Accidentally Evil

by Lara Chapman

  Another note. Practice with a circle of friends.

  “You can perform the spell where your study area is. The library, your room, anywhere you study is fine. Carve a symbol representative of academic success, such as a good grade or the rune for wisdom, into the candle.”

  “What’s a rune?” Dru calls out. I’m glad she asked, because I’ve never heard that word either.

  “I knew you’d ask,” Lady Rose says. “Runes are a set of characters from ancient magic cultures. The rune for wisdom and insight is a sideways V. Most students remember it as the ‘less than’ sign you use in math when comparing numbers.”

  That’s what I write in my book. Rune for wisdom and insight—less than sign. <

  “After you’ve carved the symbol into the candle, sit before it for a moment to focus and center yourself. Then imagine the candle’s light filling your head, making your mind clear, focused, alert.”

  I scramble to write what she said in my book, but my pen is funky and makes the ink come out in little gobs, and the whole page looks messy. And that’s a problem, because I don’t do messy.

  “Now that you’re focused, and the candle has been carved, you’re ready to chant the incantation. Remember that chanting is quiet, private. It is not to be said loudly or in anger. Clear minds are critical to good spell casting.”

  As she tells us the incantation, I write it down. She makes us repeat it with her several times, and even in a room of twenty-eight girls, we hardly make any sound at all.

  “Bright and lively is this flame.

  I will my mind to be the same.

  I’ll be attentive as it burns.

  Remembering everything I learn.

  I’ll focus well and study hard.

  Success will be my due reward.”

  By the time we’ve chanted the incantation several times, I feel like I’ve been hypnotized. Like I just woke up from a long rainy-day nap.

  “After the incantation, you will draw the rune for disordered thoughts on the piece of paper. It’s an easy symbol—a star. Catch the paper on fire with the candle’s flame and put it into the flameproof dish. As it burns to ashes, imagine the same thing happening to any distracting thoughts, allowing you to focus completely on your studies. Study within your circle, keeping the candle lit. When you are done studying, snuff out the candle and close your circle with a blessing. If the candle burns out, get a new one and redo the spell.”

  Ivy looks at me, eyes excited. “We are totally doing this tonight when we study for our math test.”

  We high-five. “It’s a date.”

  Thirteen

  Got everything?” Ivy asks when I walk into our room.

  I hold up the bag that contains what we need for the studying spell. “Sometimes it pays to be the teacher’s pet.”

  We put the candle on the floor between us, along with our math books. We each open our Book of ­Shadows. I can hardly read what I wrote. “That pen Lady Rose loaned me was weird. Look at this. It’s a mess. Think I can tear this page out and rewrite my notes?”

  Ivy slaps a hand onto my open book. “No! Never tear a page out of that book.”

  “Okaaaay,” I say, removing her hand slowly.

  “Promise me you won’t. Really, really bad things can happen.”

  “How do you know? Did Linette tell you that?”

  “Promise me.” Her voice is more serious, and I realize she isn’t kidding.

  I hold up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  Ivy lets out a huge sigh, like she just saved my life. Which only makes me more curious about what happens when a page is torn out of the Book of Shadows. Curiosity can be dangerous at Dowling.

  “Should I turn off the lights?” I ask.

  Ivy lights the candle with her fingertips like we learned in the Crafter meeting, then nods.

  I flip the switch, and the yellow candle lights our room. The last bit of sun peeks through the blinds. It gets dark earlier and earlier this time of year. “We have an hour to study before dinner,” Ivy says.

  We use Ivy’s notes because they’re actually legible, and we follow each step to the letter. After the paper has turned to ash and we turn on the lights, I ask Ivy, “Do you think the spell actually makes you focus more? Or do you think you focus more because you cast a spell? And you trick your brain into thinking the spell makes you smart. Like the placebo effect. Remember that? We learned about that in science last year.”

  Ivy looks at me like I’ve gone a little crazy. “Huh?”

