First Time's a Charm

by Laura Greenwood

  "Is becoming a stereotype part of your life plan?"

  "Yes. The broom should arrive next week. I'm just disappointed they didn't offer next day delivery," I deadpan.

  He chuckles and takes a sip of his own tea, reminding me of my own.

  "I'm sorry to take you away from your work, sir," I say eventually.

  Shock flits across his face. "I'm not a sir."

  "But you are a teacher." I point to the lanyard around his neck.

  "This?" He holds it up to check. "I'm Miss Feathertop's teaching assistant. I'm doing my doctorate here."

  "Oh. And this is your office?" I look around properly. Without the assumption this is a teacher's office, it's a lot more apparent he's a student. Mostly because of the stack of empty plates off to the side.

  He notices where I'm looking and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting company."

  "No need to apologise. But why did you bring me here?" I ask, feeling braver now I know he's not going to damage my chances at graduating.

  "You looked upset, and Mr Peters really did need to get back to class."

  "But I didn't?"

  "You have tear tracks on your cheeks."

  "Maybe they were tears of joy." Though I'm not convinced he'll believe that.

  "May I be blunt, Miss Black?" he asks.

  "If you are, then I think it'll probably be better if you call me Mona." And only part of me is saying that to try and find out what his name is. It seems rude to keep referring to him as his gender, even if it's only in my head.

  "Alright then, may I be blunt, Mona?"

  Ah, damn, he isn't falling for my plot. Not the best start.

  "Yes."

  "If they were happy tears, you'd have told me to f-off and leave you alone."

  A weird chortling sound leaves me. "I'd never have been so rude. I thought you were a teacher," I point out.

  "You can call me Mr Smith if you'd like."

  Ah, bingo. Just the answer I'm looking for. If he's telling the truth. "Is your surname really Smith?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. I don't know why I feel better, but something about being in his company makes me feel lighter. I certainly don't feel like I've just been thrown out of class because my magic doesn't work right.

  "Is yours really Black?" he threw back.

  "Fair point."

  "Is it short for anything?"

  "Black? I think it's just the colour." Though how my family came about such a generic name, I'll never know.

  "I meant Mona."

  "Oh. Right. It's short for Monica, but no one calls me that." I shrug. I'm not sure why my parents bothered to give me a longer name, they've always used Mona too.

  "It's pretty though."

  I shrug again. "It's just my name." I pause for a moment, trying to work out if it's rude to just come right out and ask him his. "What do I call you? Or would you prefer me to use Mr Smith?"

  He squirms in his seat a little, not unlike the kitten was doing when it was still on my lap. I wonder what it is about my question making him uncomfortable, but I don't ask."

  "Thomas," he replies.

  "Do you shorten it?" Even as I ask, I know the answer will be no. He looks like a Thomas, not a Tom, or worse, a Tommy.

  "My sister does it to annoy me. But no, I don't normally shorten it."

  "It suits you."

  "Thanks." He takes a sip from his tea, reminding me that I have mine.

  I lean forward to grab it, only to be interrupted by the kitten pushing his head under my hand. "You and I aren't going to get along if you get between me and tea," I warn him.

  "Meow." It's so high and squeaky that I find my heart melting a little.

  Great. I came all this way to study, and instead, I'm just going to become a crazy cat lady. I suppose there are worse things, though right now I can't think of any.

  "He really is cute," Thomas says, admiring the fluffy grey thing that's taken a liking to the tassels of a bookmark and is batting them with his paws.

  "He is," I admit. "Am I even allowed to keep pets in the dorms?" I muse, realising another implication of magically conjuring a kitten.

  "Didn't you look into that before you made him?"

  I shake my head. "Like I said, it was an accident. I was actually trying to make a feather." Just like with Caspian, it doesn't actually feel bad to tell Thomas about my magic. More like I'm telling someone I can actually trust and who won't use the information against me. I hope I'm right. If I'm not, then this could have some dire consequences for me.

