How hard is it to find a simple club room? Is it me? Am I the problem? No, it has to be these maze-like hallways and an otherwise inadequate memory. It’s definitely not because I’m tired. Gods, this day was long. My day started with fighting a giant spider, then I got the lovely privilege of going to Literature class. I would say that it’s the most boring thing I’ve ever had to sit through, but then I had to go to History class and then Math. I swear, whoever put Math class after lunch is working for the forces of evil. There’s no doubt about it.

  Walking down the hallway, I stop in front of a door that has 413 written on it. Ok, this should be the Cooking Club. No doubt about it. It’s important that I get into this club. It’ll help keep up appearances and snacks. I heard they are delicious. Okay, the snacks are the main reason I’m joining this club, but it also has the benefit of keeping up appearances. With one long breath, I ready myself to charm the pants off of everyone. My specialty.

  The door swings open to reveal an empty room. Well, there are a couple of alchemy supplies and a magic oven, but no one is in here. I overheard that they met after classes, but maybe I’m too early.

  Naturally, I let myself in and walk over to the magic stove. With no care in the world, I open it, hoping to find some cookies or snacks of some sort. Nothing. What kind of cooking club doesn’t have cookies in the oven?! Wait! I have the perfect idea. I begin to rummage through the drawers until I scrounge together the bare minimum to make some cookies. All I’m missing is the vanilla. Looking closer, I find a brown bottle that smells of vanilla. There you are. Ok. Time to make some cookies.

  The magic oven dings, waking me from my nap. With a large stretch and a yawn, I wipe the drool from my face. They must be done. Using oven mitts, I pull the tray out and place it down on the table. A dozen melting, gooey, delicious cookies sit there begging to be eaten. If I haven’t outdone myself. This will surely charm the pants off the cooking club. Speaking of, where are they?

  Looking around, I still don’t see anyone, and I would assume someone would’ve woken me up if they saw me in here. Is the first day of classes an off day or something? Maybe they’re out looking for members to recruit. It would make sense. Well, I made cookies. Might as well eat them.

  Savoring the taste as it explodes in my mouth, I grab another and then another. Soon enough, I’ve eaten six cookies. These are good. I should get into the baking business after I’m done pretending to be The Chosen One. Although I don’t think I added enough vanilla and it’s a little spicy. Wonder what that’s all about?

  Suddenly, the door opens, and a figure covered head to toe in black clothes walks in. “Chosen One, we knew that you would visit us eventually,” the cloaked individual says in a deep voice.

  Well, that’s a weird choice of clothes for the Cooking Club, but who am I to judge? As long as I get snacks.

  “Hey, yeah, I came to check out the club. I like the cooking supplies. Is what you're wearing the club uniform?” I ask, trying to be friendly.

  With a deep chuckle, he answers, “Yes, denizens of the night wear this attire. It makes it easier to do our jobs.”

  Oh. They must cook at night. No wonder no one is here. I’m early. I should’ve asked around some more.

  “That’s cool. I’m a fan of the night as well. Basically lived in it most of my life. Oh, uh, I hope you're okay with me using your equipment. I know I’m not a member yet, but I made a doz- half a dozen cookies,” I say, remembering that I already ate half of them.

  He walks without making a single noise and picks up a cookie. “You’ve done well,” he says with a nod.

  “Thanks. It’s the first time I baked in… years, but I’m pretty happy with it myself.”

  Being praised for something I did is not half bad. This Cooking Club thing might just work out.

  He sniffs the cookie before placing it down. “I’m a big fan of the choice of poison. Hides well with this type of cookie,” he says nonchalantly.

  “Yeah, I tried to use a healthy mix- Did you say poison?” I say, hoping I heard him wrong.

  “Yes. An elegant choice. Kills within minutes and is easily masked by the chocolate chips. You must be a true master in the art of poison if this was your first try in years,” he says clearly.

  What? Poison? No, I didn’t poison myself. I used regular ingredients. With a glance, I look over the ingredients, and my eyes stop at the vanilla. No, it can’t be. I turn the bottle to reveal a skull and crossbones.

  Ah, shit!! I poisoned myself!? Who leaves poison lying around in a Cooking Club?! Wait?

  “So we’re on the same page. What club is this?” I ask, realizing my possible mistake.

  “This is obviously the Assassin Club,” he says as if that should be normal.

  “This is room 413, right?”

  “No, this is room 314.”

  How in the hells did I read the room number wrong? Better yet, why is there an Assassin club? Is it an official club? It has a club room, so it has to be, but why?

  Clearing my throat, I hide my fear. “So, this poison. Dead in minutes… unless?”

  “Well, obviously, if you take the antidote, you’ll be fine.”

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  Oh, thank the Gods. I’m not going to die today.

  “Amazing. Where would one find this antidote and quickly, please?” I ask as a burning feeling rises from my stomach.

