“Strange,” she mutters. “This spell is clearly rare and old. I’ve never heard of it. But it doesn’t have the usual markings that tell you what class and type it is.”
“Why would it?” I ask. I’ve been trying to French braid my hair, the way Gran would do it for special occasions, but I keep ending up with a tangled mess. Finally I just rake my brush through my hair and give up. “If I were selling black spells, I wouldn’t go around advertising what they were.”
“Yeah . . .” She tugs thoughtfully at her lip, then pulls a pencil from behind her ear to make a small change to the arrangement.
It’s weird. It’s almost like ever since Darby and I saw the ghost in our room, we’ve been on the same team. Not really friends—ever since she found out my secret, she’s gone from being moody and withdrawn to outright mean, and even said she’d volunteer to be part of the orchestra that rips out my echo tree—but at least we’re allies. We both need to talk to Other Amelia, and we need each other to do it.
“What will you say to her?” I ask softly.
I’m not sure she’s going to answer. She’s quiet for a long time, staring hard at the sheets of music.
But then she says, “I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it. I just want to say something. Anything. Goodbye, I guess. Tell her about my crappy roommate who took her place.”
I sigh. “Apparently she already knows all about me.”
Darby looks up then, her eyes hard. “Yeah. Funny, isn’t it? How she comes back from the grave to haunt you, but not to talk to me.”
“Huh?” I’ve got a pillow in my lap, and I hug it tighter.
“I mean, it is a total Amelia move,” she adds. “Revenge was always her thing. But she could have at least said hi to me. Or not disappeared when I tried to talk to her.”
“Like you said, she was probably just scared.”
“And where has she been since then?” She glares at me like it’s my fault Other Amelia is avoiding her.
But what can I do? I’d be more than happy if the ghost shifted her attention to Darby. She struck three more times this week, blowing away my sheet music, moving my flute while I was playing it, even spilling my bowl of tomato soup at lunch. Everyone at the table had laughed so hard that Claudia choked on her bread and had to be given the Heimlich maneuver by Miss Becker. At least that distracted everyone from the fact that the ghost was busy dragging her invisible fingers through the spilled soup, spelling out a message just for me: WATCH OUT—
I’d dashed my hand through the soup before anyone could see, and before Other Amelia could complete her threat.
But I don’t tell Darby about any of that. Even though besides Jai, she’s the only person who would believe me. The more I talk about Other Amelia sabotaging me, the angrier Darby gets, and I need her as much on my side as possible. Because what if she decides to team up with Other Amelia in getting me expelled? I can’t last against both of them.
“We better get some sleep,” Darby says at last, putting away the black spell. She keeps it hidden in a folder under her mattress. “Tomorrow’s the big day.”
I nod and slide under the blankets.
In the hallway, a girl yells, “You are going down tomorrow, guppies! Hahaha! Get ready to be zombie-fied!”
I shiver and don’t fall asleep for hours.
Chapter Twenty-One
Catch Us If You Canon
AT DUSK ON SATURDAY, everyone gathers on the edge of the Echo Wood, dressed in dark clothing and toting their instruments—all except us guppies, who weren’t allowed to bring anything.
Musical zombies is kind of like capture the flag, only instead of flags, you’re supposed to capture seventh graders using charm spells. The students are divided into the four Mystwick classes: Aeros, Percussos, Chordos, and Labrosos. Whichever of the four teams has the most of us guppies locked up in their “camp” at the end wins the game, and gets to claim the other classes’ desserts at every meal until Christmas.
“You mean we don’t even get to play?” Jai groans. “What’s the point if you’re just going to be bait?”
“Are you kidding?” says an eleventh grader. “The fact that we get to round up guppies is the best part!”
I wave to Jai as he’s led away with the rest of the Chordos. I hope he doesn’t get charmed, because I don’t know if Darby and I can play the ghost trap spell on our own.
“Got the sheet music?” I whisper to her.
