by Nissa Leder
Another group of four people in masks, this time three girls and one guy, pass us as the rest of the masked people in the room all gather straight ahead of us.
One guy drags a wooden box around in front of them all and another guy steps on top of it.
Instead of being black like all the other masks, his is white.
“The doors are now closed for the night. We will be selecting ten of you in this room to join the Mystics,” a familiar voice says.
It’s obvious he’s doing his best to disguise himself by speaking an octave lower than normal, but I recognize something about his tone.
Olivia and Micah push through the group of people who’ve congregated to my left. They’re each holding two glasses of wine.
Micah hands Callum one and Olivia does the same for me. Then she leans closer to me and whispers, “That’s Jake.”
I look at the guy speaking again and take in his tall, athletic frame.
“Did you know he’s a Mystic?”
Olivia shakes her head. “No idea.”
“Mingle and talk with as many of us masked members as you can, because we all will vote on who will be given a bid to join the Mystics. Then we will inform those selected over the next couple of weeks,” Jake says.
A girl to his right steps in front of him and drops something from her hand. When it collides with the ground, a burst of smoke rises.
It takes thirty seconds or so before the smoke clears and all the masked people have dispersed.
“God, that’s way too dramatic.” Callum rolls his eyes as he scoffs.
“I’m going to go find a certain someone,” Olivia tells Wren. “Find you later?”
“Sure. I have to find someone too,” I say then excuse myself from Callum and Micah.
I weave in and out of people searching for my brother. Everyone is dressed in slacks and dresses. Some girls opted for a revealing look while others chose more elegant attire.
I pass five masked guys before finally locating my brother. A girl in a tight red dress talks to him. Her dark hair is curled into long waves and she has way too much eyeliner on. She reaches out her hand and brushes his bicep before releasing a fake chuckle.
“My turn,” I say before squeezing in between them.
She huffs. “Excuse me. I’m not done here.”
“Yeah. You are.” I raise my hand and wave. “Byeee.”
Anger reddens her face to match her dress and she looks at Beck like he’s going to tell me to wait my turn.
He sighs and clenches his jaw, but like a good brother, doesn’t come to her defense.
When the girl realizes that unless she wants to make a scene she has to move on, she glares at me before moving down the room to the next person in a mask.
“That was rude, you know,” Beck says.
“When exactly did you join this… posse.” I’m not sure I’ve ever used the word posse, but somehow it was the first thing to pop into my mind.
“Last semester they did a second round of invites.” Beck keeps his voice down. “After Sebastian disappeared from school, the Mystics did some reorganizing.”
“Why do you even want to belong to this thing?” I ask.
“Because the connections I make here at Wicklow will set the tone for the rest of my life. If you’re so against them, why are you even here?”
I lift the glass of wine in my hand. “Free alcohol.”
“I thought you’d actually started to grow up.” Beck crosses his arms. “But maybe you’re still the same kid who worries more about parties than reality.”
A burst of anger flashes through me, hot and heavy. When everything around me shifts pink, I close my eyes.
No. Not this again.
I thought I was through with the episodes I’d had after my run-in with the Wendigo. Not one single one had happened all summer.
With my eyes shut, a vision of the forest flickers in my mind. The metallic stench of blood fills my nose as the scene moves to the ground where a dead deer lies on the ground, its throat ripped from its body. I push the image out of my head and open my eyes again.
Thankfully, the coloring looks normal again.
“Does Elaine know?” I ask, desperate to change the subject and keep my brother from noticing anything is wrong.
“I’m going to tell her,” he says.
“When?” Belonging to a secret society is kind of a big thing. If he’s been a member since last year, how has he not told her already?
“Just give me a little time.” Beck releases his arms to his side. “Please.”
“Elaine and I are friends again. I don’t want to keep a secret from her.”
“Time. Please. For your brother.” He gives me the look he’s perfected. The one where his eyes double in size and get a little glossy like he’s about to cry.
“You better tell her soon,” I say.
“I will. Scouts honor.” He extends his hand.
I take it and give it a shake.
“You’re really warm,” he says, concerned.
“It’s just hot in here,” I lie.
A wave of nausea washes over me. “I better find my friends.” With that, I hold my stomach as I hurry away.
Four
After the incident at the Mystics party, I take it easy for the rest of the weekend. Elaine comes and visits me, and with a lot of effort, I manage to keep Beck’s secret.
It isn’t like I’m lying to her. Unless she asks me if Beck is part of the secret group, then I won’t have to lie. But I know it’s info she deserves to know.
Besides Elaine, Olivia is the only one I see Sunday.
“I can’t believe Jake is the leader,” she says as she types something on her phone. “It means we’re practically shoe-ins.”
“Will you actually join if you’re invited?” I ask.
She finishes up on her phone then clicks it off and tosses it to her side. She’s sitting criss-cross on the rug at the end of my bed, dressed in yoga pants and a flowy tank with her platinum hair pulled into a top knot.
