“Thanks,” I said, examining the crown. It was heavier and appeared as if Disha had turned it into real gold. Now, that was a spell that would have come in handy a year or so ago. Trey and I might have had good food to put in our bellies if I’d known how to turn rusty nails into gold.
God, Trey would’ve loved tonight. What he would’ve given to be here. I smiled, then realized that the days of being gutted every time I thought about him were behind me. I guess talking to his urn and pretending he was still around had helped curve the crippling pain.
I turned the crown from one side to the other. “Is it—”
“Real gold?” Disha finished for me. “Nah,” she waved her hand at the air. “It will wilt in a few hours. Tops.”
“Oh.” So much for that idea.
I slipped the crown back on as we started walking behind a girl with bark-like skin and little birds circling around her head, and guy wearing a black cape that fluttered with a life of its own.
When we entered the stadium a few minutes later, a trumpet blared a fanfare as if announcing the arrival of medieval knights, but all I could see were football players. We climbed up the stands as they ran onto the field, wearing yellow pants and navy blue jerseys, the Academy’s colors.
The bright lights above were blinding, impeding the view of the night sky. The place was small in comparison to other college stadiums, but it was grand like the Roman Colosseum, with arches, carved stone, and majestic columns.
We found two empty spots among a group of people dressed like the Scooby-Doo gang—one of them so similar to a Great Dane that it was obvious they’d used magic to accomplish the look.
“Just in time!” Disha said excitedly. “The faculty is coming out.” She jumped up and down and started cheering. “Go, Thad!”
From the other end of the field, the Academy’s faculty strolled out, wearing regular clothes. They waved, while half of the students cheered and the other half booed.
“Is that what they’re wearing?” I asked, frowning.
They made a sorry lot for a football team, half of them gray-headed and with pot bellies, and the rest wearing dresses and ballet flats.
I rolled my eyes. “This is ridiculous.”
Disha gave me a sideways glance and patted my shoulder as if to say “You don’t know anything, little girl.”
“Are you ready to rrrumbllle?” A loud voice asked over the speakers just as the song Welcome To The Jungle began to play.
The crowd went crazy, screaming and cheering, and I found myself catching their excitement, too.
I was waving my arms up in the air when a sense of being watched made me glance a few rows down. There, staring up at me, was Rowan, wearing what looked like a gangster costume, fedora and all. His intense brown eyes met mine, then traveled to my naked shoulder. My cheeks heated up, and as much as I hated it, my silly self-consciousness made me glance away.
Shifting my attention to the field, I told myself to ignore Rowan’s presence, which wasn’t all that hard to do considering that only one football team was lining up to play. Huh? The students prepared to receive the kick off, while the faculty still sat on the bench, presided by Dean McIntosh, who seemed to be giving them instructions of some kind.
Professor Answorth sat at one end of the bench, his blond hair resplendent under the stadium lights. Dr. Henderson occupied the opposite end. He was the only one wearing semi-sporty clothes rather than a suit like the other male teachers. He looked youthful, almost like a real player. Professor Middleton, my History teacher, sat next to Nurse Taishi. And my very personal torturer and Dean’s Assistant, Priscilla Fordyce, was in the middle, flanked by teachers who taught upper level classes.
It looked like everyone was there, the only one conspicuous by his absence was Macgregor Underwood, who probably thought he was too good for a homecoming game.
A whistle blew, marking the beginning of the game. Dean McIntosh sat and, suddenly, a second team appeared on the field. My jaw hung open. A virtual zoo had materialized in front of the student team. There were gorillas, cheetahs, rhinos, bears, and even a giraffe.
A huge, silverback gorilla kicked the ball toward the opposite end of the field, then the animals charged.
I watched, hypnotized as the faculty sat on the bench, some twirling their hands, others murmuring with their eyes closed, yet others clinging to objects that channeled their energy. I’d learned in the last weeks that everyone was different, and each witch and warlock found their own way of wielding their magic. I’d tried all kinds of things myself, but nothing had seemed to make a difference. Maybe, I was supposed to find a special object like Professor Middleton who held on to a leather-bound book, while hovering a hand over it and focusing on the gangly giraffe.
