Witching on a Star

by ERIN BEDFORD

  Please tell us how you really feel. I crossed my arms over my chest and forced myself to hold my tongue. One thing I hated more than bullies were judgmental assholes and Professor Piston was well on his way to finding his way onto my shit list.

  Professor Piston picked up the book titled A Magical History and waved it in the air. “I expect every single one of you had a chance to read the textbook for this class already. I won’t be coddling anyone who didn’t do the homework.”

  Homework? Who assigns homework before the class even begins! And as if my day couldn’t get any worse, the door to the classroom opened up and in walked in Paul, my deliciously beautiful Adonis who had helped me with my bags yesterday.

  “Ah, Paul, there you are.” Professor Piston let his scathing look of distaste for us dissipate momentarily to give Paul a respectful nod.

  “Sorry for the delay. Here are the papers you wanted copied.” Paul grinned at Professor Piston, showing a dimple in his cheek I hadn’t noticed before, and suddenly I was shifting uncomfortably in my seat for a whole other reason.

  Professor Piston snorted, his nose flaring unpleasantly. “No fault of yours. That imbecile working the office wouldn’t know a replica spell from a transmogrifying spell.” He took the papers from Paul’s hands and sat them on his desk before turned back to the classroom. “Class, this is my teacher’s aide, Paul. He will be helping me transform you mediocre excuses for magical beings into respectful, working members of our society. Though I hold no such high hopes for such a result, alas, we must move forward. Please open your book to page five where we will now discuss the rise and fall of the idiotic being who calls himself a wizard, Merlin.”

  While the professor continued to rant about how Merlin barely constituted as a magical being, let alone the greatest wizard of all time, my eyes were set on Paul. He had taken a seat at a table not too far away from Professor Piston’s. His eyes were down on the papers on his desk, the dark brown of his hair falling into his eyes as he read. My eyes followed his every movement from the way he touched his pen to his lower lip to his brow furrowing in concentration. When his eyes moved up from his paper and met mine, my breath caught in my chest. Very slowly, a grin spread across his lips, causing things low inside of me to tighten.

  As I started to remember how to breathe, a shadow cast itself over my desk, but I hardly noticed. The book slamming into the table in front of me, however, made me jump, my eyes ripping away from Paul and to a snarling Professor Piston. My face flushed red as I realized everyone in the room was looking at me.

  “If you are quite finished ogling my assistant, tell me, Miss ...?” He stared down at me, and I realized he expected me to tell him my name.

  “Norman. Max Norman.”

  Apparently, my name did not impress the professor by the way his nose curled up his face. “Well, then Miss Norman, since you find no need to pay attention to my lecture, why don’t you tell us who the most profound magical member of the wizarding society today is?”

  My mouth fell open, and I gaped like a fish. My mind raced as I tried to think of some modern-day witch or wizard but the only name I could think of was my own mother, and I wasn’t about to point that one out.

  “We’re waiting, Miss Norman.” He spat my name like it tasted foul in his mouth.

  Finally, giving up, I bowed my head and shook it. “I don’t know.”

  Professor Piston scowled. “Of course, you don’t. You also probably haven’t read the textbook either, have you?”

  “No, professor,” I admitted, my face becoming redder by the second with pure humiliation.

  “If you had, you would know that Xander Craftsman has won that award the last five years running, having revolutionized—”

  “The way we do spell work,” I interrupted him, having heard it a million times already.

  Professor Piston pressed his lips together tightly and narrowed his eyes at me. “Yes, precisely, and for future reference, do not interrupt me while I am speaking. And eyes off my assistant. This is a place to educate your mind, not your raging hormones.” He gave me one more admonishing look before moving back to the head of the class. From then on, I kept my eyes down or on the professor, resisting the urge to look at Paul even though I could feel his eyes on me.

  The class dragged on, and by the time the bell chimed the hour, I was more than ready to be on to my next class. I just hoped all the professors weren’t as dull and rude as Piston, or I might have to rethink my position on Brown.