  “Well, normally we would have it on hand, but we used the last batch up yesterday. The rest of the members are actually procuring more as we speak. Why do you ask?” he says, having not realized that I’m actively dying.

  “No reason. Is there an alternative nearby, hopefully?” I ask as the burning in my stomach grows.

  He slowly strokes his chin as he thinks. “Ah. There is.”

  “Where and what is it, quickly?” I say running out of patience.

  “The greenhouse outside should have some mandrake root. That should neutralize the poi-” he says as I sprint out of the room.

  Basically, flying down the stairs, I burst through the front doors of Magnolia Hall. The cold of winter burns against my skin. Looking around, I find the small greenhouse. With little time to waste, I burst through the door and am hit by an oppressive wave of heat. A wide array of plants scatter throughout my view. Quickly, I search through the plants. Nightshade, potato, carrots, eucalyptus, mandrake!!

  Without a second thought, I pull the mandrake out of its pot and am assaulted by a piercing scream.

  Not knowing what to do, I take the next logical step and eat it. One earthy bite at a time. As I take the last bite, the burning feeling in my stomach cools down.

  That sucked. Well, at least nobody saw that.

  “Did you just eat my mandrake?” A Dryad with sunflowers in her hair says.

  “I’m sorry. I accidentally ingested a lot of poison, and I needed to eat a mandrake or I was going to die,” I say in full seriousness.

  Oh, this is bad. Dryads are extremely protective of their domain. Usually, that domain is a forest or tree, but in this case, the greenhouse is probably her domain.

  She brushes her hand through her green hair. “If you needed the healing properties, you only needed to eat the leaves!” she says, flabbergasted.

  “Okay, I didn’t know that, and I’m yet again really sorry. I’ll pay for it,” I say, trying to defuse the situation.

  “I guess that will make things better,” she says with a saddened look.

  “How much is it?”

  I still have five gold coins from Abrigon. That should cover it. I was hoping to use it for anything else.

  “50 Gold”

  “Of cou- Did you by any chance mean 5 Gold?” I ask, stunned.

  “No. It takes a year to grow one to that size, and the amount I could’ve sold that mandrake for is at least 50 Gold,” she says with a sudden change in tone.

  "Any chance you take IOU’s?”

  With a deathly stare, I get my answer.

  Damn it! I don’t have that much gold. What am I going to do? As I think, my eyes wander around the greenhouse. It’s messy and unkempt. The plants are being taken care of, but you can tell that there is an obvious lack of manpower.

  “How about I help you out with the greenhouse?” I suggest, hoping for a long shot.

  She takes a second to think before answering, “Do you know anything about plants?”

  “A little,” I say, avoiding old memories.

  “Fine. I need the help anyway, but the moment you slack off is the moment I run your pockets. Do you understand?” she says with a threatening tone.

  With nervous laughter, I answer, “Yeah, I understand.”

  I’m usually not this reserved, but given that it’s my fault. Oh, let's be real, that has nothing to do with it. I could give a rat's ass, but she reminds me of an old friend. She was also weirdly commanding and scary.

  She hands me some gloves and shears. “Names Helia by the way. Welcome to the Botany Club!”

  Great, there goes the Cooking Club and all its snacky glory. Goodbye, you delicious idea. As I take the gloves, I get a closer look at her and see a yellow uniform under the apron and dirt. Which year was yellow again? Third or fourth year? Either way, she’s at the very least my senior.

  With a sigh, I get to work. “I’m CJ.”

  “Yeah, I know. You’re The Chosen One.”

  How quickly did word spread that even my upperclassmen know me? Well, better get used to it.

  Walking back into my room, I’m greeted by the sight of Hopper reading a textbook on his bed.

  “How did the club search go?” he asks, not even looking up from his book.

  “It… went. I’m now a member of the Botany Club,” I say as I fall flat on my bed.

  “I didn’t know that you liked botany,” he says with a surprised tone.

  “I don’t. I got roped into it, but enough about me. How did your search go?” I ask as the muscles in my body scream in pain.

  “Oh, well enough. I'm debating between the Archery Club and the Hunting Club,” he says as he flips a page.

  “That’s nice. Hope you pick one that doesn’t poison you.”

  “What?” he says, finally looking up from his book.

  “Nothing. Thanks for the help earlier, by the way,” I say, face down on my pillow.

  “What help?”

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you. I told Penelope that I was going to check clubs out with you.”

  “Is that why she was following me?” he says, realizing something. “I was starting to think she was going to kill me.”

  “Yup. Needed you to distract her as I went and checked out some clubs.”

  With a sigh, he puts down his glasses. “Next time, give me a heads up.”

  Raising a thumb into the air, I answer back. Ah, Penelope is going to be pissed that I gave her the slip, but I needed some alone time. Especially because I was heading to the Cooking Club. I didn’t want to share the cookies. With a yawn, I let sleep take hold and think of the house made of beds. Soon enough, CJ. Soon enough.