Wild Magic

by Madeline Freeman

  I stare, incredulous. “Messed with you? You walked out in front of his car and he managed not to hit you. And to thank him, you light his car on fire? That’s taking things a bit far, don’t you think? He could’ve really gotten hurt if that guy didn’t have an extinguisher.”

  He shrugs. “Who cares?”

  “Who cares?” I turn to Fox, looking for assurance that I heard what I think I did, but Fox’s eyes are averted. “Who cares? Zane, he’s a human being—”

  “Exactly. Just a regular person. He’s not like us. He’s beneath us. Do you care when you step on an ant? Then why should I care if I step on a guy like that?”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Is he honestly comparing the man across the street to an insect? While I’ll be the first to admit I don’t really know Zane—either version—this seems an extreme stance. Is this really the kind of guy Fox would willingly hang out with? I understand that besides his brother, Zane is the only other guy in the circle, but that hardly means Fox has to be friends with him.

  Zane shakes his head, pivoting and heading down the street. “Better check your woman, Fox,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’ll meet you at the hardware store.”

  I snort at his presumption—like Fox is going to hang out with him after this—but a look at Fox’s face sends a shiver through me. Instead of looking appalled, he’s sad, resigned almost. I cross my arms over my chest. “You’re not seriously gonna go with him, are you?”

  His hesitation is all the answer I need. I take a step backward but he reaches for me, brushing my arm with his fingertips. “Krissa, wait.”

  “Wait? You can’t honestly tell me you think what Zane did is okay. You can’t tell me you agree with him.”

  Fox’s mouth twitches. “He has a point.”

  I push his hand away. “No, he doesn’t.”

  His face hardens. “Well, there wouldn’t’ve been a problem if that guy was like us, would there? If he was a witch, he could’ve stopped the fire.”

  I glare. “He could’ve stopped it? You and Zane couldn’t stop it.” I shake my head. “When the circle first anchored, you told me everyone would learn to control the magic, but you’re wrong—it’s too much for you. Even little spells are getting out of hand, aren’t they?”

  He throws up his hands. “Again with this. Listen, there’s nothing wrong with the crystal. You’re just jealous because now we’ve got more power than you do—that’s what this is.”

  My breath catches. “You know that’s not true.”

  “Do I? Because it seems to me you liked being the strongest one in the circle. Yeah, Crystal always thought she was the leader, but everyone knows you were really the one in charge. Since you were the best at magic, how could we not listen to you? But now that we’ve all got power—real power—you bail on us. You’re not special anymore. You’re barely better than all the ordinary people in this town.”

  His words stab through my heart. Is this really what he thinks? No, I can’t believe that—I would know if he felt that way about me. No one is that good an actor. I reach for his hand, but when my ring makes contact with his skin, a jolt of energy courses through me. The vision overtakes me so quickly I barely have time to gasp. I’m back in the low-ceilinged house. There’s a cheerful fire crackling in the hearth, but despite it, the mood in the room is somber. The old man is once again seated in his chair, but the man standing before him isn’t Eli. He’s young, as Eli was, and he’s dressed similarly in a billowing white shirt and simple breeches, but his hands are calloused and dirty—working man’s hands. His blond hair brushes his shoulders, and the cut of his jaw is familiar, but I can’t place where I’ve seen it before.

  “His power increases by the day,” the young man says. “And with it, his hatred.”

  The old man nods solemnly, his eyes downcast. “This news confirms what I have long suspected. Tucker, this is important. Has he harmed anyone?”

  “Not yet. But I fear it is merely a matter of time. At every meeting of the circle, he makes fresh accusations against the newcomers—the ordinary, he calls them. He claims they are beneath us, that we must force them from our town by any means necessary.”

  The scene blacks out and I blink. Fox’s gray eyes are narrowed with anger and my stomach twists. “This isn’t you.” The words come out a whisper and I’m afraid he didn’t hear me. Tentatively, I touch his cheek. “Fox, you need to listen to me. I’m right about the crystal. There’s something wrong with it, and I think it’s changing you. Because this isn’t you, Fox. Listen to yourself.”

