I hadn’t imagined our time together or what Jeb had said, had I? Even now, in this dire situation with weighty consequences, I found myself doubting my ability to differentiate between reality and fantasy.
“Miss Lawrence, is this true?” Khaba asked. “Josephine Kimura wasn’t trying to attack you, she was trying to defend you?”
Expectant faces turned to me. Grandmother Bluehorse wiped tears from her eyes, and Jasper Jang sat at the edge of his seat. People looked to me hopefully, genuinely wanting to hear good news about their colleague.
“Uh,” I said. If I said yes, that was technically a lie. Josie had attacked me. If I said no, I would be condemning her to death or draining or being fired.
“Yes,” I said.
Vega nodded with approval. “The principal would have murdered them both if Josephine Kimura hadn’t intervened.”
I continued. “Josie didn’t do anything wrong. You’re threatening her like a criminal, but she saved me from someone I was trying to prove had killed people in the past. Someone who had stolen money from the school. Our principal was a criminal. His name wasn’t even Jebediah Ebenezer Bumblebub. It was Ludomil Hummeln Ba’Izabul. Josie Kimura is a hero.”
Vega elbowed me and scowled. Maybe she thought I was laying it on too thick.
Khaba placed a hand over his heart, color draining from his dark complexion. “She couldn’t remember. We just assumed. . . . There was the body. . . .”
Thatch waved his hand in my direction, the gesture expressing fifty shades of boredom. “I suppose this leaves something to be said for asking the supposed victims of a crime if they were even attacked, rather than jumping to conclusions.” He rose from his seat and headed toward the door. “I can see this meeting is a complete waste of my time.”
He couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. I assumed he was talking about himself and me.
“There’s something else I need to say.” I drew in a deep breath, gazing after Thatch. “Jumping to conclusions hurts people. There are some rumors going around the staff that I want to address before they get any more out of control.”
Vega hissed and rolled her eyes. “This is not the time.”
“It’s never the time for anything.” I tried to swallow the lump in my throat that wanted to save me from speaking and humiliating myself in front of everyone. “I have never been hurt by Felix Thatch, physically or with magic. He never used forbidden magic on me. He never coerced me to do anything illicit. I would like to say he’s my friend, although these rumors have hurt him, and I don’t know if he is still my friend.”
Teachers looked at each other confused.
“No one cares about you and Thatch anymore,” Vega crouched and whispered in my ear. “Josie is bigger and better news this week.”
“Oh.”
Vega gazed out at her audience. With the flare of a drama queen she leaned forward, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Who wants to hear about all the illegal things Jeb has done?”
I was exhausted after my late night and would have welcomed a nap before third period, but Khaba requested my presence when the representatives from the Witchkin Council came. It was a group of two men and a woman in pointed hats, looking like monks in their drab gray attire. I couldn’t tear my gaze from the middle-aged Witchkin sporting an arm made entirely out of metal. He looked like a clockwork man with gears exposed, little clouds of steam occasionally puffing from his shoulder. I’d never known there were steampunk witches until now.
Khaba asked me to explain what had happened, about Jeb’s past deeds, and his motives for attacking. We sat in Jeb’s office, Khaba taking a seat behind the former principal’s desk. I’d witnessed him fill in for Jeb several times before, but seeing him behind the desk, smoothly guiding the conversation away from Josie’s doom filled me with relief and pride. He was so competent and professional. He never napped during meetings. I doubted he would ever make a deal with a Fae court and risk my soul in the process.
He was a natural leader. I had no doubt he would make an excellent replacement for Jeb.
The female Witchkin, a tall woman with silver hair, groaned after hearing my story of what had happened. “We came all the way out here for this? I thought we were going to arrest someone and have an execution today.”
Maybe she was related to Vega. I didn’t know anyone else who got excited by the idea of a beheading.
Mr. Weathersby, a wizened old man stooped with age, leaned on a cane made from a twisted length of wood. It might have doubled as a staff. “We aren’t quite done here yet. There’s the matter of this school needing a new principal.”
Khaba bowed his head with acquiescence. “I will meet with the school board to discuss possible candidates. It may take some time to hire the right individual.”
“Until then, we need to appoint one of the staff members as temporary replacement.”
I beamed, imagining this was Khaba’s moment to shine.
“Perhaps the secretary can fill in for him,” Mr. Weathersby said. “She’s been here for years. Surely she knows how to run things.”
Khaba gave a noncommittal smile. Mrs. Keahi’s lack of arithmetic skills aside, she was not the kind of people person they needed to fill the job.
“Or one of the department heads. Professor Kutchi?” the woman asked.
“I believe Ms. Kutchi is far too busy with athletic duties to add one more thing to her plate,” Khaba said. “If I must recommend a department head, I would suggest Grandmother—Professor—Bluehorse or Professor Frost.”
“Excuse me for stating what I thought was obvious,” I said, unable to hold my tongue any longer. “What about Mr. Khaba? He’s served as our dean of discipline and filled the role of a vice principal for years.”
The female Witchkin coughed. The two men exchanged sidelong glances.
