What the Spell Part 1 (11 page)

I was expecting her to push back, to demand to know my secrets, but after a few seconds of mulling this over, Gigi nodded. “Good job,” she said, sharing a look with the others before turning back to me. “One down, more to go.”

“Ms. Z.!” I called out as I saw her walking down the hallway. Ever since that night at Principal Franklin’s, I’d been seeing more and more of The Elite at school. There were impromptu conversations in the hallway and short talks with Eliza during the class we shared, and I was even invited to sit with them at lunch a few days that week. I wasn’t a part of their group just yet, but after a week, things were progressing better than I’d expected.

But that meant that my regular schedule had sort of taken a backseat to my new mission. And the few times I’d stopped by Ms. Z.’s office, she’d been in with another student or her door was closed. There was so much I wanted to catch her up on, but I was finding myself busier than I’d ever been before.

That’s why, when I caught a glimpse of her in the hallway, I called out to her without hesitating. Ms. Zia turned around at the sound of her name and saw me running toward her, a smile growing across her face. “Brooklyn! Where have you
been? I feel like you haven’t come by in ages,” she said, placing her hands on her hips.

“Omigosh, I have so much to tell you. You won’t believe what my life has been like lately,” I said. I glanced around us, noticing for the first time that people were staring and most likely listening to our whole conversation. It had been this way ever since The Elite had deigned to notice me. Suddenly people cared about what I thought. They analyzed my every move and had even begun to copy my style. The day before, I’d worn a sort of sash around my neck, and the next day I saw at least three other girls at school doing the same thing.

It was so bizarre. And totally awesome.

I gestured for Ms. Z. to walk with me. “So, what’s up?” she asked, mirroring my excitement.

“I can’t really get into it here,” I said, suddenly paranoid that everyone was listening to us. “But do you want to have lunch soon? Maybe Thursday or something?”

“Of course. You know I’m always up for lunch,” Ms. Z. answered. She gave me a sidelong glance. “But can you give me a hint?”

I smiled. I could always tell when the counselor in her was coming out. She got this look on her face and her voice became lower. It was nice to know that even though we might argue, she still cared about what happened to me. Just like sisters.

“Let’s just say that I’m no longer invisible,” I said, pulling her away from the crowded part of the hallway and giving her a little spin before striking a pose. Then I leaned in to whisper to her. “I’ve sort of been hanging out with The Elite.”

When I pulled back, I could see the shock registered on her face.

“Oh, wow. Really?” she asked.

“Yep!” I said, wanting to squeal but holding it in.

“How do you feel about that?”

It was such a therapist thing to ask, but I was in too good a mood to care. “Are you kidding? I feel
incredible
about it. All I ever wanted was to feel like I fit in here, and now the most popular kids in school want to hang out with me.
Me
. The person no one knew existed a month ago.”

“Exactly,” Ms. Zia said, crossing her arms. “Are you sure you want to be friends with people who only noticed you
after
you had this big makeover? Wouldn’t you rather they like you for you? The
real
you?”

“This
is
the real me!” I said, trying not to let what she was saying get to me. She was always fighting with me on the subject of popularity, and for once I wished she’d let it go. “Just with a little better packaging.”

“Oh, Brooklyn,” she said, shaking her head. “Your packaging was fine before.”

“I know,” I agreed, not looking to get into another argument. “But this is a huge opportunity for me. I mean, if I’m going to own my own PR firm one day, I need to know what it takes to be one of them. One of the ones everyone wants to know about.”

“PR people shape the way people look at that world—they don’t live in it,” Ms. Zia reminded, but quickly moved on. It seemed like she didn’t want to fight anymore either. “I just want you to know that you don’t have to change for anyone. You’re a pretty cool girl all by yourself.”

“Awww, it’s like we’re in an after-school special,” I said jokingly.

She snorted. “Please. If this were an after-school special, you’d be pregnant and I’d be trying to adopt your baby,” she said. “This, my dear friend, is lightweight stuff.”

“Okay, so lunch, then? Thursday?” I asked.

“You know where to find me,” she said as she turned and walked away.

I couldn’t stop grinning as I continued on to my next class. Things were still okay between me and Ms. Zia, and even though I thought she worried a little too much, I really did think she was happy for me.

Life with The Elite was better than I ever could’ve imagined, too. It was taking time for them to warm up to me, but eventually I’d win them over. Most of them, anyway. Wheatley had started to let me see his softer side instead of always scowling at me. Not that we were besties or anything, but I wasn’t as scared to be around him anymore. Camden was critical but fair and after I’d done such a kick-butt job at Principal Franklin’s house, he’d started treating me less like an outsider. Rhodes was always surprising me with his ability to pull facts out of thin air, and we’d started playing a game where every time I saw him, I’d ask him another obscure trivia question to see if he could answer it—which, of course, he could. Eliza still insisted I’d had plastic surgery, but she didn’t seem to be mad anymore that I wouldn’t divulge my doctor’s name.

And Gigi . . . well, Gigi was a little more difficult to read. Her moods were guarded, and though she was always nice to me, I couldn’t help but feel like there was still some resistance to my being around. Not that she said anything outright. It was more of a subtle hint in her voice. Like there was always a hidden “but” at the end of her sentences. “I’m so glad you’re here (but we’ll just have to see how long it lasts).” Or “I absolutely adore that dress on you (but it would look better on me).” I figured it was just going to take a little longer to get her to trust me, but I was definitely up for the challenge.

