by E Hall
West said in a few sentences what Popperwell has taken weeks to cover. Perhaps I won’t flunk the next test after all.
He paces. “So if granting a wish is one form of magic, the balanced opposite is?”
I stutter, trying to answer, but fail.
JJ says, “The opposite of a wish is a curse.”
West nods. “Yes, I see you’re familiar with that as well, JJ.”
He mutters, “Unfortunately.”
“Okay, now, define a wish.”
I’ve got this. “A wish is a hope that something will happen. Like when you see the first star appear in the night sky, toss a penny in a fountain, or blow out your birthday candles.” I remember my last wish well.
JJ’s eyes drift over to me, and I detect amusement on his lips. He says, “A wish is manifesting the heart’s deepest desire. It’s focusing all of one’s energy on creating something beautiful. Then action is taken in the form of transferring energy from abstract to actual. It is bold because the person wants it no matter the consequences.”
“Yes. That’s a great start. Now, define curse.”
JJ slouches deeper into his seat. “A curse is the worst.”
I bite my lip. “Derrington said a curse is intending to inflict harm on another.”
JJ adds, “If a wish answers a person’s deepest desire then a curse is the inverse, it can take it away.”
“Good,” West says. “These are broad explanations, but we’re moving in the right direction. Let’s first talk about what a wish witch can do. They aren’t necessarily limited to a number of wishes. Rather, the wishes they grant are proportionate to their power. Where does power, or magical energy, come from?”
I try to remember some of Quince’s explanations, but JJ beats me to the answer.
“Belief. Confidence. The energy in the universe.” He gazes skyward through the glass ceiling.
West nods in approval, all the while pacing. “Right. Channeling the energies available. Define what a witch or wizard with the talent to curse might be capable of.”
There isn’t a clock in this classroom, but as West goes on to talk about the art of magic, special talents, and channeling energy, the night sky through the ceiling above us grows brighter with the rising moon.
“We can direct energy toward others and some can draw it away. It’s of utmost importance to protect oneself against someone tapping into your magic.”
I want to ask him if I was channeling my name in the stars or if that was someone else, him even, but he goes on. “For our first lesson, you will learn how to master your thoughts and the magical energy you’re channeling. JJ you’re first. I’m going to attempt to seize your energy; you’re going to try to deflect and conserve your energy.”
The two stare at each other for several intense moments.
West breaks eye contact and says, “You’re very skilled at this already. Rare, unless you’re born with the talent. I can see how that might be useful and troublesome. Maija, your turn.”
I have no idea what I’m doing, how to deflect or conserve my thoughts or whatever. I won’t lie; I have apple pie with whipped cream on my mind.
After a moment, West chuckles. “When presented with a slice of pie, never pass it up.” He claps his hands together. “Okay, why might learning this be of utmost importance?”
JJ doesn’t hesitate. “So someone doesn’t try to steal a wish…”
I didn’t know that was possible.
“Or a curse,” West adds. “That would be disastrous.”
I start to argue that I’m probably not a wish witch. “How do I know when to grant a wish? I can hardly use a wand.”
West gazes into my eyes and then to the ceiling. He nods. “You are a wish witch, Maija.”
“How do I grant a wish then?”
“We’ll get to that, but for now, understand that when someone opens their heart to you and asks you for a wish or when you desire to grant theirs, your energy will be summoned. You won’t be able to resist it. When you have the who and the why, the how will come to you.”
I start to argue again, but he lifts a hand. “Right now, it’s most important for you to learn not to allow anyone access to your thoughts or energy.” His voice lowers, “You have a gift, but that’s not to say you can’t give it away or perhaps, given an unfortunate set of circumstances, have someone take it from you.”
The lesson continues for another hour, at least. West involves us both in the conversation. However, unlike JJ, when I ask Chancellor West questions, at least he answers. But I don’t have the chance to ask him about my name in the stars.