“Yes, well, I don’t know if Mr. Khaba is qualified,” Mr. Weathersby said. “He’s never taught, so it’s unlikely he understands the plights of students or teachers.”
Khaba’s smile turned to strained complacency.
“How can Khaba not be qualified?” I asked. “He’s worked here forever. He’s dealt with discipline problems and difficult staff. He’s a pro.”
The male Witchkin with his gear arm gestured to Mr. Khaba stiffly. “Who would handle discipline if the school board promoted him? I wouldn’t advise the change.”
The blonde woman smiled at me, her tone patronizing. “You aren’t from this realm originally, so your education is lacking in this area. You probably don’t understand the nuances of this world. This is a Witchkin school. Mr. Khaba is Fae. He doesn’t qualify.”
There was genuine hurt in Khaba’s eyes.
“Ooooooh. I understand.” I used this moment to embrace my inner Vega and stated what needed to be said. “You don’t like it that Fae discriminate against you and treat you with inequality, so you’re going to do the same to one of them. How ingeniously hypocritical of you. Racism, it’s what makes the world go round.”
Khaba looked like he was trying hard not to laugh.
I stood. “If I’m not needed further, I’ll go to my classroom so I can corrupt the minds of future generations with ideals of peace and equality.”
I didn’t know how long to wait before going to speak with Thatch. Too soon, and I worried I would appear desperate. If I waited too long he’d decide he’d made a mistake and he didn’t like me anyway. I wanted to talk to him about what happened, and if I couldn’t do that, my next wish would be to talk to someone who would be willing to listen. I wanted a friend.
Even if I hadn’t been afraid to spend time alone with Josie and cause a relapse of spider magic, I suspected she would barf if I told her about what had happened. Vega already knew, but she would probably make fun of me and give me bad love advice. I probably could have gone to Gertrude Periwinkle, but it would have felt like I was rubbing it in that I’d gotten him and she hadn’t.
For an entire day, worry burrowed into the trenches of my psyche. If Thatch wanted to talk to me, he could. I didn’t have to be the one to make the first move. But he didn’t drop in on my classes unannounced or happen to bump into me in the hallway.
I sucked up my pride and went to his classroom during lunch the following day. Students worked quietly at desks on homework. He graded papers at his desk, his bowl of salad half eaten.
I hesitated at the doorway. “Hi.”
Students looked up and smiled.
“Hi, Miss Lawrence! What are you doing down here?” asked Missy, one of the Celestors.
“Shh,” Thatch said. “No talking. You have work to make up.”
I pressed a finger to my lips to keep the students from getting in trouble.
Thatch stood. “Good day to you, Miss Lawrence. I trust you are in good health.” He fidgeted with the papers at his desk, shuffling already neat stacks into even more square piles. “Is there something I may help you with of an academic nature?”
“I wondered if I could speak with you . . . in your office.” I glanced at the students and back to him. “Privately.”
“I’m sorry, that will not be possible. The last time I left these students unattended, they raided my closet for unicorn excrement.”
“That wasn’t us!” a freshman boy said.
Probably that had been Vega.
“Later?” I asked.
He hesitated. “Indeed. At a future time.”
I came back after school, but he was lecturing a student slumped forward in his seat about the importance of good attendance. I returned to my after-school club. If he left his bat cave for dinner, I didn’t see him. Afterward, I found the dungeon was locked with a note that said: Gone recruiting.
He was gone again in the morning. Probably I should have spent just as much time seeking Josie out as I had Thatch. Pinky had removed her things from our room. I heard no end to Vega’s complaints about moving back in with me.
“You didn’t want to move out in the first place,” I said. “I don’t see why you’re bellyaching.”
“I got used to the tower.” She crossed her arms, expression smug. “Don’t you know what it’s like to be granted something unexpectedly wonderful, and then have it yanked away from you, like the universe was teasing you?”
I wondered if she meant Thatch.
Pinky intercepted me as I went to see Josie in the tower. “Clarissa, I know you and Josie are friends and you mean well, but maybe now isn’t a good time. We don’t know what triggered Josie’s condition. Maybe you should give her some time to . . . recover from what happened. She still feels pretty bad.”
I nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense.”
“Just give her a couple of days. Then we’ll set up a day for all of us to go out to Lachlan Falls or something. I’ll stick around with you in case . . . something happens.”
I needed a Celestor chaperone at Lachlan Falls. But I didn’t correct him.
In Art Club after school, I tried to teach the students origami. I had never mastered the art of origami. The only thing I could make was a crane.
Weeks ago, Josie had promised to be our special guest for this unit. It didn’t surprise me she didn’t show up. Maddy showed off a heart that a boy had made her.
“Do you know how to make a heart?” I asked.
“It’s not that hard to figure it out. You just unfold the pieces and work in reverse,” Hailey said.
“If you don’t burn the paper while you’re doing it,” Maddy teased.
Hailey made a fist and punched her in the shoulder, but Maddy’s shoulder turned to water. I stared, transfixed as Hailey’s fist remained submerged up to the wrist. She tried to yank her hand out, but the water solidified into ice. I had no idea Maddy had advanced so far in her siren magic.
Hailey yowled. “That isn’t fair!”
