A Different Class of Magic

by Adrienne Blake

  “Don’t they eat other dragons?” I asked.

  “Generally, yes, but the Maine dragons include a little pine in their diet, which makes them easier to get along with.”

  “And they smell better when they poop,” Lea added.

  We all laughed.

  The buzz in the gymnasium increased, and sensing the parents were anxious to get started, Carter gulped down one more cookie and washed it down with some of the lemonade.

  “Excuse me, everyone,” he said. “We can talk more about this after I do my meet and greet.”

  I watched him trundle over to his podium. Lazuli was sitting on top of it, overseeing the parents as they began to take their seats. Maisy followed behind like she was glued to his shadow.

  “Come on,” I said, taking my lemonade with me. “Might as well get this over with.” I was anything but convinced about the school trip, but it was clear I was on my own on this one. I took my place in the second row, happily sandwiched between Björn and Lea.

  Carter pulled out his wand, and with a single swish, a blaze of orange words streamed out and settled over his head. The words read: “Welcome to the Margaret Beauchamp’s School of Magic for Girls and Boys 2019 PTA meeting.”

  There was polite applause as he gripped the sides of the podium and began his annual address. “Thank you all for coming; it’s wonderful to see such a great turn out. I hope you all helped yourself to some cookies and lemonade. Let’s get this show on the road, as we have a few items to get through. I’ll try to be brief and avoid sending anyone to sleep, myself included.”

  There is absolutely no danger of that, I thought. By Gaia, he was hot, and I liked watching him uninhibited from the safety of my seat. Even if he had stood me up—twice.

  Enough, Tamara! Put down the naughty witch and do the good mom thing, now. I trained my focus on his words, and as he spoke, I put all thoughts of my daughter being burned alive by a ferocious Maine dragon to the back of my mind.

  4

  Pizza and a Movie

  Straight after school, I’d banished Pike to the yard, armed with her wand and my broom.

  “Leaves,” I said, pointing to the back door.

  Without a murmur, she took the broom from me and strolled outside to do as I asked. I watched her from the kitchen sink while I trimmed the aloe vera I’d bought last night. She’d given me none of her usual sass, and that bothered me.

  Pike pointed the wand around the garden, gathering the crunchy leaves into a tidy pile. Although she was doing exactly as she was told, I was worried. I’d asked Lea what was going on, but she’d just shrugged. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” she’d said. “I haven’t noticed anything.” Lea generally didn’t.

  So, I returned the trimmed leaves to the refrigerator and washed my hands to remove the icky plant gel, then stepped out into the yard. Pike was sitting on our bench, pointing her wand at a wildflower, making the flower open and shut repeatedly. She was so lost in thought she didn’t see me coming.

  I surveyed the garden. Whatever was bothering her, she’d still done a good job and had cleaned it up nicely. I sat on the bench beside her, saying nothing but watching her play with the flowers. I wondered whether to pull out my own wand and play with her, since I’d taught her this silent spell, and we often played together when she was little. Pike was a smart witch, even back then.

  “Okay,” I said at last. “I know something’s bothering you. And it is okay if you don’t want to talk about it, but all I want to say is, I’m here for you if you do. How about pizza for dinner?”

  Pizza was Pike’s favorite food. Next to chocolate. And maybe pumpkin cheesecake.

  “Yeah, that would be great,” she replied.

  “What kind?”

  “Oh, anything, as long as there’s no peppers or onions on it.”

  “Got it. Want dessert?”

  Pike thought about this for the longest moment before answering, which surprised me, since she typically badgered me to death for some.

  “Can we afford it?” she said at last.

  “What?”

  “Money’s tight, right?”

  “No more so than usual,” I said. “Why do you ask?” I thought about the trip to Camden. “Don’t you want me on your school trip? Is that it?”

  “Nah, that’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Worrying comes with the job description, kiddo. So, spill.”

  Pike shifted uncomfortably on the bench. She’d stopped hexing the wildflowers but was twirling her wand in her fingers, something she only ever did when she was agitated. A million possibilities ran through my head. Was it boy trouble? Bullying? I knew it wasn’t her grades. Was it a magic thing? I was going crazy trying to second-guess what it might be.

