The XYZs of Being Wicked

by Lara Chapman

  She looks at me with a mixture of regret, anger, and fear. Despite my determination to hate her as thoroughly as possible, a tiny little part of me feels bad for her.

  “You can change,” I tell her. “Heck, you’re a good witch. Anything’s possible.”

  “Maybe,” she says.

  I glance at the clock. “I have to get in the shower or I’m going to be late.”

  Kendall nods. Just as I reach the bathroom door, she asks, “Are you going to tell Miss A?”

  I look at Kendall, at the girl I wanted as my best friend. I think about Ivy and how she never left me the entire time I was sick.

  “Nah,” I tell her with a smile. “I think I came out on top this time.”

  I close the door to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. Despite being sick, despite being so afraid of my gift, I’m happy.

  I’m gifted with special powers and unbelievable friends.

  I’m a Seeker at Dowling and will one day be a witch.

  If you ask me, this is the mother of all do-overs. And this is just the beginning.

  Read on for a sneak peek of the companion to The XYZs of Being Wicked.

  Unless you’ve been blessed with the gift of premonition, there’s no preparing for your second first day at Dowling.

  Last year I entered the Dowling Academy School of Witchcraft in fear, all sweaty hands and pounding heart.

  Last year I hauled my impossibly heavy trunk to my room. Last year everything—and I mean everything—changed.

  I walk under the large oak tree, now fully aware of what happens beneath it. Blessings and socials, and darker things I’ve yet to see, I’m sure. My senses, dulled by the scorching Texas heat and never-ending summer days, zap to life.

  There’s a bounce in my step as I keep myself from running inside to find my best friend, Ivy. It’s been two long months since I’ve seen her. FaceTime just isn’t the same as being with someone. Plus it was impossible to talk about boys or magic or gossip without one of our mothers eavesdropping. So we had to settle for late-night texting to talk about the good stuff.

  I pat the iPhone in my back pocket, happy I’m allowed to have it. Last year I was a Seeker, which means I was a beginner. Seekers have almost no privileges. No phones, no television, no computers. It was a lot like prison, but with better food.

  Since this is my second year, I’m a Crafter, which means I know what my gift is (that’s a really long story) and I’ve passed the Seeker exam. I’m a long way from being a real witch, though. That takes years.

  I stop in front of the massive Dowling doors that once seemed so forbidding. Just me. No parents. No trunk. No nerves.

  What a difference a year makes.

  I pull the door open and let the cool air wash over me. Before I’m fully inside the building, I hear Miss A call my name.

  “Hallie!”

  My eyes adjust to the dim lighting, and my dorm mom’s face becomes clear. I break into a huge smile. Last year I accidentally made her dye her hair orange, and she hasn’t changed it since. Beneath that tangled curly mess of shocking hair is the face I’ve missed so much. She was only my dorm mom for a year, but we have a special connection.

  She pulls me into a big squishy hug. “Looky here, looky here! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!”

  I laugh and pull out of the embrace. “I missed you, too, Miss A.”

  I’ve tried to forget that Miss A won’t be my dorm mom this year. All the other dorm moms are über-serious and a little bit scary. Miss A’s like the crazy grandmother at family reunions. Her face is painted too bright and her lipstick is always smeared across her teeth. But you just know she’s always going to be there for you.

  “Is Ivy here yet?” I ask.

  She checks her watch before answering. “Her mama called and said they were running late. Should be here in about an hour.”

  I try not to look too disappointed. I’m excited about seeing Miss A, but Ivy is the one I really want to see. When you go through what we have so far, you’re more than just friends. You’re sisters.

  I glance at the staircase and smile. “Our trunks are here.”

  “You betcha,” Miss A says, smiling.

  The trunks whiz up the stairs, two feet off the ground, unassisted. When we witnessed it last year, Ivy passed out. She would’ve hit the floor and split her head open if Miss A hadn’t frozen her midfall. Magic saved the day—something that would happen many times after.

  “Didn’t I tell you this would happen for you as a Crafter?” Miss A asks.

  “You did.” I am mesmerized by the trunks and wonder if mine’s been delivered to my room.

  “It’s already in there,” Miss A answers.

  It takes me a second to remember that my thoughts project. No one had heard my thoughts all summer. I kind of liked it that way.

  “If you don’t want me reading your thoughts, you’d better get busy figuring out how to close that brain of yours off from me,” she says with a wink. “And everyone else.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I answer. There are a lot of things I still don’t understand about my gift. Or gifts. With the gift of inheritance, I can acquire gifts from other witches. For instance, I accidentally picked up the gift of mind manipulation. That means sometimes people hear my thoughts about what I think they should do, and then they do it. But they don’t realize I’m the one who gave them the idea. That’s how Miss A got the orange hair. It’s kind of like subliminal messages, only I have almost no control over who hears what. Hoping to work that out this year.

  “Better get your room assignment and settle in. Invocation is at five thirty in the Gathering Circle.”

  The Gathering Circle, or GC, is the main meeting room at Dowling. It’s the only room in the building big enough to hold all the Dowling girls. There are some girls who have been here for six years. Even longer, if they’re full-fledged witches.

  Some Dowling students never leave—they return year after year to teach future witches.

  I walk to the welcome desk, manned by two fourth circle witches. That’s what I’ll be next year if I make it through this one.

