Wild Magic

by Madeline Freeman

  The door swings closed behind him before Crystal exhales noisily. “Oh, wow. He is gorgeous.”

  “Um, okay.” Seth’s not ugly, but he’s a little plain—far from gorgeous territory.

  She rolls her eyes, exasperated. “Well, of course you don’t think so. You’re related.”

  I want to point out that before a few days ago, I’d never met him, and the two of us are so distantly related that it barely counts, but I figure my words will fall on deaf ears.

  “Tell me everything you know about him.”

  The wind picks up and I shiver. We’ve been standing out here longer than I anticipated and I want to be back inside, sipping a hot drink. Has Fox ordered for me? Or is he waiting until I come back to get a drink? I squint, trying to peer through the glare of reflected streetlights. “I don’t know. He’s from Massachusetts. He’s into genealogy.” I bite my lower lip. I could tell her the reason he’s interested in studying his ancestors—that his desire is spurred by his magical abilities. But it’s not my secret to share.

  Crystal turns, disappointment etched on her face. “You’re holding out on me, I can tell.”

  I sigh. She’s right. Besides him being a witch, there is something important I haven’t told her—something that involves her. “Before everything…” I give her a look, spreading my hands out between us. “When I first got to Clearwater, I… Well, I was seeing… visions of him.”

  Her brow furrows and her eyes are focused for the first time since Seth walked out onto the street. “Visions?”

  I nod, biting the inside of my cheek. While I had no qualms telling the psychics all about the witches, I don’t feel the same about revealing the existence of psychics to Crystal. “Yeah. Jodi says it can happen sometimes—with family members,” I lie.

  Crystal nods, accepting the explanation. “Okay, so you saw visions. What were they about?”

  “Nothing, really. Just his face—his eyes, mostly. And…” I hesitate, but I can’t exactly stop now. I’ve already passed the big reveal—that I have visions. And the last part is the thing that concerns her. “And every time I saw those visions, they were around you—when I was touching you or touching something of yours.”

  Crystal’s fingers trail across her neck, a small smile crossing her lips. I don’t need to be psychic to know the kinds of things that are going through her mind: It’s fate—the two of them have some sort of connection. I roll my eyes. “Look, it’s freezing out here. I’m going in.” Without waiting for her reaction, I head into the shop.

  Fox stands from his spot at a table at the back of the shop. He’s sitting alone, even though he knows Lexie and Bridget and the two of them don’t seem to be mad at him at all, and I’m struck by his consideration. If they won’t accept me socially, he won’t accept them. Crystal was right about what she said—Fox isn’t okay with how they’re treating me. My heart twists. Would he walk away from the circle because of me? I don’t want him to have to make that choice.

  He holds a paper cup out toward me and I relieve him of it and take a sip, not caring what it is so long as it’s hot. As the flavors collide on my tongue, my eyes close. Salted caramel. I’ve never seen this flavor on the menu, but I don’t ask how he knew it’s what I’d choose if I knew it were an option. After another sip, I follow his gaze across the shop. Crystal has installed herself with Lexie and Bridget at a table in the front window, and the three of them talk in low voices, their eyes fixed on Seth.

  “Who’s the guy?” Fox’s tone is casual enough, but his eyes don’t leave Seth, who converses easily with Millie as she makes drinks for him. There’s the barest hint of tension in Fox’s shoulders and I remember Seth hugged me. Is Fox… jealous?

  And odd mix of pleasure and embarrassment courses through me. “That’s Seth. He’s new at the shop.” Fox’s posture doesn’t relax and I push a bit further. “He’s really nice. Super sweet. He’s got this cute, proper way he talks.” Fox’s eyes narrow and I suppress a smile. “Oh, and did I mention he’s my cousin?”

  At the last word, Fox finally turns his attention from Seth. “Cousin?”

  I grin, biting my lower lip. “Yeah. Cousin. Distant cousin, but we’re still related.”

  He makes a face before taking a sip of his drink, his tension evaporated. “Crystal seems pretty interested in him.”

