The girls all look like they always do, coordinated today in purples and blues. I’m wearing a black sweater and jeans, but something tells me no one will demand I do a glamor to match today.
Fox squeezes my hand as we walk past them to my first hour class. “Don’t worry. Things’ll be fine, you’ll see.”
I force a smile to match his, even though I’m not sure he’s right. I tried to stop them last night. They could look at that as betrayal. Icy dread knots my stomach. Will they try to retaliate against me? I press the idea from my head. No, they got what they wanted—I didn’t actually stop them. Maybe I’ll be lucky and they’ll just ignore me. I’ve dealt with that enough in my life to be able to deal.
Gratitude for Fox wells inside me. He, at least, doesn’t seem upset with me. Although he’s not who I would have chosen to be with, he’s chosen me, and he’s standing by me now, even though I’m sure it’ll cause stress between him and the other circle members.
When we stop outside Miss Buchanan’s English class and he leans in for a kiss, I pull him to me in a tight hug instead. He stiffens, surprised, but quickly relaxes into my arms. His disappointment flashes through me, and I wish I could explain how much more this hug means for me than would a simple acceptance of his kiss. When he kisses me, I pretend, but this embrace is my choice, my thanks, my acceptance of him as a part of my life. I still don’t want Fox to be my boyfriend, but I’m glad to have him as a friend. There will be a time to tell him all this, but now is not it.
Fox squints when I release him, his eyebrow raised slightly. “You gonna be okay?”
I smile, and this time it’s genuine. “Yeah. I’ll see you after class.”
I hesitate before making my way toward my regular seat. Lexie isn’t there yet. If she doesn’t want to sit by me, she can choose another seat. I spent too much time being afraid of what my classmates thought about me to allow myself to slip back into those thoughts. After all, maybe she’s not mad at me for last night. I don’t want to make her think I’m mad. Although I can’t sense anything off about Fox’s energy, I’m still not convinced last night’s ceremony won’t have consequences. The best way to help the circle is to stay connected to it.
Lexie slides into the room just before the late bell and I do a double take. At Crystal’s locker, she was in jeans and a purple-and-blue checked baby doll top, but now she’s in knee-high black leather boots over tight tan pants and a billowing red-checked top. I catch her eye as she takes her seat behind me. “Nice look.”
She meets my eyes just long enough to roll hers before focusing on the front of the room. I sigh. So much for the circle not being mad. Still, eye contact is better than complete ignoring. Things could be worse.
Fox is outside the door after class, his face tight with tension. I link my arm through his and start toward my locker. “How long do you think it’ll take her to cool down?”
He exhales noisily. “You know Lexie. Either by the end of the day or sometime next year.”
We arrive at my locker and I spin the dial. “Okay, time for honesty. Are they all mad at me?”
“No,” he says too quickly.
I change out my English novel for my science book. “Fox.”
“Griffin couldn’t care less. He figures with you not anchored it means more for him. Zane hasn’t said anything, but I’d bet he feels the same way. Lexie’s always been jealous of you—you know that. My guess is she’s gonna want to rub it in for a while that she’s finally better at magic than you. And when she gets bored, she’ll be back to the same old Lexie.”
My heart clenches at his words. If only she could be the same old Lexie.
“Crystal’s a bit harder to read. I don’t think she’s mad, though.”
“And Bridget?”
Fox snorts. “She does whatever Crystal and Lexie do.”
The next two classes pass without incident, but no one from the circle is in either of them. In science, Owen ignores me the same way he’s done the last two days. At first, I thought perhaps Owen was just not paying attention to me, but today it’s clear he goes out of his way not to look in my direction: When the girl at the front of my row passes the day’s assignment behind her, there’s a connection error and the papers spill out into the aisle. Owen stoops to help pick them up and when he hands the assignment to the girl in front of me, his eyes graze mine for the briefest of seconds before he drops his gaze and turns hurriedly forward—almost like he’s guilty. But why should he feel guilty for looking at me? The question rattles around my head for the rest of the period and into the next, causing me to mess up an answer during my Spanish skit, asking the boy pretending to be my waiter for un taco de pecado instead of un taco de pescado—a sin taco instead of a fish taco.
