Accidentally Evil

by Lara Chapman

  “Isn’t this cool?” I ask. Ivy’s paper has only one name added. “What’s taking you so long?”

  She gives me an irritated look. “I got stuck waiting behind Zena. She took her sweet time finding the name she was looking for. Even stopped to redo her ponytail like I wasn’t even standing there. She finally left when Lady Jennica told her to move on.”

  I take a quick glance at Zena, whose aura has become darker than Kendall’s. No surprise there.

  “Wait for me after class,” I tell Ivy. “I have to tell you about my conversation with Kendall.”

  Her eyes widen. “Oh boy, can’t wait to hear that.”

  I walk on to the H book. Missy is working in it, so I wait behind her. I guessed her aura right too. She’s pink—the perfect balance between spirituality and materialism. “Going okay?” I ask her.

  She nods, face content, like always. I wish I could be like that. She always seems to feel exactly the same. She finishes her work, then gives me a little wave when she walks away.

  I find Anna’s name and begin writing.

  Anna Cooper Hewitt

  Born: 13 August 1869

  Dowling Ancestor: Sarah Elizabeth Scott

  Entered Dowling: 08 September 1880

  Graduated Dowling: 31 May 1888

  Gift: Blinking

  I stop and look at that again. Blinking is a gift? I wave to Lady Jennica, and she walks over. She looks at my paper, and her eyes squint, like maybe she can’t read something that far away or she’s waiting for me to say something. I know for a fact the handwriting is neat.

  “What kind of gift is blinking?”

  Lady Jennica smiles. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Good, because it sounds super-lame.”

  She laughs and then explains. “Blinking is instant teleportation, activated by thinking of a location and blinking your eyes.”

  I stare at her, openmouthed. “Shut. Up.” I slap a hand over my mouth. “I’m so sorry, Lady Jennica! I didn’t mean—”

  She shakes her head at me. “It’s fine, Hallie.”

  “How cool would that be?” I wonder out loud.

  “Well, Hallie, you know you can have any gift you want. All you have to do is find the right item from your ancestor.”

  I shake my head. “I’ve got my hands full with the three gifts I’ve picked up accidentally.”

  “I don’t know about that, Hallie. Your family line has some pretty amazing gifts.” She gives me a wink, then leaves to help another student.

  I look at my paper again to make sure I’ve copied down everything correctly. As I reread the gifts of my ancestors, my skin begins to tingle. Maybe Lady Jennica’s right. Maybe acquiring some of these gifts might not be so bad after all.

  Seventeen

  Lady Rose reminds everyone to review their dream journals daily and to record in them when they wake up. I have been keeping my journal, but nothing has changed in my dreams. I always have the Cody and Kendall dream.

  “How has the studying spell been going for everyone?” Lady Rose asks.

  Ivy raises her hand. “I got my first A on a math test after we did the studying spell in our room.”

  “Super,” the teacher says. “Anyone else?”

  Several students answer, but I don’t hear them. My eyes, energy, every cell are obsessing over Kendall. Lady Rose claps her hands and jolts me back to class.

  “Today we’re going to learn a protection spell. There are all kinds of protection spells, but we’re starting small. This one will keep you safe from illness, and it will give you the necessary wisdom to keep you safe.”

  Fitting. The headmistress wouldn’t think twice about making me disappear. She will stop at nothing to make sure Zena is at the top of the Dowling food chain.

  “There are some important things to remember about this spell. The first thing you need to know is that it doesn’t make you invincible. You can’t cast this spell, then go rob a bank and expect nothing to happen to you.”

  Everyone in the room laughs, but I think about Cody and how his gift of invincibility probably means he doesn’t ever have to do this spell.

  “Second. You should save this spell for a time when you’re feeling particularly vulnerable. Magic isn’t intended to protect you from every single thing that might happen. This is for the biggies.”

