Spellbound (2 page)

 

Getting to school a little early was a good plan. My first class was still empty, so I was able to discreetly slip the form the gray lady gave me to my first teacher, Mrs. Urbealis, who greeted me warmly and said, “Sit anywhere.”

She looked sharp and clever. I figured I could ask.

“Anywhere? Come on, where should I
really
sit?” Back in Keansburg, I always had the third seat in the second row. In every single class. Enough of a breeze if the window was open, and if it was cold out, the first row got the brunt of the chill. Great seat. Sonny, the funniest guy in class, always sat in the front…Cyndi, our class president sat behind him. I stared at the desks, knowing that they had been unofficially assigned since the first week of freshman year.

Mrs. Urbealis broke into a knowing smile.

“Okay, Emma. I would say, take that seat.” She gestured to the last seat in the seventh row. The last seat in the classroom. If this were a chessboard, I'd just be a rook. Appropriate, since I felt like a rookie.

I smiled gratefully and sat down, pulling out my notebook and absentmindedly doodling on the green cover. I usually drew circles or loops…nothing meaningful. I got lost in my doodles, and started daydreaming. Maybe New York wouldn't
be so bad. This is the city that people spend their entire lives trying to get to, right? There were enough distractions…it wouldn't be like home, where I knew everyone and was still so utterly alone.

I looked down at my green notebook cover and realized I'd just drawn a bunch of eyes. I shuddered at the ominous artwork and flipped the cover open, checking out the other students who had started to file in. They were all a little…glossy. I had wondered where everyone was right before the bell rang, then realized that all the girls must have been polishing their looks in the bathroom. Lips perfectly shiny. Hair brushed and freshly flat-ironed, or arranged in carefully messy curls. I self-consciously reached up to my cowlick, making sure it was behaving and staying in place, relieved to find it in line with the rest of my hair.

Good little soldier,
I thought, patting my hair.

The bell rang, and Mrs. Urbealis called the class to attention.

“Okay guys, you know where we left off. Let's continue with Tammany Hall and the political machine. Please open your books to page 106.”

I ran my hand over my history textbook, then turned the cover back. A large snap rang through the mostly quiet room as I broke the spine on my brand-new book. I could feel the eyes of every student in that room staring at me through my wall of hair, which was doing nothing to protect me.

“Class, we do have a new student. Miss Emma Connor.” She paused.

Please, oh, please, do not make me come up there and tell you a little something about myself.

“Let's make her feel welcome, shall we? Show her the Vincent Academy way?”

She gave me a warm smile and I felt better, hoping, deep
down, that the Vincent Academy way would be a good thing.

It turned out that my next class, math, was in the same room, so I just sat in the same desk, as did the girl in front of me. She turned around with a big smile.

“Hi, I'm Jenn,” she said with a big smile. “Jenn Hynes. How's your first day?” She seemed friendly enough, the kind of girl I would have hung out with back in Keansburg. All those friends ditched me because they either were afraid of Henry, or were afraid of how it looked to be friends with me, the poster child for tragedy. I stopped getting invited anywhere, since I wasn't considered fun at parties anymore. When I did bother to show up, I turned into the designated-driving police and was deemed a total buzzkill.

“Oh, it's okay so far.” I tried to match her bright smile. “So far so good.”

“Where are you from?”

“Philadelphia.” I readied myself to churn out the performance of a lifetime. “My parents—well, my mom, actually—”
Why not make it my mom who got the job? Yay, female empowerment!
“—got a job transfer. They needed her in Tokyo, and I didn't want to go, so I moved to live with my aunt Christine.”

Jenn seemed to believe my story, so I continued prattling on.

“Yeah, my family decided to move, but I don't speak Japanese, and sure, they have schools that are English-speaking, but I—I didn't really want to go….” I trailed off and realized that she was staring at my necklace.

“Hey, what's that?” she asked, pointing at the silver charm, which hung on a box-link silver necklace. Round and slightly tarnished, the charm was etched with a medieval-looking crest. It was a little larger than a quarter—a “statement piece,”
my aunt had called it once—but I loved it. My hands instinctively went up to the necklace.