She nods and pats her pocket. Our instruments, wrapped in protective plastic bags, are hidden deeper in the wood, where we stashed them earlier in the day.
We follow the senior Aeros into the woods, walking in silent single file. It’s dark under the trees, and the seniors shush anyone who tries to talk. They don’t want to give away the location of our camp. Above, the branches of the echo trees look like bony fingers, most of the leaves fallen by now. But even so, the sound of Canon in D, the great summoning spell that protects the school, still echoes faintly in the branches.
Then we hear a sudden roll of frantic drumbeats, and someone says, “It’s Rebel Clef!”
Rosa was right about her band: the minute they start playing, the whole Echo Wood fills with their music. The rock spell is dark and tense, the bass echoing in my bones, while the screeching guitar riffs wash over me like a swarm of spiders. Balls of fiery light drift through the trees, making the whole place a huge playground of shadows and light. The fireballs prowl around like they’re looking for someone to devour, pulsing in time with the beat of the booming bass drum. Even though I know they’re not real fire, just illusions, I still duck when one swoops overhead.
Accompanied by the pounding tempo of Rebel Clef’s spell, we reach Camp Aero, a square clearing with torches burning at each corner and a sort of pen in the middle. That’s where the older Aeros will put the seventh graders they catch from Percusso, Chordo, and Labroso.
Darby and I are “branded” with the other Aero guppies: the eighth graders solemnly paint red stripes on our faces that indicate we’re bait. I shiver, even dressed in my Mystwick sweatsuit and jacket. The sky is cloudy and the wind restless, like it’s going to storm later. The echo trees shudder and creak overhead. The place might be peaceful and beautiful in the daylight, but at night, with Rebel Clef’s fireballs stalking the woods, it’s like a nightmare. Us guppies are all wide-eyed and scared, but the older students are obviously loving every minute.
“Man, I’m glad I’m not in your shoes,” says the eighth grader painting my face.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
“Listen up, guppies!” yells Phoebe, our self-appointed Aero commander. She’s got instruments hanging all over her—a piccolo in her hand, a flute case on her back, her belt holding a harmonica, a pan flute, and an ocarina. “Your job is simple: run and don’t get caught. And you’re on your own out there. It’s against the rules for us seniors to stay too close to you. So if you hear a charm spell, go in the opposite direction. If they get too close, and you get charmed, you’ll spend the rest of the night as a zombie. And you’ll be in charge of washing our dirty gym clothes the rest of term!”
“This is a stupid game,” Darby mutters.
“But if, at the end of the night, you’re still charm-free,” Phoebe adds, “you’ll get full honors: access to the senior break room for the rest of the year!”
We all perk up at that. The senior break room is way better than ours—rumor has it they have free arcade games and Ping-Pong tables.
Then I remember Darby and I have more important business.
Off through the trees, the Rebel Clef drummer starts a long drumroll.
“Almost time!” Phoebe yells. “Loosen up, guppies!”
Around me, the other seventh-grade Aeros start panicking. George looks like he’s about to pass out. Claudia is pale and frozen in place.
But Darby looks fierce and focused. She meets my eyes and gives me a small, secret nod. I return it, my heart pounding as fast as the Rebel Clef drum.
W
hen the band launches into a loud, furious guitar solo, the older kids start shoving us toward the trees, screaming “Run! Run! Run!”
Darby finds me, grabs my hand, and pulls me into the woods.
“We have to reach the rendezvous spot before any other teams find us!” she says. “Or we’ll get charmed and lose our chance at pulling this off. And that chatty boyfriend of yours better not get himself caught.”
“He’s not my—”
But she’s already sprinting away, and I have to race to catch up.
We run through the woods, dodging the flaming balls and sticking to shadow, aiming for the place where Jai found me Composing a few weeks ago, and where our instruments are hidden. He should be running from the Chordo camp now to meet us there.
Suddenly I skid to a halt, grabbing Darby’s hand.
She pulls away. “What are you—”
“Shh! Listen!”
