Accidentally Evil

by Lara Chapman

  Miss A’s rambling has me giggling, and I reach over and hug her. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

  “Well, now, the feeling’s mutual, darling. Let’s get you some rest tonight, and everything will feel better in the morning.”

  I give her a little salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Miss A looks at Ivy. “I’m counting on you to make sure she takes it easy tonight. No late-night studying or gossiping. That can wait for another day.”

  We both nod, and we all know we’re lying.

  Miss A leaves, and Ivy turns to me. “We were talking at dinner, and we’ve decided you have to e-mail Cody.”

  I look into Ivy’s excited eyes. “Uh-uh. Not going to happen.”

  “Just hear me out,” she says, holding her hand over my mouth to keep me from talking.

  “You’ve got ten seconds,” I say through her fingers.

  She pulls her hand away. “Kendall and Zena are scheming to do something at the Third Harvest celebration. And it involves Cody. Jo’s been listening to their conversations all week.”

  “What do you mean, it involves Cody?” I sit up in bed, take the sandwich from my table. I pull the cucumbers off and eat them first.

  “Jo says they’re talking about ‘getting him.’ We don’t know if that means, like, boyfriend-and-girlfriend stuff. Or if it means they want to take him down.”

  “And how is me e-mailing Cody going to help?”

  “Oh my gosh. You really are tired. You e-mail Cody, find out if he’s really some kind of royalty. If he is, you warn him that Kendall and Zena are targeting him for something. If he isn’t, then we . . . Well, I guess we still have to warn him, don’t we?”

  I pop another cucumber into my mouth. “We do. So there’s really no reason for me to e-mail him about the ridiculous rumor.”

  Ivy turns whiny. “Please, Hallie. We just want to know. You know you want to know too. Stop pretending that you don’t.”

  “If I e-mail him, will you please drop it?”

  She nods, but she knows and I know that she will never drop it. Especially if it turns out to be true. Which it won’t.

  I can do one of two things here. I can either stand my ground and deal with the nonstop pleading and harassment from Ivy or I can send the stupid e-mail and live in peace.

  “Fine,” I say. I hand her my plate and pull the laptop from my desk.

  Fifteen

  I log in and see two e-mails from Cody.

  “He’s been e-mailing you, Hallie!” Ivy’s voice is a near-shriek. I put my hands over my ears and close my eyes.

  “Please, Ivy,” I say. “My head is already pounding.”

  “Sorry, sorry,” she says, back to a whisper. “What do they say?”

  This is the kind of thing I really wanted to avoid. It’s why I didn’t want to tell anyone about us e-mailing, because I knew it’d turn into this. A three-ring circus centered on my love life. And it’s not love, so I can’t even call it that.

  “Tell me,” Ivy says. “I’m your best friend. You’re supposed to tell me things like this. It’s practically a rule.”

  “You wear me out sometimes,” I tell her.

  I click on the first e-mail from Cody and read it out loud.

  “We spent all day in the woods behind our campus, practicing some ‘outdoor’ gifts. This one guy named Jason has the gift of aerokinesis. He can control the wind, and it’s wicked cool. Maybe he can show you at the celebration.”

  “Hey,” Ivy says. “Maybe Jason’s cute. Maybe we can be a couple. Maybe we can double-date.”

  “Maybe you can relax,” I reply.

  “Open the next one,” she prods.

  I open the e-mail and begin reading. “You know how I told you I had the gift of invincibility—”

  “Wait,” Ivy interrupts. “What the heck is that?”

  “It means you can’t be beat.”

  Ivy’s nose scrunches up. “He’s always the winner?”

  “Always.”

  “Will he live forever?” she asks.

  I give her a sharp look. “Of course not.” At least I don’t think so. “It’s the highest gift you can have at Riley.”

  “And you have the highest possible gift at Dowling. See?” she says. “You’re perfect for each other. Keep reading.”

  I go back to the e-mail. “Well, it turns out I am also a scryer. If you don’t know what that is, it means I can help find and locate missing or lost people.”

  “That is cool,” I say to myself. Of course Ivy hears it.

  “Ha! Admit it. You do like him.”

  “I like him. I never said I didn’t like him.”

  “But you like like him.”

  I ignore her and continue reading the e-mail. “What’s kind of cool about that is, I can work with cops or whatever when a kid goes missing. Hope I never have to use it on someone I know. Gotta run. See you at the celebration.”

  “What’s the P.S.?” Ivy asks.

  “P.S. Is it a kissing booth?”

  “Ooooh!” Ivy jumps up and down like she’s on an invisible trampoline. “He wants to kiss you.”

  I hold up a hand to stop her burgeoning overreaction.

  “Calm down already. Did you ever think I might not want to kiss him?”

  She crosses her arms over her chest. “Fine. But we both know I’m right. And we both know you want to kiss him.”

  I try to shove from my brain the image of Cody kissing me, but now that it’s there, I can’t get rid of it.

  “What exactly do you want to know from Cody?” I ask. “Let’s write this e-mail and get it over with.”

  I click the compose button and then type in Cody’s e-mail address.