  After I gathered my things and headed for the door, I found a body blocking my path. My eyes trailed up the hard planes underneath the blue cotton shirt and up to the dreamy chocolate brown eyes. Those kissable lips curved into a smirk that made me weak in the knees.

  “Max, right?”

  I swallowed thickly and licked my dry lips before stuttering out, “Yeah, Max. And you’re Paul.”

  “Right.” Paul grinned broadly either because of my clear nervousness, or he thought I was mentally disabled. It could have been either, really. We stood there for a moment before Paul asked, “Do you want me to walk you to your next class? If you’re taking Piston, you probably have Mystial next, right?”

  “Yes, I do.” I nodded so hard I thought my head would fall off my neck. Forcing myself not to seem so overeager, I shrugged a shoulder. “Sure, if you want to.”

  Simply smiling at me, Paul took my bag from my hands before I could protest and started down the hall. I followed after him, my shorter legs barely keeping up with his long strides. Not wanting to let it get awkward again, I scrounged up the little courage I had as I turned to him.

  “So, do you go here?”

  Paul glanced my way and chuckled. “Yes, I go here. I’m only a teaching assistant during my off periods. As a third year, you are required to assist one professor each semester. It’s their way of making us learn responsibility by giving back to the school.”

  I thought back to Professor Piston’s class and frowned. “I think I’d have rather picked up trash than assist Piston.”

  Suddenly, Paul threw his head back and laughed, a glorious sound that fluttered through my body, making every nerve come alive. I could listen to him laugh all day.

  “Professor Piston isn’t as bad as he seems. He just doesn’t like lazy people or anything really to do with people at all. He only likes me because I laugh at his jokes.” Paul glanced back my way, his dimple showing once more.

  “Well, I didn’t even know about the reading assignment. It’s hardly my fault.”

  Paul gave me a quizzical look. “It was in your welcome packet, wasn’t it?”

  I let out a growl that startled Paul. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to growl, but I didn’t get that either until just yesterday. Something about the Headmaster wanting to meet me.”

  “Why would he want to do that?” Paul cocked his head to the side in the most adorable way.

  I scrambled for an excuse that didn’t involve me telling him my family’s magical last name. For a moment, I was tempted to tell him. I wanted to impress this guy for some reason, something I blame completely on my raging hormones.

  Not coming up with a good excuse, I shrugged. “Beats me. He just wanted to chat.”

  “That’s strange.” Paul’s brow furrowed. “The headmaster doesn’t usually bother with anyone but the top families. You know, the ones who can benefit the school.”

  Not wanting to be caught in a lie, I chose to stay quiet. Instead, I chose to focus on the area around us. Quite a few students were making their way through the hallway on their way to class. It wouldn’t be an anomaly had most of their eyes not been on Paul and me. In fact, it seemed everyone was watching us.

  I would understand the stares at Paul. He was worth staring at. But there were definitely people eyeballing me as well. And whispering. Something was definitely up.

  “Why are they staring?” I asked as we stopped before the open door of the room I knew was Professor Mystial’s. I’d been excited to start this class since it
would for sure be one that had some kind of magical work in it and not just reading about it. However, my excitement was trumped by the ominous stares.

  Paul glanced around us as if just noticing the attention we were receiving. With a shrug and a grin, Paul turned his gaze back to me. “Who knows? But if I were them, I’d be staring at you too.”

  “Why? Do I have something on my face?” I touched my cheek and then swiped the back of my hand over it just in case some of my breakfast had still lingered there.

  He let out another one of those skin-tingling chuckles and brushed my hair behind my ear. “See you later, Max.” His eyes then went to the door, and his smile wilted slightly. “Sabrina.”

  Sabrina’s blue eyes gleamed as she grinned broadly at Paul and placed her hand on his arm, moving in as close to him as possible. “Hi, Paul. I was wondering when I was going to see you. Have you been avoiding me?”

