I decide to kill time in the library while Miah goes back to class. There's a big bulletin board in there, toward the back of the stacks, with all kinds of flyers and posters and stuff. The librarian, Miss Minchell, is pretty cool, and she actually lets the students put up whatever they want, so the library bulletin board is more than just posters about sports tryouts and after-school clubs; it's actually interesting.
I'm about to go wander through the stacks when the word "Magic" catches my eye on a piece of paper half-obscured by a flyer for an old summer camp. Curious, I peel away the layers and read the flyer to myself. "Wanted: Magic. If you want to make a little extra money, I am willing to pay for spells." Part of me wonders if it's a joke, but for some reason, another part of me is excited. Checking to make sure nobody's watching, I pull the flyer off the bulletin board and fold it up, tucking it into my planner. I'm pretty sure it's from last school year, considering it was underneath a poster for a summer camp, but the flyer caught my interest, and I want to think about it some more.
It doesn't mention casters or scribes, so I'm willing to bet whoever wrote the thing is a normie. Most normies don't really know how magic works; they think people like my family are witches or voodoo priests or something like that, and they tend to stay away. But clearly, someone in the school is willing to pay money for magic.
A flicker of an idea catches hold in my brain, and I stare into space, the wheels turning. What if I wrote spells for the normies? As far as I know, normies can't do magic, even with a real spell, so how would they know the difference between that and my defective ones? At least it would give me something to do while Christina studies for her Threes; I just know that the harder she works, the more disappointed my parents are going to be in me, and I'm sick of sitting around at home doing nothing. True, writing spells for normies would probably disappoint them, too, but maybe I could earn a little money with my half-assed magic. It's either that or babysitting for kids with more magical abilities than I'll ever have, since most places around here won't even consider hiring anybody who isn't sixteen yet. I like the idea of working for myself a whole lot more than sitting for casters and scribes, especially since I've never really liked playing with kids. Christina, of course, sat her way through our neighborhood and occasionally still babysits for her favorite families; they adore her. Everybody adores her.
Carefully, I tuck my planner back into my bag with the flyer concealed inside it, toying with the thought. Mom and Dad will probably disown me if I do what I'm considering, at least if they find out, but then again, it isn't like I'm their number one priority. They're much more likely to focus their energy on their perfect daughter as she gets ready to get a perfect score on her Threes. I glance around the library, feeling almost as devious as if I'd just stolen a book, but nobody is around and nobody has noticed me standing in front of the bulletin board for way too long.
Desperate to distract myself from the bizarre idea that's taken hold of me, I wander to the front of the library to see if Miss Minchell is around. She's usually at the circulation desk, unless she's in her office cataloging books or something; I helped her a little bit last year, and I hadn't made up my mind yet about doing it again this year, but now that I'm in the library and remember how much I like this place, it seems like a good idea to see if she wants a volunteer again. I don't know if Miss Minchell knows about my family; I mean, she'd have to be blind and deaf not to, I guess, but she's never said anything, and she's never treated me any differently from any other student who wanders through her domain. Because of that, and because of how quiet and peaceful the library is, I'm constantly drawn here, even though I've never been a big reader.
Miss Minchell isn't at the circulation desk, but when I poke my head around the door to her office, she's there, sitting in front of her computer, a pencil clamped between her teeth as she stares at the screen in concentration. Gently, I wrap my knuckles on her door, and she holds up one finger silently. A few seconds later, she looks up, and a gentle smile spreads across her face.
"Welcome back, Shelby. Did you have a good summer?"
I shrug. "I guess. What about you?"
She nods. "I did a little bit of traveling, but I'm glad to be back and getting into the swing of the new school year." She leans forward. "Did you want to help out again?"
Smiling, I nod. "If you still need somebody. I don't have a free period this semester, but I could always come and work during lunch, or in the afternoons."
She considers. "Don't you ride a bus?"
"Yes, but—" a terribly wonderful thought bursts through my head, and my pulse speeds up. "But I think I might have a ride."
"Check your options and let me know. I'm always happy to have your help, but I don't want to make things difficult for your parents."
I grimace involuntarily, and Miss Minchell tilts her head to one side. Hurrying to distract her, I point to a cart of books beside her desk. "Are those new?"
"Just unboxed them today. Want to take a look?"