Felix and West, at least, find my error hilarious and snicker about it for the remainder of the hour.
At lunch, I sit beside Fox like I’ve done since Monday, and while no one says anything about it, no one says anything to me either. Fox keeps up a steady stream of chatter to make up for it, but he can’t cover the fact that Bridget, Crystal, and Lexie—who now wears a boat-neck leopard print dress cinched at the waist with a skinny black belt—are pretending I don’t exist.
Class never actually begins in math fourth hour, and it has everything to do with Zane. Mrs. Hill keeps walking to the chalkboard, scratching her head, and backing away to consult her textbook or her notes. A few students in the front of the room try calling things out to get her on track, but nothing helps. After about ten minutes, the majority of the class stops trying to be quiet and talks at full volume. Several people move from their desks to sit closer to friends, and a couple of guys start fashioning and flying paper air planes. A handful of girls pull out their cell phones. Zane just sits back in his desk with his arms crossed over his chest, a smug smile playing about the corners of his mouth.
“Having fun?” I ask.
His eyebrows draw together and the corners of his mouth turn down. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Seriously, this is how you’re gonna use your magic? To get out of schoolwork? Why not just do a spell to do the work for you or something?”
Fox places a hand on my shoulder. “Just let him have his fun,” he murmurs.
I want to argue but think better of it. I don’t want Fox to be mad at me. If I have to deal with an hour of downtime, so be it. Math isn’t exactly my favorite subject anyway.
By the time I get to health, Lexie—wearing a cap sleeve dress in blue camouflage—has filled our regular table. She offers me the barest smirk as I pass by. I roll my eyes in response. If she thinks she’s punishing me by not letting me sit with her, she’s wrong.
There’s an empty spot at Felix’s table and I sit before it occurs to me how out of character it is for my alternate-self. Felix raises an eyebrow but says nothing as I pull my textbook out of my backpack. I offer a smile, hitching my thumb in Lexie’s direction. “Do you mind? My usual spot’s taken.”
He holds up his hands. “By all means.” His eyes remain on me as I open my notebook to a fresh page. I shift under the weight of his gaze but say nothing.
Mrs. Stanton is absent today, and the substitute puts on a video about the effects of drugs that looks like it was filmed about thirty years ago. After pressing play and turning off the lights, the sub settles behind the teacher’s desk and opens a novel. Every two or three minutes, she shushes us, but the low murmur of voices never actually ceases.
As I watch, I try my best to pay attention and fill out the guided viewing worksheet, but Felix’s eyes remain on me. About ten minutes in, I can’t stand it anymore. “Why are you staring at me?”
One corner of Felix’s mouth upturns and he cocks his head to the side. “You know, I think this is the most you’ve said to me since seventh grade.”
I open my mouth, ready to say I didn’t even know him in seventh grade, but stop myself just in time. “Sorry,” I say because I can’t thi
nk of anything else to say.
He shrugs. “I get it. You chose your path, right? And it’s not like I can blame you. Once you and Fox got together, it wouldn’t really be fair to him to still be friends with me.”
I stare at him, not sure what he means. To buy time, I scribble marijuana on the next blank, even though I’m sure it’s not the answer to the question.
“After all, you heard what Mrs. Stanton said last week—there’s always a special place in your heart for your first kiss.”
I snort at his implication. Felix, my first kiss? No. My first kiss was Owen…
Felix leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, what? So you’re gonna pretend it didn’t happen?”
