Chapter 2
Riya’s instincts finally snapped into action. She dove for the car, but she was too late: The mousetrap car hit the floor
with a crack, splinters of thin balsa wood and dowel rods scattering across the tiles.
One lone CD wheel spun on its axle, a pitiful death rattle.
For a moment, Riya and Mel said nothing—though someone from the small crowd gathering nearby muttered, “Damn, skill issue.”
Riya’s chest tightened.
She hated waste, especially wasted effort. And Mel had clearly worked hard. Even with all the industrial-strength glue in the world, there was no salvaging
it in time for her Physics class.
She knelt beside Mel, scanning her friend for injuries.
“Are you . . . okay?”
“RiRiiii,” Mel whined pathetically. “That hurt.”
Riya’s fingers twitched—that old familiar itch to fix things. To put things back in order, before the mess could spread. Slowly,
she got to her feet, and her gaze, with all the precision of a heat-seeking missile, locked on to the culprit.
“Hey!” she snapped. “You pushed my friend.”
The culprit—a boy—froze.
He was lanky, Asian, his messy dyed-blond hair stark against the black brows that framed his knife-edged cheeks. Everything about him—from his scowl to the way he stood, all loose limbs and ready tension—reminded her of a hungry street dog. The kind that looked lazy until it snapped.
“Shit,” the boy muttered, his eyes narrowing. “I didn’t mean to. I just didn’t see her and I’m—” His voice cut off as recognition
flickered across his face, like a blade catching the light.
“You,” he muttered. “Of course it’s you.”
Riya frowned. Something about his tone gave her pause—like he knew her. Had they met before? Was he in one of her classes? But she didn’t recognize him at all.
She shoved her glasses up her nose. “And you are?”
It was almost imperceptible, the way he flinched. But like a match snuffed out, his eyes dulled again, and he shook his head.
Exhaled.
Then, slowly, infuriatingly, his mouth curled in a smirk. “Huh. And here I thought our VP knew everyone.”
Riya bristled. So he wasn’t going to answer.
“Fine,” she said coolly. “I’ll find out your name later. The fact is, you broke my friend’s mousetrap car and damaged her grade. So what are you going to do about it?”
He moved to pass her. “Look, I don’t have time—”
Riya blocked him.
Accidents happened, she got that. But what mattered was how people handled them. A decent person would take responsibility.
But this boy? He was acting like none of it even mattered.
“The only thing you should be doing right now is apologizing,” she said. “Or are we going to have a problem?”
The boy’s gaze flicked to Mel, then down at the wreckage. His jaw tightened.
When he looked back at Riya, the corner of his mouth quirked—amused.
He chuckled. “. . . Wow.”
“What?”
He shook his head. “As fun as it is being lectured by Miss Justice Junkie, I’m in a hurry.”
Riya’s eye twitched. Miss Justice Junkie?
Enough. Yes, her khala had always reminded her to keep a lid on her emotions, especially after the Incident, when she’d sworn off magic for good. But this boy—his flippancy, his sheer disrespect for Mel’s hard work, for her authority—
As VP—nay, as Riya Khan—she would not let that stand.
“Tell my friend you’re sorry,” she said, struggling to keep her voice even. “I’ll wait.”
Around them, a crowd began to form, drawn by morbid curiosity, by the tension crackling in the air. Riya didn’t notice, though.
Her focus remained solely on him.
“It’s fine, Riya,” Mel squeaked. “It’s really not a big dea—”
“I said I’ll wait.”
The boy exhaled, adjusted his beanie. He ran his hand down his mouth as if considering his options, then turned a glare on
to the crowd—sharp and feral. Several students stepped back.
Then, with a resigned sigh, he looked at Mel.
“Fine, yes, I’m sorry,” he muttered. His voice a low baritone; under different circumstances, it might have been pleasant. But now, it was soured
by impatience. “Okay? I didn’t see you. I didn’t mean to break—what the hell was that thing again?”
“Mousetrap car,” Mel whispered.
“That was your mousetrap car?” He blinked. “Okay. Sure. Sorry I broke it.”
The apology was limp. Unconvincing.
“That’s it?” Riya said.
The boy shrugged. “Uh, yeah. Pretty much.”
Riya shook her head. “Nuh-uh. Not good enough. You’re going to walk with us to Mel’s Physics class and explain—”
But the boy was already taking several steps back.
“Yeah, no. Not happening,” he said, voice dipped in mockery. “The office called me, so, you know.”