  “You’re gonna think I’m an idiot,” Pike said.

  I thought carefully about my response. Now wasn’t the time for levity. “Try me.”

  “I need a familiar,” she said.

  Surprised at how simple this was, I turned to look at her, thinking there must be more to it than that. Pike looked every bit as downcast as she did before.

  “Okay,” I said slowly. “So get one. I’ve never said you couldn’t have one––I told you before, it’s okay. In fact, there’s a whole bunch of kittens down at the SPCA. We could go tonight, if you like, and see if one takes your fancy.” There, I thought, smiling to myself, super Mom saves the day.

  Pike shook her head slowly. “Errr, no, Mom, that’s not what I meant. I don’t want a kitten. That’s so lame.”

  The way she said “kitten” made them sound like the nastiest things in the world.

  “Ooookay, so what then?”

  “Crystal’s mom bought her a brownie,” Pike said. “Brownies are so cool. They’re not just familiars, they’re like friends––you can have a conversation with it and tell it all your secrets. She’s so lucky.”

  I groaned. Familiars were becoming like smart phones: ridiculously expensive but absolute must-haves. And though you could never technically own a brownie, the law made it clear they could leave whenever they wanted. An adult brownie would happily take your cash and become something akin to an indentured servant, for a specified period of time. Not that it made them any less ugly, which brownies invariably were, although they could be awfully handy around the house––not that Crystal would have cared one jot about that. But the special friend thing, that I could relate to. “A brownie costs a lot of money.”

  Pike nodded. “I know. I was saving up for one of my own, or something like it, maybe a pixie or something. I don’t want her to think I’m copying her or anything, plus they’re a bit prettier, don’t you think? It would be nice to have a special friend to talk to, just like everyone else.”

  Kids. I was tempted to roll my eyes, but I just nodded. If all her friends were getting talking familiars, I could see why she felt a little left out. “Well, don’t you have money in the bank?” I said. “I mean, you saved all summer long. You must have enough by now, surely?”

  She shrugged. “Sorta, but then this trip came up, and there’s no way I can’t go on it. Everyone I know is going. If I get left behind, they’ll all laugh at me, and if I do go, I’ll always be the poor kid with a dumb familiar who couldn’t afford anything better.”

  I glanced over to the window where MacGuffin was watching us from inside the house. My cat was anything but dumb, and Pike knew it, but I wasn’t going to argue with her now. He tilted his head to the side, as if wondering what we were talking about. I couldn’t help but think that perhaps he might have an inkling.

  “Just how much is a pixie, anyway?” I asked, wondering if my finances might stretch to it.

  “A little over a thousand bucks,” Pike said.

  My heart sank as I thought of the three-hundred dollars in my checking account. If only it wasn’t illegal to conjure up a few bucks. I knew a spell like that would earn me a one-way ticket to Bitterhold, the magical prison, so I didn’t dare risk it, but right now I really wanted to
.

  Still, sometimes life was about making tricky choices, I knew that, but it was a sucky lesson for a fourteen-year-old to grapple with.

  “Could we maybe get something cool for a little less? Like a couple of hundred dollars?” I offered.

  She shook her head. “Not likely. I’m scraping the barrel with a pixie as it is.”

  I was stumped. There was nothing else for it. I slapped my knees as loud as I could and jumped to my feet. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s order pizza. Pizza makes everything better.”

  At the click of my fingers, my broom rose up from the ground and followed Pike and I back into the house.

  I rummaged through a drawer in the kitchen and pulled out a pen and paper and a handful of ten-dollar bills I kept for food emergencies. I scribbled our order down. “No onions, no peppers… and pumpkin cheesecake.”

  I glanced up to see Pike peering at me, but this time I knew what she was thinking. “The day we can’t afford pumpkin cheesecake is the day I throw myself off the goddamn roof. Just give me some pleasure in life, okay?”

  She burst out laughing and put her arms around me. “Never change.” It was a beginning.