  "That's some powerful magic there," he observed.

  I snort. "Or the opposite. My magic has pretty much stopped working since I arrived here."

  His eyebrows knit together. "Stopped working?"

  "I wouldn't say I was ever the most talented person in the room, but I could certainly do straight forward spells. Then I came here..." I sigh. Talking about this isn't fun, even if Thomas is putting me at ease. "I don't know what happened, but within a day of being here, I could barely do anything with magic. This is the first time I've accidentally made a kitten though." I should feel guilty. I've brought something into this world that I shouldn't have and now I need to look after him. Not that it's the poor kitten's fault.

  On his part, he doesn't seem bothered at all as he potters around Thomas' desk. I hope he doesn't break anything.

  "Did you do anything that first day that you think led to this?"

  "Not that I can think of. I left my parents, found my room and unpacked. I didn't try to do any magic until later in the day, and then it already failed."

  "Hmm." He strokes his chin in a way I only thought TV villains did. It seems like twenty-something-year-old men do the same. Unless he is a villain, but I very much doubt that. Everyone knows those kind of people don’t really exist.

  What does that mean? I wish people would say what they were thinking out loud instead of doing it all privately. Maybe it's a weird thing for me to want, but it'll solve a few issues, that's for sure.

  "Penny for your thoughts?" I stand up even as I'm speaking and lean across the desk to pick the errant kitten out of a ball of wool he's found.

  Thomas coughs, and it takes a moment for me to realise why.

  "Sorry." I brush down my skirt with my free hand, the other one being full of kitten is a bit of a problem.

  "You don't need to be sorry, I just...it's hard not to look."

  My cheeks heat up, and I'm glad I'm not someone whose blushes are normally noticeable. At least, not according to Daphne they aren't, but she might just be trying to make me more comfortable. I wouldn't put it past her.

  "Please tell me what you're thinking," I ask weakly as I retake my seat. Part of me wants to run away, but I'm too interested to hear his thoughts on why I'm like I am.

  "I'm just wondering if there are some kinds of tests we can do to determine what's wrong."

  I hug the kitten to my chest, to protect him from whatever Thomas is suggesting.

  "Oh no, not on him. Potentially on you and your wand though."

  "Is it safe?" I ask, relaxing slightly.

  "I don't know." He stands up and looks through the bookshelf behind him, clearly knowing what he's looking for even if he's trying not to act like it.

  "You've not done this before?" I ask.

  "Actually, I'm doing my thesis on illness with magic," he responds. "Situations a bit like yours have always interested me. It's why I'm studying them now." He turns around and drops a book onto the table between us, being careful not to scare the kitten in the process.

  The creature is growing on me by the second, even if he has a mischievous streak. As if to prove my point, he stands with his hind legs on my knees, and his front paws on the edge of the table, as if he too wants to look at what we're doing. The whole image is nothing short of cute. I wish I could get my phone out of my bag without disrupting him. He's being totally picture worthy.

  "Mona?" Thomas prompts.

  "Oh, sorry. What did you
say?"

  He smiles, putting me back at ease after my little stint of ignoring him.

  "There's a case like this reported a hundred and fifty years ago. Without the kitten, but other than that, it's exactly what you describe." He pushes the book towards me and I scoot closer to the desk. The kitten climbs onto the table, clearly not wanting to be subjected to me moving beneath him.

  "Ebenezer?" I echo what I read. "I've heard that name somewhere."

  "A Christmas Carol, maybe?" he jokes.

  I give him a wry smile. Amusing though his answer is, I recognise the name from somewhere else entirely, but I can't put my finger on where. "I'd remember if it was from a book."

  "Maybe if you work out where it is, we might have some ideas of where to look next for a cure."

  "You think I'm curable?" I don't even feel bad for the eagerness that enters my voice. I want to be able to do magic again. It's so restricting not being able to.

  "I think you should be." He stands up straight and rubs the back of his neck.