  I shake my head. “Never mind.” Is the spell making me too analytical? Because I’ve got plenty of that in me. I definitely don’t need any more.

  After thirty minutes of studying, I have to admit I feel more focused, but it’s time to take a break.

  I yawn, stretch my arms over my head. I look at Ivy sitting across from me on the floor. There’s a light blue mist behind her that doesn’t make any sense. I shut my eyes tight, rub them. I knew I was tired, but now I’m hallucinating. That can’t be good.

  When I open my eyes, the blue mist is still there. I point behind her. “Do you see that?”

  She looks behind her and shakes her head. “What am I looking for?”

  “You don’t see anything?”

  She turns back around. “Hmmm. Nope.”

  My throat tightens, and Ivy reaches over the candle and touches my arm. My fear fizzles through her, and she pulls her hand back. “Why are you so afraid?”

  “I don’t know,” I want to say. Instead I tell her, “I’m just tired. Guess I’m seeing things.”

  She looks at me hard. “I’m not buying it.”

  I shrug it off. “I’m fine. I didn’t sleep well last night. That’s all.”

  She leans back against the bed. “You know you can tell me what’s bothering you.”

  “It’s nothing!” There’s just a blue mist surrounding you that only I can see. What’s wrong with that? I feel slightly—okay, a lot—hysterical.

  “Okay,” she says, “You keep forgetting I’m an empath. You can’t hide your feelings from me. I’ll get the story out of you. You know it’s just a matter of time.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I finally force a swallow, and it feels like I’ve shoved a tennis ball down my throat. She’s right, of course. She’ll figure it out. But for now the blue mist is my secret. I want to make sure I’m not going crazy first.

  I put my notebook back on my lap and begin working on another fraction problem, but I can’t focus and Ivy’s in the mood to talk.

  “Did you ever ask Cody about the rumor Jo and Dru heard?”

  I put my notebook down. “You mean the completely ridiculous rumor that he’s some kind of royalty at Riley? Uh, no. Because, you know, I’d sound like an idiot.”

  Ivy shakes her head. “There’s something to this, Hal. I’m telling you. I feel it.”

  “Quit playing the empath card,” I tell her. “You’re wrong about this.”

  “Why can’t you at least ask him about it?”

  I picture Cody and his hair hanging over his eyebrows. And his smile, which would surely turn to hysterical laughing if I asked him such a thing.

  “I’m not going to leave you alone until you ask him,” Ivy says.

  “Good luck.”

  The blue mist is still there, and I’m beginning to think it’s not because I’m tired. But I’m way too scared to say anything about it. This is a question for Lady Rose or Miss A, whomever I see first. I look at the clock. Five forty-five. Maybe I can get one of them alone at dinner. The hard part will be talking without the headmistress butting in or—worse—hearing my thoughts.

  There’s no way I can focus on math anymore, spell or no spell. The blue mist is all I can see.

  I go to the bathroom, wash my hands, and splash cold water on my face. I use a towel to dry off, then paus
e before raising my head to look in the mirror. Do I really want to know if that same mist is behind me too?

  Stop being so afraid. You have the most powerful gift in the building. Stand up on three.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  I stand straight up, keep my eyes closed. One deep breath and then I’ll open them.

  In.

  Out.

  No mist.

  Relief runs through me. It had to be the lighting. The candle, the sunset. It had to be that. I’m going to walk back into our bedroom, and the mist will be long gone.

  When I walk out of the bathroom, my hope vanishes. Ivy’s sitting on her bed, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. And shining out around her entire body is the same light blue I saw before.

  “What?” Ivy asks. “Don’t knock my hair. I’m doing it without a mirror.”

  I have to get out of this room. Maybe seeing Ivy somewhere else will fix it. “Ready to go?”

  My heart is beating so fast, I can feel it through my entire body.

  Ivy looks at the clock. “We still have ten minutes. Want to keep studying till then?”