I glance over at JJ. His expression is as still and ageless as stone. His eyes are dark and deep, like he’s soaking up the lesson, or trying not to let West know he’d rather be asleep. He’s a cold figure next to me, not letting anyone in. I’d much rather be seated next to Bobby, tutoring him in arithmetic.
However, when JJ glances over at me, the sadness in his face makes me wish I could take the thought back.
Chapter 19
★
As the next weeks pass, pie is on everyone’s minds. It comes in the form of apple pie variations: crisps, crumbles, tarts, and buckles—all menu items for the special meal on Hallows Eve aka Halloween.
Second to pie ranking high in conversation topic popularity are the ongoing arguments, debates, and brawls. The staff has had to break up three fights: one between a couple of giants—they get hangry easily. The second was between a changeling and a cyclops—there was some teasing about four eyes versus one. Then one of Bobby’s friends clashed with an elf. Sage gave me the details. For once, the vamps allied with the elves.
Rumor is if this gets worse, the Coven will be called to intervene.
Tension on campus builds, and I yearn for home, but remain in my room, doing homework almost the entire time. I want to visit Chelsea and my friends. They’re probably busy with Homecoming while I finish writing my essay on Salem in the new century.
When I’m done, I find Yassi in the common room. She fills me in on all the gossip going around (lately there has been a lot). Audra and Winnie come in, followed by a hesitant Dewey.
“Hey guys,” I say, glad to see friends, a consolation since I couldn’t go to Homecoming like I’d been planning all summer with Chelsea.
Dewey lingers on the threshold.
Yassi says, “It’s okay. You can come in the common room. Only upstairs is off-limits to boys.”
“Cozy,” he says, looking around, but not taking a step closer.
“We don’t bite,” Yassi says.
“Speak for yourself,” Reese says as she opens a bag of beef jerky.
Dewey turns pale.
“I’m kidding. I mean, be careful around the full moon. That’s why we’re here, right? To learn how to use and control our magic.”
“More like not use it,” Audra mutters. “Did you guys hear that the OMM task force found the vamps that went missing?”
Yassi nods. “Where were they again?”
Audra answers, “Holland. Isn’t that crazy? My mom works for the OMM. She said they’ve never had such a large number of people go missing for so long and across so much distance.”
“How exactly did they manage to get to Holland?” I ask.
“That’s probably what they’re trying to figure out. Transportate spells only work with strong intention and a lot of power. I’m guessing the only person capable of that on campus would be Chancellor West,” Audra says. “Plus runes are outlawed and portals are closed.”
“And why would he send vamps away?”
“Exactly. He wouldn’t.”
Yassi says, “However, if enough people get together and incant certain spells, they can perform powerful magic.”
“If people here could do that wouldn’t they just break out?” I ask.
“I’ve been hearing rumors,” Dewey says. “The other night I went down to the basement in my dorm to get a snack from the vending machine.” He holds out his
hands as though we criticized him. “Have you ever eaten a Butterfinger?”
Everyone but me shakes their heads.
“I like a little midnight snack and that vending machine is stocked. Anyway, a few guys were talking in hushed tones behind a closed-door—one of the study rooms. It was late, I was half-asleep, and having a chocolate craving. Who knows, maybe they had an exam the next day, but I heard the words secret society.”
Yassi narrows her eyes.
“That’s all I know. But it’s common knowledge that over the years there have been numerous secret societies and groups even on campus.” He goes on to talk to us, his captive audience, about conspiracy theories (dinosaurs helped build the pyramids) and spies (aliens are plotting our every move) and schemes (my favorite was how the school pie contains a secret ingredient to keep us coming back for more; I won’t argue with this).
Before I completely lose myself in a fit of laughter, Bree appears. “We were just hearing about Dewey’s crazy spy and secret society theories,” I say.
“They’re not crazy—” Bree starts.
“The dinosaur one definitely is,” Audra counters.
“But about the secret society. I’ve heard things…” Her voice is a low tinkle.
Everyone hushes.
She shrugs and nudges the napkin on the table. “Being small has its advantages.”
“What did you hear?” I ask.
