Accidentally Evil (7 page)

Twelve

I
can't get the dream out of my head. Even when Cody e-mails me again, asking about what our booth will be at Samhain, images from my dream linger. I want to tell him about the dream, but I don't even understand it myself.

I tell Cody he'll have to wait until the celebration to find out because the Crafters have decided to keep it a secret.

We're sitting in the dining room, finishing lunch, when Missy stops at our seats. “Hey, Jo,” she says, “Can I sit here with you? I wanted to show you some of my drawings.”

Jo was elected to oversee the creation of the tattoos for each gift. She's a great artist, but she can't draw
them all and teach us how to draw them all by herself, so she asked for some help, and Missy was the first to offer. They look over the drawings, and it's obvious Jo approves.

“Look, Ivy,” says Jo, passing a sheet of paper to her. “This will be yours.”

I look at the paper as Ivy inspects it.

Ivy must look as confused as I feel, because Missy explains what it means. “The two
Y
s represent hands holding, or crossing spirits. It's what happens when you feel what others feel.”

Ivy hands the paper back. “Looks great. Thanks, Missy.”

“Have you done mine?” Dru asks.

“Or mine?” I ask.

Jo shakes her head. “Not yet. There are a lot of symbols to create. But when I get them done, I'll show you.”

I give her a thumbs-up. The design is really the farthest thing from my mind. Right now I can only think about Cody, what my dream could mean, and how I can figure it out.

We're in Lady Rose's class, and I'm clutching my dream journal. I've been worried Ivy would ask to look at it.
But I haven't asked her, and she hasn't asked me.

“Good afternoon,” Lady Rose says. The door closes with a snap of her fingers, and the candles on a long white table illuminate.

“I trust everyone kept their dream journal last night. Remember that is personal information. Never feel obligated to share your dreams with another. The purpose of the exercise is to practice our awareness. We have incredible power over our thoughts if we'll just learn how to control them. Meditating on what you want to dream about is a small step in harnessing that control.”

The dream journal is on my desk, my hands still tightly wrapped around it. I really don't want to know what my dream meant, but I can't
not
find out.

“Today,” Lady Rose says, “we will learn our first spell. I always like to start with something simple but mean­ingful. Today you'll learn a spell to help you with studying.”

Everyone in the room is whispering things like “Awesome” and “Thank Saffra!”

She waits for the class to quiet down before she continues. “I was hoping you'd feel that way. Please get out your Book of Shadows and a pen.”

I grab the Book of Shadows from my bag and put my dream journal in its place. I search my bag for a pen but can only find pencils and highlighters. I almost ask Dru to make one appear for me, but our teacher doesn't like gratuitous use of our gifts.

I raise my hand. “Lady Rose, may I borrow a pen?”

She walks to me, smiling. “Here you go,” she says.

The pen doesn't fit right in my hand. It's different. And old. Like, really old. It's made of some sort of marble, and it has a metal triangle at the bottom, where the ink comes out. You might know I'd get a funky pen for the very first spell I get to add to my great-great-grandmother's Book of Shadows. Every student inherits a Book of Shadows from her most recent witch ancestor, and I found my book in the attic back home. Considering it's over a hundred years old, it's in pretty good shape. A few worn edges, and the paper is kind of brittle. But it's durable, and Miss A promises me it will last a lifetime.

Lady Rose stands behind the long table. “At the top of the first clean page, please write ‘Study Spell.' ”

The swish of pens across paper breaks the silence. I struggle with the pen. Of all the days for me to forget mine.

“Now you need to list the ingredients.”

Ingredients? Like a recipe?

“A spell is sort of like a recipe,” she answers. “It has to be precise, and you have to follow certain steps. Here are your ingredients for this spell.”

She points to the items on the table as she tells us what they are.

“First thing you need is a yellow candle. You can use white, but yellow is more powerful.”

I write in my book.
Yellow candle. Better than white.

“Next thing you need is something to carve symbols into the candle. I use a toothpick, but use whatever works for you.” She holds up a toothpick, then lays it back on the table next to the candle.

Next she holds up a piece of paper and a pen. Her pen looks almost identical to the one she let me borrow. “You need a small piece of paper and a pen.”

“Finally,” she says, holding up a small glass dish, “you need a flameproof dish.”

She gives everyone a few minutes to finish writing before she continues.

“Now, before I tell you how to conduct the spell, here's a warning.”

Ivy leans over and whispers. “Pay attention to this.”

I give her an eye roll, but she makes sense. As a black magic witch, almost everything I try to do goes wrong.

Lady Rose's voice goes stern. “This is not a spell to be recited in place of studying. It is to heighten your retention of what you learn and then study.”

