by Martha Carr
“I know.” Amanda sighed. “It’s not something I wanna talk about all that much.”
“Sure. I get it. You did a good job of keeping it a secret this whole time, though. I mean, not like it mattered.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“So…you and Summer are friends too now, huh?”
“Maybe?” Amanda shrugged. “I didn’t expect her to start punching people for me.”
Grace barked out a laugh. “Yeah, it’s not like you need help defending yourself, right?”
“Grace!” Annabelle waved the witch toward their other group of friends on the dance floor.
“Come on. Let’s forget about the whole thing.”
“I think I’m gonna go for a walk, but thanks.”
“Okay. Hey, don’t worry about Annabelle’s dress.” Grace grinned. “She’ll love being able to say a boar ripped it up at a dance. See ya.”
The witch raced off to the other kids, and Amanda stood there with her hands in her pockets, frowning at the whole thing.
How is everyone so cool about this? I mean, I guess they’re all used to pretty crazy stuff happening in LA. Or whatever.
Slowly, she turned to head back through the curtain in the archway, glancing over her shoulder in case anyone else was still watching her and wanted to finish the fight David had tried to start. Nobody did.
Maybe I don’t have to keep hiding.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Over the next month, Amanda split her free time between meeting with Summer to practice with the purple stone—which they were getting a lot better at using for their classes when they needed it—and being approached during the day by random students who wanted to talk to her about being a shifter.
Where did she come from? When was the first time she shifted? Did she wolf out during the full moon? Could she remember what she did when she was a wolf and not a girl? Did her clothes always come off?
She stuck to answering the questions with two- or three-word sentences. When it became clear that she wasn’t into telling the same stories over and over or being bombarded by curious magical kids, the onslaught eventually stopped. Ms. Ralthorn was a lot more careful about what she decided to talk about in History of Oriceran, and Mr. Petrov watched Amanda intently during Combat Training as if he expected her to shift while she ran the obstacle course and use that to her advantage. She didn’t. Somehow, that felt like cheating. Mostly, she didn’t want to have to go back through the course afterward to pick up her clothes.
She still got the occasional pat on the back in the halls, and a lot more students smiled at her and nodded when they saw her, apparently excited to know a shifter who could fight off wild boars and not get hurt.
The weirdest thing was that Summer refused to talk about that night at Homecoming and always deflected whenever Amanda brought it up.
“Don’t get all sentimental on me, shifter girl. I’m not trying to be your hero or anything. Trust me. I like punching idiots almost as much as I like blowing stuff up.”
Amanda almost opened up to the other girl a few times about her parents and her sister Claire, but then she thought better of it.
No one wants to hear a sob story. Especially these kids. Everyone has their own, don’t they?
The temperate Florida climate meant that the start of fall didn’t feel like it the way it did back in New York or most other parts of the country. At least the sweltering heat had decreased as the days grew shorter. Then it was the end of October, and everyone started talking about Halloween.
Pumpkins and dragon-shaped scarecrows appeared in random places around the campus. Mr. Petrov strung up a stuffed dummy from the obstacle course to make it look like a hanged man—making Blake Cameron scream bloody murder the first morning they found it—and said anyone who knocked it down while trying to run the course would also be running laps for two hours after dinner. Day by day, there were more Halloween and fall-themed decorations placed around the school—ghosts, cobwebs, corncobs, and some gadget of Mr. LeFor’s that floated in and out of every building and leapt around corners to scare anyone who was there with a pre-recorded howl.
The most visibly excited teacher was Ms. Calsgrave. During their last day of classes before Halloween, she’d stopped her lesson on casting illusions on oneself to change the subject to something completely different.
“As you all know by now, it’s almost Halloween.”
One of the freshmen in the back raised both hands, wiggled his fingers, and attempted a spooky groan.
