tried to sound nonchalant, I think my voice shook.
    She smiled, though the expression didn’t reach her eyes. She also reached out and put her hand on my arm, leading me toward a key-carded door in the side of the building.
    I tried to reach for the handle of my suitcase, but some guy in a coverall got there before me. He slapped a neon orange tag on it, then hauled it off behind the official’s desk.
    I wondered if I should be making a scene. But I decided that would just dig whatever hole I was in deeper.
    “Don’t be afraid,” the woman said, still towing me toward the door. Well, I suppose she wasn’t really towing me. Her touch on my arm was light, and it was more like she was guiding me. But I had the feeling that if I slowed down, it wouldn’t feel like guiding anymore. “It’s standard procedure here to conduct interviews with a certain percentage of our visitors.” Her smile broadened as she swiped her key card. “It’s just your lucky day.”
    I was now hitting stress and sleep-deprivation overload, and my eyes stung with tears. I bit the inside of my cheek to try to keep them contained. If this was just some kind of random selection, then why had the official looked at my passport for so long? And why hadn’t my dad told me it was a possibility? I certainly hadn’t read anything about it in the guide books.
    I was led into a sterile gray office with furniture that looked like rejects from a college dorm and a funky smell like wet wool. The imposing woman gestured me into a metal folding chair, then pulled a much more comfortable-looking rolling chair out from behind the desk. She smiled at me again.
    “My name’s Grace,” she said. I wasn’t sure if that was a first or a last name. “I’m captain of the border patrol, and I just need to ask you a few questions about your visit to Avalon; then you can be on your way.”
    I swallowed hard. “Okay,”