Guilt bubbles in my stomach. He’s being serious, and from the look in his hazel eyes, he’s hurt. I appraise him quickly through the eyes of my seventh-grade self. The last part of sixth grade wasn’t good for me: After a crazy explosion of my burgeoning abilities at a friend’s birthday party, not only did I become a social pariah, but my dad took off without an explanation. In this timeline, I came to Clearwater just before I started seventh grade. Although I didn’t know Felix particularly well in my old life, he was always funny and kind—the type of person I could feel safe and accepted with. And while with his longish brown hair brushing his shoulders isn’t a style that appeals to me, Felix does have a sort of rugged handsomeness. Maybe my alternate-self having kissed him isn’t entirely outside the realm of possibility.
I force a smile to cover my error. This is Felix, no matter whether I know this version or not, and I know how to talk to him. “What, Felix? You’re not still carrying a torch for me after all these years, are you? I think you’re the one still hung up on your first kiss.”
It’s his turn to snort. “Yeah, right. Like you were my first.”
He smiles and I can’t help smiling back—a genuine one this time.
At the end of the hour, I head straight for history. I want to catch Crystal without her usual entourage and figure this is my best chance. I linger in the hallway by the door, waiting for her to emerge from a clandestine stairwell makeout session with Tucker. Bridget passes me on her way into the room, smiling for an instant before pursing her lips, pulling her eyebrows together, like she’s not sure whether she should smile at me or not. This is good news: Maybe Crystal hasn’t assigned me status as Public Enemy Number One yet.
Miss Tanner exits the room and heads down the hallway. She’s no more than two doors down when a vaguely familiar brunette darts into the room. She’s in one of my classes, I’m sure of it, but it’s not this one. She wears a pair of skinny black pants and a purple shirt that doesn’t quite cover her stomach. Something snaps in my head and it comes to me: Dana Crawford. She was West Harmon’s date to the Harvest Dance, and Lexie and Bria called her a hussy.
Now, Dana approaches Bridget and clamps a hand down on her shoulder, spinning the slightly shorter girl to face her. Bridget’s face registers surprise for a split second before switching to defense and then anger.
“What?” she snaps, pushing Dana’s hand from her shoulder.
“You know what,” Dana growls. “I’m only gonna say this once, so you better listen. Stay away from Marcus. He’s mine.”
A smile creeps across Bridget’s lips and she crosses her arms over her chest. “Oh. That.”
“I’m about to smack that smile off your face. Stay away from him.”
Bridget sighs. “Look, I can’t help if he likes me. You know, you should really be having this talk with him, because he’s the one who can’t seem to stay away from me.”
I haven’t noticed any guy hanging around Bridget today, but I know enough to guess what’s going on: While Lexie is using her connection to the crystal to do a new glamor every hour and Zane is making his teachers forget their lesson plans, Bridget is casting an attraction charm of some kind.
Dana lunges toward Bridget and Bridget flinches. Dana laughs, easing back a step. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She takes a few more steps backward, keeping her eyes trained on Bridget, before turning and stalking toward the door. When she’s almost to the threshold, she stumbles as though she’s tripped over something, although nothing is in her path. She careens toward the floor, her arms outstretched to break the fall, but at the last second, her arms fly outward and she crashes face-first into the cream-colored linoleum. An audible gasp sounds through the classroom as Dana lets out a sharp yelp. The tardy bell sounds and Miss Tanner appears in the doorway, freezing at the scene before her. She’s at Dana’s side in an instant, helping her up. A smear of blood remains on the tile where Dana’s nose hit. Miss Tanner supports Dana and heads out of the room, instructing the class to keep away from the blood, that she’ll send the custodian to clean it up.
While half the class snickers about what kinds of diseases they might catch off Dana’s blood, I cross to Bridget, whose eyes are wide and whose complexion is several shades paler than usual. “I just wanted her to trip,” she murmurs. “I didn’t mean…”
I slip my arm over her shoulders and lead her to her desk. “I know you didn’t mean to.”
It was the crystal, I know it.
Chapter Nine
Fox parks behind Jodi’s shop and stares at me for a long moment. He doesn’t have to say anything for me to know what’s on his mind.
“You don’t believe me,” I say.