“Yeah, yeah. Very funny. Your terrifying qualities put all the fake monsters to shame, Mr. DeVolos.” Calsgrave stood from her desk and swept her gaze across the students’ faces, her mouth turning up in a knowing smile. “And yes, because Halloween is tomorrow, that does mean no classes. You get a three-day weekend. We’ll have another party with games and a huge dinner the kitchen’s been planning for weeks now. Lots of pie. All the usual Halloween stuff.”
“You don’t expect us to go trick-or-treating, do you?” Evan asked.
The teacher grimaced. “That wasn’t part of the plan, Mr. Hutchinson. We don’t have stations for you to walk around and grab candy. No, Ms. Ralthorn and I have something a lot more meaningful in mind.”
Grace leaned toward Amanda with a smirk. “This is gonna be good. Whenever she says meaningful, she’s talking about something completely whacko and out there.”
“You mean like that debate she got into with Jasmine about too many illusions darkening your conscience as much as too many lies?”
The blonde witch snorted and pointed at Amanda. “Yeah, like that. What kind of teacher argues against what they teach?”
“Now, what some of you may not know is that Halloween is only one name for this incredible power day of the year. Yes, while it’s all fun and games and dressing up and scaring people—and trick-or-treating, if you’re still in elementary school—there is a deeper, older reason to celebrate this day. Anyone heard of Samhain?”
“Sow?” Corey snorted and rolled his eyes. “You’re not bringing those stupid pigs back, are you?”
Calsgrave blinked at him in confusion. “I’m sorry?”
“No worries, though,” Tommy shouted, turning in his chair to grin at Amanda. “We have the shifter girl who rounds up pigs like it’s her job, right Amanda?”
“They were wild boars, dummy,” Grace shouted back at him. “Did you see those tusks?”
Amanda smirked and stared at her desk. At least someone’s picking up on the differences.
“No, no, no, Mr. Baker.” Calsgrave giggled and waved off the odd turn of conversation. “S-A-M-H-A-I-N. It’s the Celtic name for the holiday, and many other Earth cultures have their name for it and ways of celebrating. Beyond what you know as Halloween for costumes and candy, Samhain is the day of the year where the veil between the world of the living and the spirit world is thinnest.”
“You mean spirits like…dead people?” Blake squeaked, shrinking in her chair.
“Yes, Ms. Cameron. Traditionally, Samhain has been one of the most potent days of the year for connecting with our ancestors' spirits. Not simply the generic version of ghosts.”
Tommy snorted. “That’s boring.”
“Well, you’re entitled to your opinion.” Calsgrave tapped her fingers on the desk. “So here’s what Ms. Ralthorn and I have come up with for this year’s Samhain celebration. I’ve been working with channeling spirits and connecting with ancestors for quite some time. Among all the other activities planned for you during the party tomorrow, I’ll also have a booth set up to perform these rituals with each of you. It will count as part of your grade both in this class and in History of Oriceran.”
“What?” Summer wrinkled her nose. “Ghosts have nothing to do with school.”
“Ah, but they have everything to do with you. Also, I prefer the term spirits, Miss Flannerty. Now, while our magical ancestors are originally from Oriceran, we all have ancestors who’ve been living on this planet for generation
s. They’re waiting right behind the veil to reach out and speak to each of you. Hopefully with a clear message, but you’ll still get credit for sitting down with an open mind and attempting these ceremonies. It’s an important step in each of you learning how to harness your magical abilities and strengths to become the best version of yourselves.” Calsgrave cleared her throat and failed to hide another private smile. “No matter what you end up doing when you eventually graduate from the Academy.”
“Do we have to, like, make a sacrifice or something?” Jackson asked.
Everyone turned in their seats to stare at him, and Ms. Calsgrave laughed until she realized he was serious. “No, Mr. Pris. The only sacrifice you’ll make is your time and whatever reservations you have about sitting down with me during the celebration tomorrow. I don’t want to see anyone trying to make a joke out of that by trying to torture small animals and blaming it on me, Ms. Ralthorn, or this assignment.”
The classroom fell silent.
