Reading, Writing and Necromancy

by Sarina Dorie

  “Please, Miss Kimura. I’ll pay you.” Desperation leaked into his voice.

  I ducked back from the door. I didn’t want to interrupt this conversation. Eavesdrop, maybe, but not interrupt.

  “As enticing as it is to have even less free time … no,” Josie said.

  “I’ll do anything.” He lowered his voice. “I happen to be very good at love potions. Real love potions, not those paltry charms students are always trying to replicate.”

  The silence stretched on. I wondered if she was thinking about it.

  “I know you have feelings for Mr. Khaba,” he added. “I have a spell that would work on a Fae.”

  I considered noisily stumbling into her room to announce my presence so he wouldn’t go any further. Josie and Khaba were both my friends. I didn’t want her to succumb to temptation. I didn’t want Khaba’s free will to be taken away. I knew what that was like with the vulnerabilities of my affinity. No one deserved for such a thing to happen to them.

  I stepped into the doorway. Seeing the rage on Josie’s face convinced me to step out again.

  “Do you think I’m such a dunce at magic that I couldn’t make my own love potion if I wanted?” she asked, her voice rising. “Or do you think I’m such a hag that I can’t get a man to find me attractive without magic? Not to mention potions and spells that brainwash someone are illegal. And immoral.”

  “No! I’m—no—I didn’t mean to imply—I apologize. I shouldn’t have suggested it. Excuse me.” The desk creaked. “Please forgive me. I’m just desperate. I don’t know what to do.”

  “You had all last semester to figure out how to get your shit together. If you’re this desperate, go ask Vega or Thatch to brew you a competency potion.”

  “Yes, of course. Excuse me. I shouldn’t have troubled you with this.” His voice grew louder. It sounded like he was headed toward the door.

  I didn’t want to stay standing outside like someone eavesdropping—which I was. I tried to casually stroll into the doorway as though I had been heading that way.

  Pro Ro bowled into me, knocking me back. It was a lot harder to ignore the size of his belly when it plowed me over.

  “Pardon me,” he said. He did a double take. “Ugh. You.”

  He kept on walking.

  I waved, trying to think of something to say. “Nice bumping into you.”

  Josie scowled at her desk. Her eyes went wide, seeing me. She did a double take too. “Love the hair.”

  “Don’t remind me.” I nodded to the doorway Pro Ro had just exited from. “What was that about?”

  She removed her glasses and wiped them against her turquoise-and-orchid lace dress. “He’s trying to get out of teaching yoga.”

  “Oh? He still hasn’t convinced Jeb to give him a different elective?”

  “Jeb is fruit loops.” She leaned back in her chair. “Last year he thought the electives I teach should be karate and Chinese. Apparently because he thought I was Chinese American, not Japanese American. And all Asians are ninjas good at martial arts.”

  “So how did you get out of it?”

  “I didn’t. The first day of class I told students I was going to teach Japanese instead of Chinese and a third of them transferred out. Puck was angry as hell, but whatev. For karate I got Puck to change the course listing to Bushido instead.”

  “Wait, so that’s samurai stuff?”

  “Yeah, the way of the warrior. I taught a bunch of Japanese culture stuff: Zen meditation, shodo calligraphy; ikebana flower arranging; haiku poetry writing; and some Japanese spells. We did a unit on martial arts, but it was small. I had to seriously study up and called in a guest presenter. The kids actually liked it, and I’m teaching it again this semester.”

  “Maybe Pro Ro could do the same.”

  She snorted. “That’s sort of what he’s been doing this semester, teaching theoretical yoga. The kids are tired of book learning. They want meditation and exercise. I heard Balthasar Llewelyn threatened to turn him into a pretzel if he didn’t teach something impressive soon.”

  I sat on the edge of her desk, avoiding the messy piles of paper. Her desk was a lot like mine. “I know you’re busy with lessons, but I wondered if you could help me.”

  She leaned forward with interest. “Is this a boy problem?”