  "Whatever it is you want to ask, just say it." I lean back and cross my arms, waiting for the question I know is on his mind, even if I don't know exactly what it is.

  "How did you..."

  "My brother-in-law makes a similar gesture when he wants to ask my sister something," I admit.

  "Oh." He chuckles uncomfortably.

  I don't let it get to me. I need him to actually voice what he wants to say or we won't get anywhere with this.

  "I was wondering if you'd let me use you as a case study for my thesis," he mumbles.

  I raise an eyebrow, not knowing what the best way to respond to that one is. Oddly, I feel a lot more confident in here than I have during most of my time at Grimalkin. Unless I'm alone with Daphne. I'm going to put it down to Caspian paying attention to me first, then Thomas not judging me for my lack of magic either.

  "We'll try and work out what's wrong with you as we go, I'll just write it all up as I do so I can submit it." He rubs his hand around the back of his neck again, clearly it’s some kind of nervous tick he has going.

  "Will that be permitted?"

  "You're an adult, it's only your permission I need."

  A laugh escapes me. "I meant from the examination board."

  "Oh."

  "So?" I prompt when he doesn't respond immediately.

  "I don't think it'll be a problem. But I'll run it by my advisor next time I talk to him."

  "I thought you said you were working with Miss Feathertop?"

  "As an assistant, yes. But she's not in charge of my thesis."

  "I guess I'll find out about that if I get that far in my education." I hope I do. Not that I want to be a doctor of anything. That's not part of my life plan. Though at this point, I'm not sure what that plan really entails beyond surviving.

  "I'm sure you'll do more than survive. You seem to be a very resourceful young woman."

  I have no idea what to do with his compliment but am saved by the ring of the bell.

  "I need to go meet my friend," I murmur.

  "Can I have your number?" he blurts. "So I can text you about my thesis?"

  I can tell from his voice that he wants it for more than that, but I don't question it. I want to give him my number for exactly the same reasons he wants it. Plus, there's the added advantage of us maybe figuring out what's wrong with me.

  I lean in and scribble it on a spare bit of paper, before standing and scooping up the kitten. "Use it wisely, Mr Smith."

  "I intend to," he whispers. There's a chance I wasn't meant to hear it, but I did. And it left a content smile on my face.

  My time here at Grimalkin looks a bit less bleak after this afternoon.

  Chapter Five

  "What are you going to call him?" Daphne asks as she scratches the grey kitten's chin.

  He seems to like it, as he pushes himself further into her hand.

  "Call him?" I echo.

  "He needs a name."

  Oh. Right. A name. I have no clue what to say to that. I don't have any pets and have never gone through the naming process before. What happens if he doesn't like the name I pick for him? Will he hate me for good?

  "Mona?" Daphne prompts.

  "I don't know any good cat names," I respond honestly.

  "What about Rhubarb?"

  "As a name?" I frown at her, wondering if she's joking.

  "It's one of the most popular cat names in the world," she informs me.

  "How do you even know that?" Who spends their time looking up what people call their cats? Huh. Okay, that does sound like the kind of thing people would do.

  "I've been looking into cat names ever since we started looking for the spell to turn into cats," she admits, a slight blush colouring her cheeks and matching the pink of her hair. "I didn't know if my cat form would like the name Daphne, so it was better to have backups."

  "You looked up alternative names for yourself?" I'm asking a lot of questions, but I feel the situation warrants just that. It's not every day that your best friend tells you she looked up cat names in case her magically induced cat shifting side wants a different one. The funniest part is that they haven't found the spell yet anyway, so she doesn't need a name for her cat side.

  "Yes."

  "Alright then." I look back at the kitten. Actually, he kind of does look like a Rhubarb. It's a cute name for a cute kitten. "Rhubarb it is."

  But if I can avoid it, I'm not having the name a pet dilemma ever again. One kitten is enough for me.

  "How did you make him again?" she asks.

  I sigh and take out my wand and swish it around, not sure what my aim is with it. "You know the stupid feather spell?"