I make a note in my journal.
Still have to study.

“Let's proceed, ladies. This spell works best when studying with classmates. You can, of course, do this on your own. But the more witches in the spell, the stronger it is.”

Another note.
Practice with a circle of friends.

“You can perform the spell where your study area is. The library, your room, anywhere you study is fine. Carve a symbol representative of academic success, such as a good grade or the rune for wisdom, into the candle.”

“What's a rune?” Dru calls out. I'm glad she asked, because I've never heard that word either.

“I knew you'd ask,” Lady Rose says. “Runes are a set of characters from ancient magic cultures. The rune for wisdom and insight is a sideways
V
. Most students remember it as the ‘less than' sign you use in math when comparing numbers.”

That's what I write in my book.
Rune for wisdom and insight—less than sign. <

“After you've carved the symbol into the candle, sit before it for a moment to focus and center yourself. Then imagine the candle's light filling your head, making your mind clear, focused, alert.”

I scramble to write what she said in my book, but my pen is funky and makes the ink come out in little gobs, and the whole page looks messy. And that's a problem, because I don't do messy.

“Now that you're focused, and the candle has been carved, you're ready to chant the incantation. Remember that chanting is quiet, private. It is not to be said loudly or in anger. Clear minds are critical to good spell casting.”

As she tells us the incantation, I write it down. She makes us repeat it with her several times, and even in a room of twenty-eight girls, we hardly make any sound at all.

“Bright and lively is this flame.

I will my mind to be the same.

I'll be attentive as it burns.

Remembering everything I learn.

I'll focus well and study hard.

Success will be my due reward.”

By the time we've chanted the incantation several times, I feel like I've been hypnotized. Like I just woke up from a long rainy-day nap.

“After the incantation, you will draw the rune for disordered thoughts on the piece of paper. It's an easy symbol—a star. Catch the paper on fire with the candle's flame and put it into the flameproof dish. As it burns to ashes, imagine the same thing happening to any distracting thoughts, allowing you to focus completely on your studies. Study within your circle, keeping the candle lit. When you are done studying, snuff out the candle and close your circle with a blessing. If the candle burns out, get a new one and redo the spell.”

Ivy looks at me, eyes excited. “We are totally doing this tonight when we study for our math test.”

We high-five. “It's a date.”

Thirteen

G
ot everything?” Ivy asks when I walk into our room.

I hold up the bag that contains what we need for the studying spell. “Sometimes it pays to be the teacher's pet.”

We put the candle on the floor between us, along with our math books. We each open our Book of ­Shadows. I can hardly read what I wrote. “That pen Lady Rose loaned me was weird. Look at this. It's a mess. Think I can tear this page out and rewrite my notes?”

Ivy slaps a hand onto my open book. “No! Never tear a page out of that book.”

“Okaaaay,” I say, removing her hand slowly.

“Promise me you won't. Really,
really
bad things can happen.”

“How do you know? Did Linette tell you that?”

“Promise me.” Her voice is more serious, and I realize she isn't kidding.

I hold up two fingers. “Scout's honor.”

Ivy lets out a huge sigh, like she just saved my life. Which only makes me more curious about what happens when a page is torn out of the Book of Shadows. Curiosity can be dangerous at Dowling.

“Should I turn off the lights?” I ask.

Ivy lights the candle with her fingertips like we learned in the Crafter meeting, then nods.

I flip the switch, and the yellow candle lights our room. The last bit of sun peeks through the blinds. It gets dark earlier and earlier this time of year. “We have an hour to study before dinner,” Ivy says.

We use Ivy's notes because they're actually legible, and we follow each step to the letter. After the paper has turned to ash and we turn on the lights, I ask Ivy, “Do you think the spell actually makes you focus more? Or do you think you focus more because you cast a spell? And you trick your brain into thinking the spell makes you smart. Like the placebo effect. Remember that? We learned about that in science last year.”

Ivy looks at me like I've gone a little crazy. “Huh?”

I shake my head. “Never mind.” Is the spell making me too analytical? Because I've got plenty of that in me. I definitely don't need any more.

After thirty minutes of studying, I have to admit I feel more focused, but it's time to take a break.

I yawn, stretch my arms over my head. I look at Ivy sitting across from me on the floor. There's a light blue mist behind her that doesn't make any sense. I shut my eyes tight, rub them. I knew I was tired, but now I'm hallucinating. That can't be good.

When I open my eyes, the blue mist is still there. I point behind her. “Do you see that?”

She looks behind her and shakes her head. “What am I looking for?”

“You don't see anything?”