  Inwardly, I cheered at how Paul’s posture tensed up. On the outside, I watched with passive boredom as if their exchange meant nothing to me. I actually was going berserk to know what was going on between the two of them.

  “Was I being too subtle about it?” Paul gave her a tight smile before moving out of her grasp. “I thought I was quite obvious.”

  Sabrina pouted. “Ah, Paulie. You’re not still upset about what happened with your brother, are you? I told you, it was nothing. Just a drunken fling. Plus we were broken up at the time.” She moved in closer once more and trailed her fingers up Paul’s chest.

  Paul caught her hand in his and shoved it back at her. “I don’t have time for this.” Turning back to me, Paul gave me a soft smile. “Sorry, Max.”

  Grinning like a cat that ate the canary, I waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. See you in class.”

  I watched him walk away until he was out of sight, and I had to acknowledge the glowering diva in front of me. With her arms crossed over her chest, Sabrina tapped her fingers on her arm. “Can I help you?” I asked her.

  “Stay away from Paul.” Sabrina stepped closer so that we were nose-to-nose. “He’s off limits. In fact, stay away from any of the guys here. You aren’t worthy of their attention, you filthy little pretender.” She whipped her hair over her shoulder as she left, hitting me in the face with it. I was instantly engulfed in the strong fragrance of her shampoo, or maybe it was her perfume. Either way, she had drenched herself in it, and I almost coughed up a lung trying to get out of it.

  “You should listen to her, you know,” a small voice told me after I finally stopped coughing. I shifted my gaze to the person talking. The brunette who had been with Sabrina the other day stood there, a pitying expression in her eyes. “Sabrina can be vicious. Especially about her exes.”

  “And Paul is one of those, I take it?”

  “Not one of them, the one.” The brunette nodded firmly. “They are always on again, off again, but everyone knows they will eventually get back together. They’re destined for each other.” The way she said it was like it was some deep dark secret she wasn’t supposed to divulge. The fact that she had told me made me wonder if she wasn’t as bad as Sabrina seemed.

  “I don’t think we were introduced.” I held my hand out to her. “I’m Max.”

  The brunette smiled and took my hand. “Monica Magenski. My mother invented the high-temperature cauldron. They’re spelled never to burn no matter how long you are away from them.” She beamed with so much pride that I had to smile back.

  “Nice to meet you,” I told her as we moved into the classroom. “And I think I got one of your mom’s cauldrons. My mom picked it out, so I can’t be sure. I’m pretty new to all this.” I sat my stuff down at one of the tables. This classroom was set up like a chemistry lab with charts and Bunsen-burner-like stations.

  “Oh, you’re one of those kids.”

  I tilted my head to the side curious at her wording. “What kids?”

  Monica quickly explained, “Enders. Those whose parents waited until they absolutely had to tell you about your magical roots. So, tell me, did you blow something up?”

  I flushed at her question. “Yeah, sort of.”

  “Not surprised.” Monica giggled and waved a hand at me. “Most Enders end up blowing something up.”

  “Why do you call them Enders?”

  Before Monica could answer, a throat cleared, and our eyes went to a woman in her mid-forties with her hair twisted tightly on top of her head. Must be Professor Mystial. I made a show of opening my book as Monica moved around the desk, starting to head back to where Sabrina and the other blonde girl sat. When Professor Mystial turned toward the board, she darted back to my side.

  “They’re called Enders because they often end in disaster,” she whispered quickly and then winked at me before skipping back to her spot.

  Frowning down at my book, I thought about what Monica had said. Enders. The magical community obviously didn’t have high expectations for late bloomers, which was all we were. I hadn’t done anything bad enough yet to deserve the name Ender. I mean, I wasn’t going to end in a disaster. I might not be a perfect student, but whenever I put my mind to it, I always excel at what I do. Magic would be no different, and I would prove it to them. Well, right after I figured out how to control my powers.

