by Nissa Leder
I managed to pass biology in high school with a B—one of my better grades—and the lessons on genetics were my favorite. I didn’t realize that magic was just like any other gene, but it makes sense. “So, the more Sorcerers who have kids with Ordinaries, the more likely it is for magic to die out?”
“Yes, which is why mixing Sorcerer and Ordinary blood has always been discouraged.”
The waitress returns with water glasses for each of us and then takes our order.
After she leaves, Lucas shifts his body toward me. “Have you made a decision about the magic transfer trial?”
Beck turns toward me too, warning me with a look not to say the wrong thing. It’s a look he’s given me my entire life, and most of the time I know exactly what he’s urging me not to say. Which usually only convinces me to say it. But this time I have no clue what the right answer is.
“I’m not sure yet,” I say, which seems enough to wipe the anxiety from Beck’s face. “I’d hate to lose magic when I just got it, but I can see the strategy behind the trial. Put the strongest resources into the most capable hands.”
“You’re far more logical than many on the Sorcery Board,” Lucas says. “It took months to convince them how the transfer process could benefit everyone.”
“I know I would have gone for it if I’d had the opportunity,” Beck cuts in. “What better way to live up to the Jacobsen name than to double my magic?”
“And what better way to disgrace it than to lose your magic entirely?” I ask, earning me another glare.
“I wouldn’t lose it.” Beck lifts his chin, his typical move when he’s trying to shift from defense to offense in a conversation. “Those who work the hardest will be the ones to excel at Wicklow, and I take the opportunity more seriously than the other students.”
He isn’t wrong. Beck takes life more serious than anyone I know. He’s always been the kid to show up early for class and stay after to ask the teacher questions. Same thing for sports. He’d show up to practice and give his all, no matter what the coach expected.
Maybe that’s why I’ve never cared about anything that much. There was no way I could live up to his standards, so why try? Plus, my parents barely noticed any of it anyway, no matter how hard Beck tried to impress them. It wasn’t until he came to Wicklow that their interest finally piqued.
“I’m sure you’ll make the right decision for yourself, Wren.” Lucas unfolds his silverware from the black cloth napkin as the waitress returns with a loaf of bread.
I’m grateful for the interruption. My tendency to do the opposite of what Beck thinks I should do is screaming at me to talk to Dean Waters for a transfer. But a small part of me, the part that’s always said I was never going to outdo him so giving any effort trying was a waste, is whispering that this is finally my chance to do something better than him.
Beck lassos the conversation again, asking Lucas about some incident in the Sorcery news earlier in the week. I hear bits and pieces about Dark Sorcerers, the capital building, and Protectors almost making a grave mistake, but I zone most of it out.
The young couple with the baby finishes their meal and leaves. Before they’re even out the door, a female hobgoblin appears out of nowhere in front of the table they were sitting at and clears the dishes into a tub. Like Pete, the hobgoblin in the secret room Kaz showed me, this one wears the most random clothing. A ivory-colored blouse is tucked into floral print overalls straight from the 80s and paired with Wizard of Oz style glittery red heels that are way too big.
After wiping everything down, she and the bucket of dishes disappear. I guess if you don’t have to ever walk very far, wearing the wrong sized shoes isn’t a big deal.
Finally, the waitress returns with our food. Lucas and Beck both got steak and mashed potatoes, making my bowl of chowder look measly.
It might not be the monstrous mound of food they got, but it’s the best soup I’ve ever had. The flavor of the corn mixes perfectly with the creamy base, and it’s just the right amount after such a big breakfast.
I’m the first to finish, so I go back to people-watching over the balcony. The men in suits are still at the same tables they were at when we entered, probably on their fifth cups of coffee by now. Most of the other restaurant patrons, including the elderly couple, have gone as the lunch rush thins.
“Welcome to Brimstones,” the waitress says to whoever just entered the restaurant. She rounds the corner with menus and cloth-wrapped silverware in her hands, leading the newcomers to a table.
All the bodyguards watch as a young couple follows the waitress. I recognize the girl right away from her long red hair as one of the twins from the party. When I shift my gaze to her date, regret slaps me across the face.
Sebastian glances up and meets my stare with a huge smile.
How could I forget that this balcony is practically the focal point of the entire restaurant?
I dip my chin in a small nod.
“What are you gawking at?” Beck asks.
“I’m not gawking,” I snap. “Your boy-crush just entered the restaurant.”
Beck leans over me and peaks through the balcony railing before returning to his perfect posture.
Lucas doesn’t say anything then, but after the bill is paid and we’re leaving, he walks straight to Sebastian’s table.
When Sebastian realizes who Lucas is, his eyes widen. Then he swallows and stands.
“Mr. President,” he reaches out his hand, “it’s an honor to meet you.”
His date also looks a bit shocked and almost knocks over her glass of wine as she stands and shakes Lucas’s hand after Sebastian. “Mr. President.”
I’m starting to see what Beck meant by the benefits of Lucas as a grandpa. Watching people fan-girl is quite entertaining.
