“Do you wanna come to my room and play?”
I frowned, my confusion so complete that I couldn’t help myself. “Play?”
She gave a desperate little sigh. “Most of the kids—uh, I mean,peopleare older than me. I don’t have anyone to play with. And since you don’t have any friends, either, I thought… Well, I thought you might want to hang out with me in my room for a bit? It’s all kids’ stuff, I know, but I still think it’s fun. I have some dolls and stuff I still like to play with. You could show me how to do makeup,andwe can try on outfits!”
“You mean playdress up?” I said with a grin.
Her face fell, and I felt a sharp twinge of guilt at how I’d said it. I hadn’t meant to belittle her; in fact, I’d found it sort of cute, but she obviously thought I was making fun of her.
“Never mind,” she said, her face crumpling and turning away.
My heart lurched with regret, and I grabbed her wrist. “Wait! I’d love to come play with you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Come on. Let’s go,” I said as I stuffed my books into my bag.
“Yay!” the girl cried and clapped her hands together.
Twenty minutes later, I sat in her room, brushing a doll’s hair while Wendy lined the others up in a row. She’d been underselling it when she told me she hadsome dolls and stuff. She had over a dozen dolls of various sizes along with at least a hundred outfits and accessories. Honestly, her room looked more like an eight-year-old’s than a girl on the cusp of puberty.
“You know, we could do this faster with magic, right?” I said as I dragged a brush through the doll’s hair.
“What? You mean like this?” Wendy said, turning and running her hands through her cropped hair.
As she moved her hands across the tight black curls, her hair grew, twisting out and becoming dreadlocks like her uncle’s, the tips dangling down to her chest.
“Wow. That was pretty good,” I said, grinning at her.
“Thanks.” She shrugged. “I learned to do that when I was like ten. Hey! Do you like music?”
“Sure. Whatever you want.”
She ran to her bedside table and turned on a Bluetooth speaker. Even with magic, some of the regular world inventions still did the job better. An upbeat pop song blared out, and Wendy grabbed my hand, helping me from the floor.
“Come on. Let’s dance.”
I allowed her to swing me around the room, and within a few minutes, I was sweating and laughing. As silly as it was to be here, playing dolls and dancing with a preteen, I was having fun. I was enjoying myself.
“Hang on,” Wendy said. “It’s not a dance party if it’s just the two of us.”
She waved her hand toward the group of dolls and muttered something under her breath. An instant later, the plastic toys came to life, their limbs moving as though they were living and breathing creatures. My eyes went wide as the dolls took each other in their arms and drifted across the floor dancing with each other. This put the glamour magic on her hair to shame.
Animating inanimate objects wasfarabove anything I, or most of the other students I knew, could do. As impressive as it was, it also made me feel even more inadequate. I slowed my dancing as I watched the small figures march across the floor. Sadness tried to creep in, but I held it at bay, not wanting to ruin Wendy’s night with my thoughts of my shortcomings.
The clock mounted on the wall chimed. A beautiful song drifted from it, barely audible over the music blaring from the speaker.
“What’s that?” I said, staring at the clock.
Wendy sighed and snapped her fingers. The dolls all ceased moving and toppled over, once again nothing but lumps of plastic. She rolled her eyes and shook her head in disgust. “It’s my alarm clock. Uncle Balthazar likes me to be in bed early.”
“I like that song, though. What is it?”
Wendy’s eyes grew a little distant, and she turned away. “My mom used to sing that to me when I was little.”
That put a damper on the mood. Everyone in school knew Balthazar’s sister and her husband had passed away. It was why Wendy had come to the academy. She’d been talented enough to attend, of course, but before that, she’d lived at home and goneto a regular human school, with her parents teaching her magic at home.
“I’m sorry, Wendy,” I said.