How the student team didn’t turn tail and run the other way at the sight of gigantic rhinos stampeding in their direction, I didn’t know. All I knew was that I would have ran faster than the cheetah now chasing the guy attempting the punt return.
But all was fair on the field, the students were using magic, too, and seemed to have wings on their feet as they ran and jumped.
For the next hour, we cheered and screamed bloody murder until our throats grew hoarse. The game turned out to be one of the most exciting things I’d ever witnessed, and I openly admitted to Disha that I was glad she’d dragged me here.
At some point, my friend left and came back with two hotdogs and two drinks. I gobbled both barely aware of how fast I ate, but fully conscious of how delicious it all tasted. The best hotdog and the best… I stared into the cup.
“What was this, Disha?” I asked.
“Witch’s Brew,” she said as she pumped a fist in the air. “Go, Thad!” she screamed at Dr. Henderson’s bear. We’d pretty much figured out which animals went with each faculty members.
Witch’s Brew? A drop of something black and viscous was left in the cup. I blinked as the speck seemed to inch up the side of the cup like a worm.
A burp escaped through my lips. My vision blurred. Heat climbed up from my chest to my neck, then my cheeks. Of their own accord, my eyes wandered over the crowd, searching for Rowan, but he wasn’t there.
I licked my lips, scanning the stadium. Everything appeared fuzzy, and the crowd’s chants faraway.
“I need... I need to use the restroom,” I said, feeling woozy.
“Sure. Go ahead,” Disha said, her attention locked on the game and Thad, of course.
I vaguely wondered why she was calling Dr. Henderson by his first name, then staggered down the steps and into the corridor that ran around the stadium.
My toga dress slipped off my shoulder. I giggled and pushed it back into place. Seeing double, I blinked at the signs overhead.
“Where’s the restroom?” I mumbled to myself.
A strange heat whirled in my chest, radiating into my limbs. I bit my lower lip and ran a hand down my warm neck. I felt on fire and longed for cold water to splash over my face.
The corridor was completely empty, which struck me as odd, even though it was obvious no one wanted to miss one minute of that insane game. I hunched my back, my arms hanging limp, and made a gorilla sound. I laughed, then walked aimlessly, glancing all around and tripping on my own two feet.
Am I drunk?
I hiccupped.
Must be.
A dark shape crossed the corridor ahead of me and, as it went out one of the exits, I caught sight of a head of blond hair.
Professor Answorth?
I shook my head. I’d just seen him sitting on the bench, staring at the field while his lips moved at a prodigious speed.
Shrugging it off, I kept searching for the restroom, then caught sight of someone else.
A gangster.
He seemed to be slinking behind the other figure but stopped when he spotted me.
“Charlie, what are you doing?” Rowan demanded.
“Rowan,” I said, my voice a low purr.
Guided by some foreign force, I sashayed in his direction. His eyebro
ws twitched as he watched me sway toward him. He took a few steps back as I got closer, and promptly ran into a wall.
“What a great costume,” I said, adjusting his tie. “It suits you.”
“Uh, thanks.”
Smiling, I ran a hand down the side of his face. He hadn’t shaved, probably to match the costume, and the roughness of his stubble felt wonderful to the touch. Rowan swallowed, his brown gaze falling to my lips.
“Your costume is great, too,” he said, his fingers landing softly on my shoulders.
A shiver ran down my spine. His touch felt electric. I drew closer, my body pressing against his. His other hand snaked around my waist and held me in place.
“What are you doing?” he asked again, though this time the question had an entirely different meaning and seemed to come from deep in his chest.
What was I doing? That was a good question. I’d barely talked to the guy lately, even if I always caught myself searching for him around campus and stealing glances his way whenever he was around.
“I’m just…” Trailing off, I let my fingers weave into his hair. It was as soft as feathers just like I’d known it would be. The woody smell of his cologne whirled around me like an invisible rope and pulled me closer into his solidity. He sucked in air through his teeth.
