The silence was broken by Honey who snorted with amusement. “You don’t look like the kind of girl to get worked up by a pretty dress and spiked punch.”
I squirmed in my seat. “I’m not. I just -” I stopped.
Honey raised a slim hand. “Look at all of us,” she commanded. I lifted my gaze. “You never have to be embarrassed about anything at this table.” Her eyes sparkled. “Trixie over there?” She winked at her friend. “She has a stash of stuffed unicorns underneath her bed she thinks no one knows about.”
Trixie gaped like a fish and flushed from her forehead to her neck.
“Rory over there has more shoes than a supermodel.”
There was no reaction from him because he was still in a trance.
“Mannix -”
“Honey,” Mannix said sharply.
She grinned at him, a toothy smile more reminiscent of a wolf than a friend. “Mannix writes poetry. Really sappy, overly flowery prose.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s like Lord Byron but with a perpetual scowl.”
Said scowl burned like a supernova on his face.
“And Honey,” he said, his voice a hiss, “thinks she knows what’s best for everyone, yet she can’t seem to do a single thing for herself.”
Hurt flashed over Honey’s pretty face but was quickly squashed by her loud and brash laugh. “He’s funny, too,” she said, but I could hear the injury in her voice.
“I didn’t get to go to mine,” I admitted after the silence became so thick it felt like syrup.
“Well,” Honey said lightly, “it’s a good thing this academy does everything later than usual. And…” she leaned over and looped her arm through mine, “isn’t it just super lucky that I happen to be the President of the Prom Committee?”
8
As a matter of fact, it was terrible to find out Honey was involved in the planning of prom simply because me showing any interest whatsoever led to being crowned the official Vice President of the committee. I had to swallow down my objections and pretend being tasked to do that much work in my first few hours of being at Merlin was the best thing that ever happened to me.
Even though it was the worst.
Here I was trying to stay under the radar only to be thrust into the spotlight on my very first day. If my real parents had been around I could only imagine the disappointment in their eyes. I waved at Trixie and her friends as I made my way back to the Undiscovered dorm and kept the smile on my face until I pushed through the door. As soon as it clicked shut behind me, a long, loud groan elicited unbidden and I sank to the floor.
I’d wanted to go to the prom. Sure. I hadn’t wanted to be knee-deep in ribbon and cheerleader drama, though. And that’s what the Prom committee was. Cheerleaders and popular girls.
They were going to eat me alive.
No one here had any idea how powerful I really was and I couldn’t show them. I was impotent. Magically castrated.
As long as I wanted to stay alive, that is.
What most people didn’t understand about illusion was exactly how powerful it could be. People wanted to be lied to. They wanted to believe things other than what their eyes could see.
I could give that to them. I could craft an illusion so powerful a person would starve themselves to remain within it. But I never had. The power itched in my veins, and I knew it wouldn’t be too long before I had to expel some of it. I’d used some last night, but it was only a small portion of the vast amount of magic I kept within and hidden in the tattoos covering my body.
This was a lot easier when I couldn’t remember I had it. I must have been slowly expending magic over the last several years, especially when I’d gotten into cosplay so heavily. It was the only explanation for me not exploding with power.
I sighed and stood up. Dinner was only a few hours away and I still wore the dust of last night’s ill-advised outing. I grabbed the small pack Mannix grabbed for me and rummaged through it to see what I had left to wear - a pair of black leggings and a long gray t-shirt. The only other thing inside was a long nightshirt, the few pairs of underwear he’d packed (I couldn’t think about that too much without wanting to die of embarrassment), and a toothbrush.
I slipped off my high tops and padded sock-footed over to the restroom. With a quick flick, the lights buzzed and eventually turned on, highlighting the 1970’s style black, white and pink tiled bathroom.
“Awesome,” I muttered. This place hadn’t seen a remodel in probably 40 years. Guess it didn’t pay to be one of the Undiscovered. I set my clothes down, turned on the hot water handle on the shower, and waited for a few moments before I stepped under the lukewarm spray.
With my wet hair piled on top of my head, face scrubbed, and teeth brushed, I felt like a different person.
A person who was screwed on a most epic scale. But still a person.
My thoughts went back to the meeting with Mr. Mago. The desk was already confused by me. Thus my assignment to the Undiscovered area. I knew if I chose a path and touched the desk, my secret would be revealed. I just didn’t know any way around it.
I had one motto in life since the time I’d been a little kid: stay under the radar. That had disappeared when my memories were wiped, but that was because I didn’t remember I was a magic-user. Before that, I knew how to smile when someone told a joke, cry when something was sad, and ingratiate myself into any conversation about any subject. It was all on the surface, though. If someone barely scraped the tip of their nail against my fabricated veneer, it would peel like old nail polish.
Thus the reason I flitted from place to place before my placement doing my best to remain unseen and unheard. Except for this. Now I was smack dab in the middle of juvie and had just gotten strong-armed into a committee that would put me right in the spotlight.
I dried my hair with a towel even as my brain furiously worked to come up with a solution. But the only thing I could come up with was hiding in plain sight.
That one made me super uncomfortable, but it was the only thing I could think of.
