by Ava Corrigan
Cute Guy looked alarmed. “Past the Barrier? Depending on the rumors, bears or wolves or something much scarier.”
“But no people?” I asked. “Perfect. Thanks.”
That sounded like the warehouse I’d hid out in back home. Essentially harmless, but creepy, so others would avoid it and I could find refuge there. I started for the gates, and Cute Guy started to say I shouldn’t go alone. He offered to accompany me, and I scoffed. Such a line.
He said, “It wasn’t a line. Trust me.”
I thought about Stella saying once she knew me, she’d find something to love about me.
It made me smile. Or maybe it was the boy in front of me who made me smile. “Maybe someday, I will.”
He was so cute, and he was clearly making an effort, and he was a boy who thought California was an alien concept. The fact I had never fit in there wouldn’t matter to him. Maybe I should let him come along.
As if I’d conjured her by thinking about her, Stella’s voice rang out. “Hey, Sky. Can we talk?”
Stella was wearing her flawless new outfit and holding two drinks. Every twinkly light in the courtyard caught gold in her hair. She was looking right at Cute Guy, whose name was apparently Sky. From Sky’s expression, he knew Stella pretty well.
Wow, this was none of my business. I left them to it. All around me people were talking excitedly about some horror movie with guts everywhere. I wasn’t here to make friends, or to trust anyone, or to love anyone. Soon enough, I was going home.
I headed past what Sky called the Barrier. To be alone, where it was safe.
Earth
Terra was passing busily through the party carrying food trays when a scene of horrible injustice caught her eye.
Oh, for the love of … Riven was menace-flirting at some poor Specialist boy. This was Riven’s typical behavior when he felt off balance. Terra had once witnessed Riven looming at a fern in a way that suggested he either wanted to prune viciously or make out.
At the time, she’d thought: Bless this mess. These days, she was more of the opinion that this mess needed composting.
The poor boy must be a first year. Terra didn’t recognize him from last year. Riven had an arm around him and was making him drink something that Terra highly suspected was alcoholic.
The new boy’s eyes said help me. So Terra did.
“Really? Bullying the new kid? Be more obvious.”
Riven smirked, because of course he did. “Can’t bully the willing. Right?”
There was something loaded about Riven’s tone.
“I don’t know what that means!” the new boy said sharply.
The new boy was clearly feeling uncomfortable. Terra sympathized. The poor thing mustn’t take Riven’s terrible personality personally.
“Ignore him,” she said, indicating Riven. “He thinks he’s some badass; you should’ve seen him last year. He’s just a tragic nerd in disguise.”
Riven’s eyes narrowed. “And she’s just three people in disguise.”
There was a silence ringing amid the noise of this party where Terra didn’t fit in. The new boy gave her a guilty look, silently offering to do something, which was so nice of him but not necessary.
Terra told the sweet boy, “I got it. But thanks.” She let her chipper tone drop as she stepped up to Riven. What a relief, she thought distantly. No need to fake nice at Mr. Skinny Jeans Sociopath. Terra could just wreck him.
“See, people always think they can treat big girls like crap. We’re nice. Harmless. We should be happy you’re even talking to us.”
The vines on the castle wall behind Riven started to writhe and move, like friendly green snakes.
“But sometimes we’ve had a bad day, and a scrawny little twerp says the wrong thing at the wrong time,” Terra purred. “And all of a sudden, we’re not happy you’re talking to us. And we’re not nice. And most of all, we’re not harmless.”
The vines coiled around Riven’s neck. It happened so fast, he didn’t have the time to use his Specialist skills to dodge. The vines were suffocating him so he couldn’t even talk. It was so nice and peaceful.
Terra smiled sweetly. “What’s that, Riv? I’m sure it’s clever. I just can’t hear you.”
His face turned red. He was about to pass out, Terra noted, still with that feeling of cheery distance. She shouldn’t actually let him faint. Riven would hate that.
The vines receded. Riven took a huge gasp of air.