I can hear a Percusso playing a glockenspiel ahead, and I think they must be pretty committed to be this far out in the woods with such a big instrument.
“Charm spell,” Darby whispers.
I nod. “And they’re right between us and our instruments.”
“Out of the way, guppies!” calls a voice behind us.
We turn and nearly get bowled over by Phoebe, who’s sprinting toward the hidden Percusso. I wonder how she can run at all, carrying enough instruments to equip a small orchestra. She whips up her piccolo and blasts a freezing spell, blue lights zinging from the opening of her instrument to speed through the trees, and we hear a startled shout ahead as the Percusso’s spell cuts short.
Phoebe lowers her piccolo and glares at us. “Seriously? Two minutes in and you’re already almost getting caught?”
“Geez,” Darby mutters. “It’s only a game.”
We dart past Phoebe, as she splutters about how we’re stupid kids who don’t know the difference between a trumpet and a trombone.
A short distance ahead, we pass the Percusso, who’s frozen in place by Phoebe’s spell. She has a small glockenspiel in front of her, supported by a neck strap, but her fingers are locked on the keys, barely able to even twitch. Behind her is an unlucky Chordo seventh grader, his eyes wide and vacant in his trance state. I’ll bet he was the first one caught tonight. He reminds me of Rooter when I charmed her out from under the coop.
“You won’t get far!” the Percusso shouts at us, her voice strained as she struggles to move her frozen lips. “This is our territory!”
“These guys take this way too seriously,” Darby says.
“Maybe it’s more fun when you’re not the bait,” I reply.
She laughs, and I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard her do that.
We charge on through the trees, stopping every now and then to get our bearings. Wherever we go, we can hear Rebel Clef’s music like a distant heartbeat, pumping through the Echo Wood. The trees faintly resonate along, but this far out from the band, the spell sounds slightly warped. And there’s a funny tune mixed in, a high, eerie tone . . .
Darby and I slow to a stop.
An angel steps out from behind a tree ahead of us, playing a deep, haunting melody on her viola.
Her long, dark hair shimmers around her shoulders. Her spell floats around her, airy, white curls of magic that make her shine. The melody is entrancing, velvet notes pouring into my mind and filling it with soft, warm light, light that obliterates all thought. A feeling of peace suffuses me, and I feel all my muscles relax. My worries release, carried away by that smooth current of magic.
The violist’s dark eyes seem to glow as she approaches us. Closer and closer she gets, until she’s standing between us, smiling over her viola. Darby stares too, eyes wide, mouth open.
When the Chordo girl walks on, Darby and I follow.
Slowly, she leads us through the trees, her spell unending, her magic delicate and bright. White, wispy lights caress my face and wind in my hair, drawing me along. My head is full of pleasant, fuzzy warmth, and all I want is to keep feeling the way I’m feeling right now. Forever. I’ve never been so free of pain and struggle and worry.
Dimly, I remember that I was supposed to be going somewhere. To do something important. But I can’t recall what it was, and now it seems so small and silly.
Someone ahead of us shouts. A boy, waving us over. He seems happy to see us. I don’t really care.
“In here!” says the boy. “Hurry, hurry! That’s two at once, Riya! Amazing!”
The girl leads us into a fenced area surrounded by torches. In the firelight, she’s even more beautiful. I want to lie at her feet and profess my undying loyalty.
Then she lowers her viola and the spell breaks.
“Ugh!” she moans. “My fingers feel raw!”
Darby and I blink at each other blearily. My head clears as the last of the charm fades away, and a feeling of horror sweeps over me as I realize the position we’re now in.
“Nooooo . . .” Darby groans, rubbing her head. “This can’t be happening!”
“Oh, it’s happening,” says the Chordo girl cheerfully. “You two were easy pickings.”
“My turn,” says the boy. He looks at his teammate. “Watch these two while I go hunt.”
She nods and perches on the fence. The boy closes the gate and heads into the woods, lifting a guitar and starting to strum the most beautiful tune . . .