  “You have to ask him if he’s going to be the High Priest of the Riley coven one day.”

  I shake my head, eyes closed. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  To: codyray@rileyacademy.edu

  From: halliecat@dowling.edu

  Re: Stupid Question (sorry)

  Hi, Cody. I would love to see Jason control the wind. That sounds cool. But none of that compares to being a scryer. I think that’s awesome.

  I want to tell him about the auras, but I can’t. Not with Ivy reading over my shoulder. I look back at the e-mail.

  So, some friends of mine heard a rumor, and they are begging me to ask you about it. I finally gave in. I know this is going to sound superstupid, and I don’t know why I agreed to e-mail you about it, but here it goes. The story is that you are part of some sort of Riley royalty and one day you’ll be Riley’s High Priest. I know, I know, I know. Stupid. Just send back the no, and I’ll get them off my back.

  See you soon,

  Hallie

  I click send and close my laptop. “There. Happy?”

  Ivy gives me a hug and a big smile. “I am. Thank you!”

  “Why is this so important to you?”

  “Hallie, don’t you—just once—want to know more than Zena and Kendall? Seriously, how sweet does that sound? And if the rumor’s true and he likes you instead of one of them, and he’s crazy powerful? Even better.”

  “I’ve got to admit, that sounds pretty darn good.”

  “You have to start listening to me,” Ivy says. “I’m always right about these things.”

  It takes me two hours to fall asleep. And when I do, my dream about Cody reveals more details. But it still doesn’t make any sense.

  A ding from my phone wakes me, and I think it’s my alarm. But the clock says it’s only two forty-four. I lie back in bed, grab my journal, and write the new details, using my phone for light.

  Destiny.

  Repeated over and over and over like an endless echo.

  Cody.

  Kendall.

  So, does this mean that Kendall an
d Cody are “destined” to be together? There’s no way that’s right. Cody doesn’t like her. He told me so himself.

  If I could see my aura right now, I think it’d be dark green, because jealousy boils inside me.

  I put the journal back on my desk and check my phone to see what the ding was for.

  I have a new e-mail.

  Good. Maybe Cody has replied and I can shut my friends up once and for all.

  I click the e-mail icon, and sure enough, Cody’s reply is in my inbox. I click it open, and everything in my world comes to a screeching stop.

  To: halliecat@dowling.edu

  From: codyray@rileyacademy.edu

  Re: Stupid Question (sorry)

  We need to talk about this face-to-face, Hallie. I’ll tell you everything at the celebration.

  I reread the message. I freeze.

  I turn off my phone and put it on the desk. Click the lamp on.

  Ivy doesn’t move. But I need her to wake up. I’ve got to tell her. It can’t wait.

  “Ivy,” I say, my voice just louder than a whisper. She rolls over in bed, and I say her name again.

  “Ivy.”

  Her eyes squint open. “What’s wrong? Can’t sleep again?”

  “Cody e-mailed me back.”

  She shoves her body into a half-sitting position. “What? What’d he say?”

  “That he’d talk to me about it in person at the celebration.”

  Ivy’s jaw drops. “No. Way.”

  I nod, panic building. “What does it mean if he’s going to be?”

  “I think it just means he’ll be the leader of the coven. He’ll probably get to choose what he wants to do when he’s done with school.”

  I look at the dream journal on my desk. I’ve got to tell her about it.

  “So, my dream journal,” I say. “I’ve been dreaming about what’s going to happen with Cody.”

  “And?” she asks, leaning off the side of her bed like a lion ready to pounce.

  I tell her about the dreams, everything I can remember.

  “I think I know what’s going on,” Ivy says. “Just think about it. You’re constantly fighting Kendall for what you want, right?”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  Ivy sits back again, nodding her head. “This is just more of the same. You’re worried Kendall will somehow magically snap Cody right out of your grasp. But that will never happen.”

  “If only you were psychic,” I say. “Anyway, all of this is way too deep. We’re only twelve. What do I care if some middle school boy doesn’t like me?”

  “Hallie . . .”

  “I have too many other things to worry about than some boy. That’s that.”

  I don’t say that I’m really afraid of what it would mean if I was dating the High Priest. Would I have to follow certain rules? Call him Your Majesty?

  I flop over in bed, ending the conversation.

  But the word “destiny” echoes endlessly in my head. At Dowling we believe in destiny. If Kendall and Cody are destined to be together, how in the world can I change it?

  Because I have to change it. Cody deserves so much better than the meanest good witch at Dowling.

  Sixteen

  The next couple of days fade into one another. I ignore Cody’s e-mails because I don’t know what to say. And it doesn’t even matter. After all, he’s just a boy. If the headmistress put her head to it, she could figure out a way to get me excommunicated. I’m not risking my gifts on some guy I hardly know.

  Lady Rose was right. The auras do become normal. I play a game with myself where I guess what someone’s aura will be before I see them. Kendall and Zena are usually surrounded by a gray aura, which is the sign of dark thoughts. No big surprise. That was hardly a challenge.

