by Sarina Dorie
Presumably he’d been there to observe me as well.
Seeing my former student, Imani, at the head of the great hall on the dais, I wondered how many of those unexplained occurrences of classroom magic had been me and how much of it had been her. She stepped back from the sorting fire.
Imani looked around in confusion, her dark eyes frightened. “I’m sorry, sir.” She turned to Jeb. “I didn’t mean to—to break it.”
“I know that student!” I said to Josie excitedly.
She put a finger to her lips and shushed me.
“Don’t you worry, darlin’. You didn’t do nothin’ wrong,” Jeb said. “The fire likely needs another moment to decide.” He waved her back in.
Imani hesitated before stepping into the fire. Her dark curls danced in the flames, but her clothes remained still. The fire flickered into rainbow mode again, reminding me of Christmas lights in a disco.
I leaned closer to Josie. “What if someone has more than one affinity?”
“We all have more than one. It’s like someone who is good at the arts and math. This is the equivalent of Gardener’s intelligence test so students can focus on the skill that will give them the best chances of survival after graduation.”
“So, there aren’t any students who tie for houses, and they can’t figure out which affinity to choose?” I asked.
The rainbow flicking from Imani grew faster, more erratic. Students squirmed on the benches, turning to talk to each other. Their voices rose in excitement. One of the older teachers sitting in the crowd stood, admonishing them.
“Teams, not houses,” Josie said. “I don’t know. Well, actually… . I know of one student. My grandmother used to tell me a story about the old days… .” She lowered her voice even more, making it difficult to hear over the students murmuring. “Water. Earth. Fire. Air. Long ago the four nations lived together in harmony. Then everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked.”
I leaned closer. I knew this. She was quoting something familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Only the Avatar, master of all four elements, could stop them—”
Ugh! I couldn’t believe I hadn’t caught it from her first words. She was quoting the opening of Avatar: The Last Airbender.
I finished for her. “But when the world needed him most, he vanished.”
We both giggled, drawing a glare from Mrs. Periwinkle, the librarian, sitting on a bench beside a group of students.
I waited a moment before whispering, “What if a student doesn’t have an affinity? Or one that doesn’t fit into those three categories?” I glanced again at the school crest with the missing red color.
She shook a head. “If someone doesn’t have enough magic, they’d be a Morty and get burnt in the fire.”
The strobe light of Imani’s affinity flashed with stronger pulses of red that drowned out the other colors. No one had added red, but there it was. I couldn’t help feeling that meant something.
Electricity sparked deep in my core. My mouth tasted like blood, and I realized I was biting my cheek. More than ever I felt drawn to the fire. I wanted to discover my affinity. I scooted forward, hypnotized by the flames. The tug of the Raven Court’s lullabies had been nothing compared to this. I stepped toward the dais, ready to throw myself into the fire to discover my affinity next.
Thatch stepped in front of me, blocking the fire from view. I halted, uncertain whether he’d intentionally cut me off to thwart me or it was a coincidence. My frustration shifted to curiosity as he drew closer to the stage. All eyes were riveted on Imani, except for mine.
Thatch’s back was turned, and I couldn’t see what he was doing, but I noticed the gesture of his hand at his side making a pulling motion at her. His fingers sparkled red and then white.
The affinity fire drained of color and turned to white. Some students clapped and cheered. Others looked scared. There were too many voices speaking at once to hear what anyone said.
Jeb beckoned for Imani to exit from the flames. “I reckon white is the unity of all colors.” The rest of what he said was lost in the chatter of the students. Thatch and Jeb spoke off to the side. Jackie Frost and Grandmother Bluehorse joined them.
The fire was empty. People were distracted. Now was my moment to find out what I was.
Then I noticed Imani. She hugged herself, looking lost. I waved to her, trying to draw her attention. That frightened look in her eyes changed to surprise as she noticed me.
I dodged around the teachers, inching closer to the dais, torn between throwing myself in the fire and comforting Imani. I reached Imani first. She threw her arms around me.