  His fingers close around my wrist, pulling my hand from his face. “The only one who’s changing is you. You used to be strong, powerful. But now that I’m the one with power, I can see you for what you really are. You’re hardly a witch at all.”

  Tears prickle my eyes. “Fox.” The hard set of his jaw is like a physical blow. This isn’t him—not the person I knew in the other reality, and certainly not the one I’ve grown to care for in this one. “You have to stop using the crystal’s magic. It’s dark and it’s making you dark, too. I’ll prove it to you—just… stop, okay?”

  He releases my wrist, flinging it from him. “You’re so jealous, and you can’t even see it, can you? Lexie was right about you from the start. To think, I defended you.” He shakes his head. “No more. If you’re drawing your line in the sand, don’t expect me to cross to your side. I know where I stand, and it’s not with you. Goodbye, Kristyl.”

  He turns his back, stalking away from me. I blink, sending two tears racing down my cheeks.

  I was wrong to think the crystal is anything but evil. I have to find a way to separate the circle from its influence before it’s too late.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jodi drives me to school the next morning. By the end of first hour, it seems everyone in the school knows that Fox and I are no longer together. Or at least everyone in English class—thanks to Lexie, who will tell anyone who’s listening about our fight. In her version—from what I overhear—I accused him, for the hundredth time, of cheating on me and he finally got sick of my insecurities and dumped me.

  Eyes prickle the skin on the back of my neck in every class, and any time I dare to look up, someone hastily looks away.

  At lunch, I make a beeline for the courtyard windows and sink to the ground beside Bria, who raises an artistically arched eyebrow.

  “You sure that’s the best idea?” she asks as I open my lunch bag. “Don’t you think people have enough to say about you right now?”

  “I don’t give a crap what people have to say about me,” I mutter, taking a bite of my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It feels like sawdust in my mouth.

  Bria sighs. “I stand corrected. You’re in exactly the right place.”

  After lunch is math—the only class I have with Fox—and Bria does her best do distract me through it. Yet again, there is no lesson: Mrs. Hill continues her pattern of being forgetful and confused all hour. The class no longer gives even the pretense of paying attention. Even the good students who sit up front have given up trying to help her get the lesson started.

  “One of them is doing it, aren’t they?” Bria asks, raising her chin toward Zane and Fox. “It’s a spell, right?”

  I nod. “It’s Zane. He thinks he’s so clever.”

  “I wouldn’t mind so much if it was just every once in a while. But, come on, this is getting a bit old.” She sighs, resting her chin in the palms of her hands. Her eyebrows cinch together and she straightens her back, leaning across the desk toward me. “Do you think there’s a way to stop it?”

  “What? The spell?” My eyes go to the ceiling as I try to remember if I’ve ever overheard something about disrupting magic in progress. I come up empty, but that doesn’t mean something like it doesn’t exist. I’m sure there are places I could go to research magic. “Maybe? I mean, I don’t know a spell for it off the top of my head, but—”

  She shakes her head. “No, not a spell. I’m talking abou
t, you know, psychically. Do you think we could, I dunno, disrupt their brain waves or something?”

  My first instinct is to laugh, but I stop short. What if she’s on to something? “That might not be a bad idea. We should try.”

  Her eyes widen. “What? Now?”

  The corners of my mouth quirk upward—the first time I’ve smiled all day. “No, not now. Maybe later—after school? Do you think the guys could meet us?”

  The idea that I might be able to keep the circle from using magic—and, more specifically, using the crystal’s magic—puts me in a better mood. Maybe I could ask Seth about it. He mentioned before that he’s good at research. I make a mental note to ask if he’s made any progress finding a way to separate the circle from the crystal. If he has, maybe the psychics won’t have to learn to block magic after all.

  I pull out my phone, hiding it under my desk as I tap out a text to Jodi. Is Seth working today? When I hit “send,” I feel silly for trying to be sneaky: Half the people in the room are on their phones, and Mrs. Hill doesn’t notice. She sits on the stool in front of the room, staring vacantly across to the back wall.

