by Ava Corrigan
Aisha’s surprise became wry amusement. “Oh my God. Have I just met the one person in the universe who’s never read Harry Potter?”
“How dare you. If you knew how many hours I have wasted taking online Sorting Hat quizzes …”
“Ravenclaw?”
“Sometimes Slytherin,” I admitted.
Sometimes I cheated so I wouldn’t get Slytherin. I worried that made me more Slytherin than ever.
“That explains the lies, then,” Aisha said mildly. For the first time, I noticed that Aisha had cool cobalt blue streaks running through her box braids.
“Gryffindor?” I shot back. “Explains the judgment.”
Aisha and I both grinned. Then I grabbed my makeup bag and headed for the bathroom. So far, I kinda liked my new roommate. If we did all end up murdering one another, maybe I’d kill Aisha last.
That still left the spot for who I’d kill first wide open.
I passed Stella’s room to see her studying the glittery and silvery outfits laid out on her bed like a general planning a campaign.
“May I help you?” Stella asked, without a glance at me.
Headmistress Dowling said Stella was supposed to be my mentor. Though she’d shown little interest in helping me so far.
“You’re changing?” I asked.
“I am.”
“I thought the orientation party was a casual thing?”
“It is.”
Just to clarify, I said: “A casual thing you’re changing for.”
“People have seen me in this outfit. They’ll expect something different.”
Stella said this as if it were obvious. She contemplated a different skirt with the intensity of a thousand suns.
I blinked. “People expect you to wear multiple outfits a day?”
“People expect me to care how I look.”
Stella’s eyes flicked to my very casual outfit. She glided over to her mirror without another word. As she gazed at her reflection, her eyes glowed a sudden umber yellow, startling as car headlights in a girl’s face. Another shimmering magical light appeared. Casually, Stella plucked the magic light from the air, placing it at an angle to illuminate her outfit.
I froze, caught like a rabbit in the headlights of magic.
“Something else?” Stella sounded bored.
“That light. It’s magic, right? How exactly do you …”
“I’m a mentor,” Stella said firmly. “Not a tutor.”
Okay, Stella, message received.
Stella relented. “This is something you’ll learn your first day in class, but fairy magic is linked to emotion. Could be good thoughts, could be bad. Love, hatred, fear. The stronger the emotion, the stronger the magic.”
“So do you hate me or fear me?” I teased. “You were staring at me when you did that spell. And I’m pretty sure you don’t love me.”
I was kidding, but Stella seemed to take me seriously.
“I don’t know you,” she answered. “I’m sure once I do I’ll find … something to love.”
The way she looked at me said she wasn’t so sure. At the same time, it was kind of nice that Stella wasn’t discounting the idea. There were times I looked in the mirror and didn’t see much to love.
I wondered if any of my new suitemates ever felt that way. Happy bustling Terra, cool girl Musa, glamorous Stella, and Aisha who seemed so grounded. Somehow, I suspected not.
Mind
Five girls. Forty-eight plants. The Winx suite was crowded. For Musa, everywhere was crowded: buzzing with other people’s intrusive feelings, slipped under her door like a constant stream of messages she’d never asked for.
Musa wished passionately that at least she’d gotten a room of her own. But no. Into their shared bedroom came Terra, drooping because queen bee Stella had told her to take her plants elsewhere.
Terra seemed to be easily hurt. Her pain rang in Musa’s head like a gong, and Musa set her teeth.
“She seems lovely,” Musa observed.
Stella’s emotions were anything but lovely. But then, in Musa’s experience, most people’s feelings weren’t lovely.
Terra’s super sweet voice revved into overdrive, picking up speed and frantic pleasantness on the way. “She’s just having fun. And I know it’s a lot. Shocker, Earth Fairy named Terra likes plants. It’s a family thing. I’ve got a cousin named Flora. My mom’s name is Rose, and my dad works in the greenhouse here. That’s why I know a lot of the second years. I grew up around Alfea, and—”
A lot of the second years, like Stella, Terra meant. That felt wrong. It pinged around Musa’s head, like noticing a book missing on a bookshelf.