“You could’ve killed me, you freak,” he spat out, as if he was the one who’d been betrayed.
Riven bolted. Terra called after him, a pleasant trill coming naturally for once: “Missed you, too!”
Then she abruptly realized how she’d behaved in front of the new boy, and turned around in a state of total mortification.
“Hi,” she gushed. “Sorry. I’m Terra, and that was not my ideal first impression.”
The new boy smiled at her. It was a weak smile, but Terra appreciated him making the effort.
“Is it better or worse than throwing up after a single drink?”
The new Specialist boy, Terra noted, was very cute. Which was impressive for someone about to throw up. He had lovely forest-deep black curls, close cropped with shaved sides. His eyes were deep chocolate brown, like rich, new-turned earth, and he had great arms and great everything, muscles rippling beneath his smooth dark brown skin. His teeth were white, but his smile was faltering.
Appreciate the cute later, help the new boy first. He was holding it in, but Terra judged he wouldn’t be for long. Terra should get him somewhere private, and maybe fetch him a cool flannel.
“I’m Dane,” the boy told her as she led him off.
All Terra knew was this: Here was someone who needed her. At last.
Fire
It was beautiful and peaceful in the forest, just as I’d hoped. There were multicolored swarms of tiny insects among the trees, jewel bright against the shadowy green.
This mystical forest was the perfect place to practice my magic. Magic worked through feelings, Stella had said. Like love. I pulled out my phone and looked through pictures of my family. Okay, Bloom, good thoughts! You can do it!
The burning house. My mother, so still.
No, Bloom, not those thoughts …
Running toward my parents as they screamed, knowing I’d be too late …
Oh hell. I was feeling something. Surely that would work. I felt as though this might work. I focused on that feeling, instead of my memories. I was starting to feel warm all over.
As the glow rose within me, a small fire grew in my right hand. Then my left hand ignited as well. When fire sprang up in my hand, I was glad I didn’t melt my phone.
I stared down at the twin flames in my palms, dancing, bewitching. Beautiful. I was starting to feel pretty great.
I played with the flames as though they were juggling balls, watching their starlight brightness lick against the air. The flames were burning hotter, higher, their intensity spreading. My hands were dripping flame.
Panic began to rise along with the fire.
I tried to throw the flames away, and only realized how stupid that was when the sparks fell from my hands and the forest floor caught fire.
Over the crackle of flame, I heard Aisha’s quiet voice saying my name.
I stared, embarrassment fighting panic, as she stepped forward, her blue clothes a bright contrast to the green leaves and earth of the forest. Her long braids of dark hair were still wet from a river swim, and she’d used a cloth headband to keep them off her face. As she approached me, she kept talking, in her calm, soothing way, but I was in no mood to be soothed.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” I snarled.
“Neither should you,” said Aisha. “You’re out of control.”
My frustration was an inferno inside me.
“I know that.”
I knew that better than anyone else.
“Calm down,” Aisha urged. “If you get angry at me—�
�
“Just go away!”
The frustrated scream burst out of me, manifesting into the flames at my feet. Suddenly, I stood in a fire, as though I was a witch being burned, but the flames didn’t hurt me. They erupted toward Aisha, rushing to envelop her the way they’d rushed toward my mom.
I was a forest fire in the shape of a girl. Everyone should stay away.
“Run, Aisha!” I screamed. “Run.”
But Aisha didn’t. Instead, she faced the flames racing toward her. She crouched to the ground, and her eyes glowed brilliant blue as she summoned the water to her. Water burst from the ground at her feet in droplets cascading upward, as though Aisha had made the earth the sky, and then made it rain. Water struck the fire like a blue sword, and halted my destruction.
Water
Aisha wasn’t used to Alfea, but she was used to being part of a team. She was glad she had suitemates, and even gladder she had a roommate rather than being alone like Stella. She’d liked Bloom right away, too, appreciating Bloom’s directness and her easy humor.
