Chapter 1
We had a substitute professor in Journeyman Spell Writing—easy pickings. She was more timid looking than most, a pale, young woman in a bright yellow suit, which clashed horribly with her skin tone and the flushed patches on her cheeks. Any other day, she would have been prey. I would have snapped her fragile ego in half and sent her running and sobbing down the hall. My reputation would have required it. But I glanced at the clock. Today, I didn’t have the time. I had twenty-three minutes before life as I knew it exploded.
My eyes traveled back to the substitute. She didn’t look like she’d ever run a single classroom before; her posture was hunched, she chewed her lower lip, and she was hiding halfway behind the desk. She set her small brown suitcase on the desk and a shaft of afternoon sunlight hit it. I spotted a scratch that marked the bag as faux leather. I nearly clicked my tongue. She should know better than to show signs of poverty here. The shallow idiots would want to rip her apart.
“Newb,” Terra Lysour called out as she took a seat, eyeing the sub as she flicked her crappy pink extensions over her shoulder.
“Did you just say boob?” I asked, as loud as I could, mostly because I hated Terra’s guts. A big-boned girl who’d had boobs magicked to match; she was a total bitch. Unfortunately, she was also top of the class. She’d apparently passed last year by writing her own spell for her boob job and executing it perfectly in front of several professors. She’d caused quite an uproar, but since she was a fourth year, and over eighteen, there hadn’t been anything anyone could do about it. I loved reminding her about her whorish claim to fame though.
Chuckles erupted as Terra turned back to me and glared.
“Rude, Terra,” I scolded. “Not all of us are obsessed with your sweater puppets.”
A cluster of students walked in just then, passing between us and deflecting whatever brilliant comeback Terra had. It was usually “fuck you.”
Around the room, students grinned when they saw the sub. As they took their seats, every eye in the room turned to look at me expectantly. I raised my eyebrows at them and shifted in my seat. Dammit. Time to put on the show. Arrogant rich girl … and go. I hardened my expression. Then I dismissed them all, looking down to brush lint off my navy blue, pleated skirt, feigning boredom. I traced a pleat that the dry cleaners hadn’t gotten quite perfect.
Inside, I buzzed with nervous energy. But not for the same reasons as the rest of the class. No, I wasn’t excited about a sub or the beautiful possibilities of torture. I was excited for something a bit grander. Half an hour ago the faculty had all received a very important message.
I had to bite down on a smirk and control my emotions for what was about to happen. Patience was key. It was the key to pulling off big stunts. It was the key to my real goal. For me, every day for the past three years had been a practice in patience. I smoothed my expression back to disinterest as I grabbed my wand case out of my leather book bag.
A silent sigh seemed to go through the room, as expectant excitement turned to disappointment; the entitled peanut gallery didn’t think I was going to give them a show. I nearly smiled at that. If only they knew. They were waiting for me to cause chaos, but they'd have to wait a few more minutes. I had bigger prey than professors in mind today. Because I was an illusionist. They all thought I was one of them. But they were wrong, and they’d never know it. They only ever knew what I showed them.
A guy with awful, Ken-doll, plastic-looking, gel-heavy hair sat next to me. I thought his name was Dan, but I wasn’t sure. He scooted over in his seat so he could elbow me, an iridescent scar from spell writing gone wrong zagging up his arm. “Whatcha’ gonna do?” he asked.
“If you wanna screw with the sub, you’ll have to use your brain for once and think of something,” I told him as I shoved his elbow away.
The trembling substitute clutched her skinny latte like it was a shield, like that caffeine would protect her from the abrasive scorn of the teenagers that sat in front of her. I unzipped my wand case and pulled out the slim, pure gold stick. Medeis Academy—an academy with a tree branch so far up its ass it didn’t even realize nobody knew how to pronounce its crap Latin name—might have been one of the most exclusive academies on the east coast, but wealth didn't prevent people from being assholes. Myself notably included.
Under the hawk-like eyes of my classmates, I grabbed an inkwell and set it next to my wand. I set out a thin roll of parchment, half as wide as a store receipt, on my desk next to it. I then reached down into my backpack, pulled out a compact mirror, and clicked it open. I studied my straight brown hair and the orange streaks I'd given myself just last night; I frowned at the couple of freckles sprinkled on my nose. They were my least favorite feature, but unless I caked on the foundation, they always showed. At least I had pretty blue eyes. I fingered one of my orange stripes, debating whether it made my freckles stand out more or not. I deliberately ignored the sub and my classmates.
My indifference toward the magic professor caused her to sigh audibly in relief, and the other students to grouse as they turned back to face forward. I smiled to myself as I shut my compact and shoved it back into my bag. They'd get their entertainment. But they had to wait for it. For twenty-one more minutes.
The bell rang and the sub tottered forward on heels that were clearly too high for her. "Good morning, everyone. My name is Miss Tameka —"
"Nobody cares." An anonymous male voice called out from the back of the class. Titters erupted around the room. Miss Tameka whatever-her-last-name-was swallowed hard and turned to the professor’s desk. She opened her cheap suitcase and pulled out a stack of papers. As I stared at them and recognized the light blue cover sheet used by the magical government, my stomach dropped.
Dammit, even after all this time, part of me wanted to prove I could do it. But I wouldn’t. I clenched my hands into fists and turned to stare outside across the marble campus buildings toward the dormitories as if I didn’t care about those papers in her hands. I pretended the dead tree line was more appealing as the winter wind picked up and made the branches dance.
Ms. Tameka turned back around to face us. And then her voice lashed out with a bit more attitude than I would have expected from her wilted-flower persona. "Well, perhaps you might care what my name is when you hear I'm here to administer a surprise examination. The Pinnacle has an internship opening this summer—”
Immediately, several of the goody-two-shoes straightened up, all alert, when seconds ago, they’d been as willing to dismiss this woman as the rest of us. But dangling the carrot of working at the magical government center was too much. Their inner nerd popped out like a zit. I shoved mine deep inside and let it fester. Because screw that. I focused on thinking about my room, about the suitcase I’d packed and shoved under my bed.
Miss Tameka’s eyes settled on me. Even as I stared out the window, I could feel her gaze and see students turn to look at me again, this time with questioning expressions instead of expectant ones. I knew exactly what that meant. Dammit. Mom had pulled some strings. This internship quiz showing up in my advanced spell writing class was one of them. Internally, I shook my head. The woman’s faith in me was unshakable. A little piece of me cringed at the thought of disappointing my mother yet again. I knew she wanted this for me—a solid future. But I’d already committed myself to something else long ago. My future, or lack thereof, was set.