  "Yes..."

  "I tried to do that."

  "And you made a kitten from it? That's kind of cool." Her face lights up, like she wants to try it herself.

  "I don't think the spell actually makes kittens," I say with a sigh.

  "Still, I want to try." Her wand waves back and forth, and moments later, tiny feathers flutter down from the ceiling, coating my entire room in a layer of them.

  "Was that really necessary?" I ask, shaking my sleeves and letting the feathers fall away from me.

  Rhubarb is having a whale of a time as he bats at the feathers with one of his paws. At least he's easy to entertain, that's a saving grace. I still need to work out all the rest though. What do I even feed a kitten? And is he different because he's magical? So many questions that I have no answer for.

  "I was hoping for a kitten." Daphne flops onto my bed, a real pout on her face. Even so, this is the happiest I've seen her since her vampire slammed the door in her face. I'm sure he'll forgive her eventually, but it's not been an easy path so far.

  "I have one." I point at Rhubarb.

  "Of my own," she points out.

  I consider offering her Rhubarb, but I really don't want to. I may not have set out to get a kitten of my own, but he's growing on me by the second and I want to keep him.

  "Do you know what the rules about keeping pets are?" I ask, picking up a particularly large feather and dangling it in front of Rhubarb's face.

  His eyes go wide, and he begins to chase it. My heart swells several sizes. How can one creature be so damned cute?

  "I don't know how they can tell you to get rid of him," she responds. "You made him with magic at school, in front of witnesses..."

  "I know, but Thomas said..."

  "Thomas?" She sits up straight, clearly more interested now there's a guy involved. Saying that, there's a note of something I can't explain in her voice.

  "Yes. He's doing his doctorate. He took me back to his office and..."

  Daphne wiggles her eyebrows. "His private office?"

  I throw a pillow at her, but she catches it deftly, not in the least bit fazed by my slight violence towards her.

  "Nothing happened." I remember how it felt to have him checking out my ass though, even if my skirt mostly covered it.

  "Hmm. Why don
't I believe you?"

  "I promise, you'll be the first to know if something does."

  "So you want something to happen? Seems like my little Mona is growing up." She clutches her hands across her heart, being far too dramatic than the situation actually needs her to be.

  "No, that's not what I meant," I protest.

  "Yeah, yeah. But I have to wonder one thing?"

  "Hmm?" I pull a textbook from my bag and dump it on the desk. I have homework to do before tomorrow regardless of whether or not my room is occupied by my best friend. Or covered in feathers.

  "Where does this leave your crush on Ryan?"

  My blood runs cold. How does she know about that? I've never mentioned it to her. Or to him. Or, well, anyone.

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Please, you're about as obvious as a stripper at a hen party." Amusement shines through every word, but I don't know where that leaves me. Do I deny I have feelings for her twin brother? Maybe it's time to come clean about that one. Not that I think she'll do anything about it.

  "There's nothing between us." I sit on my desk chair, swivelling back and forth. I don't know why they put these things next to desks, they only make me procrastinate and not actually do any work.

  "You don't know that."

  I laugh bitterly. "If there was something between me and Ryan, one of us would have acted on it by now."

  "Hmm."

  "Are you saying he likes me?" My heart beats against my chest, anticipation and confusion both warring within me.

  "From the way he acts, I'd say yes."

  "Oh, so he hasn't actually told you." I try not to let my disappointment show.

  "Of course he hasn't. For one thing, he's my brother. And for a second, we're not in primary school anymore, we don't do the so-and-so said they like so-and-so thing."

  I cross my arms, more annoyed that she's right than anything else. "You say that like Cade didn't tell you he liked you," I point out. Even if her brother's best friend isn't the guy she wants to give her attention, it's still flattering for him to have told her. At least, that's what I'm choosing to believe.

  "Not the point."

  I sigh. "Ryan and me is a bad idea. Our friendship is too important for a start. I don't want to mess that up because of a silly crush on your brother."