Bloom setting fire to the woods was a drawback, but Aisha was trying to deal. If she could make the girls in the Winx suite feel as though they were her team, then she knew she could take anything Alfea threw at her.
Aisha had hoped for something from her brand-new roommate. Not an explanation, necessarily, but possibly a “sorry for almost setting you on fire”?
But Bloom didn’t say anything. Instead, she ran out of the forest and back to the castle.
Aisha chased Bloom into the courtyard, trying to explain how reckless she’d been. “You were a runaway train, Bloom! You had no idea what you were doing!”
“Which is why I was out there alone, trying to figure it out.”
“Brilliant idea,” Aisha said. It was the dumbest idea she’d ever heard in her whole life.
Bloom snapped, “I didn’t grow up here. I don’t have fairy parents. I’ve done magic once in my life. And it was …”
“What? Terrible?” Aisha asked wryly. “I’m shocked. I flooded my entire secondary school after I failed a math test. Taps, sprinklers … toilets. Have you ever waded through human excrement? I have. Not pleasant. But sometimes being a fairy means you have to deal with crap.”
It was meant to be a funny story, one that would make Bloom laugh. One that would help them bond, turn them into a team. When Bloom stopped and turned around, looking into Aisha’s eyes, Aisha thought for a moment Bloom would share a dumb story of her own, and they could laugh together.
“We’re roommates, Bloom,” Aisha murmured encouragingly. “We have to be open with each other.”
Aisha and Bloom were walking down a passageway, Bloom looking off the balcony to one side. Then Bloom went to sit on a bench. She took a deep breath and told her story. How her mother and Bloom had been fighting about her social life, and how Bloom would rather fix old lamps than cheerlead. How Bloom had slammed a door, so her mother had said, “Slam your door, lose your door.”
Bloom’s parents had taken her door off its hinges, and apparently Bloom had gone unhinged.
“That night, I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I could feel the rage building. And that’s when it happened. The fire.” Bloom stopped for a minute, glancing over to see if Aisha understood.
Aisha did. She stared at Bloom in quiet horror. Bloom’s red hair stood out against the black sky like fire itself.
“It was almost like the fire had a life of its own,” Bloom went on. “I don’t remember how long I let it burn. I just remember their screams.”
When Bloom finished the story, she was clearly fighting back tears. A subtle, weary tremor went through her frame, like a runner past her endurance. It seemed like Bloom had been fighting for a long time.
“My mom was covered in third-degree burns,” Bloom said. “Because of me. And if I hadn’t gone in there to stop it? To stop what I started?” She looked completely burned out.
“Every night after that, I sneaked out. I was so scared I’d hurt them again that I slept in this creepy-ass warehouse near home. Until Ms. Dowling found me and …”
She trailed off, shivering a little with no fire to warm her or destroy anything else. This wasn’t the fun sharing of secrets Aisha had imagined. Bloom’s already withdrawing body language suggested she was sure Aisha would walk away from her now.
Instead, Aisha went and sat next to her roommate. “All right,” she murmured. “Fire story beats crap story. You win.”
At last, Aisha had succeeded in making Bloom smile.
“And your parents had no idea what happened?” Aisha asked. “No idea it was you?”
“Not sure how distant my fairy ancestors are, but the most mystical thing my parents believe in is knocking on wood.”
Aisha frowned. That didn’t make any sense.
Bloom picked up on her doubt right away. “What?”
Aisha hesitated. “It’s just odd. You drew on a great deal of magic without even trying. It’s hard to believe you’re from a dormant bloodline. Is there … any chance you’re adopted?”
From the way Bloom’s eyes were boring into Aisha, there was no chance in hell, or fairyland.
“I’ve heard the story of my birth a million times.” Bloom’s tone brooked no argument. “Miracle baby. There was a problem with my heart in the womb, but the day after I was born, it was gone.”
Aisha went cold. “Oh God,” she breathed. “You’re a changeling.”
“What’s that?”
Aisha fell silent. She wanted her new roommate to like her, wanted them to get along. She didn’t want to be the one to crush everything Bloom believed in.