  I nod. “Apparently he’s gorgeous.” I roll my eyes for effect, and Fox smiles.

  “We should head out.” He stands, waiting for me to do the same.

  Seth nods a goodbye as I pass, which I return. Fox calls goodbye to the girls and Crystal waves vaguely in response. Fox sighs as he pushes open the door. “Poor Tucker.”

  I gulp. I wasn’t aware their relationship—if one could call it that—was common knowledge. “You know about them?”

  “Um, yeah. They’re not exactly stealthy. I mean, I know Crystal thinks they are, but Tucker… Well, let’s just say he’s indiscreet.”

  I shiver as he unlocks the truck. No, it doesn’t surprise me that Tucker would brag about whatever he and Crystal do together. And I’m not sure if I believe that Crystal is unaware. She probably likes it. Back in our reality, she and Zane used to hook up. She clearly has a thing for bad boys. Still, I have to agree with Fox. After seeing Crystal’s reaction to Seth, it’s clear that her time with Tucker is limited. She’s found a new target. I just hope Seth is up to the challenge.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Come Monday, Lexie and Bridget make good on Crystal’s promise for an end to the hostility toward me, but that doesn’t mean we’re all friends again. While they’re no longer talking behind my back or ignoring me, their greetings are tepid at best, and in health when Mrs. Stanton assigns a group project, Lexie quickly snags partners so there’s no room for me in the group.

  If I’m honest, I’m actually glad for Lexie’s move. I’m sure she’s only doing it to show me that we’re still not friends, but I’m okay with that. I don’t want to work with her because I don’t like this Lexie. How can losing her as a friend hurt when I’ve already lost her as a person?

  I lean across the table and tap on Felix’s book. “You wanna work together?”

  His brow furrows. “You mean that wasn’t a given?”

  I smile. I’m not sure if it’s because of our history together or because I’m one of the psychics now—or just due to his easygoing personality—but I’m thankful for how readily Felix has accepted me. When he looks at me, sometimes I can forget that everything in my life is different.

  “Felix, Kristyl? Are you working together?” Mrs. Stanton asks as she makes the rounds to be sure we’ve all followed her directions. When we nod her brow creases. “You should really have at least three for the skit,” she says absently, scanning the vicinity. “Owen, do you have a group? Why don’t you come work with these two?”

  Owen picks up his notebook and pen and crosses to our table. He nods at Felix but barely glances at me; a muscle in his jaw jumps as he takes the empty chair beside me. Any illusions I had a moment ago are shattered: Things are different here, no matter how much I try to pretend they’re not, no matter how many good things there are. Some things will never be the same.

  Still, despite the fact that Owen’s eyes are fixed resolutely on his notebook, my body tingles with electricity. I haven’t been this close to Owen since before everything changed, and I forgot how he makes me feel. My fingertips tremble as I reach for my pencil. “So,” I begin, but I clear my throat immediately. My voice is an octave higher than usual. Across the table, Felix raises an eyebrow. “So, um, what should our skit be about?”

  Owen doesn’t look up and after a moment, Felix clears his throat. “Maybe we should all be at a party?”

  Felix launches into an idea involving a response to peer pressure and I try to pay attention, but Owen’s presence distracts me. When it’s clear Felix has taken control of the group, Owen engages him in conversation. Without my input, the two begin putting together our skit. The whole time, Owen doesn’t say m
y name—he refers to me only with pronouns: she, her. When I make a suggestion, he pretends to look in my direction, but his gaze never actually reaches me.

  I read the diary. I know my alternate-self hurt Owen somehow. But that was years ago. How can he still hate me so much? What could I possibly have done?

  By the end of the hour, my stomach is in knots. I’m glad we’re presenting the skits tomorrow, because there’s no way I could do it today. Felix volunteers to take our skit up to the teacher to get it okayed, and as soon as he leaves I wish I’d gone—I don’t want to be sitting here next to Owen, not when he’s so thoroughly ignoring me. I’m too chicken to reach out with my psychic abilities to read what he’s feeling—too afraid of what I might discover. One glance toward Mrs. Stanton’s desk is all I need to know Felix probably won’t be back to the table before the bell rings—there are too many people crowded around already, and a girl from Lexie’s group is heatedly arguing a point, trying to convince Mrs. Stanton that something in their skit should stay. To distract myself, I pull out my Spanish homework and start scribbling in verb conjugations.