He shakes his head. “Kristyl, it’s not that I don’t believe you. It’s that… I just… I think you’re…”
“Wrong?” I throw up my hands. “You didn’t see it, Fox. The way Bridget took Dana down? It was violent. I heard Dana’s nose might be broken, and she’s definitely got a black eye.”
Fox shrugs. “So, Bridget’s got some pent-up rage. You’ve seen the way Crystal and Lexie treat her. Can you really blame her?”
I shake my head. “You’re wrong. The look on her face afterward—she was scared. She didn’t mean to hurt Dana like that, I’m sure of it.”
“And she probably didn’t. You know what most likely happened? She’s not used to the magic coming so easily and she overshot. It happens to the best of us. Remember the first time you tried to light a candle? The flame shot up like three feet in the air. Is it because you’re secretly a pyromaniac? No. You just gave the spell a little too much oomph. But you learned, and so will Bridget.”
I sigh, frustration rising. There’s nothing I can tell him that will convince him I’m right. I don’t even know why I’m trying. I already told Crystal, and she waved me off, just like Fox is doing now. “Fine. Whatever. I’d better get in there.” I push open the truck’s door and Fox’s hand closes around my wrist.
He offers the smallest half smile. “What? No kiss?”
I pull my hand from his grip. “No. I’m mad at you.”
His shoulders sag. “Don’t be like this.”
I jump out of the cab and consider slamming the door without looking back, but it seems too childish. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
After a beat, Fox nods. I close the door and head into Hannah’s Herbs.
Relief washes over me when I pass through the door. The store smells exactly the way I remember: a mix of sweet and savory herbs and the subtle waxy aroma of candles. The banks of tall shelves running perpendicular to the walls are filled with the items in the same places as I remember. The books are still along the wall between the front door and cash register, and the glass case displaying the different stones and crystals still sends a cascade of rainbows across the carpet. After everything that happened at school today, I’m glad for the normalcy of a day at work.
Jodi’s voice comes from the break room and I head for it, figuring she’s on the phone with a supplier. I stop short when I turn the corner and see she’s talking to a person. He stands with his back to me, his arms stretched above his head to pull a box off the top of a metal shelving unit. I’ve told her before that putting things up that high is an accident waiting to happen and she’s joked that she j
ust waits until tall customers come in to get things down. Is that what she’s doing now? The guy’s fingers gain purchase on the box and he pulls it down. The muscles beneath his long sleeved shirt tense as he pulls. He’s tall, of course, with broad shoulders and strong arms. Besides that, all I can see of his appearance is he’s got short brown hair.
Jodi edges toward the guy and pulls open the folded-over edges of the box. “Excellent. I knew this was the right one.”
I clear my throat and Jodi jumps, clutching at her heart. She turns and lets out a laugh, running her hand through her hair. “Kristyl. You scared me.”
I nod. “Clearly.” I almost ask who the guy is but stop myself. Maybe he works here, like Devin did in my reality. Not sure how to greet him, I spin to the time clock and punch in.
“The day’s gone by so fast, I didn’t realize school ended already.” Paper rustles as Jodi sifts through the box’s contents. She pulls a smaller box from within, this one filled with tubes of lip balm. She straightens and holds a hand out toward the guy. “I bet you’re wondering who our tall assistant is. This is Seth. He works here now.” She points a finger at me, narrowing her eyes. “Now, don’t let it go to your head that you’ve finally got seniority over someone.”
I relax. It’s good news that Seth is new—I don’t have to blunder through pretending to already know all about him. “It’s nice to meet you, Seth,” I say as I turn to him. When he faces me, I’m caught by his eyes. They’re green and there’s something so familiar about them. Like they belong to a long-lost friend.
It feels like my body has been doused in cold water when I realize where I’ve seen his eyes before: I used to see flashes of them when I touched Crystal Jamison. I never knew why I saw them when I touched her, but there’s no denying that these are the same eyes. Is he connected to her in some way? Have I seen him around town somewhere? No, that’s not possible—I would have realized that when I first had the visions.
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