“Oh, it's a charm my brother, Ethan, gave me years ago,” I said, toying with the disc. “He said he thought it would bring me good luck. I just think it looks cool.”

“It is cool,” Jenn agreed. “Different.” She brushed her pin-straight honey-brown hair back, and I noticed the Tiffany necklace glistening at her throat.
Of course.

I took that as a cue to compliment
her
jewelry, which went over really well. Jenn seemed to decide I was acceptable enough, and asked if I wanted to sit with her friends at lunch.

The teacher, Mr. Agneta, called the class to attention, and called on me—a lot. I wasn't sure where all my aunt's tuition money was going, but it sure wasn't into the math program. A lot of this stuff just felt like I had covered it sophomore year. I got every answer right, and felt a little satisfied with myself. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad after all.

Jenn and I had the next class together—but she disappeared somewhere before I could find out where I was going. I flattened myself against a wall to avoid the crowd of students in the narrow hallway, scrutinizing my schedule and trying to figure out where to go.

“Hey, newbie, need help?” a deep voice to my left asked. I looked up…and up some more…into the blue eyes of an extremely tall blond guy.

“Um, yeah, thanks,” I mumbled. “Do you know where room 201 is?”

“I'm headed there myself. I'll walk you.” He smoothed out his red tie. “Anything for a beautiful damsel in distress.”

“Uh, thanks?” I tried to keep the confusion out of my voice and failed miserably.
Who talks like that?
I fell in step beside him as we walked to the staircase.

“I'm Emma, by the way.”

“It's
very
nice to meet you, Emma,” he purred, a sly smile on his face. Blondo was attractive in that soap-opera way—tall, blond, definitely built—but something about the way he smiled reminded me of those National Geographic documentaries about animals in the African wild. He looked like a lion about to pounce. I felt very caribou-esque all of a sudden.

“And you are…?” I asked as we shuffled down the steps. It almost strained my neck to look up at him.

“Don't you know who I am?” Blondy McBlonderson snapped, the smile replaced with a smug smirk.

“Should I?” I asked blankly.

“I guess you're not from around here,” he purred, putting his palm on the small of my back. I quickened my step and he dropped his hand.

“No, I'm from Philadelphia,” I mumbled.

“That explains it. Because if you were from New York, you would make it your business to know who I am. And I would definitely have remembered you.”

The slick smile was back on his face as James Blond spoke directly to my shirt's third button. Great. My first day and I attract the attention of the biggest manwhore I've ever met. I started thanking whatever lucky stars I had that we had reached the English classroom.

“Uh yeah, well, thanks for showing me to class,” I muttered, eager to get away from him. This guy had more lines than loose-leaf.

“Oh, it was all my pleasure,” Legally Bland said, leering at me. I'd always heard the phrase “mentally undressing someone with your eyes” but never had I actually seen it in action. This dude's eyes could perform a freakin' CAT scan, they were so thorough.

I spied Jenn and was thankful to see she had saved me a seat
next to her, in the last row of the class. I practically ran over to her, and she introduced me to her friends Kristin Thorn, whom I'd recognized as the highlighted, tanned blonde I'd seen earlier, and Francisco Fernandez, a guy with a friendly smile whom I liked immediately.

Kristin looked me up and down as if I were dressed in a chicken suit, and not in the same exact outfit she was wearing.

“So, like, you're the new girl.” It was an accusation, not a question. She tossed her long hair and glared at me.

“Yes, hi, I'm Emma.” I flashed an awkward smile.

“So, like, why did you decide to leave…where is it you're from?” She sniffed, tossing her hair again and glaring at me like I had monkeys crawling out of my nostrils. I reached up and smoothed my cowlick, wondering if it was sticking out and flipping her off, based on the look on her face.

“Philadelphia,” Jenn broke in, giving Kristin a wary look.

“So, like, did your family, like, throw you out?” she sneered, punctuating it with another toss of her white-streaked hair and crossing her red-soled shoes. Of course she wore Christian Louboutin heels. My cheeks got hot.