  I’m writing in the last answer when an emotion radiates off Owen so intensely I can’t help feeling it: surprise. I hazard a glance at him and my stomach swoops when our eyes lock. My heart rate increases. He has the most beautiful eyes.

  I expect him to look away, but he doesn’t. His mouth twitches like he’s struggling over whether to say something or not. Finally, he clears his throat. “I haven’t seen that name in a long time.”

  I stare, unsure what he’s talking about. With another sigh, he taps my assignment paper, where I’ve written my name. When I look down, I’m surprised by what I see: I’ve written Krissa Barnette. I don’t remember making a conscious decision to do it, but maybe telling Fox yesterday was enough to reset my nickname to automatic. Part of my real-self reclaimed. The curve of the letters is so familiar—in a way, even more familiar than the shape of my full name. This is who I am now—who I’ve been since I arrived in Clearwater. “It’s time for a change.”

  Owen narrows his eyes. When he speaks, his voice is low and quiet. “Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but leave me out of it.”

  My mouth drops, and in response, he rolls his eyes. “You think I don’t see it?” he presses. “You might be able to fool other people, but not me. Not anymore. I learned that lesson a long time ago. What? Are you bored with your friends? Or did they just finally see through you? Time to reinvent yourself—again.” He shakes his head. “I kinda feel bad for him. Fox. How’re you gonna rip his heart out? You got a plan already, or are you just gonna go off the cuff? If I’m honest, I’m surprised you’ve kept him around this long. Figured he would’ve bored you years ago.”

  I flinch. It would be better if Owen’s words were full of venom, but they’re not. His tone is cool and completely matter-of-fact, like he’s explaining a math problem. There’s no defense I can mount. I know enough from the diary entries to understand what he’s saying. I could tell him he’s wrong about me, but is he really? Isn’t reinventing myself what I want to do? Just days ago, wasn’t I ready to break up with Fox as a part of that plan? Despite this altered reality, Owen might know me better than I thought he could. But what does that say about the person I am—the person I’ve always been?

  The bell rings and Owen grabs his belongings and stalks toward the door. I can’t move. Am I really the kind of person Owen thinks I am? I’ve been operating under the impression that my alternate self was different somehow, that I would have made different choices in her shoes. But the fact remains she is me. Maybe this is the way my life was supposed to play out—the way it would have played out if I had been the one making the decisions.

  Warm hands clasp my shoulders and I blink heavily. Felix comes into focus. “Are you gonna barf?”

  My stomach clenches and for a moment I’m afraid that’s exactly what I’ll do. It takes another second to realize I’m laughing. At first, it’s silent, but then it overtakes me. My head tips back and my shoulders shake and I’m gasping for air. The sound escaping my mouth is desperate—almost a sob. Maybe I am crying. I can’t tell, and I can’t stop.

  Felix pulls me to standing and wraps an arm around my shoulders, leading me out of the classroom and into the hall. My face is damp. Am I laughing so hard I’m crying or just crying?

  I have no sense of where we’re going, and Felix could be leading me down the hall or to another state, as aware of the time that’s passed as I am. At some point, he pressed me into a chair, because, when I start to take in my surroundings, I’m sitting down.

  The room comes to me by degrees. It’s small—made smaller by racks full of boxes against two of the walls, two ladders against another, a small table by the door, and a small, stained basin on the floor. We’re in a janitor’s closet. The scent of soap and garbage fills my nostrils. Felix sits across from me, our knees nearly touching, holding my hands. His brow is creased with concern when I manage to fix my gaze on his face. He offers a tight-lipped smile and rubs the pads of his thumbs over the back of my hands.

  “You wanna talk about it?”

  Heat floods my body. I turn my head, looking for signs that the custodian might be back soon. “How did you get in here?”