“My grandchildren tell me you go to school with them,” Lucas says, his voice the perfect mix of friendly and important. “It’s always wonderful to meet Wicklow students.”
“Meeting you has always been a dream,” Sebastian says, his voice almost too sincere.
Lucas leans in and lowers his voice. “Rumor has it that you are quite an influential person at Wicklow. Perhaps sometime in the future, you could accompany my grandchildren for a tour of the capital?”
Sebastian glances at me.
I roll my eyes and nod my head toward Beck. Unlike my brother, making it into some secret society isn’t on my priority list.
“That’s an offer that would be impossible to resist,” Sebastian says.
Beck is oddly quiet next to me. Is he really that nervous around Sebastian? Or is he embarrassed Lucas is basically trying to bribe his entrance into the Mystics?
“I better get my grandchildren back to Wicklow. It was nice meeting you two,” Lucas says before turning and leaving the restaurant. Beck follows silently behind him.
All the bodyguards stand up and trail Lucas and my brother, trapping me next to Sebastian.
His date gives me a sour expression, which I return with a smile.
Finally, when all the guards have passed, I make my way to the exit.
“See you later, Wren,” Sebastian calls behind me.
I ignore him and continue to the car.
I’m as thankful as can be when the rest of the weekend passes without another argument between Olivia and Micah about the upcoming magic transfer trial decision we all have to make.
Even when Micah isn’t around, Olivia and I avoid the topic. Monday comes, giving me one more day to ignore the choice I have to make.
But too quickly, it’s Tuesday, and all of us freshmen are taking our seats for the follow-up assembly. In a few minutes, those of us who want to stay at Wicklow and participate in the trial will have to make an unbreakable promise. There will be no going back. No changing our minds. We’ll be in it until the end.
Maybe I should have spent the weekend weighing the pros and cons like I’m sure Olivia was doing. But in the seat next to me, she doesn’t look any calmer than I feel. She mig
ht actually look even more nervous. Her gaze is dazed like it’s focused on nothing but air.
On her other side, Micah looks like a kid on Christmas morning.
Once everyone has taken their seats, Dean Waters approaches the podium. “Welcome, students. I know this past week has been full of lots of careful thought, but I hope you’ve each come to a confident conclusion.”
A conclusion at all would be good right about now.
I try to remember the pros and cons, but my mind can’t think of anything useful.
“The time has come,” Dean Waters says. “Anyone who would like to withdraw themselves from the trial and be transferred to another program, please move to the side of the room now.”
Around fifteen students follow her instructions.
Olivia taps her foot against the gym floor.
Micah reaches out and touches her knee. “Are you okay?”
“I’m going to do it. I’m going to stay here at Wicklow.” She bobs her head as if trying to reassure herself.
“Me too,” I say without thought. If Micah and Olivia are both staying here, there’s no way I can leave. If I can’t find a way to be in the top half of the class, then I guess I wasn’t meant to have magic.
Dean Waters watches a few more students leave the seats and join the others who wish to transfer. “Last chance. It’s time to line up and vow to follow through with the magic trial to the finish at the end of the year.”
Two more students get up and move to the outside of the room.
At the back end of the gym, a cart is rolled out. On top of it is a white cauldron, smoke drifting from its top.
“Everyone please line up at the cauldron,” Dean Waters says then heads toward it. Once we’re all in line, someone hands her a portable microphone. “These are the terms you will be agreeing to. All participants will be bound by blood for the duration of the trial. Students will be separated into groups of five, which will be your training unit, just like the Protectors. At the end of the first semester, groups will be tested to determine the entry order for the final obstacle course at the end of the year. The groups who place in the top half will be given the magic from those who finish in the bottom half.”
Her words and tone are so official, I can’t stop the nerves from climbing up my throat. I bite my tongue to calm myself, but it doesn’t work.
Dean Waters continues, “To agree to these terms, each student will drip one drop of blood into the cauldron, which makes a binding agreement that cannot be undone.”
A few students ahead, I see Elaine. It doesn’t surprise me that she’s choosing to participate in the trial, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so nervous. She’s staring at the ground as her finger taps rapidly against her thigh.
“Time to begin.”
One by one, students approach the dean, who pricks them each with a new needle and squeezes a single drop of blood from their finger into the cauldron. As each drop hits, the smoke pulses. Next to her, a man scribbles down the names of everyone joining the trial.
I zone out, focusing on my breath like Professor Belrose has been teaching us in Incantations. When I connect to my magic, a wave of calmness washes over me.
Micah taps my shoulder. “Your turn.”
I approach Dean Waters, doing my best to hold my connection to my magic.
“Your grandfather will be very proud of you,” she says as she pokes my finger.
“Thanks,” I say, though I’m not so sure pride will be what he feels if I join the trial and fail.
She rolls my finger over the cauldron and squeezes its tip. One drop of blood falls into the smoke.
Suddenly, I’m light-headed. My vision flickers momentarily. After a few blinks and steps, everything returns to normal.
Micah goes next, and then Olivia.
We stand silently, waiting for the ceremony to be over.