  “Yes—no. Hopefully not.” I waved a hand at my hair. “I want to get rid of this.”

  “Why? Is that your natural color? You do realize Morties pay a lot of money for that shade of auburn.”

  “I don’t care. I want it gone. It was an accident.” I went over to the door and closed it. I filled her in on the exploits of my previous evening.

  She laughed when I came to the part about Derrick turning Thatch’s pants hot pink. “You should sneak them back into his closet. It will be hilarious.”

  “No,” I said firmly. “We need to change his pants back.” I continued with the rest of the story.

  She shrugged when I was done. “Okay, I’ll fix Thatch’s pants. And I’ll change your hair back if you really want. It’s not a complicated spell, but just so you know, it doesn’t last as long as hair dye.”

  “That’s fine.” What a relief it was possible. “When can we get started? Do you think we can do it before Derrick gets back? I don’t want him to see me like this.”

  She laughed. “What? You think he’ll dump you because you’re a ginger?”

  “No, of course not.” It was a silly fear. He wouldn’t do that. But maybe he would just prefer not to date a ginger.

  “Let’s wait until after dinner,” Josie said. “There are a few items I have to collect. We can do the spell in my room.”

  Derrick still wasn’t back after school, nor could I find him before dinner. A worm of worry wiggled into my brain that something might have happened to him. I pushed it away. There were only a dozen apparel shops in Lachlan Falls. What if none sold invisibility clothes? Derrick would probably have to travel somewhere farther away.

  Josie and I ate dinner together and then we went to her dorm room. I brought along Thatch’s pants too. Her cauldron was boiling on her desk. A soupy mixture that looked like lime jelly percolated within. The room smelled like mint, lavender, and freshly cut grass.

  She retrieved a spell book from a shelf and added a few mushrooms and a vial of something that sparkled like glitter to the mixture. The pleasant smell turned putrid, almost as bad as a sasquatch. The spell she chanted didn’t take very long. I didn’t understand the words because she used a Japanese spell. I hoped this was going to work better than the spell she’d used to try to fix my mouth after Vega had sealed my lips together.

  Josie touched her wand to the cauldron and placed the pants inside. The green liquid turned hot pink. She wrung out the pants and set them aside. They were still pink.

  Maybe the spell needed a minute to activate.

  She motioned to the cauldron. “Now your turn. Dunk your head in.”

  “It won’t hurt? The water was just boiling.”

  “You’ll be fine. That was a magical boil, not a physical boil induced by heat.”

  Had it been Vega saying this, I wouldn’t have believed her. But this was Josie, my best friend. I held my breath and dunked my head in. The water was warm, but not hot. I pulled my head out. She handed me a towel.

  I ran over to the mirror. My hair was a bright, beautiful pink again. Yay!

  Thatch’s slacks were also still pink. Boo!

  “What about Thatch’s pants?” I asked.

  “I’m not fixing anything for that bag of dicks.”

  “Please! It’s not for him. It’s for me. So he doesn’t kill me. Do you want him to kill me?”

  She groaned. “Only for you. And you know what—because I don’t want him to kill you, I’ll sew the pants for you too.”

  “Oh Josie, you’re the best!”

  “I know.” Her eyes twinkled maliciously. “But just so you know, I’m going to embroider
the words, ‘Property of an asshole’ on the backside.”

  “Don’t you dare! You’re a teacher. We’re supposed to be good role models.”

  “Whatever. Do you remember that time he switched everyone’s prophecy chocolate?”

  I checked Derrick’s room again. He wasn’t in, and the page in his drawing pad remained turned to the note he’d given me. I flipped through the pad for a blank sheet. Inside were drawings, some in pencil, others in ink. Fantasy creatures filled most of the pages, the same subject matter I remembered from high school. Many pages contained caricatures of the teachers. I found a scowling Thatch pointing to a student chained in the dungeon, a malevolent Vega cackling over a cauldron, and a bumbling Jeb lassoing himself with a rope. Derrick’s style was cute and whimsical. I remembered how much I had wanted to draw like him in high school. I wasn’t even sure what my style was. It felt like forever since I’d drawn for the enjoyment of it.