  “Hi, Hallie,” one of the girls says. I don’t know her, so I’m surprised she knows who I am. She hands me my ID, which holds a picture taken of me today. I have no clue how they do it, but they always manage to get a picture of us the day we arrive without our knowing. And voilà! It appears on our badge. That kind of thing is hard to get used to.

  Just as I’m about to walk away, the other girl sneers at me. “Good luck this year, Hallie. Not that you’re going to need it.” The last part is said under her breath, but I hear it anyway.

  Of course they know who I am.

  Everyone knows who I am.

  I am the first student at Dowling to have the gift of inheritance since High Priestess Dannabelle Grimm was here in the 1800s. Apparently, that’s kind of a big deal. All I really wanted to be was a hedge witch like my great-great-grandmother, mixing herbs and potions to heal and cast spells. But I got a lot more than I bargained for.

  I walk away and smile back at the girls, whose faces wear frozen, fake smiles. Miss A said people would be jealous. She was right.

  I look at my badge. My room number is 202.

  I climb the stairs two at a time, anxious to see the room I’ll share with Ivy. During the first year, Seekers are required to room with whomever Dowling assigns you to. For me, that meant my worst enemy of all time: Kendall Scott. Being able to choose my roommate this year is a big deal. Huge.

  I hit the top of the stairs and find the hallway crammed with girls talking, hugging, and snapping fingers. Small bursts of magic appear as girls show off their still-new skills. One girl keeps walking through a wall and back again. Back and forth, back and forth, her friends begging to see her do it “just one more time.” It’s hard not to watch her, because it’s crazy cool. A different girl farther down the hallway has accidentally (I think) frozen a girl’s legs in a block of ice. There are probably six or seven
girls around the frozen girl, chipping at the ice.

  I can’t stop smiling. Even though it’s a madhouse, it’s my madhouse. Home.

  “Hallie!” Dru Goode, still a foot shorter than everyone else, pushes her way through the cluster of girls to get to me.

  She breaks through, and I smile when I see her. Her perfect white teeth are in direct contrast to her dark skin and black curly hair. It’s impossible not to love her. I hug her close, then look behind her.

  “Where’s Jo?”

  Dru shrugs. “I haven’t seen her. What room are you in?”

  “202,” I tell her.

  She pushes my shoulder so hard I nearly fall. “Get out! We’re in 204! We’re neighbors!”

  “You’re stronger than you look,” I tell her, laughing.

  I send a silent thank-you to Miss A. I know she’s the reason our rooms are next to each other.

  I look at the room numbers on the wall and realize I’m standing in front of my door. “Have you gone in your room yet?” I ask Dru.

  “Yep,” she says. “Same as last year.”

  I swipe my ID in the door scanner, and the door unlocks. I push it open and—just as Dru said—the rooms are identical to last year’s, with one big difference: there’s a laptop on each of our desks.

  I spin to face Dru. “I didn’t know we were getting laptops!”

  “Me neither,” she says. “But don’t get too excited. I hear we have super-limited Internet access.”

  “Still, we can at least check our e-mail.” I look at Dru. “Can’t we?”

  Dru nods. “Miss A said we could. But no Facebook.”

  Good. As long as we have e-mail, I’m golden.

  My trunk sits in front of one of the beds. Ivy’s trunk is already here too. “Your trunk make it here okay?”

  Dru nods. “I don’t even care how it happens. I’m just glad I didn’t have to haul it upstairs. Those trunks are heavy!”

  There are definitely perks to being a witch.

  “I wish I’d brought my glow-in-the-dark pj’s from home. They’ve got a picture of my family on them,” I say.

  “Your pj’s?” Dru asks, a sneaky smile on her face. “At home? Two hundred long miles from here?”

  “Dru, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  She puts her fists on her hips. “I’ll pretend you didn’t just say that.”

  I throw my hands up in apology. “You’re right. What was I thinking?” Dru’s gift of conjuration has come in handy before. Like when she produced a hair straightener before the dance at Riley Academy, where I met Cody.

  Cody Ray. The “it” guy at Dowling’s brother school, Riley Academy. We met at last year’s social, and no matter how hard I tried to discourage him, he was glued to me all night long. I’ve seen girls ignore their friends because of boys, and I swore I’d never be one of them. Besides, life at Dowling was complicated enough. The last thing I needed was a distraction. But that’s exactly what I got.

  Dru closes her eyes and puts her fingers in snapping position. She peeks out at me. “Where do you keep your pj’s at home?”

  “My dresser. Bottom drawer.”

  She closes her eyes again and takes a deep breath. She whispers words I can’t hear, and tiny, colorful sparks dance off her fingertips.

  I look at my desk, then high-five Dru.

  Sitting there beside my laptop are the pj’s I’d left behind.

  Lara Chapman lives with her family in Central Texas, where she teaches high school English. She reads and writes daily and is rarely—if ever—found without her laptop and iPhone. Lara has a lifelong love affair with animals, especially dachshunds, and always has an animal or two snuggled close when writing.

  ALADDIN M!X Simon & Schuster, New York

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  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ALADDIN M!X

  Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

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  First Aladdin M!X edition July 2014

  Text copyright © 2014 by Lara Chapman

  Cover illustration copyright © 2014 by Coco Masuda

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

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  ALADDIN M!X and related logo are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

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  Book designed by Jeanine Henderson

  The text of this book was set in Fairfield.

  Library of Congress Control Number 2014938969

  ISBN 978-1-4814-0108-1 (hc)

  ISBN 978-1-4814-0107-4 (pbk)

  ISBN 978-1-4814-0109-8 (eBook)