“Stella’s a second year? Why is she in a suite full of first years?”
“Oh yeah. Actually … I don’t know. Some administrative thing last year? I mean, I think …”
I think you’re lying, thought Musa. She turned her back and dipped her power toward Terra, getting a faint sense that …
No, she shouldn’t pursue it. Lots of people lied. Terra must not be encouraged, that was clear. She was already filling their room with plants and Musa’s head with way too much information Musa had never asked for.
“You know what?” Musa decided. “It’s actually not a big deal.” She reached for her headphones like a drowning person reaching for a life raft.
Terra rattled on. “Also, like, I wouldn’t bring it up to her. Let’s just … all of us … blanket statement: Who cares?”
“Weirdly enough, that’s my motto in life. So we are golden.” Musa meant this as a way to kindly but firmly disengage. Terra the Terror didn’t get it.
“Do you want a succulent? They’re hip. Low maintenance. Very you. Not that I really know you, but—”
“If I take it, will you stop talking?” Musa snapped, and then instantly felt bad. “Terra. I’m just having fun.”
Musa took the plant, giving Terra exactly what she wanted, and was rewarded when Terra turned away. Relieved, Musa quickly slid on her headphones.
Then, disaster. Because Terra didn’t really want Musa to take a plant. She wanted Musa to engage, to be interested, to be overwhelmed by Terra’s jumbled rush of emotions. To drown in them.
“Actually, this one might be—”
Musa turned her back so Terra couldn’t see her face. She hoped desperately that Terra would give up and leave her alone.
There was a knock on the door. Musa glanced toward it, guessing this was calm-waters Aisha, or firebrand Bloom. Stella was so clearly not the knocking type.
Aisha popped her head in. “Did you say you grew up at Alfea?”
Sports fiend Aisha wanted to find a pool to swim in, because she had to swim twice a day every day or perish, apparently. Terra burst into a totally unhelpful torrent of information about the pond where the Specialists trained. According to her, the military division of the school took turns tipping each other into the water while they sparred.
Musa left Aisha to deal with Terra.
Get used to disappointment, Musa thought, about Aisha and Terra both. Aisha wasn’t getting a pool, and Terra wasn’t making any friends here.
Terra was clearly the type who wanted everyone to like her. The more that type tried, the less people liked her—which made her try even harder. That was the Try–Hard Catch-22.
It made Musa feel lousy to see Terra trying so hard … but it didn’t make Musa like her. Musa guessed that reaction was part of Terra’s problem.
Whatever. Musa had her own problems. She didn’t care about Fire Fairies, Light Fairies, Earth Fairies, Water Fairies, or Specialists. She focused on trying to tune everything and everyone out.
Specialist
It was another beautiful day in Alfea, in which the mighty Specialists trained to defend their magical realms. Trainees sparred on the platforms spanning the pond, a large rectangle of water that reflected the gray stone walls, a tree-lined path on one side and a swathe of green lawn on the other. Some chump had just gotten knocked into the water.
Also uncool, but not unexpected: Sky was beating Riven hollow in their sparring session.
“You got slow this summer,” Sky laughed.
Riven bared his teeth. “Correction: I got high this summer.”
There was no real point trying to beat Sky. He was the best. Anyone in Alfea could tell you that … right after they told you Riven was the worst.
There was no real point, but Riven kept trying to beat Sky, anyway. Hey, nobody ever said Riven was smart.
Sky’s dad was Andreas of Eraklyon, the dead legendary hero, slayer of the Burned Ones. Sky’s dad-substitute was Specialist Headmaster Silva, their fearless leader with the cold blue eyes and passion for early morning runs. Riven cast a wary look around. He had a problem with authority, and his problem was the part where anyone had authority over him. Riven was certain Silva would be along shortly to explain that all the baby first-year Specialists should look up to Sky and copy him and be just like him but never as good.