  I flipped another page, finding one of myself. I sat at a messy desk, my arms covered in striped sleeves that made me look witchy. An apple sat in one corner. I read a book called Witchcraft for Dummies. Above my head floated art supplies. A paintbrush splashed color onto a canvas. A frog hopped out of a top hat. Herbs mixed into a cauldron.

  I wondered what he was trying to say about me. Reading a book with that title implied I was a dunce of a witch—which I knew. Yet, all the magical things happening behind me implied I could do magic. Did that mean he thought I was a better witch than I did?

  I studied the confident lines of his pen, his attention to detail, and the way he made me look like a cute cartoon. I turned a page and found more studies of my face. My eyes were always a little too large and innocent, making me look more like a child than an adult. My freckled nose was more upturned than in real life. I filled pages of his book.

  How had it been possible that he wouldn’t have remembered me? He drew me like someone he had always known he loved. Why had I worried about my hair being red earlier? I felt ridiculous.

  I found a clean sheet and wrote:

  XOXO You know where to find me.

  I returned to my dorm room, expecting he would show up at any moment. But he didn’t. The hours ticked by, and I reluctantly got ready for bed. He still didn’t come. Vega came in, crowding the little room with her presence. I lay awake long after she went to sleep, but I didn’t hear any creaks outside the room or within. When Vega’s cuckoo clock chimed eleven, I thought I heard a creak outside my door. I snuck out into the hall, prepared to say I had to use the restroom if Vega questioned me.

  “Derrick?” I whispered.

  No reply.

  Derrick hadn’t returned.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Staff Infection

  On Tuesday morning, Vega’s cuckoo clock let out a murderous scream at six in the morning. Since my bed was closest to the window, it was my job to open the shutters to let in the light. Vega was on the side of the room near the door that led out to the hallway to the bathroom. I stayed out of her path. She could keep first dibs on the showers.

  I had dibs on Derrick. I smiled at that.

  I hadn’t seen him since Sunday night. I wanted to go to the other side of the school to find him, but I had too much to do. After getting ready and snagging a blueberry bagel from the cafeteria, I swung by the administration offices to check my mail and pick up my newest schedule. I would swear five new students had been added to every class each week, and only three students had left. The constant student schedule changes interfered with teaching the curriculum.

  I had more duties this semester too: lunch duty almost every day, plus hall monitor duty after school three days a week and a Saturday detention once a month. The newest teachers like Pro Ro and me had the most, only second to the five duties that had been piled onto Pinky. The department heads like Thatch, Bluehorse, Frost, and Kutchi had the least amount of duties.

  Pro Ro came into the office, frowning when he saw me.

  “Good morning,” I said.

  He said nothing.

  “That’s a good color on you,” I tried.

  Gold was a good color on him. He had dressed in his usual loose kaftan, but gold patterns decorated the dark blue sleeves. Pro Ro lifted his nose and continued to the mailboxes.

  A note in my box reminded me we had a staff meeting at three thirty after school. New class lists had been placed in my box with some names updated in bold for some reason. Puck had slipped in a note that said he hadn’t been able to prepare prophecy chocolate a couple weeks ago at the start of the semester, but it would be ready on Friday. I wasn’t sure I wanted another chocolate that would divine how salty and bitter the school year would be. If I didn’t think it would hurt Puck’s feelings, I probably would have thrown the chocolate away.

  I had homeroom first period this semester. I was pleased I had several returning students. Homeroom was basically a study hall, but I used the first twenty minutes of class to teach study skills.

  “This is stupid. This is supposed to be naptime,” one of the boys with a widow’s peak and webbed fingers complained.

  I had no idea what he was. I’d learned not to ask about students’ heritage early on. “What teacher at this school lets you take naps in class?”

