Chapter Eighteen
For only the second time in her life (and, coincidentally, the second time this month), Lily dreaded going to witch school. She couldn’t even blame Chrysanthemum—although if Chrysanthemum weren’t the demon she was, Lily would never have lost her temper and hexed her, and if that hex was responsible for what was going on at school, then, in a way, so was Chrysanthemum. That was the sort of twisted logic that Sonia would describe as pitiful, however, and Lily’s conscience wasn’t buying it.
Worse, all through math class, Lily could have sworn that Ms. LaPlant’s gaze was boring a hole into her forehead. That every time there was a strange noise in the hallway, or whenever a chair squeaked, Ms. LaPlant turned her way.
It didn’t help that other people did stare, but that was to be expected when her right side was soaked. She hadn’t dared go in another bathroom before classes started, so she’d used her car mirror to fix her hair while she composed herself. Nothing could be done for the rest of her, and truth be told, Lily had barely noticed the wet clothes once she’d calmed down enough to think clearly.
Chrysanthemum could see the lines, too.
No one else had, or possibly no one else could, and Lily was starting to suspect it was the latter. After the bathroom incident, Lily had seen a couple of lines by the girls’ locker room during gym class. They were nothing like what she’d experienced earlier, although still terrifying, but when she’d tried to show them to Sonia, Sonia hadn’t known what she was talking about.
Without asking every witch in the high school, Lily could tell herself she was jumping to conclusions, but she wasn’t buying that any more than her conscience was buying that this was Chrysanthemum’s fault. In fact, the way lines had formed in the wall around her and Chrysanthemum in the bathroom struck Lily as pretty damning evidence that whatever was going on, it was somehow tied to them both.
So, yeah, witch school was the last place she wanted to be right now. As she took her seat while her classmates discussed the unusual magical events, she felt … well, it could only be called dread.
The ancient radiator in the Historical Society classroom rattled as heat began flowing through it, and Lily’s brain rattled with it. The room alternated between too hot and too cold, and a few students were wearing charm bags stuffed with herbs (agrimony and garlic, among others, given the smell), no doubt hoping it would protect them from whatever was going on at the high school. (As for their effectiveness, Lily had no idea, but the pungent odors emanating from all the bags certainly repelled her.)
Everything in this room was giving her a headache.
Lily let her pen roll onto the floor so she had an excuse to twist around as she picked it up, sneaking a glance at Chrysanthemum. As usual, Chrysanthemum’s face was a bored mask, her eyes far away and her lips slightly downturned. But under the desk, her feet shifted restlessly, as though the same nervous energy in Lily’s veins were coursing through her own.
There was something oddly comforting about that, a relief to know that Chrysanthemum wasn’t so magically superior that she was impervious to the situation.
Of course, Lily already knew that, too. Chrysanthemum had seemed anything but chill in the bathroom earlier. So whatever. Lily didn’t know why she was fixating on Chrysanthemum’s feelings.
She retrieved her pen and spun back around in her chair. What was Chrysanthemum thinking, though? Had the bathroom incident scared her as much as it had Lily? Was she angry? Did she suspect Lily had something to do with it?
“Lily?”
Damn. She hadn’t heard the last five minutes’ worth of instruction that had come from Ms. LaPlant’s mouth. “Yes?”
Ms. LaPlant looked at her with concern, and that made her insides writhe with guilt.
“I asked a question, but I don’t think you were paying attention.”
Her cheeks burned, and Lily shook her head.
“Sorry. I’m distracted.”
At least the reason why was so obvious that no one could fault her. Even the most magically obtuse normies knew something strange was happening at school. It was all anyone had been discussing tonight before Ms. LaPlant had called the class to order.
“Right.”
Ms. LaPlant slid off the table where she’d been sitting.
“I know that what’s going on at the high school is disturbing and disruptive. The Society is working to contain the problem, and everyone needs to stay calm until they do.”
“Why haven’t they yet?”
Sonia asked.
“Can’t they put more wards around the school or something?”
Ms. LaPlant took a sip from her coffee cup and checked the time.
“It’s not that simple, unfortunately. Wards need to be put in place before a spell hits. Otherwise, it’s like you’re locking the doors after the thief has already broken in. The spell either needs to be revoked, which is impossible without knowing what it was, overpowered, or countered. Either of those last two options will be difficult but doable in time. For now, the best that can be done is to suppress the spell’s effects, and that’s in progress. It took a couple of days to prepare, but hopefully, tomorrow you’ll have a normal day.”
Lily tightened her grip on her pen. Revoked? If she was the one who cast the out-of-control hex, she was probably the best hope they had of revoking it. But everything she’d learned about revoking a spell made it sound extremely hard.
Magic did not like to be undone.
Think of a spell as blowing on a dandelion puff, her ninth-grade witch school teacher had said. Those seeds are your intent. Your breath is your power that sets them free, and once you have, they’re carried on the wind to plant effects. To revoke a spell is to inhale deeply and strongly enough to summon them all back after they’ve scattered, after they may have sprouted roots.
A witch needed excellent control to do that, and Lily had to face it—if she’d had that, her spell wouldn’t have turned into this catastrophe in the first place.
Possibly her spell. She had no definitive proof that she’d done it, although evidence was mounting.
Ms. LaPlant set out a white candle.
“The best thing you can to do is to talk to any of your elders if you have information about what’s happening or what might have caused it. The next best thing is to strengthen your personal wards to keep yourself safe. The magic seems to be getting more aggressive”—here, for the first time, Lily knew for sure that her teacher’s gaze flicked toward her—“so being protected gives us all one less thing to worry about.”
Lily started to point out that her wards hadn’t helped her, but a new realization dawned. Perhaps Ms. LaPlant knew about the faucets, and that was why she’d looked at Lily. Her classroom was right across the hall from the bathroom.
And there was a good chance Chrysanthemum had talked to her afterward.
This epiphany, which could also explain why she thought Ms. LaPlant had been watching her during math class, was such a relief that Lily didn’t bother to bring up her wards. After all, she could be wrong about them not helping. What if the incident could have been a lot worse?
Along with the rest of the class, Lily got out a white candle while Ms. LaPlant lit a censer filled with frankincense and myrrh. They’d gone off lesson, but more protection never hurt. Considering Lily’s plan for after class, she might need it.