  Before my class with Lady Jennica, I guess she’ll be turquoise, which means she’s dynamic. A natural leader. And when I walk into class that day, I smile to myself when I see that blue-green aura behind her. I’m pretty good at this game. I wish I could play it with Ivy. For some reason my gut tells me to keep this a secret. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.

  Lady Jennica’s room has a lab behind our desks. Today those lab tables hold stacks and stacks of old books. The scent of aged paper fills the room. I love the smell of books. Old, new, it doesn’t matter. I start walking to the tables to see what the books are, when Lady Jennica calls my name.

  “Can you come here for a minute?”

  My hands instantly turn sweaty. Am I in trouble? I’m not used to being in trouble. I will do almost anything to keep out of trouble.

  “Relax,” she says when I get to her desk. “You’re not in trouble.”

  I give her a nervous nod.

  Her voice lowers, and I have to strain to hear her. “How are you doing?”

  I know she is asking about something specific, but I don’t know what it is. “Okay.”

  Lady Jennica gives me the same look Lady Rose gave me. The one that says she wants to tell me more than she’s allowed to. “Good. Good.” Her voice is strained, like she doesn’t believe my answer.

  We stand in awkward silence for a full minute before I ask if I can go to my desk. She doesn’t answer immediately. She looks at me, her eyes so serious it makes me dread what’s coming next.

  “Hallie,” she says. “I am forbidden to say anything specific.”

  “But . . .”

  “Do me a favor?”

  “Sure.”

  “Be more careful than normal.”

  I nod, confusion and fear making it impossible to speak.

  “Promise me,” she says.

  “I promise.”

  She sighs deeply and gives me a half smile, and I walk back to my desk.

  “Everyone, sit down,” she says, snapping her fingers to close the door. Lady Jennica sits on her desk, her legs crossed in perfect form. Her face is back to normal, and she’s in teacher mode.

  “I know there’s a lot of excitement in the air about the upcoming Third Harvest celebration,” she begins. The volume escalates quickly until she holds up her hand, her Zip it sign. “As I was saying, I know you’re fired up, but you really need to focus today. We are digging into the genealogy. You should already have completed your basic family tree with your parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. Let’s get those papers out. Then I’ll have you add a sheet to the bottom so you can continue the search.”

  Lady Jennica passes out the extra paper, and we all tape it to the bottom of our family trees.

  “Now, girls, I’m going to warn you. This search can be time consuming and tedious. But it’s critical you know who came before you. You must be careful that you copy the information down exactly as it is written. Do not rush.”

  She dives into a fifteen-minute lecture about always wearing these thin white gloves when looking in the books because the oil from our hands can cause the paper to deteriorate. She then tells us how the books are organized. By the time she allows us to begin our research, my head is swimming.

  I know I have to look up my great-great-grandmother in the S book for “Simon.” I have to wait for two people in front of me to finish looking before I can get to the book. And when I do, I’m speechless. The pages are yellow and thin, the handwriting meticulous. I’m awed by the fact that I’m looking at writing put on paper a hundred or more years ago. I think about my descendants and what they’ll think of me when they find my name in one of these books.

  I carefully turn the pages until I find Elsa’s name in the register. I copy down the information on my paper.

  Elsa Whittier Simon

  Born: 06 July 1902

  Dowling Ancestor: Bridget May Whittier

  Entered Dowling: 01 September 1922

  Graduated Dowling: 06 June 1929

  Gift: Hedge Witch

  I ke
ep my paper steady and write as neatly as pos­sible. If I write it neatly this time, I won’t have to do it over.

  I’ve always been a history buff, but knowing that this history is directly related to me fuels my curiosity even more than normal. Lady Jennica walks through the room to make sure everyone is working.

  When she gets to me, she looks over my shoulder. “So now you need to find Bridget’s name in the W book.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I stack my papers neatly, grab my pen. When I turn around, I run right into Kendall. The same depressing gray haze surrounds her, like she’s walking around in a storm cloud.

  “I’m surprised you don’t have this done already. You’ve always been such a little overachiever.”

  As much as I hate talking to Kendall, seeing her up close and watching her forked tongue appear and disappear, appear and disappear, is so gratifying that I forget I don’t want to talk to her.

  “Yeah, well, I’ve been busy. Cody e-mails me constantly.” Before a word can slither out of her, I point at Kendall’s mouth. “Good luck with all that.”

  I turn around and focus on the book, hands shaking. Why did I say that about Cody? I’m just making a bad situation worse. I never should have said that. But I so rarely get to put Kendall in her place, it just flew right out. I grin to myself. I can’t wait to tell Ivy, Jo, and Dru. They’ll be so proud of me.

  I open the W book and begin looking for Bridget’s name. I wish the registers had photographs or drawings of our ancestors. I finally find her, the last name on page 422 of the book.

  Bridget May Whittier

  Born: 20 March 1890

  Dowling Ancestor: Anna Cooper Hewitt

  Entered Dowling: 29 August 1900

  Graduated Dowling: 11 May 1908

  Gift: Telekinesis

  “Thirty more minutes, girls,” Lady Jennica calls out. I look for Ivy, but find Kendall glaring at me. I ignore her and walk to Ivy’s table.