“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I wasn’t quite as excited about the idea before I found out Jake’s role. But it’s a really important part of his life, so I want to be a part of it, ya know?”
I can’t blame her for that. But her hippy-spirit just seems so opposite a secret society.
A second later, her phone dings. She reaches for it and reads something, then says, “I’m actually going to go see him now. Don’t hate me for bailing.”
“Not at all.” I smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She hops up and gives me a hug before leaving.
I spend the rest of Sunday unpacking some of my decorations then wasting some time watching Netflix before falling asleep with the TV on.
Monday morning I wake from the bright sun blaring into my eyes.
Despite passing out by nine o’clock, my body is protesting. After a summer of sleeping in, it isn’t quite ready to live by a schedule. Especially one that starts so early.
As I drift back to dreamland, a knock wakes me.
I try to ignore the sound, but it happens again, this time louder.
“Wren,” Olivia says, her voice distant. “Unlock your door and let me in. I’ve come with a gift.”
I grunt as I roll out of bed and stumble to the door, my eyes blinking as they adjust to the sunlight.
If I was back in my room at home, I could have used a spell to unlock the door. The more and more I’ve gotten used to magic, the lazier I’ve become. But the doors at Wicklow are spelled not to be affected by magic. So the old-fashioned manual way it must be.
I spin the bold lock and twist the handle.
Olivia comes in, way too ready for the day. Her hair is styled in long waves and she’s applied a full face of makeup. She reaches out her arm, holding a to-go coffee cup in her hand.
“I figured you didn’t bring your own coffee maker.”
I shake my head as I take the cup from her. “You’re an angel.”
; The only thing worse than having to wake up so early after an entire summer for sleeping until noon would be waking up with no coffee.
“You better hurry. Class starts in ten minutes.”
“Seriously?” Since I dozed off early last night, I must have forgotten to set an alarm. Oops.
“See you at lunch,” Olivia says before heading to her first class.
After a few sips of coffee, I’m awake enough to head to the bathroom and pull my hair into a messy bun. I pat some cold water on my face and quickly swipe on some mascara and some lip gloss. Then I throw on my uniform and, with my cup of coffee in my hand, hurry to the bottom floor of the academy for Magical History.
When I rush into the room nearly out of breath, I’m surprised to see Elaine, Garrett, Natalia, and Van all sitting next to each other by the door. The class is already full, but there’s an open seat next to Elaine.
“We figured if we were all in this class together, you might be too,” Elaine says. “So, we saved you a seat.”
I sit down just as Professor Simmons stands up and moves to the front of the classroom.
“Welcome to your second year here at Wicklow Academy. First, I want to congratulate you all. Your incredible performances at the end of the year have earned you all an opportunity no Sorcerers have had before.” She shifts her gaze from left to right. “This is an unprecedented time in our world, and so, the council has decided our teaching methods should be adjusted. This year, you will continue to work with the group you were assigned to last year. You will all move from class to class as one, where you will progress as a whole instead of the individual.”
Everyone in my group glances around at each other. We went through so much last year, and despite the stacking odds against us, made it out victorious. Although we’re all so different, I can’t imagine working with any other team of people.
I wonder if they all feel the same way.
Professor Simmons turns toward the chalkboard behind her, her long silver braid flipping to her other side. “But Magical History is an individual class, so you will still all be required to take your exams alone. So, let’s not waste any more time.”
With that, she begins a lesson on the role Sorcerers played during the Civil War. Although almost two centuries after the Salem Witch Trials, Sorcerers were still on high secretive alert, which meant many of them went into hiding to avoid exposure in the war. But of course, Sorcerers lived on both sides of the conflict, from Yankee to Confederate to slave, and some crucial battles were determined at the hand of magic. Some even speculated that magic was used in Lincoln’s assassination.
Although history was always so boring, learning it now from the angle of Sorcery brings me a whole new level of interest.
When class is dismissed, we all walk to our next class together.
The first thing I notice is Van and Natalia holding hands. It was clear all last semester that they still had something going on, but holding hands in public means it must be official again.
Elaine glances at their interlocked fingers and then looks at me with a grin. I’m waiting for her to say something. To remind them that, once again, their relationship and ability to get along the entire year will affect us all. But she doesn’t say anything about it.
“The Five Musketeers back together again,” Van says with a grin.
“Five Musketeers?” Natalia raises her eyebrows. “I veto that name.”
“You can’t veto it,” Van says. “You aren’t president.”
“Fine. Who votes that we name ourselves the Five Musketeers?” As she says the name, she mockingly lowers her voice.
Elaine and I keep our hands down. Garrett raises his halfway before realizing no one else likes it.
“Come on, man,” Van says.
Garrett shrugs.
“So, team name is still pending.” Natalia smirks.
We are the first to arrive to Professor Lamberg’s class. This time, we choose seats on the far end of the room next to the window and toward the front of the class.
Lamberg is laughing to himself as he types something on his phone and doesn’t even notice us.