“Snap out of it, Jones!” Darby yells.
I blink, startled, and then clap my hands over my ears. Is this how Rooter felt every time I charmed her out from under a coop or down from the branches of a tree? Like her mind had been stolen and played with like putty in someone else’s hands?
I’ve got a lot of apologizing to do to that chicken.
The Chordo girl, Riya, laughs. “You might as well get comfortable. It’s going to be a long night.”
Miserably, I sit in the corner. Darby paces in front of me, looking furious.
“We could sneak out,” I whisper.
She shakes her head. “She’ll just charm us before we can go three steps.”
Groaning, I lie back on the loamy forest floor and stare up as a Rebel Clef fireball passes overhead. Is it my imagination, or does that thing have a face? It looks like a fiery, grinning skull. I wouldn’t put it past Rosa, going the extra mile to scare us all. The fireball passes over and straight through a tree outside the fence.
I glance at Riya, just to see if she might be looking the other way so we can sneak off, but she’s looking right at me. She smiles and blows me a kiss.
And I sit up straight, stomach turning over. “Riya! Riya, behind you!”
But Riya only rolls her eyes. “Nice try, guppy.”
“No, really! The tree! The tree is on fire!”
Darby looks up and gasps.
I’d thought the fireballs were just illusions, but where it hit the tree, flames are now spreading. The leaves are going up in smoke, and burning branches crash to the ground.
Riya must sense the light, because she finally turns, and then falls off the fence with a yelp.
“Fire!” she screams. “Fire!”
She turns and runs in the other direction as the fire jumps from one tree to the next, forming a massive curtain of flames. I stare at it, taking one step forward and sniffing the air.
Huh. Vanilla.
“Are you crazy?” Darby yells. “Come on! It’ll be here in seconds!”
She pulls on my sleeve, but I push her away and grin. “This way!”
While she gapes, I run toward the fire—and straight through it.
“It’s an illusion!” I shout. It’s just like the fire from the Planting Ceremony, which everyone had thought was real. There’s no heat coming from these flames at all.
I see Darby hesitate on the other side of the fire, but then she must make up her mind, because she sprints toward me. Even so, she gives a little shriek when she passes through the flames.
“Told you,” I say. “Listen.”
Som
eone is playing a violin ahead, and I have a good idea who it is.
“Jai!” I shout when he walks out of the trees.
He grins as he wraps up the spell, then takes a low bow. Behind us, his fire flickers out, and the trees—which had looked charred and smoldering—are back to their normal state.
“I got to the meeting spot and you guys weren’t there,” he says. “Figured you got yourselves zombie-fied. So, you’re welcome.”
Darby grunts. I think she’s embarrassed, since she’d been so sure he would be the one to get charmed.
“Come on,” she says, “we’ve lost too much time already.”
I high-five Jai as we follow her into the trees. “That was amazing! You should have seen that girl take off.”
He shudders. “This game sucks! Those seniors are maniacs! We’re going to need therapy after—”
“Let’s go!” Darby growls.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Chords of Binding
AFTER RETRIEVING MY FLUTE and Darby’s oboe, we head deeper into the woods, trying to get as far from the other students as we can. Pinning my case under my arm, I rub my hands together, trying to warm them. The night’s getting colder and colder; my breath starts appearing as a misty puff in front of me.
We walk until we can’t see any light from the fireballs or hear Rebel Clef’s spells. This deep into the woods, many of the trees aren’t even echo trees, just regular aspens and pines. We must be at the very edge of the school property. Beyond, the mountains rise up and block out the sky.
“Okay,” I say, after ten minutes of hiking. “Think this will do it?”
Darby drops her case and clicks it open, taking out her oboe. “We’ll need light to read the spell.”
“On it,” says Jai, striking a quick rendition of “This Little Light of Mine.” A soft blue ball of light flickers into existence over our heads. It’s just enough to illuminate the spell sheets Darby made for us, transposed from the original spell.
The Mystwick School of Musicraft Page 18