I skim over the spines, but nothing catches my interest. "Neat," I say, my voice bland.
She laughs. "One of these days, Shelby, I'm going to find the book that gets you hooked."
I grin at her. "Challenge accepted."
She shakes her head and glances at the clock on the wall. "Shouldn't you be in class?"
"I, uh, had to go to the bathroom."
She raises one eyebrow, and I hold up my hands.
"Okay, I'll go back. But I'll see about working after school."
"Whenever you can, I'd be happy to have the help."
I glance back at her once when I reach the library door, but Miss Minchell has resumed her work, the pencil clutched between her teeth as her fingers fly over the computer keyboard. I shake my head with a smile before I slip back into the hall, but as soon as I leave the library behind, I start to get antsy. There isn't much time left before the bell will ring, but without the sanctuary of the library, there aren't a lot of places where I can hide out without running the risk of bumping into a teacher, or worse, the principal, and having to explain why I'm out of class. I settle for the girls' restroom, even though it smells like a disgusting cocktail of perfume and, well, toilets.
Sighing, I skim the walls, reading the various pieces of old graffiti. They painted the bathrooms over the summer, but the paint went on thin in some places, so it's still easy to see the words etched underneath the layer of fresh paint. It's the usual stuff, hearts and threats and confessions that may or may not be true, but then my eyes catch a familiar pair of initials. "CK is going to fall," the inscription reads, and even though there are a million people it might be, something tells me that it's about my sister.
A slow smile stretches over my face. It looks like someone else hates Christina just as much as I do! Too bad I can't team up with whoever wrote this; it would be nice to bring Christina down a peg or two. I lift my fingers to the graffiti, and a wicked image flits through my brain. What would Mom and Dad do if Christina failed her Threes?
With a sigh, I shake my head and wipe my hand on my pants. There's no way Christina is going to fail. They might as well just give her her casting credentials already and let her pick her coven; we all know she's perfect, and that's not likely to change anytime soon.
I haven't given much thought to the different covens recently, but when I was younger, I was obsessed with them. There are four covens, kind of like sororities or clubs the normies join, but much cooler. Everyone magical belongs to a coven once they're adults, and kids usually end up in the same coven as their parents, so it's a huge network of casters and scribes from all over that becomes a second family to us. Based on their scores at their Threes, casters get invited to join one or more of the covens, and then they get to decide where they want to end up. Once a caster has picked her coven, she brings her scribe with her.
Mom and Dad are members of Henbane, the largest and most powerful coven. I'm sure Christina will be asked to join in a few months, too, and then her future will be set. Being in Henbane will give her all the right connections with all the right people, including a couple of major political big wigs in Europe, the crown prince of a small Asian country, and some of the most talented athletes of all time. I used to think I'd be part of that network, too, but now that I know there's no way Christina will bring me with her, I've started to panic a little bit.
If a scribe doesn't have a caster, she can still join a coven, but instead of just waltzing in, I'll have to pass a test of my own. Even having to take the Scribe Mastery Exam is an insult; only scribes who haven't been claimed by casters take it, and everyone knows that the only scribes who aren't claimed are defective in some way.
As much as the idea of the test freaks me out, the idea of ending up in one of the other covens is even worse. My dad's family has been members of Henbane for generations, and it would be almost like being exiled to end up in Lavender or Bittersweet. I refuse to even consider that I might be stuck in Fennel; Becca's family is rooted in that coven, and everyone I've ever heard of in Fennel is just as cruel as she is.
I wash my hands, avoiding meeting my eyes in the mirror. I've done a good job pretending that I'm not effectively screwed if Christina doesn't bring me into her coven with her, but I can't ignore reality anymore. Either I better start studying, or I better find another caster willing to work with me. If only I could actually scribe; even a weak scribe is worth something to the right caster, but so far, it seems like I'm worse than worthless. I need someone to see past all that. Jeremiah Smallwood flickers through my mind, and I pause, considering.
Now that he's not with Becca, he'll need a scribe, and fast; he's a junior, like Christina, and that means he has to take his Threes this year, too. Cautiously, I raise my eyes to the mirror. Is there any way I can convince him to bring me into whatever coven he gets in, even if I can't scribe? Or maybe, I think, considering, it won't matter that I can't scribe. Maybe I can convince him just to want me for me.