She turns back around. “Hmmm. Nope.”

My throat tightens, and Ivy reaches over the candle and touches my arm. My fear fizzles through her, and she pulls her hand back. “Why are you so afraid?”

“I don't know,” I want to say. Instead I tell her, “I'm just tired. Guess I'm seeing things.”

She looks at me hard. “I'm not buying it.”

I shrug it off. “I'm fine. I didn't sleep well last night. That's all.”

She leans back against the bed. “You know you can tell me what's bothering you.”

“It's nothing!” There's just a blue mist surrounding you that only I can see. What's wrong with that? I feel slightly—okay, a lot—hysterical.

“Okay,” she says, “You keep forgetting I'm an empath. You can't hide your feelings from me. I'll get the story out of you. You know it's just a matter of time.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I finally force a swallow, and it feels like I've shoved a tennis ball down my throat. She's right, of course. She'll figure it out. But for now the blue mist is my secret. I want to make sure I'm not going crazy first.

I put my notebook back on my lap and begin working on another fraction problem, but I can't focus and Ivy's in the mood to talk.

“Did you ever ask Cody about the rumor Jo and Dru heard?”

I put my notebook down. “You mean the completely ridiculous rumor that he's some kind of royalty at Riley? Uh, no. Because, you know, I'd sound like an idiot.”

Ivy shakes her head. “There's something to this, Hal. I'm telling you. I
feel
it.”

“Quit playing the empath card,” I tell her. “You're wrong about this.”

“Why can't you at least ask him about it?”

I picture Cody and his hair hanging over his eyebrows. And his smile, which would surely turn to hysterical laughing if I asked him such a thing.

“I'm not going to leave you alone until you ask him,” Ivy says.

“Good luck.”

The blue mist is still there, and I'm beginning to think it's not because I'm tired. But I'm way too scared to say anything about it. This is a question for Lady Rose or Miss A, whomever I see first. I look at the clock. Five forty-five. Maybe I can get one of them alone at dinner. The hard part will be talking without the headmistress butting in or—worse—hearing my thoughts.

There's no way I can focus on math anymore, spell or no spell. The blue mist is all I can see.

I go to the bathroom, wash my hands, and splash cold water on my face. I use a towel to dry off, then pause
before raising my head to look in the mirror. Do I really want to know if that same mist is behind me too?

Stop being so afraid. You have the most powerful gift in the building. Stand up on three.

One.

Two.

Three.

I stand straight up, keep my eyes closed. One deep breath and then I'll open them.

In.

Out.

No mist.

Relief runs through me. It had to be the lighting. The candle, the sunset. It had to be that. I'm going to walk back into our bedroom, and the mist will be long gone.

When I walk out of the bathroom, my hope vanishes. Ivy's sitting on her bed, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. And shining out around her entire body is the same light blue I saw before.

“What?” Ivy asks. “Don't knock my hair. I'm doing it without a mirror.”

I have to get out of this room. Maybe seeing Ivy somewhere else will fix it. “Ready to go?”

My heart is beating so fast, I can feel it through my entire body.

Ivy looks at the clock. “We still have ten minutes. Want to keep studying till then?”

I almost laugh out loud. Concentrate on math when my best friend is swimming in a sea of colored mist and doesn't even know it? I don't think so.

“Nah, I think I'm done for now. Can I blow out the candle?”

Ivy shrugs. “Sure. I'm pretty hungry.”

I put the spell ingredients onto my desk. I'm sure these are things we will use a lot. And maybe next time I'll be sane.

“Think it worked?” Ivy asks.

“What?”

“The spell, dummy. Think you were more focused?”

I was totally focused until you turned the air blue.
“Umm, yeah, I guess so. You?”

“I definitely noticed a difference.”

I follow Ivy out the door and into the empty hallway. The blue mist still hangs around Ivy. What is it?

By the time we reach the hall outside the dining room, I'm at least able to breathe normally, even if my hands are still shaking. We walk into the dining room, and whatever sense of peace I had two seconds ago abandons me.

I look at the head table, where the headmistress sits with the dorm mothers. The instructors have their own table, and I look there, too.

My eyes dart from table to table.

No, no, no, no, no.

I shut my eyes as hard as I possibly can, then slowly open them again. Slowly, slowly, slowly . . . My eyes are half open when I see it again.

The same mist thing that I saw on Ivy surrounds every single person in the room. But there are all kinds of different colors. Every possible shade of every possible color. It's like a rainbow threw up in the dining room.

I can hear Ivy saying something, but she sounds a thousand miles away.

Then someone wraps an arm around my shoulder and walks me out of the room.