Breathing me in, his quivering lips lowered to mine.
“Charlie,” he said, my naming sounding like a plea.
My lips were millimeters from his. Our hot breaths mingled.
Then he wrinkled his nose. “Are you… are you intoxicated?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” I said, placing a hand to the back of his head, attempting to pull him closer.
To my immense disappointment, he disentangled himself from my embrace. “What did you drink?” The tone in his voice brooked no argument.
“Witch’s Brew,” I said, trying to grab his shirt.
He dodged away from my grabby hands. “How many?”
“One,” I said.
He frowned. “But it was your first, right?”
I nodded. “It was so delicious.”
Rowan sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking oddly disappointed.
“C’mon,” he said. “I’ll take you back to Disha.”
“But I—”
“You’re drunk and shouldn’t be wandering around alone.”
“I’m drunk?” I giggled. “I really am drunk!”
He rolled his eyes, pulled me up the stairs and delivered me to Disha. “Watch your BFF, all right? She’d never had Witch’s Brew before.”
“Oh, shit!” Disha said. “I didn’t know.” She laughed and helped me sit as Rowan left me there, feeling abandoned.
“Sorry, Charcoal.” Disha patted my head. “It’ll pass.”
I stared at the field and noticed Professor Answorth still sitting at the faculty’s bench.
“Disha,” I pointed toward the blond teacher, “did Professor Answorth go anywhere while I was gone?”
She frowned. “No, but I wish he had. His rhino has dropped two passes from Thad.”
I scratched my head, then slouched on my seat, exhaustion hitting me like a wrecking ball all of a sudden.
The stadium swayed. My stomach tumbled. Then, for the rest of the game, I did my best to keep the Witch’s Brew on the right side of the world.
Chapter Fourteen
FALL SEMESTER
MID DECEMBER
“Dee, just eat. Come on.” I shoved a plate of muffins across the table towards her.
Disha stared at the plate, no light in her eyes. Sugary breakfast treats were normally her morning routine. How she stuffed down three muffins and still rocked her size four figure I had no idea.
Things had been going along pretty well for the last month and a half. No supernatural creature had tried to suck my essence, and I hadn’t tangled myself into any chandeliers in front of my entire class. Then, all of a sudden, Disha lost her sparkle. Her normally buoyant self became a deflated shell who couldn’t be coaxed out by makeovers or bad puns.
The worst part was I had no idea what was wrong, but whatever it was, she didn’t even think up inventive nicknames for me anymore. I’d never wanted anyone to call me Charmander so much in my life.
Now it was nearly winter break and soon she’d be headed off to New York and I’d be stuck here alone for two weeks. If I was going to figure out what was wrong and try to fix it, I needed to know now.
“What is going on? Will you please tell me?”
Disha shook her head, dark bangs falling into her eyes. Over the last three days, puffy circles had gathered there that no concealer seemed able to hide.
The muffins were doing me no good.
Desperate, I glanced around the cafeteria for ideas. Spotting the pizza line, my mind drifted back to Trey’s pizza parties. He’d been a champ at getting me out of my funks. Hmm, would a picnic with handmade crafts cheer Disha up? Maybe, except I sucked at paper crafting.
Besides, dancing garlands and twirling snowmen had already been magicked by the staff around the ceiling of the bustling eatery—one more reminder that Christmas holidays were upon us and I would be left alone while my classmates went home to their parents’ houses.
I didn’t exactly have one of those and there was no freaking way I was going to let Disha’s parents pay for a flight to New York.
Scanning past the clumps of co-eds chatting over coffee, I caught Rowan staring at us across the cafeteria. A red blush burned up my neck as I averted my gaze. We hadn’t spoken since I attempted to kiss him during the Rumble in the Jungle. Nearly two months had passed with us awkwardly avoiding each other. Not an easy feat, but I was dedicated to dodging any painful conversations about my drunken come-on.
