Supernatural Academy: Freshman Witch

by Ingrid Seymour

  We finally entered an area where the ceiling opened up, soaring all the way up to a glass skylight at least eighty feet in the air. The rest of the cave walls were rock, but here, flowering vines wound up their craggy surfaces, filling the whole space with perfume and color. The dancing lights congregated on the ceiling here as well, weaving in and out of the flowers like glowing honey bees. At the far end, a small waterfall trickled down a rocky ledge and filled a pool at its base. A few students clustered around it, staring into its depths.

  I skidded to a stop, staring up in awe at the splendor. “Holy moly.”

  Disha, noticing I wasn’t beside her, circled back and grabbed my hand. “We can gawk later. If we want a front row seat in Henderson’s class, we need to get there now.”

  “Geez, obsess much?” I muttered under my breath.

  She didn’t notice, yanking me into a cave entrance.

  The room, if you could call a hollowed out cave that, was the size of a typical college lecture hall, though instead of wooden desks, there were hunks of stone cut into rows that ringed the main floor area.

  “We have to sit on hard stone for an hour?” I griped, feeling cranky and out of my element.

  But when Disha pulled us to the front and plonked us down, I realized the stone was as soft as cotton. My rear sunk in a few inches, letting me settle in comfortably. Surprised, I glanced up at Disha, but she had a mirror out, checking her lipstick and hair.

  Good god. The girl needed to get a grip.

  Just then, I spied Rowan Underwood slinking in the door. His eyes locked on me and then darted away as he stalked toward the back of the lecture hall.

  I grabbed Disha’s arm, yanking her to me. “You didn’t tell me Rowan was in this class,” I hissed.

  “Every freshman is in this class,” she replied, snapping her compact shut. “How do I look?”

  Before I could answer, Dr. Henderson strolled in.

  Disha straightened. I could nearly feel the heat baking off her body.

  “Dr. Henderson.” She waved her hand.

  He smiled and walked casually over, nodding at us. “Disha. Ms. Rivera.”

  “I got Charlie here early. Front row. We are ready for whatever wisdom you want to bestow upon us.” She grinned with perfect white teeth.

  If Dr. Henderson knew she was flirting, he didn’t show it. He turned his charming smile and big brown eyes on both of us in a kindly teacher way. “So good to have you, Charlie. Disha is my best student, so there isn’t a better study buddy in class.”

  Disha bristled with joy.

  “Thank you, sir,” I said. “I look forward to filling in the gaps of what I don’t know because, frankly, I don’t know a lot.”

  He nodded kindly. “Why don’t you be my assistant today? I’ll be demonstrating a simple spell and if you’re up here with me, I bet you’ll get it a bit quicker.”

  Disha blinked rapidly. Would she be mad at me if I said yes? But then, how could I say no? I really needed to learn as much as I could just to defend myself against liches and water nymphs… and Rowan.

  “Sure.”

  As more students filtered into the room, I followed Dr. Henderson up on the platform. But up here, where everyone could see me, my stomach suddenly filled with thousands of butterflies. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, the new girl. When I glanced up, Rowan was indeed staring. He dropped his head to his open book as if it was suddenly fascinating.

  Panicked, I decided I wanted out. I tapped Dr. Henderson on the shoulder.

  “Excuse me, sir, but maybe you should ask Disha or someone else. I really don’t know what I’m doing, and it’s probably better if I just watch.”

  Glancing up from a stack of notes he was reviewing, he smiled and put a hand on my shoulder. “Charlie, you’re going to do fine. It’s easy. I promise. I won’t blow up your eyebrows like I did my last assistant.”

  “That happened?” I said, shocked.

  He laughed. “No, I’m kidding. Relax. I swear it’ll all be painless. Cross my heart.” He drew the X over his muscular chest.

  I felt myself blushing all the way to my toes. Dumbly, I followed him to the center of the stage. Maybe I would have even turned over my first born if Mister Handsome asked.