  I secured the note and cash to the handle of the broom with an elastic band. “Pizza, please,” I said. A second later, there was a quick whoosh, as my broom zoomed off to Warlock Rocco’s, the best pizzeria in town. All we needed now was a good movie, then the two of us could snuggle down and see what solution we could conjure up between us. Something feely goody with a happy ever after ending would do it. Witches of Eastwick it was.

  5

  The Dragon Lore and Safety Class

  Tricky. Should I wear the slutty red obvious tee with the plunging cleavage line, or the serious-looking checkered blouse? I flipped from one to the other, holding first one up against me, then the other as I tried to decide what to wear.

  What did a witch wear to a dragon lore and safety class? I mean, not that it mattered what Carter thought of me (liar, liar, pants on fire), this was a serious matter after all. The checkered top made me look quite professional, but where was the cleavage, dammit? He might have stood me up, twice, but I needed him to regret it, or where was the fun?

  “Which one?” I shouted to Pike who was locked in the bathroom, playing with my makeup (though she didn’t know I knew that).

  “Don’t wear the slutty red one!” Pike shouted through the door.

  “Watch your mouth.” I threw the checkered one defiantly on the end of the bed and slipped the red one off the hanger, before pulling it carefully over my head. I stared at my reflection. Boob valley stared back at me. It wasn’t that bad. And since I wasn’t a student, it wasn’t as if Carter could expel me from school or anything for indecent exposure. Dang it. If only I knew what Maisy would be wearing. Something classy and situation appropriate, no doubt.

  I pulled the red tee off in a huff and rustled through my closet, hoping for a suitable Plan B. Downstairs the doorbell rang. Dang. Björn was early. I glanced at the clock by the bedside table. No! I was late. I grabbed the first hanger in front of me and tore a purple blouse from it.

  “Coming,” I shouted, though there was no way he could hear me from upstairs. He leant on the doorbell again. Shit!

  Björn and I had agreed to carpool. Not caring how I looked now, but afraid we’d both miss the start of class, I snatched up my purse and shouted to Pike through the bathroom door. “There’s leftover pizza in the refrigerator. Don’t stay up on the Internet. See you later!”

  “Bye!”

  I zipped down the stairs double speed, racing past MacGuffin who was sitting halfway up them, and got to the door just as Björn was leaning on the button again.

  “So sorry,” I said, catching my breath. “The time just got away from me.”

  “Not a problem,” Björn replied. He looked good standing there on my doorstep, with his white tee and cool leather jacket, though I noticed his jeans were just a little too tight, and I wondered if he’d done that on purpose.

  “I won’t be a second,” I said, “let me grab my keys.”

  A moment later I followed him down to the bottom of my drive, then hoisted myself up into the passenger seat of his black Dodge Ram.

  “Buckle up,” Björn said as he pushed the key into the ignition. He glanced at me sideways. “You look nice. No cookies?”

  I laughed. “No, no time today. How’s Bo?”

  “He is good, ja. He and Crystal are dating, I think. I don’t see much of him.” Björn laughed his unfettered Norwegian laugh and I smiled, happy for them both.

  “Your Pike is seeing anyone, no?”

  I shook my head. “No, not really. I don’t think she’s had a boyfriend since fourth grade, she’s always been too focused on her studies.” A little alarm bell began to ring in the back of my mind. Pike hadn’t yet told me what was up with her and Crystal. Was this it?

  “This is good, I think. The boys will come soon enough. Now is the time for school, ja?”

  I laughed myself. “Not as I remember it.”

  We talked sweet nothings as we drove the short distance to the school. Feminist witches would probably shoot me, but it was nice being driven by a man again, and I was quiet for a while, enjoying the chance to take in the view. And Björn was good company––he had plenty to say without being overbearing. Not to mention he had muscles to bounce a ball off of.

  Soon enough, he turned the nose of the Ram onto the school property and into the teacher’s parking lot, as we’d been instructed to do.

