“Nice to see you, too, Fallon,” I said, glancing around the room at the other dozen or so kids. A quick search showed me that I was, indeed, the last to show. Did I mention that I hate being late? Even if it’s just by a few minutes, my stomach starts to feel queasy. All the research I’ve done on influential people has said that it’s actually good to make people wait for you. It’s supposed to subconsciously make them think that your time is more valuable than theirs. Still, I’d always thought it just made a person seem irresponsible and rude. And I couldn’t help but feel like everyone else in the coven felt the same way. They wouldn’t say it, of course—well, maybe Fallon would—but I think it just gave them more of a reason to shy away from me.
I may have commanded my school, but here I wasn’t exactly the center of attention. Maybe it was because I wasn’t the only extraordinary one in the room. Or because spell casting came easily to me, which meant I didn’t have to work quite as hard as the others and didn’t need to attend as many of our magic meetings to pass our spell tests. This gave the others more time to bond and left me sort of on the outside looking in. But I was too busy with all my commitments at school to hang around witch classes just to watch others try to catch up to where I was. And as of yet, I hadn’t been able to find a spell that allowed me to be in two places at once. Until then, I’d just have to be okay with having the best of one world.
This didn’t mean I didn’t try to get along with the others, though. I looked over at Jackson with an apologetic smile. He was parked at the front of the room where he always stood, arms crossed over his chest. I could tell he wasn’t exactly annoyed that I was the last one to show. In fact, he seemed more amused to hear my excuses than anything. This was probably because I was a lot like him when he was my age. The first couple of years that I’d gone to Cleri magic lessons, Jackson had been there, too, only he’d been in high school at the time. I remember thinking that he had everything together: He’d been incredibly driven and excelled at everything he’d done. He’d gone on to become president of his fraternity in college and then went to work for an advertising firm after graduation.
That’s why it wasn’t surprising when he’d been appointed the new leader of our witching lessons when our old one retired. He could show us how to lead a balanced life as a witch in this world.
In other words, he’d managed to do what I couldn’t: dominate in both his personal life and the responsibilities of his coven. Even so, I think he understood my desire to have a life outside the magical realm. This is where the others and I differed. They’d all chosen to focus more on their magical sides. Me, I thought there was more to life than just practicing spells in someone’s basement. Jackson understood both and worked hard to try to get us to meet in the middle.
“I had a student government meeting after school,” I explained. “We were picking a theme for homecoming and it ran a little longer than expected.”
“What did you decide on?” Sascha asked. She might have been the only ally I had in the group and I knew she was genuinely curious to hear the answer. I had a feeling Sascha lived vicariously through me. Like, she knew she’d never be able to have a big social life, so she settled for hearing about mine. I’d tried on several occasions to give her tips on how she could rule her own school, but she insisted it wouldn’t work. And like they say, if you think you can’t, you’re right. A person had to be confident to live the kind of life I lived.
“Our theme is: Something Wicked This Way Comes,” I announced proudly.
“Wow, and it took you two whole hours to figure that one out?” Fallon asked, snorting as he cracked up at his own joke. I bit back a nasty response. No one could get on my last nerve quite like Fallon. I knew I shouldn’t be bothered by a kid who was several years younger than me, but he irked me every chance he got.
We fought like brother and sister, which in a messed-up way, we kind of were. Not through blood of course, but through the bonds of the coven. It was a connection that went back hundreds of years, to the original Cleri members. To Bridget and the witch trials. This wasn’t what made us bristle with antagonism toward each other though. No, Fallon was the only one who challenged me every chance he got. And I was of the mind-set that you should respect those more powerful than you.
“I think it sounds cool,” Sascha said, still stuck on the theme of the dance.
“Hell, if we had themes like that, I might actually attend school functions,” Jasmine said, picking at her black nail polish. Jasmine was the kind of girl people automatically assumed practiced witchcraft, based on her appearance alone. To say she was a fan of the color black was an understatement. Her makeup was a little on the theatrical side and she had a tendency to frown more than she smiled, but that was who she was. With Jasmine, what you saw was what you got. In a way, she was the only one of us who was being 100 percent herself, 100 percent of the time.
She didn’t even hide her magical abilities. Of course, people just thought she was weird. Goes to show you how clueless the nonmagical community can be. She also didn’t sugarcoat the fact that she thought things like dances were beneath her. According to Jasmine, being witches made us superior to civilians, and typical teenage things like attending parties had no place in our world. She’d rather spend her time perfecting her spells. Needless to say, this might have been the reason we weren’t exactly best friends. Still, it wasn’t like we were enemies, either.
“As much as I’d love to talk dance themes—and my school had a few doozies—we need to get started on today’s lesson,” Jackson said, walking to the middle of the room. He motioned for us to stand up.
I nearly groaned but knew it wouldn’t go over so well with this crowd. It wasn’t that I didn’t like talking magic. Like I said, it sort of came naturally to me and I used spells for just about everything in my daily life. But our bimonthly lessons tended to be about things that didn’t affect me personally. Most of the spells I used on a daily basis I’d either taught myself or created out of necessity. The stuff Jackson taught us had been passed down from generation to generation, and to be honest, seemed a bit old. Sometimes we talked so much about the past that I couldn’t see how it had anything to do with the present.
Jackson said it was like high school in that way: it may seem like we won’t use anything we learn, but eventually it will come in handy. I wasn’t so sure, but until I turned eighteen, I had no choice. At least according to my parents. They said that if witch lessons were good enough for our ancestors, they were good enough for me.
So I kept my thoughts to myself as we gathered around him.
“Does anyone know what our greatest asset is when it comes to our magic?” Jackson asked.
“Knowledge?” Peter, the youngest in the group, said.
“Intelligence?” Sascha guessed.
“Our ability to trick our opponents!” Fallon shouted, as if we weren’t all standing within a few feet of him. I covered my right ear, which was now ringing, and prepared to answer.
“Power.” There was no doubt in my mind that this was my greatest asset when it came to performing spells.
“All of those are good answers, and in a way, you’re all correct,” Jackson answered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his fitted jeans. The charcoal color of his sweater made his blue eyes stand out even more than usual. I could see why he’d been such a catch as a teenager. If he weren’t so old now—almost twenty-five—we might’ve made a great power couple. Alas, I’d never understood the whole teacher/student attraction. Not for me, thanks.
Jackson continued his lecture. “Good guesses, but there’s one very small, very simple thing you’re each overlooking.”