“Miss Lawrence, I can’t believe it!” Her arms shook, and she tried to smile, but I could see the anxiety in her expression.
“It’s okay, honey. You’re safe here.” I rubbed her shoulder consolingly.
She nodded. As I stared out at the rising anarchy of the students, I wasn’t so sure my words were true.
Jeb raised his hands and the roar of the students died down. I strained to hear what he said. “Miss Washington, I’m gonna place you in Professor Thatch’s team. He’ll take care of you real good.”
Felix Thatch elbowed me out of the way and walked Imani over to the smallest group of students. That poor girl! She’d have to study with his team, under his guidance. Just like me. Maybe we could study together.
Jeb bellowed over the excited students. “Settle down. We still got seventeen more affinities to get through. Next on the list, Coach Kutchi?”
The teacher sorted through a list of papers, apparently having lost her place in the commotion. The tension in the air was as thick as one of my mom’s frozen smoothies. People kept sneaking glances at Imani.
The moment it grew silent again, a loud farting sound ripped through the hall. That broke some of the tension, and students laughed. I wanted to laugh too, but as a teacher I knew I wasn’t supposed to.
The rude sound ended when Thatch pulled a dark-haired young man from a table by his ear. The boy’s face was almost human, but his pointed nose and chin were exaggerated just enough to make him look like a goblin. He stumbled along at Thatch’s side.
“Ten points deducted from Elementia,” Thatch said loudly. “And a detention effective immediately.” The scoreboard on the wall now showed negative ten points under the four elements symbol.
Josie and I shifted to the side to allow Thatch to pass. The large double doors behind us parted for Thatch as he dragged the boy off.
The entire school stared after them. Thatch turned left toward the stairway to the dungeons. I didn’t think the farting noise was detention-worthy. The kids had been nervous after the unexpected pyromancy results. They’d needed something to distract them.
Jeb continued the ceremony with the remaining students, but the kids were restless. The word that kept resurfacing in whispered conversations was “prophecy.”
“What is the prophecy?” I asked Josie.
She leaned closer. “I haven’t ever looked up the exact words, but the Madam Cleo of the Dark Ages foresaw someone at this school not being sorted into one of the teams, or being a misfit of the affinity fire, or something like that. This Witchkin would become the chosen one who would bring back the lost arts. The dark arts. This would either unify all Fae and Witchkin or lead us into war. You know, the usual hippie-dippy prophecy that every school boasts. My school had their own version. I think it’s mostly to keep kids in line and make them conform.”
Jeb finished testing the students. Out of one hundred and eight incoming freshmen, only twenty-one were divided into the Celestor team. That meant Thatch had an easier job than the other department heads.
“Transfer students, please step forward,” Coach Kutchi shouted.
Seven students came forward.
Josie whispered, “They’re from rival schools, probably kicked out for good reasons too. Keep an eye on those kids t
his year.”
Each of them stepped through the fire, revealing their affinity. “This is all for show,” Josie said. “They already know what they are. It’s just the rest of the school doesn’t.”
“Can’t an affinity change? Why aren’t students tested every year?” I asked.
“It can change, especially if a student has two strong affinities, but it takes a lot of work to shift the balance. In all the history of the school, only two people have ever switched affinities.”
What did that mean for Imani? If she had two affinities and one was taboo, how would that affect her as a student? What if I had two affinities?
Jeb raised his arms for silence. Conversation died away. “Have I missed anyone? Is there anyone else who still needs to learn her affinity?” He didn’t address Coach Kutchi. He stared out at the audience of students. He scanned the teachers standing at the perimeter. His gaze stopped at me.
A string tugged at my heart. He meant me. I needed to find out who I was, what I was. This was my chance to figure out how my magic worked. I stepped away from the wall.
A hand grabbed my wrist and jerked me back. I stumbled into one of the stone archways, banging my elbow against solid rock. Thatch stood there. I hadn’t realized he’d returned.