  I almost laugh out loud. Concentrate on math when my best friend is swimming in a sea of colored mist and doesn’t even know it? I don’t think so.

  “Nah, I think I’m done for now. Can I blow out the candle?”

  Ivy shrugs. “Sure. I’m pretty hungry.”

  I put the spell ingredients onto my desk. I’m sure these are things we will use a lot. And maybe next time I’ll be sane.

  “Think it worked?” Ivy asks.

  “What?”

  “The spell, dummy. Think you were more focused?”

  I was totally focused until you turned the air blue. “Umm, yeah, I guess so. You?”

  “I definitely noticed a difference.”

  I follow Ivy out the door and into the empty hallway. The blue mist still hangs around Ivy. What is it?

  By the time we reach the hall outside the dining room, I’m at least able to breathe normally, even if my hands are still shaking. We walk into the dining room, and whatever sense of peace I had two seconds ago abandons me.

  I look at the head table, where the headmistress sits with the dorm mothers. The instructors have their own table, and I look there, too.

  My eyes dart from table to table.

  No, no, no, no, no.

  I shut my eyes as hard as I possibly can, then slowly open them again. Slowly, slowly, slowly . . . My eyes are half open when I see it again.

  The same mist thing that I saw on Ivy surrounds every single person in the room. But there are all kinds of different colors. Every possible shade of every possible color. It’s like a rainbow threw up in the dining room.

  I can hear Ivy saying something, but she sounds a thousand miles away.

  Then someone wraps an arm around my shoulder and walks me out of the room.

  Fourteen

  I stumble beside Lady Rose, her voice soft and calming. “Ssh. It’s okay. Hang on. Almost there.”

  She takes me into her classroom, closes the door, and sits me in her chair.

  “Breathe with me. In two-three-four, out two-three-four.”

  I follow her breathing, and in a few minutes I don’t feel like I’m going to die. Lady Rose squats in front of me, her hands on my knees and an orangey-red haze all around her.

  “What do you see when you look at me?” she asks.

  “Orange. Or red. Maybe a mix of the two.”

  She smiles and stands up. “That’s wonderful. Perfect, actually.”

  I shake my head at her. “It feels the exact opposite of perfect.”

  She drags a chair over and sits in front of me. “Let me explain what’s happening, Hallie.”

  “Please. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m losing it. I’m going crazy here.”

  She pats her soft hand on my sweaty one. “You are not going crazy. You have inherited another gift.”

  My mind rewinds in warp speed. “But I’ve been so careful. I haven’t touched anything that wasn’t mine.”

  “Yes, you have,” she says. “You borrowed my pen today. Remember?”

  In that moment everything becomes clear. The pen. The colors.

  “I inherited your gift.”

  “You did. Well, if you want to get technical, you inherited my mother’s gift. It was her pen you were using. She gave it to me a few years before she died. I didn’t think about it until after I’d put the pen in your hand. That’s interesting,” she says, teacher turned scientist observing her test subject.

  “How?”

  “My mother was a medium. Can you hear or see spirits?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “No.” I hope I never do.

  “So you inherited my gift, not my deceased mother’s. That’s different than what we thought.”

  I don’t like the way this sounds. Like everyone is watching me to see what freakish thing happens next. Like I’m an alien that must be dissected and figured out.

  “Honestly, Hallie, I think you’ll find this gift helpful. And I can help you read them.”

  “Read what?”

  “Those colors you’re seeing behind everyone? Those are their auras.”

  “How is that going to help me?”

  She folds her arms over her chest. “For starters you can figure out right away what people are like. No more surprises when someone spreads a rumor about you. You will know not to trust someone if their aura is deep purple.”

  I don’t say anything. “I didn’t even know auras were real. I thought it was one of those hippy things.”

  Lady Rose laughs. “No, Hallie, they’re very real. Let me ask you something. What color is Ivy’s aura?”

