Friday, November 18, 2022

New York, 1947

Lights cast a fiery glow around the room at the Society meeting, and a radio played grainy chamber music in the background. I clutched my paper against my chest, thumbing the edges of the sheets, as though wanting to make sure I had accounted for each page. 

I looked for any sign of Johnstone in the swarm of mages trying to find seats at the glistening, mahogany table. I would quietly take him aside, tell him I couldn’t revise the paper, and leave to console myself with a cup of tea at home. Just like that, my childhood dream would be pruned away, but at least my conscience would be intact. 

“Miss Slatterley, there you are!” Johnstone’s voice boomed. 

I spun around and found myself staring up into his stern, weathered face. “Good evening.”

“Well, have you made your decision, then? Will you revise your paper and join ranks with the most illustrious mages in America?” His voice rang through the crowd. 

My cheeks went warm as chatter died and people stopped to stare at us. “I-I—” I blinked rapidly, fumbling for the resolve that had filled my veins moments before. I thrust my paper at him, falling back on action when words failed me. 

He licked a finger and flicked through the pages, his eyebrows raising with every turn. “You didn’t revise it.”

My brain finally remembered the speech I’d prepared. “No, sir. I cannot disregard the truth for the sake of acceptance into the Society. My conscience forbids it on every level, so I must decline your generous offer of membership.” There. I’d said it. I pressed my trembling hands against my sides, feeling the tension loosen in my chest. 

The other members of the Society looked from me to Johnstone. 

I braced myself for his fury. But it didn’t come.

His scowl cracked, lips turning up at the corners. “Well said , Miss Slatterley.” He extended his hand.

Bemused, I shook it. 

Polite claps spread throughout the room. 

Johnstone chuckled at my face. “It was a test, Miss Slatterley. We put every new member through it. I wasn’t lying when I said politicians often attempt to pressure the Society into joining their causes. We only want those with the staunchest integrity and commitment to academic honesty.”

My throat closed, and I could only smile in response. I’d reached my goal, but it hadn’t been for my father. 

And then Johnstone uttered the words I had waited so long to hear.

“Welcome to our first female member of the Dickinson Society of New York Mages—Charlotte Slatterley.”

16 Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego replied, “O Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you. 17 If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God whom we serve is able to save us. He will rescue us from your power, Your Majesty. 18 But even if he doesn’t, we want to make it clear to you, Your Majesty, that we will never serve your gods or worship the gold statue you have set up.” 

Daniel 3:16-18