  My cell vibrates. No. Why?

  I can’t tell her the real reason—that I want to introduce him to my psychic friends so he can help us figure out how to stop witches from using magic—so I make something up. Was wondering if he could pick me up from school. Would like to hang out.

  I bite the inside of my cheek as I wait for her response. She knows what happened with me and Fox—or near enough. Will she be upset that I’d rather be consoled by Seth, whom I barely know, rather than her? A full minute passes before she texts back. I’ll see what I can do.

  By the time I get to health class, I’m in much better spirits than I’ve been all day. When Owen sits down across from me, I give a warm smile. It’s not until I look in his eyes that yesterday’s exchange comes crashing down on me. Could it really only have been yesterday?

  “I should’ve laid money down,” he says, opening up his notebook to a blank page. “Especially after Crystal Jamison dumped Tucker Ingram. It was only a matter of time before you kicked Fox to the curb.”

  My stomach roils and I tamp down a wave of nausea. “He broke up with me.” My voice is barely a whisper.

  He snorts. “Not the way I hear it.”

  The legs of the chair beside me scrape against the linoleum as Felix pulls it backward with his foot. “Do you believe everything you hear?” he asks, taking a seat.

  Owen’s eyes flick between Felix and me. “Already got a replacement lined up, I see.”

  “Your mouth is talking, Owen. You might wanna see to that.” Although Felix doesn’t look at me, his support wraps around me like a blanket. After our conversation in the janitor’s closet yesterday, he knows about my history with Owen—my real history.

  Owen holds up his hands innocently. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend your girlfriend.”

  Felix rolls his eyes. “Dude, get over yourself.”

  Owen leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “The thing that I don’t get is how eager you are to give her another chance. Didn’t she break up with you once already? Have you just been waiting all these years for your next chance with her?”

  Felix leans across the table. “Look, man. You’ve got your issues. I get that. But stop trying to project them onto everybody else. If anyone’s hung up on Krissa, it’s you.”

  Owen leans forward, jaw dropped. He sputters a few times before managing to speak. “I’m not hung up on her. I know exactly what kind of person she is, and you couldn’t pay me enough to ever want to be with her.”

  Heat builds in my core. “I’m sitting right here,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “It’s a game to her, you know? It’s all about power.”

  I breathe in through my nose, trying to cool the boiling sensation in my stomach. How can Owen say such hateful things about me when I’m just feet away? It’s like he’s trying to hurt me. And maybe he is. Maybe this is his way of getting back at me for what my alternate-self did to him so many years ago. My cheeks burn with the injustice of it. I’m not the one who hurt him, but I’m the one being made to suffer. He won’t take an apology, won’t listen when I tell him I’m not the same person—he wants to punish me. And he expects me to just take it.

  The pressure building inside reaches critical mass, and before I can stop it, it bursts out. Owen’s eyes widen in surprise as his chair crumples beneath him, sending him careening to the floor. Mrs. Stanton, who is at the font of the room taking attendance, stops what she’s doing and rushes toward him, simultaneously asking if he’s all right and admonishing him for destroying school property. Felix’s eyes are wide, but they’re not fixed on Owen—they’re on me. I bite my lower lip and he stifles a smile.

  ***

  After Owen gets a new chair, he ignores me for the rest of the hour, looking at me only briefly when we perform our skit for the class. When we walk out of the class, Felix insists I need to show him how to do what I did to Owen’s chair, and I don’t have the heart to tell him I have no idea how it happened. Even if I did, I’m not sure it was my psychic side. Although, if Felix can unlock a door with telekinesis, maybe he could break a chair, too.

  I keep my head down in sixth hour, managing not to look at Crystal or Bridget once during the period. I just want this day to be over. I want to meet with the psychics and make a plan for combating the circle’s use of magic.