  With a hand movement similar to tai chi, Dr. Henderson pressed his fist to his throat, sending his voice booming throughout the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, please find your seats. The lesson will soon begin.”

  The students filtered in until the room was nearly full. Many females sat in the front rows, eyes wide as they watched Dr. Henderson’s every move. I purposefully did not peer up to the top corner of the room where I knew Rowan would be throwing eye daggers at me.

  “Now, class, my assistant for today is our new student, Charlie Rivera. Please give her a hand.”

  I smiled awkwardly at the smattering of applause, now wishing I’d spent a little more time on my appearance since this was the first time the whole Freshman class would be introduced to me.

  “Today, we are going to work on levitation, a simple enough spell, though, concentration and a balanced chi are needed to do it properly. Charlie and I will demonstrate.”

  Dr. Henderson strode away ten paces, whirled around, and faced me. “Charlie, please repeat my motions as closely as you can. Understand?”

  I nodded, feeling sweat trickle down my back even though the cave was cool.

  As I watched, Dr. Henderson performed several tai chi motions—arms pushing invisible air, one foot stepping out, his body pivoting. When he blew out, pushing both arms down, his body began to rise above the platform.

  “Simple,” he said.

  After he brought himself down, he gestured to me. “I’ll do it again. This time, Charlie, you copy me.”

  I shook out my hands nervously.

  Together, Dr. Henderson and I did the motions. “Breathe, Charlie,” he said. “Center yourself.”

  Center myself. I searched inwardly, trying to do as the professor instructed, but all I sensed inside of me was a turmoil, like a big ball of yarn that was all tangled up and had no beginning or end.

  I inhaled a deep breath and blew out, but, as I did, my eyes landed on the exact spot where Rowan had been sitting. Only, he wasn’t there.

  Taken aback, I pushed my hands down, and… shot myself into the ceiling!

  I soared up like a runaway rocket, banging into the overhead light fixture and tangling in the wiring. Lights popped. I flailed, tangling myself up even more and causing the chandelier to vibrated. Then my pants caught on something and tore to expose my backside.

  Oh, my god.

  I dangled there, stuck and exposed for all to see. Heat burned across my face as I tried to pull my arms from the chandelier branches to no avail.

  “Oh no! Charlie, I’m so sorry. Stay put. We’ll get you down.” Dr. Henderson began an elaborate set of hand gestures that would hopefully levitate me down.

  Well, it seemed I had finally fractured all the way and the full strength of my powers was now out—just like Dean McIntosh had said it would. But why, oh why, did it have to happen here?

  All I could think about was how much of a fool I’d made myself out to be in front of the entire class, hung here with my pants ripped like an idiot while everyone stared and laughed.

  Well, not everyone. As I looked out at my classmates’ upturned faces, I realized that, at this height, the auditorium’s top doors were visible.

  It was there I spotted Rowan Underwood, clutching his chest and limping away like an injured animal.

  Chapter Twelve

  FALL SEMESTER

  MID OCTOBER

  Shame. Complete and utter shame.

  That was what life at the Academy became for me after the levitation debacle in Dr. Henderson’s class. Over a month had passed from the time I got myself tangled in the Spells’ cave and exposed myself to the entire Freshman class, and not a day had gone by that I wasn’t reminded, painfully, that no one had forgotten. I was a subject for rid
icule here just as much as I had been in high school, just for an entirely different reason.

  I had missed my mother dearly during those awful days in high school, just like I now missed Trey. They’d both known how to make things like this seems insignificant. Back then, I had talked to a portrait of mom, asking for advice. These days I talked to Trey’s urn more than I’d like to admit.

  Had I inherited this crazy gene from Mom? From Dad? I wanted to believe I’d gotten it from Mom. She’d always been my favorite parent, and I’d never been embarrassed to admit it. Mom had been our rock and our compass, without her, our foundation crumbled and our path went blurry. After her death, family had become but a concept, and I still missed the real thing.

  She would have told me to forget the whole thing and taken me for ice cream. I think even now it would have helped. Instead, I was obsessing over my quick descent into ridicule.