“A group of students connected with an old group tied to the skirkin. They call themselves the Golden Hive.”
“Skirkin?” Dewey asks. “Aren’t they the ones who were trying to keep magicals apart?”
Yassi says, “Present tense. The Golden Hive are trying to make things go back to the way they believe they were in the beginning. They rally to keep bloodlines pure. According to them, there are true magicals with unadulterated blood, mixed-magicals, and non-magicals. They don’t believe in any of us cross partnering or mating with other-kinds.” She shakes her head. “Foozle nonsense. They just want power over us. To rule.”
“Yes, but apparently, the student group is upset because the Hive rejected them,” Bree says.
Yassi shakes her head. “If the Hive said the students can’t be in their secret club, then we don’t have anything to worry about.”
“Not unless they form their own group here on campus.”
“Guys, this convo is wacky,” Winnie says, getting to her feet. “What’s important is what everyone is wearing to the Hallows Eve party.”
Maybe this is what West wants me to learn and report back. But why me? Bree is a better candidate with her advantage of being small when she wants to be.
Conversations break off as everyone chatters about the upcoming and covert celebration. “I have the perfect costume idea for you,” Yassi says to me excitedly. She glances at the clock. “We have an hour before check-in. Come on, I’ll show you.”
I follow her into the cool night to Hawthorne Hall. We pass through several winding corridors. I mutter, “I’m convinced this building expands, shrinks, and reconfigures itself because I get lost every time I’m in here.” Yet somehow, I often end up near the statue of Imogen Hawkes.
As we pass Yassi says, “What’s that?”
Sure enough, there’s a roll of paper in her outstretched wand hand.
Yassi reaches for it. “Looks like a note. Ooh, maybe it’s a secret love letter or a secret society communication.”
My stomach finds its way to my throat.
She unrolls it. “Wait, it’s for you,” she says, reading my name at the top.
I recognize the same handwriting from the other letters.
Chapter 20
★
Yassi grabs the note from my hands and reads, “Maija, You’re sunshine. You are my moonbeam. You’re this world’s greatest treasure. I don’t stand a chance.” She makes kissy noises and prances around. “It is a love note. Oh my goodness, you have a secret admirer.”
I sigh, nod, and tuck the note in my pocket.
She stops short. “Hold on. This isn’t the first note, is it?”
I sigh, nod, and recite from memory, “‘You’re still in danger. Do not give up your wish. What should you do? Watch your back...and your heart.’”
“What does that mean and more importantly, why didn’t you show me?” Yassi asks, bunching up the sleeve of my coat in her hand.
“I couldn’t. It incinerated.”
“You mean you tried to do spellwork on your warning slash love note and blew it up? Destroyed the evidence-style? Why?”
“No, I was standing almost right here and it suddenly turned to ash in my pocket. I have no idea why.”
“And no idea who left it for you?” She turns in a slow circle as though the answer will appear.
“I’m not sure. I did get that note from Bobby about going to the rumpus game.” I leave out the part about the handwriting being different because the content of these mysterious notes worries me.
Her right eyebrow shoots up. “Bobby Gold doesn’t seem like he’d do something so subtle since he already sent you that one.” She taps her chin. “Two notes, but from whom?” She narrows her eyes, and I almost feel her energy searching the space around us, as though seeking residue left by magic.
She turns back to me. “Well, it’s pretty sweet that you’re someone’s sunshine, a treasure.” She bounces on her toes.
“It would be nice if I knew whose moonbeam.” I’m not big on surprises and mystery. I wasn’t thrilled on my thirteenth birthday when everyone jumped out and shouted Happy Birthday! Give me the choice between mystery and romance novels, I pick the latter.
“Maybe he’ll reveal himself at the costume party and sweep you off your feet,” Yassi says.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, what are you going to dress up as?” I say, changing the subject.”
“I’ll be going as a unicorn, of course,” she answers. “How about you? Wait, non-magicals dress up for Hallows Eve, right?”