“Why would any of that happen?” Amanda asked.
The teacher shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”
The alarm bell blared across the school, and everyone hurried out of the classroom to head out for dinner, talking about Halloween and the next party of the semester and what they were going to dress up as without access to regular costume shops.
Summer caught up to Amanda in the hall and elbowed her in the ribs. “Is it me, or did that sound like Calsgrave has experience with someone blaming her for animal sacrifices?”
“I have no idea.”
“She has that book with the creepy pentagram on it too. I bet she has some kind of satanic ritual for us to help her with, and she won’t be able to get any of us to do it without saying it’s for class credit.”
Amanda stared at her, then they both burst out laughing.
“Seriously, though. You gonna hit up her special ancestor booth?”
“Probably. I mean, we’re getting graded on it.”
Summer rolled her eyes. “I think it’s a load of crap. My ancestors weren’t anything special. I doubt they’d want to come back to tell me how I’m walking in their footsteps. It’d be cool if my grandma showed up, though. She’d probably end up cursing out all the teachers and trying to throw ghost plates at everybody or something. She did that a lot when she was alive. With real plates, I mean.”
“Hey, at least you knew your grandparents.” Amanda drew a deep breath of the cooling fall air as they stepped outside and headed across the central field. “Mine died when I was a baby. I don’t have any aunts or uncles either, and my parents never really talked about their parents, so…”
“Wait, they’re both only children?”
“Yeah.” They were. They’re not anything anymore.
Summer exaggerated a wince. “I bet that was a power struggle.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Are you? An only child?”
“No.” The same harsh, rigid lump that showed up whenever she got too close to talking about her family formed in Amanda’s throat now. She shook her head. “What about you?”
“No.” Summer’s smile disappeared, and they both stared straight ahead as they made their way toward the outdoor cafeteria. “I am the youngest, though. Of four. Pretty sure I was a mistake. My parents had three kids all two years apart, and when they thought they were done, bam. I showed up when my brother Paul was sixteen, and they had to start all over again.”
“Wow. That’s a long time.”
“Yeah. Haven’t seen my brothers or sister in…a long time.” A tense silence fell between them, then Summer snorted. “Hey, at least they won’t show up at Calsgrave’s séance, right? What a shitshow that would be.”
“Yeah. Probably.”
Still, Amanda couldn’t help but wonder which one of her ancestors would attempt to communicate with her “from beyond the veil,” if that was a real thing. Maybe it would work at Ms. Calsgrave’s table tomorrow. Maybe not. They were getting graded on whether or not they sat with the teacher to attempt it, so that was what she’d do.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Halloween celebration turned out to be a lot more exciting than Homecoming. The kitchen pixies had laid out an incredible spread on two banquet tables in the central field, which someone had decorated with hay bales and corncobs and stuffed scarecrows beneath magically floating strings of white lights stretching from one end of the field to the other. Some kind of screechy violin music that was probably supposed to sound scary came through the invisible speakers, and there were plenty of activities set up to keep people busy—bobbing for apples, pumpkin-carving, and a pie-eating contest this time. There was also a costume contest, which the sophomore class was particularly excited about because apparently, they’d been planning their costumes together for weeks.
Black candles floated around the field, flickering in and out as they moved over the party. Amanda didn’t dress up, but she and Grace had a good laugh over trying to figure out what everyone else was supposed to be with the few supplies they’d had at their disposal to make costumes.
“Okay. Billy has to be a…” Grace squinted as they sat on one of the hay bales and stuffed their faces with honeyed ham and steaming-hot dinner rolls. “A computer.”
Amanda snorted. “He’s missing a few parts. That’s cardboard, right?”
“I think so. Oh, jeeze. Of course, Candace would go for skanky nurse.”
“Hey, look at Mr. Petrov.” Amanda pointed at the banquet table as Petrov turned, his bald head covered in fake blood with a phony ax sticking through one side of his head and coming out of the other.