  I make those notes in the margin, then write “Protection Spell” in my favorite fancy letters. When they find my dead body clutching my Book of Shadows after I’ve been eliminated as the next High Priestess, at least they’ll be impressed with my supercute lettering, right?

  “Okay,” she says with a quick clap, clap of her hands. “Let’s get started. You should notice that the only ingredient for this spell is a white candle. I prefer casting this spell outside, but you can do this wherever you happen to be.”

  She picks up the candle, lights the wick with her fingers, and looks back up. When she does, she’s looking right at me in a superintense and intimidating way, like she’s trying to tell me something with her eyes. When she speaks, her voice is low and soft, and each word is enunciated with deliberate care.

  “You must stand facing west. Then you’ll recite the chant.”

  “Protect me with all your might,

  oh, Goddess Gracious, day and night.”

  I’m writing quickly, and it’s not as neat as I’d like, but I don’t want to miss anything. When I finally take my eyes off the paper to see what she does next, she’s staring at me again. No one else in the room seems to notice, but I do, and it’s totally creepy.

  “You will then turn to the north and repeat the chant.”

  She turns and chants.

  “Then the east.”

  She turns and chants.

  “Then the south.”

  She turns and chants.

  “Then back to the west to end with ‘So mote it be.’ ”

  By the time the bell rings, I’m exhausted from trying to learn all of this new knowledge.

  Ivy and I are walking out when Lady Rose calls me back in. “It’ll just take a minute, Hallie.”

  I look at Ivy, and she shrugs before walking off. Getting kept after class is becoming a thing with me, and I don’t like it. I just want to be normal. Whatever that means at Dowling.

  Lady Rose waits for the room to empty before speaking to me. “Lady Jennica says she spoke to you. That she told you to be careful.”

  I nod. “Yes, ma’am. She did. So your protection spell today was great timing.”

  Lady Rose gives me a knowing grin. “That wasn’t a coincidence.”

  I take a deep, deep breath. “What exactly is going on?”

  Lady Rose looks at me so long, I wonder if she’s been frozen by someone’s spell. I look at my watch and then wave my hands in front of her face. “Uh, Lady Rose? Are you okay?”

  She blinks, disoriented, like a baby waking from a nap. “I’m so sorry. Mind must have wandered off.”

  “Can you tell me what I need to be protecting myself from?” I ask. “Because all these warnings aren’t going to do me a lot of good if I don’t know what to watch for.”

  She shakes her head, of course. “You know I can’t. But I do have something for you.”

  Lady Rose turns around and grabs her sleek black leather purse. She reaches inside a hidden pocket and pulls out a barrette. But it’s no ordinary barrette. This one is covered in dark red stones and tiny little clear crystals. “That’s beautiful,” I tell her.

  “I’d like you to have it,” she says.

  I shake my head. “I can’t.”

  “Of course you can. My grandmother gave this to me years ago, before she died. Now when I wear it, I feel like she’s watching over me. I feel safer. I think you could use some of that, don’t you think?”

  I do. Of course I do. But .
. .

  “I’ll inherit her gift.”

  “No, Hallie. She wasn’t a witch.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She gives me a look. “Of course I’m sure.”

  So I nod. “I’ll take wonderful care of it. I promise I won’t break it.”

  Lady Rose smiles. “I’m not worried about that. Not worried about that at all.”

  Eighteen

  Every time I look in the mirror, I have to stare a few extra seconds. I love my ocean-blue eyes.

  If I didn’t detest Kendall so much, I’d thank her for them. Who knows what kind of spell she was attempting. Probably to make me blind. I don’t know why she even bothers when she knows her spells will reflect her white magic. No matter how hard she tries, she can’t cast a black magic spell. It’s ironic, actually. If we could swap gifts, we’d both be happier. But maybe that’s why we didn’t get those gifts. Maybe this is supposed to help us somehow.