“Yes. Let’s see, last year I went to a Halloween party dressed as a Hershey’s Kiss; my friends and I were all different types of candy. The year before that, a tooth fairy. It seems fitting in retrospect. Hmm. Oh, when I was eleven I dressed up as a witch. Pointy hat and all.”
She honks a laugh. “You thought witches wore pointy hats?”
“Yeah, a pointy black hat, a wart on my nose, long black fingernails. Oh, and I carried around a black cat stuffed animal.”
“That’s a lot of black. I’ve never seen a witch like that.”
“Then you’ve never seen a Disney movie.” I laugh.
“I’ve only ever seen two movies. One was about pirates. Nymphs, fairies, elves—many of the woodland magical beings avoid technology. My mom says it interferes with our intuition—for me, that’s the gateway to my magic.” She shrugs. “The other movie I saw was at a drive-in. My sister was dating a human boy and we all snuck out. Don’t even ask how much trouble we got in. Anyway, I fell asleep for the second feature, but the first movie was about these little blue creatures and no, they weren’t long-tailed croops.”
“Croops?”
“Yeah, those little lizard messengers. They curl around your finger, but then if you throw them they sort of like lasso around an object. Every kid had one when I was little.”
“I’ve never heard of them, but do you mean you saw the Smurfs movie?”
“Yes! That’s the one. Have you seen it?” she asks.
I nod then get an idea. “I know,” I say, fluttering my hands. “Maybe I should go to the Hallows Eve party as a Smurf.”
“Ooh, you’d be adorable.” She leans close, smoothing my hair from my face, and examining me closely. “Do you trust me to try a tansacetum annum potion on you? I could temporarily make you blue. Don’t worry; it’s mostly composed of Moroccan tansy flowers and isn’t permanent.”
Yassi is a pro at redoing rooms; I’m sure she could make a wall blue with no problem, but I’m not so sure about skin—my skin. “Hmm. I was thinking
of face paint. But didn’t you have an idea for a costume; isn’t that why you dragged me out here?”
She looks over my shoulder and points at the statue. “You’re right. I was thinking you go as Imogen Hawkes.”
Before I can argue, she pulls me down the dim hallway, down another I never noticed, and up several flights of stairs.
“Couldn’t you have told me that in the dorm?” I ask, catching my breath.
She shakes her head. “No, you have to see this. There’s a small collection of historical artifacts, including,” she stops in front of a glass case, “a dress once worn by the lovely Ms. Hawkes herself.”
“It’s the one from Dewey’s textbook,” I say, recognizing it from the image he showed us when he declared the historical figure resemble each other. “It’s magnificent.”
Embroidered in sheer fabric golden thread adorns blue, almost black like the night sky. Small gold embellishments, like moons and stars, form a celestial pattern.
“It’s stunning,” she says.
“Beautiful,” I whisper. “But I can’t wear it. We can’t just take it.”
“No, but we can replicate it.”
“In a few days? How?”
“Magic, of course.”
From somewhere in the building, a door opens and voices rise and fall.
I have a sinking sensation in my stomach. “No, I can’t go as Imogen Hawkes. It isn’t right. People say I remind them of her, but—” I shake my head. “I like the Smurf idea better.”
She sighs. “If you wore a gown like that, whoever wrote you those notes wouldn’t be able to resist revealing themselves and professing their love.” Yassi singsongs.
“Let’s not get carried away.” I scrunch up my face uncomfortably. “It seems odd, how everyone comments about her and me. Didn’t she live, like, over a hundred years ago?”
Yassi answers, “You don’t look alike, but there’s a gleam in your eye and something about your magical aura, your message, that reminds people of her.”
The talk of her being a legendary witch and the so-called prophecy makes me want to keep my distance. What if people expect me to live up to her standard? I already tried that with my parents. I can’t even patch the burn hole I made in my sock using magic. Also, dressing up as a dead person gives me the creeps. I don’t do well with ghosts. I shake off a shiver. “We should get back to Penny House. You can experiment with the Smurf spell, just for fun.”