And so far, so good.

Yep, right now, life was pretty amazing. And that’s why I
couldn’t help but smile as I walked down the hallway. Even when I was suddenly pushed into the girls’ bathroom and the door slammed behind me, my mind didn’t automatically go to worst-case scenarios. Especially when I saw who’d pushed me in there in the first place.

“Asher!” I said, thinking that my day just kept getting better. “What’s up?”

“I need to talk to you,” he said seriously.

“Well, okay. But you realize we’re in the girls’ bathroom, right?” I asked, looking around at the pink walls.

“Abby’s watching the door,” he answered.

I blinked. It was weird that he would corner me in the girls’ bathroom and then get his little sister to keep watch. What kind of rendezvous was this?

“Okay,” I said slowly. My mind began to wander as I thought of all the things he could possibly be bringing me in here to talk about. I hoped one of them involved him confessing his undying love for me. Then again, we were currently standing around a bunch of toilets—which wasn’t how I wanted to remember the moment that our love affair began. On the other hand, pushing me into a bathroom because he just
had
to be alone with me? I had to admit, it was sort of hot.

“I saw you the other night,” he said, ripping my daydream in half. “At Principal Franklin’s.”

That, I hadn’t been prepared for. My mouth went dry and my palms started to sweat. How was that even possible? I’d been so careful and hadn’t noticed anything odd, except . . . except for the noise I’d heard toward the end of the night. Crap. It’d been him. Hiding in the dark, spying on me.

Oh God, what was I going to do?

“Listen, Asher, you can’t tell anyone about this. No one,” I said, pleading with him. “Seriously, it could ruin my life.”

“I know,” he said, starting to pace a little in front of me.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. My own crush was about to destroy me. My eyes started to well up. I’d only managed to be semipopular for a little over a week and it was already over. I desperately wanted it
not
to be over.

“I promise, it’s not what you think,” I said, trying another tactic. “I found this exploding toilet paper online and I just wanted to try it out—”

“You’re a witch,” he said.

I almost had a meltdown as he said it. I’d never heard anyone outside of my family call me that before and certainly not so accusingly. He looked wary as he paced in front of me, absently running his hands through his dark hair. At this moment, I really wished I had the ability to read other people’s thoughts. It would have come in handy for what was about to happen next.

“A witch?” I asked, trying to sound like it was the craziest thing I’d ever heard, but I probably just came off as crazy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Witches don’t exist, Asher.”

“Yes they do. And after watching you that night, I know for certain that’s what you are,” he said, walking toward me and grabbing ahold of both my shoulders firmly.

“Asher, I . . .” I didn’t know how to finish the sentence, because what was I supposed to say? “You’re right”? “I am what you say I am”? And then what? If what my parents said was true, danger would surely follow.

They were going to be
so
mad at me.

“Just stop,” he said, his voice quieter now.

His face was inches away from mine and he was still holding me by the shoulders. If I had my way, this would be the part in the movie where he would pull me to him and kiss
me passionately before telling me ours was a forbidden love because I was a witch and he was a witch-hunter . . . or something like that. God, I hoped he wasn’t a witch-hunter.

Instead, he turned his face to the right, let go of one of my arms, and pointed in the direction of the bathroom stalls.

“Erushee aguaso!”

As soon as he said the words, I heard the sound of water flowing. It was different from the toilet running, though; it sounded like a
gushing
. I could feel Asher’s eyes on me as I walked over to the nearest stall. Not sure what I was going to see on the other side, I lightly pushed on the door and then took a step backward.

The door swung open. What I saw made my heart nearly stop. There, coming out of the toilet bowl, just like a fountain, was a gush of water that leaped straight up into the air and then back down in a steady little stream. Moving on to the next stall, I saw that that toilet also had a fountain spraying from its bowl, only this time it was split into three little sprays. As I stepped down the line, I could see that every stall held a similar scene, but each water show was slightly different.

I looked back at Asher incredulously, trying to wrap my head around what he’d just shown me.

“What . . . ?” I started to ask, but stopped. I needed to collect myself, because none of this was making sense.

“Brooklyn, the reason I know that you are a witch,” he said as he walked toward me, “is because I’m a witch too.”

Holy—

“I need to sit down.” And I did. Right there on the disgusting tile floor. I slid down the wall until my butt hit the cold ground and stared at the steady stream of water rushing up out of the toilet in front of me.

“I didn’t know you were a witch at first,” he said, coming
over and sitting down beside me. “Of course I didn’t. Otherwise I would’ve told you my secret a long time ago. And it’s not like I suspected you or anything. I was actually just walking around my neighborhood that night and noticed the lights were out on the street, so I decided to check it out and that’s when I saw . . .”

“Me doing magic,” I answered for him, still a little shocked.

“Well, yeah. But I wasn’t sure you were even casting spells in the beginning, because it just looked like you were pulling a prank. So I snuck up behind you and then I heard you say the spell before you threw the toilet paper into the air. After that, I knew what you were doing,” he said, looking straight at me. “But I didn’t know how you’d react to me finding out. I mean, I thought my parents knew every witching family in the area and we’ve never heard about yours. What coven do you belong to, anyway?”