Should I pursue acting? This is almost too easy. “You could?”
“If you prove you’re worth our time. Wouldn’t want to bring a dud into the coven, you know?”
“How could I prove myself?”
“Well, we were thinking,” she looks back at Ruby and Scarlett before turning back to me with a smirk, “if you manage to follow our directions for a week, that would show you’re dedicated to the coven and willing to do your part as an initiate.”
Oh, so, an errand bitch. How original. “So like, if you tell me to carry your things and get your food and do your schoolwork, I’d have to do all that for a week?”
“That’s right,” she beams, like the owner of a dog that’s just taught its pet a new trick. “If you can do that for a week, I can get you in.”
“Shoot, I don’t know if I can do that,” I tsk with mock disappointment.
“Excuse me?” Marcella asks, crooking her eyebrow.
“Well you see, the thing is, I don’t care,” I say as my eager tone becomes wooden. The sisters share a glance behind Marcella as my refusal sinks in. “Yeah, unfortunately I have thissilly problem with authority. Especially with people I don’t like. Or respect. Or give a shit about. Sorry,” I shrug. Marcella sneers, looking me up and down in disgust, and I get the feeling this is her usual disposition.
She scoffs, glaring at me. “You should reconsider. After all, I don’t see anyone else offering to take you in.” The words unintentionally hit too close to home and my already thin patience snaps.
“As generous as your offer of indentured servitude is, I have too much self-respect to waste my time on people who just,” it’s my turn to look her up and down for effect, “aren’t worth it.”
Her mouth parts in shock, clearly having imagined this conversation going a different way. “You’re a nobody with nothing. You really think you can get into a coven without having to prove yourself?”
“Never said that. Just that you’re not worth the attempt.” I sidestep them, finally leaving through the side door like I’d intended. The only thing that could make this moment better would be ‘Sabotage’ by the Beastie Boys playing in the background as I walk away in slo-mo after dropping that bomb. I’m dying to see their expressions, but turning around now would ruin the effect. Probably a good thing they can’t see the wide smile on my face, either.
The high of my little storm off lasts the rest of the day, but come Wednesday, it’s clear that my words have traveled farther than I anticipated.
The students and faculty of Dreadhurst have declared open season on me.
Professor McCall calls on me for the first time to name the six major celestial events that the magical community celebrates annually, and if I’d been someone with a life or hobbies, it might have stumped me given everyone else knows these as children.
Professor Allard in my Politics class calls on me to name each magical governing councils in North America and the year when they were formed, and then Tasia Bellamy, who’d studiously ignored me since day one, loudly scoots her chair back and moves several seats away as everyone waits for me to answer.
In Remedial Wielding later that afternoon, someone blows a gust of air up my skirt as I walk to my seat, and another trips me on the way out of class. The teacher only admonishes me for creating a disturbance. By the time I get to Divination, I’m tired and on edge, but on the scale of shitty shit that I’ve had to deal with in Lynden—growing up a ward of the state, surviving public school, and working at Daly’s for two years—today barely registers as a blip on the radar.
When I open my backpack to take out my newly acquired creepy cardstock, it’s not there. And because I know for a fact that I put it in my backpack after glaring at it for an hour last night, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that someone’s taken it when I wasn’t paying attention.
Professor Chamberlain goes around from table to table, checking everyone’s progress on the task of interpreting a specific spread of cards, but stops short when she gets to me, sans deck.
“Ms. Byrke, is there a reason you aren’t completing this exercise?”
I weigh whether it’s worth it to tell her the truth, but if the last three classes are any indication, I doubt she’d believe the real reason.
“I don’t have it today, Professor.”
She raises her eyebrows in surprise, then sighs. “Ms. Byrke, I understand your reticence with this particular deck, but that’s no excuse for failing to follow my instructions. I’m disappointed to see you unprepared to participate in today’s exercise. You may use one of the extra decks at the back of the classroomto complete today’s lesson, but I expect you to come prepared for Monday’s class, understood?” The classroom is silent as everyone watches, and return her question with a blank stare.
“Yes, Professor.”
“Excellent.” She beams once more and moves on to another table to review the students’ work.
I steel myself as I walk across the classroom to get the loaner deck, but when I pull it from the shelf, a gust of air makes whole thing comes crashing down, drawing everyone’s attention once more.
“Is everything alright, Ms. Byrke?” Chamberlain asks.
“Sorry, must have bumped it. I’ll pick it up.” Truthfully, I’m thankful for the few moments it takes to place everything back on the shelf, because I need it to rein in my frustration and fix my face into an impassive mask.
I skip dinner in the Great Hall that night, digging into the stash in my dorm room instead as I begin reading ahead for tomorrow.