When every student who’s chosen to be part of the trial has given their drop of blood, Dean Waters asks us all to take our seats again.
All the students wanting to transfer are gone now, so there are at least twenty open seats. I wonder if any of them will regret their choice. Or if any of us in this room will have buyer’s remorse.
Too bad for us. No returns allowed this time.
The man who wrote down our names passes the notebook to Dean Waters. “This is a list of those of you who have chosen to participate in this remarkable opportunity. I will now use magic to determine your groups for the upcoming year.”
She hovers her hand over the paper and mumbles a spell I can’t understand. Then she lifts the notebook for all of us to see.
The names begin to move around the page, switching order quickly at first, then slower with each passing second until they stop moving entirely.
I’m too far away to read the names, but I can see that boxes have formed around them, in what I’m assuming are groups of five.
Dean Waters reads the groups aloud, instructing them to stand up and join together on the side of all the chairs. When Olivia and Micah are called together, I’m hopeful that by some miracle, I’ll be in their group too. But I’m not.
They both give me a disappointed look as they leave me sitting there alone. More and more students get up from their chairs until there are only five of us left.
I glance around, seeing my group for the first time. Behind me to my right, my stare meets Elaine, and the horror on her face is impossible to miss.
Seriously? Out of all of us, I end up in the same group as her?
Dean Waters calls out our names, but I don’t listen. We all move to the empty space in front of the chairs.
There’s one other girl, who’s tall and athletic-looking. If we were in the Ordinary world, I’d think she was a basketball player.
The two others are guys who look like complete opposites. One is average height, with broad shoulders and defined biceps. The other is tall and lanky, with short hair and glasses.
We all stand, staring at each other, until I break the silence.
“So, I don’t know about all of you, but I was spacing out when she read everyone’s names. Maybe we can all introduce ourselves again?” I say.
The guy with glasses goes first. “I’m Garrett.”
“Natalia,” the girl says.
“Van.” Broad-shouldered guy dips his chin.
“I’m Wren,” I say with what I hope is a friendly smile.
“Jacobsen, right?” Van asks. “The President’s granddaughter.”
Natalia and Garret both gawk at me.
“Yeah, but I barely know him,” I say then turn to Elaine.
She inhales and straightens her posture. “I’m Elaine.”
“Okay, great. Now we all at least know each other’s names,” I say.
“Now that you’ve all introduced yourselves,” Dean Waters says, “you’re excused to lunch. You will be responsible for coordinating group meetings and practices outside of class as you prepare for the midterm exam at the end of the semester then the final at the end of the year. Your teachers will give you specific things to be practicing as the year goes on. I wish everyone the best of luck.”
“Let’s meet tonight to plan our strategy,” Elaine says, her voice more confident than before. “The sooner we start our practices, the better off we’ll be.”
Everyone nods.
“Sounds good,” I say.
“Tonight after dinner in my room, number 225. See you all then.” Elaine makes eye contact with everyone as if warning them how important this all is, before following the crowd out of the gym and to lunch.
The others take her lead and walk away, leaving me standing alone.
My choice has been made, and there’s no going back. I never expected to get grouped with Elaine, but it is what it is.
After years of small jabs and across-the-room glares, we’re going to have to work together, or we’ll both end up losing the magic we just got forever.
When I search the gym for Olivia and Micah, they’re are
already gone, so I’m stuck moving through the long lunch line alone.
If I’d have known that the future of my magic would depend on me working with Elaine, maybe I wouldn’t have taken the risk.
The last time we had to team up didn’t end so well.
It was sophomore year and we both volunteered to help with our school’s homecoming dance. Elaine most likely wanted to help to make friends with the junior girls in charge of everything or to write it on her college applications. Knowing her, probably both. She isn’t one to waste any opportunity.
I, on the other hand, got caught sneaking in late, drunk. When I stood there, unable to think up a good excuse, Beck told Mom that it was because I was helping him with homecoming. She was supposed to be gone on all weekend on some spa trip, or I wouldn’t have come home through the front door, singing at the top of my lungs.
Mom barely bought the excuse, so to save my ass from being grounded, I had to actually volunteer with Beck.
On Friday, Elaine and I ended up both assigned to filling up the balloons. A simple, non-competitive task. At least, any normal person would think so. But when Samantha Kline, Zane’s older sister and Junior President, came in to check out our progress, Elaine’s attitude completely changed.
Samantha thanked Elaine and me both for helping, but then, she started chatting with me about the party we’d both been at over the weekend. One where she walked in on Zane and me with half our clothes off in an empty bedroom.
“Are you two ever going to date?” she asked, tilting her head and eyeing me hopefully. “You would be good for him.”
“Our friends-with-benefits deal has worked out too well so far to mess with it,” I said, earning a scoff from Elaine.
On the night of homecoming, right before the dance, Elaine asked me to fill up a couple more balloons for the entryway. The helium machine was in the dressing room behind the stage. I couldn’t see why Elaine wouldn’t just go do it herself, but I wasn’t in the mood to argue. Helping set-up had gone well and I didn’t need to let her ruin the dance for me by poisoning my mood.