“Aisha. What’s a changeling?” Bloom pursued and persisted in the face of more silence. “We’re roommates. We have to be open with each other, remember?”
Aisha drew in a deep breath. “A changeling is a fairy baby that’s switched with a human one at birth.”
The whole world seemed to tremble around them, as though it was a candle flame about to go out.
“Wait,” Bloom said shakily. “What?”
“It’s barbaric, and it barely ever happens anymore, but …”
“That’s not possible!”
Aisha tried to speak reasonably, to make Bloom understand and come closer to acceptance. “You’re clearly very powerful, Bloom. You have to be pure-blooded.”
“I would know,” Bloom said, struggling to keep her voice even, “if my parents weren’t my parents.”
Aisha surrendered immediately. “Okay. Okay. You’re right.”
Accusation turned Bloom’s voice sharp. “Why would you even say that?”
“I’m just trying to help,” Aisha said helplessly.
Bloom got up from the bench.
“Well,” Bloom told Aisha coldly, “you’re not.”
She turned her back on Aisha as though it was her fault. As though she blamed her, hated her.
And why wouldn’t Bloom hate her? Aisha had effectively told Bloom she could never go home. That Bloom didn’t belong there.
Bonding with her new roommate was not going great.
Mind
Musa liked Aisha. She liked Aisha’s general aura of unruffled waters. So she was trying to soothe the worry and guilt pouring out of Aisha as they walked to the Winx suite together, on their way back from the welcome gathering.
“She’s blanking my texts,” Aisha fretted about Bloom.
“Strange. I wonder if it’s because she poured her heart out to you and you told her she was a freak?” Musa asked.
Aisha did not seem soothed. Right, Musa thought. Whoops.
“Have you seen Bloom?” Aisha demanded, running past Stella into the bedroom and then out again.
Stella, lying on the sofa taking selfies, drawled: “Not recently.”
Stella’s tone gave Musa pause. Plus, Musa could tell Aisha was really upset. Deliberately, she let her powers turn on, and faced Stella with her eyes glowing.
“Your face looks so calm, b
ut you are wracked with guilt,” she informed Stella.
Aisha gave Musa a look. Musa was familiar with the look.
“You’re a Mind Fairy,” Aisha observed, but there was no other judgment.
Aisha turned to Stella just as Terra came out of her and Musa’s room.
“A Mind Fairy?” Terra repeated sharply. “What’s your connection? Memories, thoughts—”
“Not a great time,” Musa pointed out.
Terra’s gaze traveled from each of her suitemates to the other. “Everything okay?”
Aisha sighed. “Not really. I’m looking for Bloom, and for some reason, Stella’s feeling guilty about it.”
Stella gave a sigh, as though overcome by tedium.
“Could everyone please save the drama for drama club?”
Stella was determined to pass this off, Musa realized. And Musa wasn’t going to fight her on it, not now that Terra knew what Musa could do, too. Musa knew how that would turn out, could already sense the horror Terra would feel coming toward her. Musa was suddenly and unutterably weary. Stella could keep her secrets.
Only Terra was moving toward Stella, and the way she moved wasn’t Terra’s usual going-nowhere happy bustle. The way Terra moved was that of a woman on the warpath.
Musa was almost impressed.
“She was talking to Sky, wasn’t she?” Terra demanded.
“And?” Stella demanded haughtily in return.
Terra pursued: “And I know what happened to the last person who talked to Sky. I was here last year, remember?”
A crack appeared in Stella’s veneer as she shot back, “You don’t know the full story!”
Didn’t seem like Terra cared. “Ricki was your best friend, then she talked to Sky. Now she’s not here anymore. Why is that again?”
A threat hung in the air between them.
“Where is Bloom, Stella?” Terra demanded.
Stella visibly decided she wasn’t winning this battle.
“She was homesick,” Stella explained. “So I did a nice thing, and let her borrow my ring.”
Stella’s magic ring allowed fairies to travel between the realms.