“Icanconjure almost anything, but that doesn’t mean I should,” Kallie said. “McCauley’s class was different. Fae are allowed to make any illusion under teacher supervision. But any fae that conjure stuff they aren’t supposed to haveoutsideof class, like knives or weapons, and who get caught, are forced to wear noxite tracker cuffs twenty-four-seven until they graduate. If I get caught conjuring something that’s contraband, my powers will be useless, because I’ll instantly get booked.”
“So don’t get caught.” I shrugged.
Kallie scoffed. “Yeah, like I want to take that chance. Fuck up once, my magic is taken away until I get out of here. No thanks.”
“What about a portal?” Marcus offered. “You can make those, can’t you?”
“Of course I can, but they’re still hard to create,” Kallie argued. “A lot of fae never master them. It’s opening up a door in two different spots of reality, which is really hard, and it gets harder the farther away the destination is.”
“Just make one and get us out of here,” Marcus suggested.
“Youreallythink the Warden hasn’t thought of that,” Kallie asked flatly. “The fae guards have put up wards around the prison to make portals ineffective, so they won’t work anyway. Not to mention the wards canalsoidentify who cast the portal right away. I don’t want to get myself an instant trip down to Cellblock 9.”
“Now who’s being a chicken?” Marcus asked.
“Shut up, Marcus! At least Icancast a spell.”
While they were bickering, I shook my head and steered Charlie toward a chair. I looped the cape around his shoulders, and started trimming Charlie’s hair. The black tendrils drifted to the floor.
“What made you study cosmetology in high school?” Charlie asked.
“I don’t know. I was always so interested in how things looked. I wanted to push the boundaries of style. See how shocking I could be, what I could create and get away with.”
“Typical Ava answer.”
“I was very good at it. But hair and makeup always seemed like a hobby, never my calling.”
I observed the shape of his face carefully, and sculpted his haircut to complement his features. “You know, I never noticed, but your ears are slightly pointed. It’s kind of cute.”
“Really? Guess I didn’t know.”
I bit my lip and checked the length. “I don’t want to cut ittooshort,” I said. “You look nice when it’s slicked back.”
“If it gets any longer he’ll look shaggy, like Marcus,” Kallie added.
“Hey!” Marcus complained. He tugged self-consciously at the end of his hair, which was close to his shoulders by now.
“My hair used to be all the way past my hip bones,” I said proudly. “I’d like to get it that long again.”
“Why’d you cut it?” Charlie asked.
I snipped off a couple of stray pieces. “In Hawkei culture, our hair is thought to be part of our spirit. Many of us grow it long, to show our inner strength. But when someone we love dies, we cut our hair in mourning, to show that our spirit has been wounded, and how deeply we’ve been hurt. It’s a symbol of what we’ve lost.”
I shrugged. “But then the hair regrows, showing that we’ve been reborn after the loss.”
“You cut your hair when Monica died, didn’t you?” Charlie asked.
I didn’t clearly reply. Instead, I said, “When I was sad, Daddy used to tell me our tribe would braid our hair, to trap the sadness inside, and then the wind would come and blow all our troubles away as it rushed through our braids. I remember I braided my hair almost every day after she passed. I’d stand outside on stormy days and just wish that all the pain would get carried away with the wind.”
“Did it make you feel less sad?”
“A bit.” I finished up and brushed loose hair off his shoulders. “Your hair is important. It’s part of your spirit, which means you shouldn’t let just anyone touch it. Don’t let anyone cut your hair but me, okay?”
“Okay.” Charlie ran a hand through his new haircut tentatively. Then he scowled.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know anything about our culture. I’m so far behind,” he said in frustration. “I’m too old to learn all this stuff. I know nothing about our tribe.”