  He holds up his right hand, wiggling his fingers. “Telekinesis. Lock picking is one of the first things West and I practiced.”

  I smile, but it quickly turns to a grimace as my stomach twists. West. He feels the same way about me that Owen does. I was so desperate to prove West was wrong about me, but what if he and Owen are right? Felix returns his right hand to my left and squeezes it. My eyes prickle. “Why are you being nice to me?”

  “Why shouldn’t I be?”

  I blink and tears stream down my cheeks. “Because I’m a terrible person.”

  He squeezes my hands. “I don’t believe that. Have you done some shitty things? Maybe. But that’s the past, and there’s nothing you can do to change it.”

  The irony of his words overwhelms me and I’m sobbing again. I curl forward, pulling my hands from his and pressing them to my face. I wouldn’t be in this mess if the past hadn’t been changed.

  To his credit, Felix doesn’t pull away. The legs of his chair scrape the floor as he repositions himself beside me. He rests a hand on my back, between my shoulder blades, patting gently. When the bulk of the tears have passed, he takes in a breath. “Maybe it’s because of the psychic thing, or maybe it’s because way back when we were actually pretty good friends, but I can tell there’s something going on with you. And it’s not just that your circle’s kinda abandoned you—I noticed it before then. Last week, suddenly, you were… different. Not the same girl who’s been stalking the halls with Crystal these last few years—more like…” He laughs. “More like the girl who was so nervous when I tried to kiss her that she almost gave me a black eye.”

  My eyes fill again. I read about that in the diary, but it’s not the same as living it. I wish I could remember the event itself instead of the description of it. If I’m going to be held accountable for the bad things I did, I want, at least, to be able to remember the good. Messing with time has robbed me of my first kiss in two realities—one because I don’t remember it, the other because Owen doesn’t. My heart twists and I choke back another sob. “I’m not that girl, though. Not since… Owen. Not since I did… whatever I did to him.”

  Felix shifts, pressing his hand flat against the center of my back. Warmth radiates from his palm, coursing through my skin and sending jolts of electricity up my neck. It’s not until he pulls away, scooting his chair so he can face me again, that I understand what he’s done. He places his fingertips beneath my chin, pulling my face up so he can look into my eyes. “You really don’t remember that, do you? How can you not remember?”

  He scanned my memories. I’ve only ever picked up on conscious thoughts, but somehow Felix was able to see beyond that. “How did you do that?”

  He presses his palms
into his knees, exhaling and shaking his head. “Krissa…” He squeezes his eyes shut like the lights are suddenly too bright for him. “Even if you’re not thinking about memories like that directly, when we’re talking about them, they should be right below the surface. Bria and I figured that out months ago. But with you… I should’ve seen those things in your head—our first kiss, the seventh grade dance. But they weren’t there. Why weren’t they there?”

  Thoughts swirl through my head. Lies. I could make something up to explain away the absence of the memories, but nothing seems plausible enough. Besides that, nothing would be fair. Felix is being a friend to me—a real friend. He doesn’t deserve to be paid back with half-truths.

  So instead, I give him the whole truth. As our knees brush each other’s in the dank janitor’s closet, I tell Felix everything.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I’m a thousand times lighter at the end of sixth hour when Felix and I finally emerge from the janitor’s closet. Finally, someone besides Crystal knows my secrets—all of them. Although he’s pale when we part ways, he promises to keep everything to himself, and I believe him.

  A crowd has gathered by the time I make it to the hallway where my locker is, and I assume it’s regular end-of-day traffic. But as I press forward through the bodies, a familiar voice rings out.

  “Get away from me, Tucker.”

  Crystal’s voice is icy. I push past a few more gawkers until I get to the interior of the circle. The center of the hallway is empty, but there are people standing two-deep against the lockers, and a mass of students continues to gather on either side of the hall. Bridget and Lexie stand back, but apart from the rest of the onlookers. Crystal and Tucker take center stage.

  He takes a step forward, snatching her hand and tugging her. “Come on,” he says, his voice low. “Let’s talk about this somewhere else.”