One thing my mother always told me, even when I’d been too young to understand, was to always fake it until you made it.
I squared my shoulders, put my head back and stepped into the bedroom. I was going to get through this. It was only a matter of time before I figured out how to get out of here.
Just a matter of time.
9
I woke up the next morning groggy and unsure of where I was at for the first few disorienting seconds. Half expecting my mother to call me down for breakfast, I blinked blearily at the chipped paint on the walls until the memories of yesterday came flooding back so fast they took my breath away. I rolled out of bed, combing my fingers through the rat's nest posing as my hair. I stopped to take a quick look in the mirror and grimaced at the purple shadows underneath my eyes. With a sigh, I started to turn around and head to the bathroom, but a small envelope on the floor gave me pause.
I bent down to retrieve it only to notice my name - my fake name - scrawled in perfect cursive on the front of it. Carefully opening it, I pulled out a sheet of thin vellum pre-printed with what appeared to be my schedule.
Not even a day to settle in. That was nice. I blew out a breath and scanned the classes. First period was Intro to the Merlin Academy. There was a note scrawled in the side mentioning it was for new students only and would be replaced with a more appropriate class once I finished it. Second period was Herbology. I didn't bother to look at the rest of them, but I did remember to shove it in my backpack.
I headed into the bathroom and stopped in my tracks when I saw a dry cleaning bag hanging on the door. Looking around for anyone in my room, I approached it like it was about to bite me. I knew for a fact no one was in here when I went to bed, so how had this gotten in?
I unzipped the bag and took the uniform out. A pair of supple suede pants - in my size, a white button-down shirt with a black and red tie, and a pair of soft leather boots. As uniforms went, it wasn't terrible, but I suspe
cted I'd look like a female version of Indiana Jones once I put it on.
There was another note attached to the hanger. I slid it out of the envelope and scanned the typed message.
Miss LeCharme,
You should find this to be the perfect size. Please note civilian clothes cannot be worn to class. Change at your earliest convenience and find your way down to breakfast. Classes begin promptly at 9 a.m. Your robes will be sent later, probably at the end of the semester.
The note was signed by Miss Valois.
It could be worse. The uniform could have been a short plaid mini skirt. Glad to see this school was a little more progressive thinking than some of the other schools I'd seen.
I quickly dressed but gave up trying to fasten the tie. It hung loosely around my neck, and I hoped someone would take mercy on me before first period to help me tie it. My dad - or my foster dad - had never worn one and neither had my real father so I'd never had to tie one of them.
My real dad never wore anything fancier than his wizard's robes and that was only when the Council was in town. Even then, he wore a button-down shirt and slacks underneath it. I didn't think he even owned a tie. Tears filled my eyes at the thought of my real parents, and I cursed the boy Mannix for whatever he'd done to make me remember.
I didn't even know if he knew what he'd done to me, but I did know he looked at me like I was a Rook. Mannix was dangerous. To me. To the school and definitely to himself, even though he might not know it yet. Anyone who knew of the final surviving Rook met an untimely end.
My family was nothing if not thorough.
I twisted my bright hair up into a high ponytail. Giving myself a last critical look, I headed out the door, stopping only to slide my feet into the shiny black Oxford shoes someone had sat by my door without me knowing.
Creeped out, I shuddered and carefully closed the door behind me. I whispered a soft command to lock the door, careful not to use any of my illusion magic. Most people wouldn't recognize it and it wasn't like illusion magic was rare.
It wasn't.
Rook magic, though ... Rook magic was almost extinct.
I had to be very careful to make sure it stayed that way.
At least on the surface.
There weren't many people out and about this early in the morning. Apparently, breakfast around here was only for nerds. Good to know. I had no desire to bring any more attention to myself than I needed to, so I was more than willing to be considered whatever I needed to be to stay under the radar. I grabbed a tray from the cafeteria line and asked a woman with dark circles under her eyes for a bowl of oatmeal.
"Sure thing, honey," she said and scooped me out some. "Brown sugar and cinnamon?"
My eyes widened. "Yes, please," I said, delighted at the selection of the school. Back home, Mom was kind of a stickler for the extras. You either got brown sugar or cinnamon. Not both. We operated on a strict budget the entire year except for Christmas morning when I woke up with homemade cinnamon rolls for breakfast and a full Christmas dinner including ham and sweet potato casserole.
Except ... Mom wasn't Mom. I needed to remember that. There was a huge part of me that wanted to sneak out and call them just to let them know I was okay. If they filed a missing police report ...
I shook my head once. The Academy had to be prepared for something like that. I could only assume they'd taken care of it. If anything, they would be told I'd been accepted to a special school. If they didn't buy that, magic would have been used to assure their cooperation.
I snagged a banana and a carton of milk and rode it to the end of the line, grimacing when I realized I still didn't have any money.
"Crap," I muttered to myself. I stared at the register helplessly before I walked up and started to hand the tray over to the woman manning the stand and apologize. She shook her head and motioned for me to come over.
"It's been paid for," she said and started to ring up my food.
My brow furrowed. "Who paid for it?" My foster parents wouldn't be able to afford a meal plan if that's what I was on, and no one else knew I was here.