Kill me, Riven thought. I’m off to the woods to get high.
He made his way toward the forest, blowing off Sky’s protests. As he did, he noted one of the baby Specialists watching him go. Don? No, Dane. Riven considered giving the staring guy the finger, but he couldn’t be bothered.
He passed the blue, shimmering Barrier and went into the deep, dark woods. He could almost hear Silva’s voice now, telling the first years that the Barrier was their magical shield against the Burned Ones. Beware those merciless monsters with their inhuman strength and speed, never mind that nobody’s seen one in sixteen years, woo woo, so scary.
Riven was allergic to inspirational speeches.
He had just sat down on some mossy rocks when he heard the noise: A deep, low rattle, like bones being dragged across bones, A strange sharp snapping.
It was coming from the trees. The forest looked the same as always, curving branches heaped with green leaves, dappled sunlight shimmering through. It was a sound that made every nerve ending Riven possessed twinge, chills running under his skin despite the sunlight.
He scanned his surroundings and used every bit of training he could remember to stay alert, to be prepared.
Nothing could have prepared Riven for the sight that lay beyond the leaves. It was the mangled corpse of an old man. The corpse barely had a head left, the skin of his cheek torn like paper, but what remained of his face told a story of terror and pain beyond imagining. The body had been pulled apart into rags and tatters. In the depths of the deepest, most jagged wounds, Riven glimpsed charred darkness.
Riven took one long look at the ruined fragments of what had once been a man. He tried to be a soldier, to be brave. Then he ran, stumbling over tree roots and rushing headlong back through the deep, dark woods toward the Barrier and safety. He screamed for Sky. For Silva. For help.
Earth
There were lights strung over the courtyard. There was music playing. Terra was finally a student at Alfea, attending the orientation party just like she’d always dreamed. After years of being the professor’s kid daughter who hung around the greenhouse too much, she was finally a full-fledged student.
But when Terra had pictured this scene, she’d never imagined that everyone would be talking about murder. She didn’t particularly care for party gossip focused on corpses.
Apparently, Riven had found a body in the woods. There were whispers that the old man might have been killed by a Burned One, but people always whispered about Burned Ones. Terra knew it couldn’t be true.
Riven must be so upset, Terra thought, but she certainly didn’t care about that. She was hanging out with her new suitemates at a party. Their suite was called the Winx suite, which was such a cool name. Maybe they could call themselves the Winx Club?
Terra, Aisha, and Musa were just getting food together, having a good time, talking about … murder.
“Maybe he was just old,” Terra said uneasily. “People get old. Die. We all die.”
That sounded okay. Not too scary.
Terra’s new roommate, Musa, who was too cool for school and certainly too cool for Terra, said: “Yeah. That old-age decapitation really sneaks up on you.”
Terra bit her lip. Musa must think she was really dumb.
Aisha was building a magnificent cookie tower on a napkin. The Leaning Tower of Cookies. Terra nervously eyed the food laid out on the tables before them. Sometimes she felt as if food might bite her before she bit into it. She couldn’t take cookies. All the other girls in the Winx suite were so skinny and pretty. If Terra ate a bunch of cookies, people would say, “No wonder she looks like that.” But if Terra got a plate full of carrots, people would say, “Who does she think she’s kidding, when she looks like that?” It was hard to know what to do.
Musa and Aisha were joking around about how many cookies Aisha was eating. It looked as though Musa actually did know how to smile.
Musa nodded at the cookies. “No judgment, but—”
“I eat a million calories a day. If I didn’t swim, I’d be massive.” Aisha sounded amused as she spoke. She looked and moved like a lean, mean, beautiful machine. Of course she found the idea of being massive hilarious.
“I used to dance,” said Musa. “I get it.”
