Spell Book & Scandal

Chapter Eighteen

Her nose crinkles. "When did you start drinking that again?"

Oh, God, has Christina switched to tea? Or is she totally off caffeine altogether? I try to sound casual. "Since I started putting in so many hours, um, studying for the Threes."

The black girl leans back against the seat. "I hear that. If this test doesn't kill me, nothing will."

She's a caster, I think, trying to see if that information helps me place her, but it's like my memory is a big brick wall. "Um, about those notes..." I flail.

She pulls a notebook out of her bag and hands it to me. I take it from her and flip it open, but she keeps staring at me intently.

I cough. "What?"

"Where are your English notes?"

"Oh!" They must trade homework. I dig through my bag, frantically wondering why I didn't ask Christina which notebook goes to which class, but luckily, the other girl is looking in my bag, too, and she plucks a green notebook out of it. I didn't know Christina needed help with math, I think, glancing at her mostly blank homework before I swing my eyes back to the notebook from the girl. We pass the rest of the bus ride in silence, copying each other's work, but my eyes keep flickering to the middle of the bus where Christina is sitting with Kelsey, and my stomach tightens. What kind of things is she learning about me? What kind of ammunition will she have later on?

I start to head down the sophomore hall when we get to school, but the girl from the bus gives me a weird look, and I turn around just in time. This is going to be even harder than I thought, I realize. Christina and I went over our schedules together before we left the house this morning, but that doesn't mean I memorized it or anything. And I have no idea if I have class with the bus girl; sooner or later she's going to notice that I'm acting strange. I just have to think like Christina, I tell myself.

"Aren't you going to your locker?" The girl asks as I stand there in the hall, thinking.

I feel like such an idiot; I never thought to ask Christina for her locker number and combination. "Not today," I hedge. "I'll just bring my bag."

The girl frowns. "Okay. I guess I'll see you at lunch."

I nod, resisting the urge to exhale in relief; at least I don't have any morning classes with her. Turning away, I feign confidence as I walk down the hall, but my eyes scan the room numbers, and I'm walking slow enough that a couple of people bump into me. One guy mutters something under his breath, but I ignore him and keep looking at the classrooms. Finally, I find Christina's English class, and shouldering my bag, I take a deep breath and cross the threshold.

Nobody looks up when I walk in, and my shoulders drop in relief. I scan the desks, arranged in a wide circle around the room, facing the center, and I pause. Are the seats assigned? My eyes flicker around, looking for a familiar face, but I don't recognize anyone in this class, and I doubt Christina would bother making friends with normies. Think like Christina. Considering that English is the class she helps her friend in, I'm guessing she's good at it, and when my sister is good at something, she doesn't hide or pretend otherwise.

I walk to a desk in the center of the circle, near the back. It faces the board head on, plus it has a good view of the door. Even if all seats in a circle are more or less equal, this seat looks like the one my arrogant sister would choose if she wanted to show off. The bell rings as I drop my bag, and everyone shuffles to their seats. I hold my breath, but no one looks at me funny or tells me to get out of his seat, and I begin to relax. I can do this. Just think like Christina.

But when the teacher strides into the room and claps her hands, my heart starts to sink. "Okay, everyone. Let's pick up where we left off yesterday. Christina, I believe you were going to start us off today?"