  As Björn locked the car, I glanced around me. Funny. It felt weird being in such a familiar place without the usual bustle of the kids. Almost haunted. Instead of feeling like a mom, it was if I was a school kid myself, showing up for the first day of term.

  “Feels weird, doesn’t it?” I said, looking up at Björn.

  He shrugged. “Ja, maybe a bit. Shall we go in?”

  As an ex-student of the Margaret Beauchamp’s School of Magic for Girls and Boys myself, I knew exactly where the arts class was. As we drew near, the faint smell of oil paints and charcoal crayons invaded my senses, triggering memories from so long ago––some pleasant, some sad. We opened the door to find the class empty. There had been cars in the parking lot, so I guessed the others were hanging out somewhere else in the school.

  “Are you okay?” Björn asked, staring down at me.

  “Me, oh, yes. I was just flying a broomstick down memory lane. My late hubby, Oliver and I were in this class together.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “As it happens, we shared a table in all our classes, from my first day to the last. In Arts we sat right there.” I pointed to our table, third row from the back over by the window. It was almost exactly how I remembered it; the only thing that had changed were the student drawings on the wall.

  “You liked art?” Björn asked.

  “I guess. We goofed off more than anything. It was easier to do with old Belamy; he never really seemed to care and was as much off in his own world as we were. It was different though, back then. The rules are a lot stricter now. No goofing off.”

  We heard a door open and close somewhere out in the hall and the muffled sound of voices. Without thinking, I listened for Carter’s and then frowned. Sorry, Oliver.

  The classroom door opened, and I turned as Carter held it to allow Maisy and Harrison Parker to pass inside. Harrison was the father of Evelyn, another girl from Pike’s year, though I didn’t think they shared any classes, and as far as I was aware, they’d never hung out together. He was a short warlock, with reddish hair and a stocky build. His aura was gold and tinged with a slight green.

  “Hey, Harrison.” I smiled. “You got suckered into doing this thing, too?”

  Harrison frowned. “I volunteered. I mean, dragons, right? I think Principal Wells is off his rocker and will need as many responsible parents on site as he can get, don’t you?”

  Carter didn’t respond but his brow furrowed.

 
“Oh, yes, I couldn’t agree more,” I said, thankful at last that someone else saw things my way. Carter’s frown deepened, and I gave him a cheeky grin. It felt good to tease.

  Harrison and Björn shook hands warmly. “How is work?” Björn asked.

  “Busy,” he said. “I just got a promotion so I’m working all the hours, keeping the hags happy.”

  “Ah.” That would account for the green tint to his aura. The hags were the watch dogs of the paranormal community. They had their finger in everything, from law enforcement to ambulatory services, even down to rescuing familiars from treetops.

  “Hello, Carter,” I said pointedly, since he hadn’t spoken a word. He looked super-hot out of his customary Principal robes. Today he wore a pale-blue sweater with a plain-white T-shirt underneath it. His jeans were well cut and not too tight. Heck, did I just check out another man’s crotch? What was wrong with me?

  “Is this it?” I asked, hiding my red face behind a cough. “Hello, Maisy, how are you?”

  “Hi, Tamara.” She beamed. “I like your purple top.”

  “Thanks.” I took in her winter-green blouse and stylish white slacks. She’d gotten it perfect again. I wonder where she shops. “You look pretty good yourself.”

  “This is it, I’m afraid.” My skin bristled at the sound of Carter’s voice, which was deep but clear, hitting me in all the nice places. “Bernie White dropped out.”

  I hid a snicker. I could have predicted that. Bernie White always dropped out. He was the most unreliable warlock in Misty Cedars.

  Carter cast me a furtive glance. “Shall we get on with it, then? I don’t wish to take up any more of your time than is necessary, and this shouldn’t take too long if we keep focused.”

  Was it my imagination, or was he being stroppy? Perhaps that was too strong a word, because he wasn’t rude, but there was definitely something off about him.

  “Is everything all right?” I asked.

  “Yes, yes, of course it is.” Carter strolled over to the blackboard and picked up a piece of chalk. In large bold letters he wrote, “Dragon Lore” at the top of the board.