  Today’s the day we present our genealogy reports, and I haven’t slept a wink all night. My dad and I once watched this documentary that traced the evolution of humans. After we watched it, Dad claimed everyone was related to everyone else in some way.

  Maybe he’s right. Maybe all of our paths cross at some point, like some giant maze we can’t get out of.

  I run a hand over my hair to tame the fly-aways, and take a huge, trembling breath.

  It’s just a regular day, I tell myself.

  Somewhere, deep inside the recesses of my memory, I hear Kendall mocking me.

  Nothing has ever bothered Kendall. Even when we were still friends, she was so confident. She never worried about her grades, friends, making her parents happy, or getting in trouble. That kind of personality always attracts a lot of people.

  Kendall insists on having a take-no-prisoners mentality. She’s first, and everyone else is second. It’s kind of funny that she can’t see that everything she does goes against the person—or witch—she was created to be. White magic witches bring peace, comfort, and prosperity to others. That’s Kendall’s purpose, but she doesn’t realize it. Or maybe she does and doesn’t accept it.

  So.

  If Kendall’s fighting her white magic destiny by attempting black magic spells, what does that say about me?

  Am I doing exactly the same thing by refusing the power of my own black magic destiny?

  Lady Jennica’s room is buzzing. Everyone’s family tree has been carefully rolled and tied with a string. We are planning to unveil them today, share them with the class, then hang them outside our bedroom doors. I’ve worked so hard and so long on this project, I’ve memorized every detail written on it.

  One by one we begin sharing. Turns out family tree presentations are one big snooze-fest. About halfway through the third girl, I’m fighting to stay awake. We’re picked randomly so I have to stay alert. Otherwise I might pull a little disappearing act with my inherited gift of invisibility and take a nap.

  Ivy goes before me, as do Jo and Dru. The most exciting thing about any of theirs is that Ivy is related to the second High Priestess of Dowling, Griselda Blackwood. That’s cool, and I’m a tiny bit jealous.

  Finally, just as I’m about to pass out from boredom, Kendall is called. She walks to the front of the room, holding her family tree casually. Like she couldn’t care less about her family heritage. You’d think if you spent this much time on a project, you’d at least pretend to be ready to present. But that’s Kendall for you.

  She unties the string, and her family tree unravels. Then she begins reading the names.

  The witches in her family tree, like mine, like everyone’s, have different gifts. Some are inherited, but it seems like most of the gifts are unique. Of course, no one in her family line has the gift of inheritance.

  Kendall’s voice is monotone, her speech interspersed with plenty of instances of “um’s” and “like’s.” She reads from the paper with the enthusiasm of a man walking to his own execution. She adds nothing interesting about her ancestors. Just reads the information like she’s reading a phone book.

  And then.

  Then.

  Then I hear it.

  “Sarah Elizabeth Scott.”

  That name. I know that name.

  Breathe.

  It’s on my own family tree.

  There’s no way.

  How can we have the same ancestor? My mind cramps, hands sweat.

  We’re related.

  Ivy puts her hand on my back. “What’s wrong?” she whispers. Her empathy must be off the charts, because my emotions are all over the place.

  I sit up but can’t face Ivy. If I see her eyes reflecting my own emotions, I’ll lose it.

  Kendall reads the rest of the details about Sarah. The details I’ve already memorized. They are, of course, exactly the same. I don’t have to wonder if Kendall knows we share an ancestor. If she knew, she would have made some scene or refused the assignment, or something even worse, like burned the genealogy books. And she would. She is just that evil.

  The rest of her presentation moves along at a snail’s pace, and I have to fight to keep my feet from racing out of the room. Ivy doesn’t say anything else, but I know she’s watching me. Ready to hold me down if she has to.

  Several more girls present their family trees. Then it’s my turn.

  My heart is pounding. I fumble as I try to untie the string that is holding the scroll together, until Lady ­Jennica does it for me.

  “You okay?” she whispers to me under her breath.

  I don’t answer, just unroll the family tree and face the class.