“Ew. Hey, how does that even work? Aren’t those things usually headbands? He’s bald, and there’s no… Yeah, I don’t see a headband.”
“I bet it’s an illusion.”
Grace scoffed. “Figures. Of course, he wouldn’t put any effort into a costume.”
“Dude, get off me.” Alex struggled to shove Jackson away from him as the wizard pushed him across the field toward the pumpkin carving. “They’re gross. I don’t wanna do it.”
“Come on, man.” Jackson saw the girls sitting on the hay and winked. “You should see what he can do with wood carving. Listen, Alex. I’ll scrape out the seeds and all the goo, okay? You carve the damn thing. Make it good. I’ll split the prize with you fifty-fifty.”
“And give me your extra dessert for a week.”
Jackson stared at the half-Wood Elf, then shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Sounds fair to me.”
Someone screamed beside the main building, and a group of seniors cracked up laughing when their successful attempt to scare the crap out of Blake sent the girl running back toward the dorms. Amanda rolled her eyes. “That’s mean.”
“At least it’s not more wild animals crashing another party. Hey, are you gonna go sit at Calsgrave’s table?”
“Uh…yeah. It’s part of our grade, right?”
“Okay. Let’s go.” Grace grabbed both of their empty paper plates and chucked them into a trashcan decorated with a sign that said, “Toss the Remains in Here.” A fake skeleton hand flopped over the side of the trashcan.
The line in front of Calsgrave’s table wasn’t long; only four other freshmen stood there watching the “ancestor ritual” their Illusions teacher conducted with each one of them. Ms. Ralthorn sat beside Calsgrave, eyeing the entire process with a mix of eager curiosity and poorly masked skepticism.
“Doesn’t look like Ralthorn believes in ghosts,” Amanda muttered.
“She’s probably trying to figure out how to make it make sense with all her historical facts. Oh, look. Brandon’s up next. You think we’ll see any Crystal ghosts?”
Amanda snorted. “Can they shed ice too?”
Calsgrave’s muttering was too low for even Amanda to hear, mostly because the witch wasn’t saying the full words but imitating the sound of some kind of incantation. She grabbed Brandon’s hands and closed her eyes. “Now we’re going to call your ancestors to join
us. Close your eyes with me, Mr. Everly. Open yourself to communication.”
“Uh…”
“It’s okay. I’ll guide you.”
Two black candles floating over her table flickered and sputtered out when a wind kicked up. Brandon’s eyes flew open, and he stared at the candles. “What does that mean?”
“Huh. Maybe they’re trying to reach you.”
“Or maybe it’s getting windy,” Summer said from the back of the line. “You know, ’cause we’re outside.”
“Can I go now?” Brandon muttered, staring at the candles.
“Sure.” Calsgrave released him and called for the next student in line.
Jasmine’s connection with her ancestors took less than thirty seconds. The girl burst out sobbing when a white light flickered in the air in front of her. “That’s her. That’s my Aunt Cheryl.”
Even Ms. Calsgrave looked surprised by the immediate response. “Are you receiving a message from her?”
“Yeah. She…she… Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Jasmine lurched from the chair and raced out of the field, bawling her eyes out.
“Well. Sometimes the messages are that powerful.” Calsgrave opened her black book with the pentagram on the cover and flipped through a few pages before shrugging. “Haven’t seen a reaction like that in a while. Next!”
“You think this is gonna work?” Summer asked.
Grace turned in line and cocked her head. “You sound skeptical.”
“I mean, yeah. We’re trying to talk to our dead relatives at a party.”
“You never know until you try it. Right, Amanda?”
Amanda glanced back and forth between her friends—who didn’t consider each other friends—and tried to hide a smile. “I mean, I’m doing this because it’s for a grade—”
“Miss Coulier.” Calsgrave waved her forward. “You’re up.”
“Wish me luck.” With an exaggerated hop in her step, she approached the table and slid into the chair across from Calsgrave. “Let’s do this.”