He bent himself in half to growl into my ear. “He’s not talking about you. He’s talking about the students.”
“But—” I looked to Josie on the other side of me.
She stared with wide eyes. “You don’t know your affinity?”
Thatch squeezed my wrist so tightly it hurt. “It will be mayhem in your classroom if the students learn you can’t use magic. You can expect anarchy all year, not to mention how it will put your life in danger.” He looked to Josie. “Tell her what a foolish idea it would be to show the entire school what a dunce she is at magic.”
She chewed on her lip. “I hate to say he’s right… .”
The principal called out once more. “No one? No one else then?”
I wrenched my wrist free of Thatch’s talon-like fingers and rubbed feeling back into my hand. I wanted to find out what I was. If only Thatch had stayed in his detention dungeon. It was more obvious than ever how much he wanted me to fail.
Josie patted my shoulder and offered me a sympathetic smile. The hall was silent again. Someone coughed.
“Very well,” Jeb said. “The fire will burn all night in case anyone else wishes to find her affinity.” His eyes met mine across the room.
Yes! He did mean me!
Waiting until the students were in their wings was unbearable. An hour after they were supposed to be in bed, I lay in my room, too excited about the prospect of finding out what I was to fall asleep. I listened to the ebb and flow of Vega’s breathing, wanting to make sure she didn’t catch me. Finally, I struck a match and lit the candle on the nightstand. I stuffed my feet into slippers and wrapped myself in a housecoat.
My cell phone remained under the safety of my pillow. I could have used the flashlight app, but I didn’t want to waste the battery. Nor did I want to get caught with it after what Josie had told me about it being considered a weapon. If I was found roaming the school at night, it would look bad enough. Nervousness percolated inside me. I considered what I would say if someone caught me out of bed.
Then I remembered my trump card.
I was a teacher. Forget what students would say! If I saw a student, I would ask what they were doing out of bed. And if Vega or anyone else caught me, what would it matter? The staff all knew I couldn’t do magic. It was reasonable I would want to know my affinity.
And yet… . I couldn’t shake the sense that I was doing something wrong.
Ominous shadows stretched toward me in the darkness. Several times I thought I heard a creak on the stairs above me or thought I saw a shadow shaped like a towering man, but each time it turned out to be my own shadow stretched unnaturally in the candlelight. Trying to find my way to the great hall took me longer than it usually would have, but that was mostly due to pausing at every landing to listen for danger.
Recollections of what had happened to the previous art teachers slithered up my spine, chilling me in the cool night air. I didn’t want to be the art teacher who died before the first day because she fell into an indoor moat or got eaten by a dragon.
The doors to the great hall were unlocked. The handle thunked as I opened one to enter the circular hall. I poked my head inside. White flames lit the dais. The glow had dimmed from dinner time, but it still burned. Hopefully the pyromancy would still work.
I padded past the benches and tables that had been set up for dinner. This was the moment I had been waiting for. I hesitated for just a moment at the edge of the flames. Josie had said someone without magic would be burned by the flames.
I was a witch. I had no reason to believe the flames would burn me.
Even so, I held my breath and stepped in. The fire blazed whiter and higher. It was hot and cold at the same time. Tingles danced over my skin, feeling like a tickle more than a burn. A laugh burst out of me. I covered my mouth to stifle the sound before anyone heard me. The white light turned crimson. I stared in wonder.
What did red mean? It wasn’t on the banner. People hadn’t reacted favorably to the idea of a Red affinity. The color didn’t change like Imani’s. I didn’t smell or taste anything. No breeze came like it had for the wind elementals.
I closed my eyes and tried to use my intuition. I wasn’t used to using magic on purpose. I breathed in the smokeless fire. Tingling filled my lungs and more tickles coursed through me. It was hard not to giggle.