He gave her a lazy salute. “Later, Miss Justice Junkie.”
And just like that, he slipped away, as effortlessly as smoke through fingers.
Riya stared after him, stunned.
Then—
“At least help pick it up, you troglodyte!” she yelled.
The bystanders, murmuring in disappointment, dispersed. Like it’d never happened. That was almost the worst part: how quickly everyone moved on, leaving Riya with a prickling, righteous fury that had nowhere else to go.
She swallowed it down and knelt beside Mel.
“If I see that guy again,” she muttered, picking up a shattered wheel, “I will make him apologize. Properly.”
Mel sighed, then offered a weak smile. “Thanks for sticking up for me, but I’m—it’ll be fine. I’ll just tell Mr. Thakur what
happened. It’s no big deal.”
Riya frowned. She’d taken Physics with Mr. Thakur last year—strict didn’t even begin to cover it. No working car, no grade.
No exceptions.
Before she could respond, a cheerful, Irish-lilted voice cut in.
“Melanie—you good there?”
Andrew Murphy. In the flesh.
Mel jolted upright, her face flushing bright pink.
“I—I’m fine!” she stammered. “Totally fine! Just a little bruised. And embarrassed, if I’m being honest.”
Andrew crouched beside them, his coppery-brown hair catching the light as he helped gather the broken pieces. “Don’t be. He
was the one being an arse.”
He handed Mel a splintered axle. “Kian Kho’s . . . kind of infamous. Last week I saw him ditching class to nap under the bleachers.”
Kian Kho. So that was his name. Riya filed it away for later.
Mel, meanwhile, stared at Andrew like he’d hung the moon. Riya could practically hear her internal monologue: Andrew’s such a gentleman! Like an Irish siren here to lure me to the forests! My own personal Hozier!
“Just take it easy the rest of the day, yeah?” Andrew glanced at Riya, his brow quirking. “Lean on your . . . very tall friend, if you have to. Good God, what are you? Five ten?”
“Five eleven,” Riya corrected automatically.
“Jesus Christ.” He shook his head, before turning back to Mel. “Well, I’m glad you’re all right. Next time you fall, I’ll try to catch
you.”
He winked and turned away in an attempt to be suave.
But Riya caught one telling detail: His ears were a bright, beacon red.
Mel whirled on her once they were alone.
“DID YOU SEE THAT?”
“I . . . saw something,” Riya said carefully.
“Exactly! There’s something there!” Mel pressed a hand to her cheek, starry-eyed. “Andrew went out of his way to check on me. And that wink—God, he’s
as smooth as Irish butter. He must like me back, I know it.”
Riya tilted her head. “What makes you so sure?”
“Come on, RiRi. Why else would he care?”
Riya bit the inside of her cheek. Mel, bless her, had a knack for jumping to conclusions. But even she had to admit she’d
never seen anyone look at Mel quite like that before.
Another flicker of warmth curled at her fingertips.
Riya clenched her fists, forcing it back.
Sometimes, when things were quiet—when she wasn’t caught in the slipstream of her never-ending to-do list—she noticed how
the world felt . . . slow. Stagnant.
Like something waiting to be nudged.
It had been years since the Incident. Years since she’d told herself the cost of peri magic was too high.
But the truth? Sometimes a part of her still craved it. That electric hum, the weightlessness of bending the world into shape—just a little.
Her gaze flicked to Mel.
Mel, who’d once paid off a freshman for the last iced tea in the cafeteria, simply because Riya always had an iced tea with her lunch.
Mel, who never got mad when Riya forgot to text back for days.
Mel, who was still holding on to a shattered wheel like she could will it back together.
She could be ridiculous sometimes. A little much. But she’d done so much for Riya. And even though she had every reason to
feel dejected, still she held on to hope.
Mel deserved something good. Especially right now.
And what was one spell, really? As long as she was careful, she could do this. Just this once.
Riya’s fingers buzzed faintly in response. She exhaled.
“If you really feel this strongly about him,” she said, “I’ll do it. I’ll cast the—the spell. For you.”
Mel lit up like fireworks.
“Really?”
“Really.”
Before Riya could brace herself, Mel suddenly threw an arm around her and squeezed, nearly knocking the broken remains of the mousetrap car from her hands.
“You’re the BEST, Riya! The best!!!!”
Riya staggered but didn’t pull away.
Sure, it wasn’t a plan. It wasn’t a promise. But Mel’s smile was back.
And Riya, far too tired to think about what that might cost her, decided that, for now, it was enough.