  Chapter 10

  Professor Mystial’s class was better and worse than Professor Piston’s. While she didn’t go on and on about a bunch of dead guys who may or may not have been frauds, she was very aggressive in her teaching.

  Whenever someone got the answer wrong, she would snipe at them, pointing out what exactly they were doing wrong and announcing it for the whole class to hear. Unfortunately, Potions 101 was a full class, and so when I almost burnt my eyebrows off from mixing too much hydroxy to the newt and sulfur concoction, everyone knew about it.

  Sabrina and her crew cackled like hyenas in the back of the room, pointing and jeering. Monica laughed as well but not quite as much as the rest of them. The blonde with large eyes and even larger breasts, whose name I learned in class was Libby Moreling, seemed perfectly content to go along with anything that Sabrina said or did. A sheep if I ever saw one.

  “No, Norman.” Professor Mystial scowled and jerked the stirring spoon out of my hand. “You must stir it counterclockwise, or the ingredients don’t blend in harmony.”

  “What’s the difference?” I asked, quite fed up with being corrected. A collection of gasps pulled my attention away from the professor and then over to others in the class. Each and every one of them had a shocked expression on their faces, well, except for Sabrina who only laughed.

  Professor Mystial cleared her throat, drawing my attention back to her. “The difference is whether or not you actually create a drought of longevity or blowing up the entire lab.” She shoved the stirring spoon back into my hand. “Now, pay attention. I’d hate to lose a student on the first day.”

  Frowning hard, I forced back the tears of frustration burning my eyes. I stirred counterclockwise as my other hand clutched the counter in front of me. I thought this experience was going to be, you know, magical. That I would learn how to turn teacups into frogs, or maybe how to levitate something, but all I had learned so far was how stupid I was for coming here in the first place.

  “Don’t feel so bad,” Monica murmured as she stopped at the counter next to me to pick up more newt. “Everyone asks that question at the beginning.”

  “Really?” I blinked back my tears and glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. Sabrina was busy talking the other girl’s ear off and didn’t notice Monica hanging around me longer than needed.

  “Yeah, and Sabrina once told me she went bald in third grade because of a potion went awry.” Monica giggled quietly, and I grinned in return.

  “Thanks, Monica.”

  “No problem.” Monica waved at me before hurrying back to where Sabrina sat.

  Monica’s words made me not feel so bad. I wasn’t a complete idiot. I was behind everyone else, and it would be obvious I had a lot to
learn. You would think that if a student were in beginner classes, the teachers would have more sympathy for those who didn’t learn this stuff at birth.

  For the rest of the class, I made sure to do everything exactly as the book said and hung on Mystial’s every word. Thankfully, I was able to get out of class without any more mishaps. Not that Sabrina wasn’t looking for them. Her eyes were boring into my back most of the class. As we were getting ready to leave, she made a point to walk by my table and ‘accidentally’ knock my books off the table.

  “Oops, sorry.” Sabrina grinned but didn’t offer to help me pick them up as she sauntered out of the classroom.

  I let out an aggravated sigh as I knelt to pick up my things. I took me a bit longer than I expected since my pens rolled under the side table. I had to lie down on my stomach and stretch my arm beneath the table to reach them.

  When I stood up, someone else was at my table. The large, intimidating man I ran into back at the administration office stood at my table. He stared down at my things, still sitting on the table with a confused look on his face.

  “Can I help you?” I asked, creeping up to the table slowly as if I were approaching a twitchy animal.

  The large man glanced up at me and then back to my things. “This is my table.”

  My eyes shot to the clock on the wall. It wasn’t even time for the next class yet. It was actually lunch time. Why was this guy menacing at me when he should be feeding his overly large body mass?

  Not willing to test whether or not he was actually hungry and might be tempted to eat me, I went the less sarcastic road. “I’m sorry, I’ll be gone in a moment.” I grabbed my things and shoved them back into my bag, the entire time watching me with his piercing stare.