“So, like, do you have some kind of OCD that makes you toss your hair all the time?” I mimicked her, meeting her ice-blue glare. “Are you going to start counting things, and knocking on wood, too? I'm just concerned for you.” I tried to make my voice sound sweet and convincing, like I really did have genuine worry over this glossy princess who had, for some reason, deemed me the enemy. But after my skeezy encounter with Blondo, my patience was wearing thin—and my sarcasm was evident.

I heard a snicker from the black-haired guy who'd just sat
down in front of me, and I knew that our conversation had been overheard.

Great. So much for staying anonymous. Is it too late to transfer again?

“No, I'm fine. Don't
you
even try to think about
me
.” She bared a row of perfectly straight, bleached-white teeth that stood out in her fake-tanned face. White and orange, orange and white. This girl looked like a Creamsicle.

Kristin continued her nasty tirade. “I just think your arrival is…off. Why would you transfer out in the middle of September? Why not wait until the end of the semester? You don't make sense. Why are you here
now?
”

“Well, you see, my mom got a new job. In Tokyo. So I decided to stay in the States with my aunt Christine. Christine
Considine
.” I emphasized my aunt's last name—she had some serious pull at that school and if Blondo can pull the “Don't you know why I am?” move, why couldn't I?

A slight look of surprise replaced her scowl, but she kept up with her inquisition.

“So where are you actually from, though?” she asked me, Emma the cockroach. “Philadelphia.”
Did she not hear Jenn say it?

“Hmm.” She pursed her shiny lips. “My brother is at boarding school outside of Philadelphia. What school was it?”

“Oh, it wasn't a boarding school…you wouldn't know it.” I stalled.
Crap. Crappity crap crap!
Why hadn't I decided to pick a fake alma mater? Knowing my luck, it would be her brother's high school. She would
own
the high school. It would have a wing named after her family. The Creamsicle Wing.

“Well, come on, Emma.” The way she said my name was as if she was spitting out sour milk. “Was it Delbarton? Pingry? Which one?”

My mind raced, flipping through everything I knew of
Philadelphia. What was there? The Liberty Bell? The Phillies? Cream cheese?
Oh, yeah, Cream Cheese High School. Brilliant, Emma.

Something from my fifth-grade studies popped into my head.

“Congress Academy,” I heard myself saying, pulling the knowledge of the site of the first Continental Congress out of thin air.

Kristin wrinkled her nose, and the small diamond chip she had pierced on her left nostril sparkled. “I don't know it.”

“Oh, it's really small. And exclusive,” I added.

“Where is it?” she pressed.

“Downtown,” I lied, hoping downtown was a good thing. For Keansburg's proximity to Philadelphia, I hadn't been since a school field trip in eighth grade.

“Downtown? I've never heard of any Congress Academy downtown. I'll have to ask my brother if he knows it,” she continued. “If it's any good.” She resumed looking at me with a satisfied look on her face. She might as well have said, “So there!”

“Hey, Kristin, why do you care?”

The smooth voice came from the row in front of us, from the black-haired guy who laughed at my dig earlier.

Throwing his left arm cavalierly over the back of his chair—so his arm was resting slightly on my desk—he turned around and faced Kristin, who turned beet-red and stammered, “I
don't
care. I was only—”

“You were only being a nasty little girl, as usual,” he said, coolly. “Anyway, I know the school. We've played them.”

He turned and looked at me for a brief second—and my pulse sped. I didn't expect my response. I'd been around good-looking guys before—but this guy looked like a rock star. Long
black lashes framed his green eyes—twinkling green eyes that locked with mine.

“In fact,” he added with a smirk. “At Congress Academy, they're
very
good.”

I smiled back.
Is he flirting with me?

His gaze dropped lower. For a split second I thought he was being Blondo 2.0 and staring at something else—okay, two something elses—on my chest, when I realized he was looking at my charm necklace. His eyes returned to mine and crinkled up at the corner with his smile. Then the boy with the rock-star eyes quickly turned around, returning to the exact same pose he was in before, which I now noticed was slouched in his chair, legs sprawled out, not caring in the least who might trip over them.