  I had wanted to blame Rowan for what had happened. I mean, I’d shot to the top of the cave like a crazy rocket after a harmless push with my hands, and I’d hung like an unsightly Christmas ornament while everybody laughed. There was no way I had done that. That would have required controlled magical power, which I wanted to believe I didn’t have and Rowan did—not to mention he’d run out of the classroom, looking as if he’d exerted himself after attempting to drive my head straight into the rock ceiling.

  But, as much as I wanted to believe Rowan Hates-My-Guts Underwood was to blame for the big “L” figuratively painted on my forehead, Dean McIntosh had eventually relieved me of the misconception when she showed me what I’d done wrong and then had her assistant, Priscilla Fordyce, teach me the proper way to levitate.

  It had taken six weeks of remedial classes every Tuesday and Thursday for me to get the hang of it and learn the trick of lifting off the floor a few inches rather than blasting off into the stratosphere.

  “I swear it’ll all be painless,” Dr. Henderson had said. “Cross my heart.” He’d even drawn the sign over his chest, a smile on his GQ face.

  Such a liar!

  Well, it wasn’t painless. It hurt a lot. Maybe not physically, but psychologically I was scarred for life.

  They’d even given me a nickname.

  “Hey, it’s Yogi Bare,” someone said as I crossed the quad back toward my dorm. Bare, not Bear, mind you, since everyone had seen my backside. I didn’t even know people my age remembered that prehistoric cartoon, but apparently so, because they all thought it was hilarious.

  Ha, ha.

  It wasn’t funny the first time, and much less the thousandth time. Damn it!

  The mystery of why Rowan had run out of the class was still unsolved, though. I’d mentioned it to Disha, and the expression that crossed her face made it clear she knew something about it. However, she didn’t share her thoughts with me, whatever they might have been.

  Now, walking across the quad, I lowered my head and pressed forward, clutching my books tighter to my chest. How was I still here? The free trial had expired, and I hadn’t left. Had the comfy bed and regular meals made me soft?

  No.

  If I had to put the blame on something, it would have to be the fact that I had actually learned to freaking levitate. For real. Not some yogi with a propping stick or some optical illusion crap, but the real deal.

  Dean McIntosh had been right. I carried the Supernatural gene. I belonged in the Academy, and every new day felt more right than the last. So—even though I was known as Yogi Bare, the clueless, homeless kid who hadn’t even known she had powers—I’d decided to stay and prove to anyone who thought their fancy-schmancy Supernatural family made them better than me, that they were wrong.

  I did need remedial classes in every subject except the non-magical ones, but I was working my butt off, doing extra homework and practicing at any chance I got. It was exhausting, but also satisfying, and I had never felt more alive in my entire life.

  But, alive or not, when I made it to my room, I shut the door behind me, discarded my books on my messy desk, and collapsed face first on the bed.

  Dead.

  And I would have remained a corpse until the next day if not for the insistent knocking, followed by shouting, at the door.

  “Open the door, Chardonnay. I know you’re in there.”

  I groaned and rolled onto my back.

  “Go away, Disha,” I said. “My bones are crying in agony. That’s how tired I am.”

  “There’s no way you’re missing tonight, girl,” she said, while still pounding on the door. “Everyone, and I mean everyone is going to be there.”

  “Precisely,” I said under my breath.

  We’d already been over this several times. I didn’t want to go to the Rumble in the Jungle homecoming game, no matter how amazing it was supposed to be. I just wanted to stay in my room and sleep for twelve hours straight. I didn’t even like football.

  “Charrrrrrlieeeee,” Disha growled.

  Oh, crap! She was using my real name, and she only did that when she meant business.

  I groaned again and got to my feet. If I didn’t let her in, I would pay for it later. I’d learned the hard way that the girl didn’t take no for an answer. A week ago, when I hadn’t felt like studying for a quiz, she’d hexed my ears so that every word anyone spoke sounded like Ewoks talking at a million miles per hour. Disha got creative with her hexes. I had to grant her that.