  “All of them.”

  I sincerely doubted that.

  Ben O’Sullivan lifted his chin, trying to act tough. “Hailey said she passed classes last semester cuz you taught her how to cheat on tests.”

  I laughed. I had sort of spun study skills like it was naughty. It was the only way to get them to pay attention. I lowered my voice. “She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. If I teach you how to pass your classes, do you promise to keep it a secret?”

  Students looked at each other with wide eyes. My returning students snickered and nudged each other, already in on my unorthodox methods. None of the other teachers had taught the students how to take notes or how to study for a test at this school. I showed the students a few simple techniques for finding key vocabulary words in a textbook and then broke students into small groups, pairing new students with returning students to try it on homework assignments.

  Already this was going more smoothly than last semester. A few stragglers came in halfway through the lesson, and I explained what we were doing. After first period homeroom, I taught a beginning level art class. The day was broken into four ninety-minute-block periods with a lunch break halfway through. It was an A day, so I only had one, three, five, and seven.

  I expected it to be an easy day since I had all the curriculum prepared from last semester. What I hadn’t counted on was having at least five returning students in each class who had been added over the weekend. Seventh period was the most crowded class with forty-two students. We didn’t have enough chairs. Imani and Greenie sat on the floor in the middle of the horseshoe arrangement of desks.

  I had been lucky Imani was willing to sit on the floor since this kept her farther from Maddy and anyone else whose magic might endanger others.

  “I already took a drawing pretest last year with the old art teacher,” a girl with goat horns said in a high-pitched teenage whine that threatened to shatter eardrums.

  “Unfortunately, I don’t have the old art teacher’s results. This will help us to see our improvement later in the term,” I explained. I was going to have to think of new activities for returning students like Imani, but I had no ideas yet.

  “Why can’t I just draw? You saw what I could do last semester,” Jon Jefferies said.

  “Suck it up,” Hailey shouted from the other side of the room. “If I have to listen to you morons bitch about getting an easy A, I’m going to puke.”

  “Language,” I said, shaking my head at her.

  She smiled sheepishly.

  I didn’t need Puck’s prophecy chocolate to tell me how much I would enjoy my job this semester. I had built relationships with the students, and they knew me. They peer-pressured the new students into
behaving. It only made it that much harder knowing I might leave like Derrick had suggested we do.

  I was so busy during the morning, I didn’t even think about Derrick until lunch. I had cafeteria duty, which forced me to sit and eat, as opposed to grabbing food and working in my room. It would have been nice to have a chance to see him, but I expected we would have time after school.

  Unfortunately, after school I had to lock up the supply closet and the classroom, which took me a few minutes because students were so excited they wanted to talk to me about projects and Art Club. There was a line for the teacher bathroom in my hallway, and there was no way I wanted to use the one in the administration wing. I went back up to the dormitories and used that one. I had ten minutes to spare before the staff meeting, but that wasn’t going to be enough time to run to Derrick’s room on the other side of the school and then hike back to the conference room.

  I opted to arrive early, something I’d never done before. Jasper Jang, the bald music and drama teacher, sat on one end of the conference room speaking with Coach Kutchi. Our physical education teacher had short silver hair. I had joined her equestrian class this year, which mostly consisted of unicorns and pegasi. I looked forward to learning how to ride a broom next year. I waved at her when I entered the room. She looked away.

  Since Jasper Jang and Amadea Kutchi were elective teachers, it would have made sense to sit next to them, but I didn’t want to be the third wheel in their conversation.

  When I moved to take the seat next to Sebastian Reade, he put out a hand over the chair. “Sorry, this seat is taken.”

  I doubted that. More likely he just didn’t like me.

  I held my head high and walked to the other side of the table where no one sat. This wasn’t like high school, I tried to tell myself. I wasn’t the most unpopular teacher because I was a grade-A dork. It was because my biological mother had cursed and killed people. It would take time before staff saw I wasn’t evil like her.