  I had learned so much about my ancestors that I wanted to mention, things that aren’t written on the paper, but that plan is toast. I’ll be lucky to read the names without hyperventilating.

  My voice squeaks out the first name, then the next, and the next. I don’t relax. I can’t.

  I keep my eyes on Ivy, whose face is willing me to read the names and get back to my desk. There will be time enough for screaming and crying later.

  And then it’s time for me to say her name. I don’t look at Kendall to see if she’s watching me. I just take a breath and force the name out.

  “Sarah Elizabeth Scott.” I barely hear my own voice, and the hair on my arms stands up, as if the power in this room is supercharged.

  “Wait a moment,” Lady Jennica says, eyes squinted. “That name . . .”

  “Was on mine,” Kendall says, her voice icy. Furious. Like I want us to be related.

  I close my eyes, wishing I were related to anyone at Dowling besides her. Even Zena would be better than Kendall. At least she didn’t single-handedly ostracize me in elementary school.

  Lady Jennica puts her hand on my back, holds her other hand up to quiet the now chaotic class. But I don’t hear them talking, don’t hear a single thing except the rapid-fire pulse in my ears, the sound of my life crumbling down around me.

  “I told you these projects could be surprising,” she says. She gives a nervous laugh. She’s as surprised as I am. “Well, now, that is a surprise. How exciting. Right, class?”

  The room is still, quiet. But the energy is so thick, I can barely breathe. I make myself look at Kendall. Her face is red, her eyes like fire.

  “All right, then,” Lady Jennica says. “Let’s move on, shall we? Hallie, please continue.”

  I zip through the rest of my family tree. It’s not like anyone is listening anyway. The two worst enemies at Dowling are related. No one really cares about anything else.

  Soon enough I’m done with my presentation, and Lady Jennica rolls it up nicely for me. I guess she knows my hands are shaking too badly to do anything but wrinkle it.

  “There now, Hallie,” she says. “You be sure to hang that on your door when you get back to your room.”

  The thought of advertising t
hat I am—in some infinitely distant and insignificant way—related to Kendall sends me reeling. I don’t want to post it. I don’t want to.

  Lady Jennica pushes me back to my desk, and I sit down with a loud whumph.

  “It’s okay, Hal. Nothing’s changed.” Ivy gives me her best fake smile. “It’s okay.” She says the words, but neither of us believes them.

  The class finishes the presentations. Not that I hear any of them after mine. I’m not sure anyone does. Lady Jennica finally dismisses us, and I can’t get out of the room fast enough. But I see Kendall at Lady Jennica’s desk and realize they’re both looking at me.

  I try to avoid them, get out of the room before either of them can grab me.

  It’s futile, of course. “Hallie,” Lady Jennica says. Her voice is soft, almost apologetic.

  The room clears out slowly, everyone wanting to hang back and hear what is said to the enemies-turned-relatives. Lady Jennica shoos them out and closes the door behind them.

  She turns back toward us and manages a half smile. “Okay, girls. I know you are both upset about this.”

  Kendall lets out a loud scoff. “You think?”

  I don’t give her the satisfaction of reacting. Just keep my arms crossed and remind myself to breathe.

  “This is rare. To have two witches connected at the fifth level who are so different.”

  “You can say that again.” Kendall can’t let a second go by without a jab.

  “Different in terms of skill,” Lady Jennica clarifies. I keep my eyes down. If I look at my teacher, I may start crying. “Typically those who are related have skills that are . . . ­better aligned. Black magic witches are related to other black magic witches, and vice versa. It makes me wonder . . .”

  When she doesn’t finish her sentence, I finally look at her. “Wonder what?”

  She doesn’t say anything, just looks at me, then Kendall, then back at me. She shakes her head slowly. “I don’t know, to be honest.”

  “This has been extremely helpful,” Kendall says under her breath.

  I want out of this room, out of this building, out of this situation.