The fire caressed my flesh. A sense of well-being and comfort filled me. I tried to relax into the feeling of being red. It was comfortable, natural, but I didn’t know what it meant. I hugged my arms around myself, sinking deeper into the cozy sensation. The warmth made me think of my first kiss, Derrick’s arms snug around me. Usually the memory of my first love sank me into guilt. That kiss that had been his undoing. It had released a whirlwind of feelings and uncontrolled magic out of both of us. That tornado had swept him away.
Instead of the usual sorrow I felt when I thought of him, arousal flushed my face. That nervous energy in my core changed from a fluttering to a pleasant pulse. I felt wet between my legs. The scent of Old Spice and butterscotch wafted toward me. I could almost feel Derrick on the other side of the flames.
I inhaled deeply and choked on a plume of smoke. That wasn’t right.
I opened my eyes to find my pajamas engulfed in flames.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Into the Fire
It wasn’t often that I found myself in such a predicament as being on fire. I jumped out, screaming. Immediately, I stopped, dropped and rolled.
“Agh! Stupid! No! Darn!” I cursed like a goody-two-shoes version of a sailor as I smacked the flames from my clothes and hair. Or maybe that vibrant glow was my hair. I couldn’t tell. My hair was already bright from the hot-pink hair dye.
I abruptly stopped screaming when I realized the flames didn’t hurt. I wasn’t burned. It was incredible! Not much was left of my pajamas and housecoat, though. The remnants of fabric smoldered in the darkness. The white flames of the fire dimmed behind me and left me in darkness. I didn’t know what I had done with my candle.
Leave it to me to have some kind of bad reaction to something over a hundred kids experienced without problem. On the other hand, they hadn’t stood in it. They’d walked through. Maybe that’s where I had gone wrong. Or maybe the fire didn’t like impure thoughts. There were so many rules everyone took for granted that I still didn’t know.
Well, at least it was dark. I could slink back up to my room in obscurity, and no one would be the wiser about my mishap or my freakish Red affinity.
I should have known not to jinx myself by counting my blessings too soon.
The moment I started crawling toward the edge of the dais, blue light burst through the door. I hugged my arms
around myself and curled my knees up to my chest, afraid I was about to get caught and expose myself in my less than modest Cinderella attire.
Julian ran up the aisle between tables. Of course, it would be the hot teacher I liked who would catch me like this. He shot light out of his wand, and the chandelier in the center of the ceiling sparked to life. His jaw dropped when he saw me huddled on the dais. I didn’t know who was more mortified. I prayed he couldn’t tell I’d been aroused in the affinity fire and that had caused my clothes to burn off.
“Miss Lawrence? Are you quite all right? I heard a scream.”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I gave a little wave. “Sorry about that. You can go back to bed.”
My sleeve disintegrated into ash. Black soot streaked across the exposed skin of my arms and legs.
He strode forward. “What happened here?”
“Long story.”
He removed his cloak. Underneath he wore an old-fashioned nightshirt that fell to his ankles. Not that I should have been one to judge clothes in my lack of attire, but it looked pretty ridiculous. Or at least, it would have on anyone else. The ensemble managed to make him even more attractive.
He kneeled beside me and draped the cloak over my shoulders like a chivalrous knight.
My stomach cramped. Someone’s shout in the hall drew my attention. Ugh, of course. Someone else had come to my rescue. Pro Ro stood there, fully dressed. He gaped at us. I hoped he didn’t think we were doing anything elicit.
“Miss Lawrence? Is that you?” he asked.
“Yeah. Unfortunately.”
He strode forward. The cramping in my core increased. The stabbing pain reminded me of PMS. This had happened the last times Pro Ro had been present. I’d thought it was Thatch’s presence and my nerves, but now I wasn’t so sure. I tugged the cape more modestly around myself. It was bad enough one teacher at the school had to see me nearly naked, but two?
“What in all the stars happened?” Pro Ro eyed the black ashes around me.
I shrugged. “I guess a half-cotton, half-polyester blend is a bad fashion choice for the affinity fire.”