  When the bell rings at the end of the day, I hang back, making sure Crystal and Bridget are long gone by the time I leave the room. After a quick stop at my locker, I head for the main stairwell—the one I use every day—but something stops me, tugging me in the opposite direction. I hesitate for a moment before heading toward the back hallway—the one Crystal and Tucker used to use for their rendezvous. My stomach clenches as I approach, even though I’m sure I won’t run into the two of them. But what if I run into Tucker with some other girl? The thought makes my stomach turn, but solidifies my resolve.

  “Hey, there you are.” Bria jogs to my side.

  I glance at her but don’t slow down. “What’s up?”

  She raises an eyebrow. “I could ask you the same thing. Why are you headed down here?”

  We’re two classrooms from the stairwell doors and the hall is nearly deserted. “Do you feel that?”

  She stops and so do I. Her eyebrows bunch together and she purses her lips. “No. But if you think something’s going on, let’s check it out.”

  We start walking again and take no more than a few steps when a muffled female voice reaches us. Bria and I exchange glances before picking up our pace. As we push through the doors, a second female voice is talking—screaming, really. The sound reverberates off the walls and it takes a second for me to make out what’s being said.

  “I told you to stay away from him!” The voice is familiar, but I can’t place it. “Marcus is with me.”

  Marcus. Suddenly it comes to me: Right after the circle anchored to the crystal, Dana Crawford accused Bridget of trying to steal her boyfriend. That’s where I know the voice. There’s no one on the second floor landing, so Bria and I glance down one set of stairs and up the other. Standing on the landing between the second and third floors are Bridget, Marcus, and Dana, whose broken nose is still in a splint.

  “Oh, give it up,” Bridget sing-songs. “Ask him who he wants to be with. Go ahead—just ask him.”

  Bria puts a foot on the stair but I stop her. It’s not our place to get involved—not yet.

  Dana is silent and Bridget lets out a laugh. “What? Afraid? You should be.” She turns to the guy and runs a finger along his cheek. “Marcus, baby. Could you tell Dana which one of us you want to be with?”

  Marcus blinks heavily, turning his gaze to Dana. “I want Bridget. She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. The most beautiful girl in all the world.”

  Although his words sound sincere, there’s emptiness behind them. Bridget has
him under an attraction charm all right—something much stronger than the one Fox used in the other reality. Now that she’s got the power of the crystal behind her, Bridget could make any guy think he’s in love with her.

  Dana grabs Marcus by the shoulders, shaking him. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Bridget crosses her arms over her chest. “I think his only problem is you.”

  Dana spins, sticking a finger in Bridget’s face. “You’re doing this to him, aren’t you? Somehow, you’re messing with his head.”

  Bridget tips her head back, laughing. “You just don’t get it, do you? He’s mine now. And there’s nothing you can do about it.” She spins on her heel, starting toward the stairs leading to the third floor.

  Dana launches herself at Bridget but doesn’t get far. Marcus pounces on her, wrapping his arms around her middle. “You stay away from her,” he growls. “You leave her alone, and you leave me alone. I’m with Bridget now. I don’t want you anymore.” He throws Dana toward the wall, which she clings to, chest heaving. Her eyes follow Marcus as he starts up the stairs after Bridget.

  My heart twists. Although I was never friends with Dana, I know my alternate-self was. But even if that wasn’t the case, I’d still feel badly for her in this moment. With her magic, Bridget could have any guy in the school. While it could be true that she’s always liked this Marcus guy, I bet her reason for choosing him has more to do with messing with Dana than it does with true love.

  Dana breathes deeply, her shoulders heaving. She’s trying not to cry. I want to go to her, but I doubt my presence would make her feel better. We should leave her in peace. I raise my chin at the door we entered through and Bria nods. I’ve only gone a couple of steps when a current of energy thrums through me. Dana screams and a thudding sound comes from the stairwell. By the time I turn, Dana lies in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

  Bria gets to her first. Dana isn’t moving, and my stomach lurches. Could she be…? But then she lets out a moan and I take in a breath, relieved. Bria kneels at her side. “Are you hurt? Tell me where.”