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The sobs were soft, but Angie could hear them from outside. Pushing the unlatched door slowly, as if the wind caught it, she slipped in. The cabin was full of hair. Long, short, curly, kinky, straight, blonde, dark. Hair everywhere, on each unmade bunk, the floor, some strands even on the screens over the open windows. Blythe was alone in the room, on her bunk, curled into a ball, weeping. Her darker-skinned face was a mess, snotty, wet with tears. Her bald head looked sweaty. There was dirt, like dried mud along one bare leg and the bottom of her denim shorts.
Mud dropped the working and walked to the cabin’s supply cabinet where she found a box of tissues. She sat on the edge of the unyielding mattress and placed a tissue in Blythe’s hand.
The girl’s eyes opened, recognition dawned, and she sat up fast. “You!” she snarled.
“Me. You didn’t do it, did you,” Angie stated. “Cast the bald working.”
“Alopecia universalisworking,” she sneered. “Not that achildwould know.” Her face crumpled and more tears slid down her face. “Ahcrap. I didn’t even know the working existed until Jessamine said we should try it on you to see if we could make you do something.”
Angie decided to keep her answers short and her questions shorter. “Something?”
“Use your magic. Everybody says you’re a Tabitha. A double X gene witch.” Blythe blew her nose.
It sounded disgusting and Angie handed her another tissue.
“Everybody wants to see if the rumors are right. If you can use raw magic.”
Angie’s entire being stopped, her breath, her reactions, maybe even her heartbeat. “Everybody?”
“The counselors. The administrators.” Blythe sniffed and fell back on the bunk with one arm over her head, the other covering her face. It was very dramatic. “It was supposed to be exciting. And Carm promised the person who made you use magic would get a prize and a huge award from the school. Like a plaque and everything.”
Angie’s heart went from stopped to galloping. For that to happen—ifCarmelina was telling the truth—the school had to know way more than they were saying. Carmelina, Jessamine, and maybe Dr, Jenkins. This was bad. Magic Camp, which was like a magic school in the summer, open to all witch children, was supposed to be a safe place, where all information gleaned about the kids, the families, and the clans was kept private and protected. A safe place for all.
Blythe continued, “But you didn’t use your magic when Carm turned your hair green. And so, they said we should try something more, I don’t know, aggressive. And now my mom’s going to kill me.”
Angie stuffed another tissue into Blythe’s hand.
Blythe blew her nose and the sniffling stopped. She dropped her arm and focused on Angie. Slowly she sat up again, her eyes, still angry and distrustful, glowering. A soft glow of residual magic rose from Blythe’s skin, a pale roseate radiance. Angie studied it, surprised she could see the residual glow so easily. It quickly darkened to a deeper red with anger.
A faint wisp of yellow swirled out of the magic and reached for Angie. She blinked and fought to keep from showing her shock. The energy was attached to the bed frame and woven into Blythe’s magic. Blythe’s angry magic.
“This is all your fault.” Blythe accused.
Angie swept her eyes from the energies to Blythe’s greenish-brown gaze. “No. I’m just a nerd kid with a bad reputation. It’s the school’s fault.”
As if reaching to swat a gnat, Angie brushed her hand out and caught the yellow thread, then propped her body on the mattress with that hand, holding it down. It felt warm.Intent woven with raw magic. Angie had created a new working. She was so gonna be in bad, bad trouble.
Angie said, “Carmelina and Jessamine went with Dr. Jenkins and then you got accused. Think about it. You got in trouble after they talked privately. They made a deal.” It was all guesswork but it was smart guess work.
The angry glow of Blythe’s magic dissipated as she thought about that and Angie pulled her magic out of the woven mass of energies and back into herself. She breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, as she glanced around the room, she spotted her magic traces on every bunk.
“So how can I get out of this?” Blythe asked.
“I can’t help with the baldness. Curses often backfire and the disease could be permanent.”
“I’m such an idiot to have trusted Carm.” Blythe started crying again, curled her knees up into a ball, rubbing her head and face on them. Under her breath she muttered, “Idiot, idiot, idiot.”
As Blythe wept, Angie stood and casually walked around the cabin, touching each bunk, removing all of her magic except from the bunks where Jessamine and Carmelina slept. Dr. Jenkins already noted the energy threads, which should have been impossible, so removing those two might be a problem. Angie was sure they couldn’t be traced back to her. Almost sure. Hopefully.
Blythe’s crying jag had ended and she was gasping for breath by the time Angie had removed her magic from the necessary bunks. She sat again on Blythe’s bunk and gave her two more tissues.
Blythe mopped her face. “Why are you being so nice to me? What do you want?”
Revenge, some small part of her whispered. The darkness coiled beneath her skin. Angie had once had a guardian angel—the real thing, with wings and magic and everything. Hayyel would have told her that vengeance was evil. Angie pulled therevengethought back, even as she had it. “Justice,” she said.
“I don’t give a flying fuck about justice. I want my hair back. And I want to not be in trouble. And I want to be smarter about picking friends who won’t turn on me.”