  “Blue. Light blue.”

  Lady Rose nods. “Yup. She’s all the things that light blue represents. Peaceful, honest, intuitive.”

  “So you can see all these colors too?” I ask her.

  She nods. “For almost twenty years now.”

  “Do they go away? Or will I always see them?”

  “Once you’ve seen them, you’ll always see them.”

  “I can’t live like that. It’s too distracting.”

  “I felt that way at first too. Trust me. You get used to it.”

  I find that incredibly hard to believe.

  “Yeah, I know you find it hard to believe. We really need to work on your mind control. Every single thought you have comes into my head. It gets a little annoying.”

  She laughs, and I try to laugh with her, but it comes out sounding more like a psychotic sob.

  “Why don’t I have an aura?” I ask her.

  “You do. We just can’t see our own. Want to know what your color is?” she asks.

  “I don’t know. Do I?”

  “You, my dear, are a brilliant shade of yellow.”

  I look around me but don’t see anything.

  “We can’t see our own auras. But trust me, yours is impressive.”

  “What does yellow mean?” Confused? Intimidated? Overwhelmed?

  “Yellow is a wonderful color. People with yellow auras are full of inner joy, very generous, and not attached to material things. You’ve had that color since the first day we met over a year ago. I’ve never seen it change. Most girls your age change quite a bit.”

  My panic slowly subsides, and I let the questions come.

  “How do you know what the colors mean?”

  “I’ll give you a list.” She reaches into her desk and pulls out a small laminated card. Every color is listed, and beside it is its meaning.

  “It’s that simple?” I ask.

  “Yep. It’s really that simple.”

  “Can our auras change?”

  “Absolutely. As people chang
e, so do their auras. Now, I’m not talking about physical changes. I’m talking about fundamental beliefs, motivations, that kind of thing. Only then will an aura change.”

  I let it all sink in, and I lean back in the chair. I want to ask her about the dream. But I don’t think I can handle any more tonight.

  “Ready to eat something?” she asks.

  “I just want to sleep.”

  “Go to your room. I’ll have Miss A bring you a sandwich, and I’ll tell Ivy you’re okay.”

  “She won’t believe you.”

  Lady Rose laughs. “You’re probably right. But I can be pretty convincing.”

  I nod, grateful I don’t have to face anyone right now.

  I walk in silence with Lady Rose. When we get to the dining room, she stops, puts her hand on the door ­handle, and turns around. “Go get some rest, okay?”

  “Thank you,” I tell her. I’m just a few steps away when she says my name again.

  “Hallie? We can talk about the dream anytime you’re ready.”

  Ivy, with her aura, gets to the room twenty minutes after I do.

  “You scared the bejesus out of me. Don’t do that again, please. You’re the unshakeable one, remember?”

  I don’t feel unshakeable. Not today.

  Miss A bursts into the room. She couldn’t do discreet if she had to. Especially not with the neon green aura around her. It clashes with her orange hair but somehow looks just right on her. “Well, aren’t you just the most pitiful little thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  There’s something about Miss A that just makes me feel better. Safer. Like I’m not in this alone. I want to pull the list of auras from under my pillow and see what her color means. Maybe she’s green because she’s a hedge witch. That’s what I thought I would be, since that was what my great-great-grandmother Elsa was, but no such luck. Everyone says they’d kill for my gift of inheritance. But it’s hard to control, and quite frankly, it’s exhausting.

  Miss A puts a plate of food on my desk. “Cheese and cucumber sandwich. Your favorite.”

  “Thanks, Miss A.”

  “Glory be, sugar. You have to slow down a little and get some rest. I bet you didn’t sleep more than a few hours last night, did you? I mean, look at those gray bags under your eyes. Maybe you should take those cucumbers off the sandwich and put them on your eyes. They say that’s good for swollen eyes. I’ve never tried it, mind you. But some people just swear by it.”