They really seemed to understand each other. They really seemed to be getting along.
“And on that note …” Aisha rose in quest of more cookies.
Musa teased, “Second round. Damn. Twice a day. Every day. You weren’t kidding.”
Aisha laughed and headed off. Musa moved to put her headphones back on now that Aisha wasn’t there to have fun with.
Terra spoke more sharply than she’d meant to. “So you heard her earlier?”
Musa said, “What?”
Terra knew she shouldn’t push it. She already had a sick sensation in the pit of her stomach, and she knew this would only make her feel worse, but she couldn’t help it. “In the room. ’Cause I remember you had your headphones on. And … you ignored me like you couldn’t hear me. But you could hear Aisha?”
Musa was clearly choosing her words carefully. “Sometimes I wear my headphones when I don’t feel like talking.”
“Yeah,” said Terra. “I just noticed you wear them a lot around me.”
As the lights twinkled and the music played, Terra watched her new roommate struggle with how to respond. Musa was a nice person, Terra thought bleakly. She didn’t want to hurt Terra. She just didn’t like Terra.
After a pause, Musa claimed, “It’s a me thing. It’s not—”
“It’s fine,” Terra told her, abruptly sick of herself. “No need to explain. You’ve said enough. And I’ve said too much.”
She did Musa the only favor she could and walked away, leaving Musa in peace and Terra alone at her first party at Alfea.
She spotted her dad moving through the party with an especially purposeful air. A couple of students called out, “Hey, Professor Harvey!” as he went, which he hardly seemed to hear. Even Terra’s dad was more popular than Terra.
Her dad was currently her only hope.
Terra tried to speak to him brightly. “Hey, Dad! You headed to the greenhouse? Something you need help with?”
It couldn’t be anything to do with … with the body. No, Terra was sure the new crying crocuses had come in.
Her dad twinkled benevolently down at her, and Terra’s heart sank. “Not gonna happen, love. It’s your first day. No hiding in the greenhouse. You’ve wanted to go to Alfea your entire life. You’re here now. Mingle. Be you.”
Being me is the problem, Terra thought. I wish I could be someone else.
She wasn’t going to hunt for her annoying brother. Sh
e couldn’t go back to Musa and Aisha. The mere idea of going to find Stella was both hilarious and very, very terrifying. And Terra wasn’t even sure if Bloom was coming to the party. The redheaded girl from the human world—just as slim and lovely as all their other suitemates—seemed distracted whenever you spoke to her. As though she were very focused on something else and didn’t have time for you.
It was time to admit it. Her suitemates clearly all thought Terra was dull as dirt. The thing was, Terra thought, dirt was really interesting. Unfortunately, nobody else agreed with her.
She just wanted one person to hang out with, to do fun things like compost. Just one. A friend.
Deserted even by her dad, Terra let her eyes drift over to the tables full of discarded food. At least Terra could make herself useful. Somebody had to clean up this mess.
FIRE
I scanned the courtyard of my fairy school, searching for my Winx suitemates. Enough writing in my notebook about fire and thinking of my parents, I’d decided. I was here at Alfea until I learned enough to go home. I had to make the best of this.
But there were a lot of people here at the party. Fairies. Weird fairy people, in this weird fairy place. I’d been at this party two minutes, and I needed a breather.
Instead of a suitemate, I spotted Cute Guy from before. I headed for him, thankful for a familiar face.
“This is a lot of people,” I told him, to explain my possibly frazzled air.
“What, you don’t have parties in …” Cute Guy paused, weighing it, then took the risk. “California?”
I paused in mock surprise. “He remembers!”
Cute Guy gave me a smile. “Impressed?”
That he’d gone to the trouble, maybe. I liked the careful way he said California as though he were pronouncing a foreign word. He’d done so correctly, but with the anxiety of uncertainty behind it.
I still needed a breather. “Where can I go that’s the opposite of this? What’s outside?”