Maddy released Hailey’s hand, laughing. “All’s fair in love and magic.”
Her words made me think of Thatch. He’d said the equivalent when we’d been throwing snowballs at each other. As we lay in a heap of tangled limbs after surviving Vega’s attempt at “playing,” I had thought I’d seen affection in his eyes. He’d asked about me marrying Elric. At the time I’d just assumed it was Thatch not minding his own business, but maybe he’d wanted to know because he didn’t want me to marry Elric—not because of his dislike for Elric—but because of his feelings for me.
Assuming he felt anything for me other than a range of annoyance and irritation.
He’d told me there was something he needed in a woman. He’d said he would tell me. Maybe it had something to do with pain. He wanted a woman who was into S & M, and he needed to inflict pain on others to feel aroused. It would make sense. He knew I didn’t tolerate pain, so it was reasonable for this to be a topic that had to be discussed.
Or perhaps it related to my biological mother. He couldn’t have a relationship with me because of his feelings for her.
“Are you all right, Miss Lawrence?” Imani asked, coming over to inspect the crane I’d crushed in my hand.
Despite Elric’s suggestions for her to take dance lessons—with a private tutor at his own estate—she had said she preferred Art Club. For now.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Your heart feels . . . sad.” She placed a hand on my arm.
I wondered if she could feel sorrow the same way Thatch could sense pain.
“Is it the principal’s death? It must be hard for you,” she said. “Principal Bumblebub was always so nice to us.”
Heh. If only she knew. I held my tongue. The official story was that he’d died in his sleep.
I waved a hand at Maddy’s origami heart. “The first person who can teach me how to make an origami heart gets a piece of candy.”
Hailey had it figured out in five minutes. She taught the rest of us. No papers were burned in the creation of our masterpieces.
On the underside of an origami heart covered in pink cherry blossoms, I wrote: Can I set up an appointment with you? Will you tell me what it is you require?
Before school the next day, I found him working at his desk in his classroom. He filled out his lesson-plan book for the following week like a good teacher did. Unlike me. Three sleepy students read in the back.
I placed the origami heart on his desk, or tried to anyway. Thatch grabbed me by the wrist, his hold on me firm, but not painful. He squashed the heart under my palm. I froze, unable to move, uncertain whether he was stopping me from leaving or stopping me from leaving him the origami heart.
His gaze rested on my hand. I couldn’t read the blank mask he wore.
“The answer is yes,” he said.
“How do you know what the question is?”
A smile curled his lips upward. “Magic.”
Thatch and I made an appointment after school, but he never showed up. I waited for him on the steps of the dungeon. I even went so far as to look for him in the magic mirrors, but he wasn’t in his room. In a way, it didn’t surprise me. He had told me he would hate himself if he touched me while I was under the influence of jorogumo venom. He had told me I would hate him. Maybe he was afraid of that.
I didn’t. Every time I thought about him, warmth flooded to my cheeks. I remembered how his lips had made me tingle. Even after the way I’d left him to suffer in the Silver Court, he hadn’t left me to the same fate. He was a better person than I was.
Later that week, Khaba was appointed temporary “steward” of Womby’s by the school board. The letter he showed me in the principal’s office didn’t once call him “temporary principal” or “acting principal.”
“That is so unfair!” I said. “Racism goes both ways. They don’t want Fae to treat them as inferior, but they—”
Khaba put up a hand. “Stop. Don’t pull a Josie on me and start talking about this with people. It isn’t your battle to fight.”
“Someone needs to fight.”
“That’s not what it means.”
“I know that, but old prejudices die hard. They already fear you might be like your mother. Now they’ll know you take after her with your radical ideals of liberalism.” He smiled as he said it.
“Is that why they disliked my mother? I thought it was because she killed people.”
“Oh, they disliked her long before she ever did that.” He winked.
The end of the school week finished with a school-wide party, much like what we’d celebrated on All Hallows’ Eve, but including more of the students in the performances and art exhibit. It was a lot of work to set up, and it was nice we got to leave up the art in the cafeteria over the weekend for students to admire. That also meant I didn’t have to take it down until the following week, and I would be able to get students in Art Club to help me.
Friday night we welcomed our new “steward” with a staff party.
Khaba opened up the principal’s rooms for the party, something that apparently had never been done before in anyone’s memory. Jeb’s office was more comfortable than the staff room—now that Khaba had tidied it. The minibar housed an array of alcohols Khaba was willing to share. I’d known about Jeb’s preference for hard alcohol, but he had an entire walk-in closet full of wines, beers, and ciders.
This was the first time we’d ever had a catered event with delicious food. I worried the school couldn’t afford it, but perhaps without someone embezzling, we could. In general, the quality of school meals had improved. It turned out the brownies weren’t actually bad cooks when their kitchen was stocked with herbs, spices, and ingredients that added flavor to meals.
Teachers dressed up in glam clothes for the party, Vega in one of her sparkly flapper dresses and Gertrude Periwinkle in an Edwardian gown that showed off her collarbone. It was the most risqué attire I’d ever seen her wear. Pro Ro shamelessly drooled over her.
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