I ran my finger along the book as I read. The print was tiny, two columns to a page. There was a diagram of a mouse, and another of a plant—not exactly like the plant we had here, but close enough.
Just... take the energy out of the plant, put it back in the cosmos. Keep it close. Move it, carefully, guide it with your hands, like shepherding smoke.
Don’t hold your breath: that was written in big, bolded letters above the diagram.
Take the energy out. Slowly. So I did. Or, at least, I tried to.
The leaves shrivelled and shrank, turning off-yellow. The plant curled up and went stiff, brittle, shrinking and shrinking and shrinking until the leaves cracked like dried mud in the desert.
The energy hovered as an invisible cloud to the left of the plant. The air around it wavered while I held the energy between the mouse’s dead body and the rest of the universe. The energy vibrated, fighting my hold. This middle place, it couldn’t stay here.
Put it somewhere, anywhere.
Very carefully, said the textbook, guide the extracted energy into a carcass of approximate equal size and energy volume. Note that overloading a carcass with energy in excess can and will result in variant mental and physical deficiencies in the target consciousness, including, hallucinations, heart palpitations, random release of adrenaline, aggressive tendencies…
“Miss Balfour.”
Professor Tarkington put his hands on my desk and loomed.
“We have a zero-tolerance policy for academic fraud,” he said. “Cheating has no place in Elmington, and neither do witches who syphon magic from their peers.”
Fuck. He must have found out about the vial Jupiter had given me. But, how?
“I—”
“Miss Balfour, I don’t want to hear another word,” he said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Allegra, Ellenora, and Trixie craning their necks around to stare at me.
Allegra inclined her fiery red head in my direction with a sly smile. She must’ve heard me tell Jupiter I’d used the vial.
“Principal Grabelle is expecting you,” Professor Tarkington said.
“Professor, I just didn’t want to be late on my first day…”
I didn’t know what to do with the energy from the plant and it was growing into a bright blue within my hands. Professor Tarkington looked down at it with a frown then touched his index finger to the energy and transferred it back to the plant. The plant then immediately bounced back to life.
“Now. Miss Balfour.” He took a breath. “And you’ve failed this lesson for today.”
I gathered my books and slung my ratty messenger bag over my shoulder. As I turned to leave, I heard Allegra’s high-pitched laughter from over my shoulder. I sighed, a shallow, defeated huff, and walked up the stairs to the lecture hall’s back door.
“Sorry, Em,” Jupiter said with a well-intended frown.
###
I sat on the narrow wooden bench outside the principal’s office. I crossed my legs at the knee and folded my arms across my chest. My head thumped hard against the bench’s tall, ornately carved backrest. My back straightened reflexively.
I can’t believe I’m sitting on a bench outside the principal’s office like a five-year-old, I thought. Patricia was gonna have a field day with this.
I really hoped she was on a different floor tonight.
I sighed and reached into my bag for yesterday’s issue of The Sight, flipping straight to the crossword.
I squinted down at the seventh clue where I’d gotten stuck yesterday:
I’m a word that’s barely there. Take away my start, and I’m herbal flair. What am I?
“Good freaking question,” I muttered. I tapped the empty boxes with the eraser end of the pencil. Maybe if I glared at the empty boxes long enough, the answer would just appear. Like those Words with Friends knock-offs where the letters start shaking when you’ve exceeded the threshold for acceptable stupidity.
“Herbal flair.” So, spice, I guess? Eight letters.
Camomile. Except ‘amomile’ isn’t a word.
“Sparsely.” A smooth rich voice spoke from above me.
I looked up and felt my breath catch. A man sat next to me on the bench, openly staring at the crossword. Tan skin, blue eyes, goldish-brown hair. Handsome. Beyond handsome, actually. And slouching. He wore a plain black sweater under a tweed jacket. The elbow patches—along with their associated elbows—rested on his knees.
“What?” I said stupidly. The man leaned forward and pointed at the seventh clue slot.
He clasped his hands together and pointed vaguely towards the paper. “Sparsely, it means ‘barely there. And if you remove the ‘s’ it spells ‘parsley’—herbal flair.”
“Yeah, I heard you,” I said and didn’t mean to sound ungrateful but there it was.
“Then what’s the ‘what’?”
He smiled, and I kinda wanted to smile back.
“Nothing,” I said.
“Am I wrong?”
“No.”
He stared at me. He looked like he was waiting for me to say something.
Eventually, I said, “Thanks.”
“Any time,” he went on casually. I looked up to find a heart-melting grin on his gorgeous face. “I didn’t mean to spoil the puzzle for you…” He trailed off, a question in his voice.
“Emma.”
“Emma,” he repeated. Really rolled the letters around in his mouth. “Nice to meet you, Emma.”
“Thanks. Nice to meet you…” I leaned over and eyed the documents on his lap, hoping to catch his name. I got lucky with the guest ID form in front. “Stone,” I read. “Interesting name.”
“Befitting of the man, I assure you,” he said. “So, Emma.” He nodded at the office door. “What are you in for?”
“Beating the system,” I said with a sigh.
“Beating the system?”
“Cheating, I guess. Technically. Supposedly.”
“Supposedly?” he repeated, his grin growing. “So, you didn’t do it?”
“Not on purpose.”
“How does one cheat on accident?”
“Umm… that’s kind of… personal,” I answered. Then decided to change the subject. “What about you?” I asked. “Why are you here?”
“Jury duty.”
“Hmm.” A light laugh bubbled out of me. “I think you might be lost.”
He grinned.
“I’m new here.” He tapped the thick brown folder in his lap with the back of his hand. “Paperwork.”
“Ah.” I said, nodding sagely. “Fucking paperwork.”
“Fucking paperwork,” he echoed. The smile hung softly on his lips, radiating an easy good humor. His smile was warm, inviting like a hearth.
The office door opened.
“Mr. Draper?” The secretary’s chipper voice called through a crack in the door. She peeked around the corner just long enough to nod to Stone, then stepped quickly away to clear a space in the doorway.
Stone stood up and readjusted the button on his jacket. He looked down at me and smiled again, his teeth perfectly white through his brown, sun-kissed stubble.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Emma.”