A couple of minutes later, Callum enters the room, followed by Olivia and Micah.
When Callum sees me, he smirks.
“Wren!” Olivia practically skips over to hug me.
“Hey,” I say as we hug. “That coffee was a real lifesaver.”
“What are friends for,” she says as she pulls away.
Thirty seconds later, their group members Leo and Daniel walk in. Their team chooses the group of seats behind ours, Callum directly behind me.
Soon, the room is full and class begins.
Professeor Lamberg sticks his phone in his drawer and stands up, addressing the class from behind his desk.
“Welcome to Dueling 201,” he says. “We will continue from where we left off last year, building on the strong set of foundations you’ve already learned. With our new group model, we will spend an equal amount of time on individual duels and group duels to better prepare you for a career as a Protector.”
The rest of the day passes similar to the first classes. Olivia’s group is also in fourth-period Incantations. Zane’s group is in my third-period Combat and fifth-period Potions and Herbs. And none of them are with us in sixth-period defensive spells.
Finally, classes are over for the day and I don’t have to hear anything else about how important our class is to the future of the Sorcery world, how much more they expect of us, or what exactly we will be learning throughout the year. Or how failing finals will get us kicked out.
As I’m walking down the hallway toward the stairs, Callum calls me. “Wren, wait up.” He half-jogs to catch me. “How are you doing?”
“Ready for a nap,” I say.
“No, I mean, how are you doing?” He emphasizes each word.
At first, I have no clue what he’s talking about, but then I realize he means about the whole Wendigo incident. “I’m okay.”
“I had hoped being back at school didn’t trigger anything for you.”
I remember the party. I’m about to lie and pretend nothing happened, but honestly, keeping the stress of it all to myself is a pain. “I had an incident at the Mystics party. But nothing since.”
Callum takes my hand and leads me into an empty classroom. “What kind of incident?”
“I was talking to my brother and I got a little annoyed and it seemed to trigger whatever it is that’s been happening to me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” His jaw tightens.
“It came and went so fast, I didn’t want to make it into a big deal.”
With a sigh, his mouth softens. “I’m here for you. Anything you need from me, just ask. And please, if you aren’t willing to see a Healer, at least let me know when something happens.”
I remember being sick as a kid. One time, I had the worst fever, paired with aches and chills and everything that makes someone miserable. My mom came and checked on me and then let me know she and my dad had a work emergency. I opened my mouth to protest. To tell her how much I wanted her to stay. To make her understand how bad I felt. But she gave me this look that said, “You aren’t what’s most important to me, so just suck it up and you’ll live.”
So, I shut my mouth, and later, when I knew she and my dad were gone and the nanny was busy on the other side of the house, I cried myself to sleep.
Without thinking, I reach for Callum’s hand and squeeze it. “I will.”
Our gazes connect and my heart hammers in my chest. A fuzzy warmth spreads through me, and I’m about to lean toward him when someone walking down the hall yells something to someone else.
I startle and pull my hand back.
With everything that’s happened between us, I need to be careful.
“I better get back to my room. Olivia and I are planning on hanging out.”
“Of course.” Callum retracts his hand from mine and follows me out of the room.
Five
I’m standing in the woods, surrounded by looming trees and the spicy scent of pine. The moon hides, half-hidden behind clouds, but still finds a way to cast its light down on the forest below.
How did I get here? My mind is fuzzy, like a layer of mist is clouding my head.
Slowly, my thoughts focus, and it hits me. This isn’t real. It’s just a dream.
But not a regular one.
Something calls in the distance. At first, I think it’s just an owl. But as it grows louder and clearer, I hear my name.
Although it’s probably a stupid idea, I follow the voice.
It doesn’t take long for me to know where I’m headed.
The familiar path leads me to a place I wish I’d never gone: the hut with the Wendigo.
Last time I came to this building, my grandma was inside. And from the magic radiating from the structure, my guess is she’s there again.
I take deep breaths as I walk up the porch and open the creaky door. With one last gulp of courage, I step inside.
I’m expecting the room to look as it did the last time I was here. Like a normal room in a normal house. But it looks just as it did when Zane and I stumbled upon it last semester.
Instead of a cauldron in the middle, there’s a rocking chair of bone. Sitting on it is my grandma.
Unlike before, she looks inhuman. Light blue-gray skin clings to her thin figure. Her large eyes seem too big for her face, and her silver hair is tangled and coarse.
“Granddaughter.” She tips her head, her voice like sandpaper.
How is this the same woman that sipped tea in my last dream?
“I apologize for my appearance. I’ve gone too long without feeding and my magic must not be wasted on mere appearances.” Her elbows rest on the chair’s arms. “But I wanted you to see the real me here in your dreamscape first.”
“First?”
“Yes, you see, I want to meet you.” She twists her arms and gestures with her index finger. “Come closer.”
I hesitate, swallowing hard. This isn’t real. It’s just a dream. So, I shouldn’t be afraid, right?
Somehow I’m not convinced.