  Heaving a sigh, I opened the door.

  Disha charged in, dressed in a sexy Halloween costume that made me blush. She wore tight short shorts, mesh pantyhose with knee-high socks over them, a striped black and white, low-cut shirt, and eye black to complement her glittery makeup. She was stunning, her every curve a work of art. I could already imagine all the guys at the game ogling the hot football referee.

  Twirling back to face me, she threw a yellow flag at my feet and blew a whistle.

  “Unsupportive BFF. Five-yard penalty. Third down,” she said, jutting her hip out and scanning me up and down with more attitude than a recently-crowned Miss America.

  I closed the door and dragged my body back to bed—except Disha didn’t let me collapse onto it as I’d intended and blocked my way with an extended arm.

  “Where’s your costume?” she demanded.

  “You know I’ve barely slept for the last few weeks, Disha. Tonight is my chance to get some rest. I have no homework, for once.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s because the teachers want everyone to attend the game. It’s a tradition. The only game of the season worth attending, really. Faculty against students. Don’t you want to see Dr. Henderson in tight pants and shoulder pads?”

  I considered for a moment, and I must admit my eyelids fluttered a bit as I imagined him leaning forward, waiting for the snap at the line of scrimmage.

  Disha nodded knowingly. “Besides, the Rumble in the Jungle theme has me intrigued.” She rubbed her chin. “I vote for trees all over the field with vines for Dr. Henderson to swing from while wearing nothing but a loin cloth.”

  “A loin cloth? Dr. Henderson? Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”

  She waved a dismissive hand at me as if saying, “Nothing could ever be too much.” We were talking about Dr. Henderson, after all. He was practically a god to my friend. She probably thought he would look hot in diapers.

  From what I’d learned, the homecoming game always had a surprise theme to make it more interesting. Last fall, according to the sophomores, the theme had been “Bunny Slopes.” Football on skis. Imagine that. Of course, to make the events all the more interesting, magic was allowed.

  “Disha, please, I’m tired,” I said. “See this,” I pointed at the purple circles around my eyes, “Not part of a zombie costume or anything. These are real.”

  “I’ll teach you the Ewok hex,” she said in a singsong voice.

  I blinked and gave her an skeptical stare. “You will?”

  “And how to block it,” she added to sweeten the deal.

  She’d almost dri
ven me crazy with that spell. It would be nice to know how to block her. Plus, I was terrible at hexes. Apparently, I lacked the finesse for small things—Priscilla's words not mine. It seemed I had enough power to shoot myself into outer space but lacked the subtlety to do the little things.

  “And you will work with me until I learn it?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her.

  “Pinky swear,” she said, hooking her little finger and offering it to me.

  I hooked my own finger with hers. “May all your hair fall off if you break your promise,” I added.

  Disha hesitated for a short instance, then shrugged and sealed the deal.

  “Now,” she said, glancing around the room. “What shall you wear for a costume?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  FALL SEMESTER

  MID OCTOBER

  I was practically naked, wearing a sheet and a pair of white panties.

  That was it.

  Maybe in a previous life, I would have been embarrassed, but tonight, I found that I didn’t give a flip. It was possible the lack of sleep was impairing my judgment, but I wasn’t even cold. The cool fall breeze felt good as it slid up my legs and into my airy toga.

  Where Disha had learned to turn a simple sheet into an actual garment was beyond me, but I had to admit I didn’t look half bad. The toga wrapped over my right shoulder, leaving the other one bare, then flowed down in graceful folds and stopped mid-thigh.

  Paired with a golden belt she’d fetched from her closet, and a laurel crown she’d fashioned from a few branches, my costume made me feel like a Greek goddess.

  Not bad for Yogi Bare, I thought with a lifted eyebrow.

  “Wait up,” Disha said, touching my arm to make me stop.

  Other students filtered around us, headed for the football stadium, their costumes each more amazing than the last.

  Disha took my crown off and waved her fingers over it, turning it a brilliant gold.

  “There. That’s better,” she said. “It matches your belt now.”