A shrug lifted her shoulders and she didn't bother to respond. She didn't care who'd done it as long as it was done. An apprehensive feeling trickled down my spine as I picked up my food and trudged to one of the many open tables. I didn't like feeling indebted to anyone, especially an anonymous benefactor.
This felt like the start of intrigue and that was the last thing I needed to be involved in.
I stirred my oatmeal, making sure I got all the delicious bits mixed in before I took a large bite. Warmth and the delicious hint of cinnamon hit my tongue and if I could have, I would have sighed. Instead, I let the warm, fuzzy feeling wash over me as I ate. Soon enough, there would be lots of students and lots of questions. But right now, I could enjoy these few minutes of silence and try to figure out what I was going to do.
I'd been careful to look like I wasn't studying everything. A glance here, a glance there as if I was merely curious. No one could know I was looking for a way out of here. There were no windows on the first floor. Or at least none that I could see. Any natural light came from windows at least thirty feet above my head. Sunlight trickled down in long rays, but any warmth had dried up long ago for the time it took to reach me. All of the stone in the school made the place drafty and I wondered if there was a matching cardigan I could ask for. Or if I could wear a regular one.
Oh, wait. All I had was a few pairs of underwear and two changes of clothing. A cardigan was a pipe dream.
I stabbed at the last bite of my oatmeal. I didn't even have my favorite shampoo. It was cheap, but it was mine.
In addition to that, who in the world was paying my tuition?
A frown crossed my face as the dozens of questions I should have thought about yesterday came flooding into me. Whatever mojo Mannix had worked on me must have temporarily fried my brain. I was usually way sharper than this.
I chugged the rest of my milk down, wished it were coffee and stood with my tray.
I passed by a table of girls sitting together, their heads close as they whispered about something. I felt their eyes on me as I walked by and their whispers increased in excitement. I turned my head only to lock eyes with a dark-haired girl. She was stunning but wore a smirk that smacked of both privilege and entitlement.
Girls like her were my least favorite to deal with because they not only got their way with everything, they thought they deserved it, too.
I held her stare, though, and watched as uncertainty wavered in her gaze. She was the first to look away and victory zinged within me.
It was one of the many lessons my parents taught me before they were captured by the Council. Never be the first to look away and if you're going to fight about something, make sure you're either right or braver than the person you're fighting with.
I wasn't too sure I was the bravest. Maybe the brashest. Still. It worked nine times out of ten, so I'd take it.
I put the bowl up and slid the trash into the receptacle before I slapped the tray up and walked out.
The stares of those girls, whoever they were, burned into my back all the way out.
High school was never fun. Apparently, that crossed over to magical high schools and/or magical juvie. I walked into the room five minutes before the bell rang to the stares of at least two dozen strangers. Oddly enough, every single one of them, including the guys, was prettier than me.
I'd never been considered beautiful. Handsome was a word I heard my family tossing around before everything went south. Whatever that meant. When I thought of a handsome woman, I thought of Anjelica Huston. She had strong, glorious features and she said whatever she thought, whenever she thought it.
If that meant handsome, then it was a title I'd wear proudly. But if handsome meant not pretty but too polite to say it, well ... they could shove it.
My hair was a little wild, yes. My face was a little angular. My attitude was a little harsh sometimes, but I was intellig
ent.
On most subjects. A little iffy on math. The appearance of my face never mattered when it came to the almost endless well of magic within me.
Here though? As soon as I walked into the classroom, I knew it mattered.
A lot.
The girls here were ... the best word I could find would be sultry. Their makeup was perfect. So perfect I wondered if I touched it if it would smear to reveal a completely different face underneath it. There were blondes and brunettes, a token redhead, and me - an odd specimen with bright pink hair and a hidden identity. If I'd known I'd wind up in here, I would have colored my hair to something more sedate. It was difficult to fly under the radar when your hair was the color of cotton candy.
My gaze skimmed over the crowd and landed on the same girl from breakfast. This time her stare was predatory. For whatever reason, she didn't like me.
That was fine.
I wasn't here to be liked.
I slung my old backpack over the back of my seat and slid into the uncomfortable wooden desk. I flipped open the lid to discover a notepad, a pen, two pencils, and a wand. I discreetly touched it.
Willow.
A slight frown touched my lips. I wasn't a willow wand kind of girl. Willow was a definite feminine energy. It was also a dangerous wood. Willow aligned itself to the emotions of the spell caster, enhancing any cast spells. It also aligned itself to the magician's intent.
Willow was dangerous for an illusionist and borderline deadly for a Rook. Once upon a time, all of the Rook's used willow wands for their spellcasting. Until we were either imprisoned or run underground.
I longed to touch it, to feel the wood calling to my magic, but I refrained. Perhaps I could trade with someone else or maybe rummage through one of the empty desks to see if there was another wood available.
Oak was a safe bet. It was a steady choice for a wand and one that helped center the magician. I looked around, but no one else had opened their desks. I quietly allowed it to shut and stared forward. The class was unusually quiet. If this had been my old high school, you wouldn't be able to hear yourself think.
Prom Fright Page 5