How had I been so stupid? Witch’s Brew or not, what deranged part of me had thought that making out with my arch nemesis was a good idea? He’d been playing the same game, too, skirting around me in the hallways, leaving rooms when I entered and generally treating me like I had Ebola.
It didn’t matter. Disha mattered and something was wrong with her.
I pushed coffee in her direction, but got no response. I could only think of one other option: enlisting Rowan’s help.
Ugh.
Once again, I turned my attention to his table. His gaze was locked on Disha.
Rowan was concerned. I could tell by his expression. He was a good friend to her even if he was a jerk to me.
“Disha,” I said, shaking her limp shoulder. “Would you tell Rowan?”
She shook her head. “I can’t tell anyone.”
“Arg!” I smashed my fist on the table. “This is stupid. Just tell me. How bad can it be? Did you get kicked out of the Gorgeous Indian Girls’ Society?”
Disha moaned.
Reluctantly, I waved Rowan over, feeling my stomach clench around my meal.
He sprung up and walked deliberately to our table. He was wearing a heather gray Henley that somehow brought out the deep chestnut brown of his eyes and hugged his muscular body at the same time. Was the shirt magical, designed to trick women into desiring him against their better judgement?
To prove my suspicions, many heads turned as he cut around the busy cafeteria tables. Two girls leaned in and whispered to one another as he strode past, their eyebrows disappearing into their bangs as they regarded his jean-clad backside. The medallion hung at his chest and reflected the sunlight streaming in the windows. Disha had told me that he was an item warlock and that necklace was what he used to channel his power. She, on the other hand, commanded the magical forces with hand motions and concentration alone, a much harder skill.
And me? Well… I had no magical item and continued to suck at hand magic despite Assistant Fordyce’s remedial efforts. Lucky me.
Rowan loomed behind me, his cologne invading my nose. My heart began to beat against my ribcage as he sat down and turned his full attention to Disha. His dark gaze darted to mine for an instant, and I could swear his breath caught—probably as he sup
pressed the desire to murder me.
“Disha, hey. How’s it going? I’ve noticed you’ve been a bit upset lately,” he said, kindly placing a hand on her arm.
My friend raised her head, made a distraught face and dropped it back on the table.
“Go away, Rowan,” she said into her arm.
“Listen,” he continued softly, “if this is about that…” his eyes darted to me before continuing, “that thing we discussed. Don’t worry. It’ll be alright.”
What was this? They were keeping secrets from me? Anger and embarrassment mingled together in my gut.
Disha lifted her head, blowing hair out of her face. “It’s not about Answorth and the item you think he stole.”
Rowan shook his head. “No, not that—”
“God,” Disha went on. “Answorth is not behind the attacks. Your dad is just being prejudiced. Just because he’s a Lesser, that doesn’t mean he’s a thief.”
Rowan shushed her, his head lifting to scan the nearby area as if spies might be listening. “We don’t need to discuss that here.”
“In front of me, right? Is that what you’re implying? Can’t trust Charlie. Nooo, she’s not trustworthy. Still a useless street rat.” Anger bubbled up, reminding me once again that he was a grade-A asshole.
Disha whipped her head up. “Get over it, Rowan. Charlie isn’t some secret agent.” Then she turned to me. “A magical item was stolen during homecoming. Something very powerful. If used by the wrong person, it could literally destroy the entire school. Rowan and his dad think Answorth stole it and have been tracking him ever since. But Answorth has the perfect alibi. He was at the game. Everyone could see him there.”
“Disha,” Rowan hissed. “Enough.”
“Wait, Answorth?” Memories flashed through my brain—the hallway as I searched for the bathroom, a blond head darting away looking very much like Professor Answorth.
Then again, I was drunk.
Rowan’s dark eyes zeroed in on me. “Do you know something about Professor Answorth?”
“No... not really.” I paused, trying to figure out if it really was the professor I saw or someone who looked like him, or if I’d just had an intoxicated hallucination.
Supernatural Academy: Freshman Witch Page 11