The first coven on my schedule is Fennel, and Christina and I wait silently in the hallway outside a room with the other casters and scribes. After a few nervous moments, the door swings open and Becca's mom steps into the hall. Her eyes sweep across the crowd, and when she spots me and Christina, the corner of her lips twitch up in a fake smile. "Christina," she says in a clear voice, "we'll start with you."
I gulp, and Christina and I move toward the door, but Mrs. McClure shakes her head. "Just Christina, I'm afraid," she says, addressing my sister. "There's no need for a scribe right now."
For one panicked moment, I can't breathe, but then Christina squeezes my arm. "Good luck," she says, sounding for all the world like she's not about to hyperventilate. "I'll be right here when you're done."
Mrs. McClure purses her lips and ushers me into the room, shutting the door behind her and cutting off my view of Christina. I pause, frightened, but then I look around the room and take a tentative step forward.
There are four chairs set up at the front of the room, and Mrs. McClure brushes past me to take her seat. The other three adults next to her aren't familiar to me, but I'm sure they're all really important members of the coven, and I feel sweat collecting under my shoulder blades. The man next to Mrs. McClure gestures impatiently, and I step forward, standing in front of them nervously.
"So, Miss King," the man who gestured to me begins, leaning forward and studying me closely, "do you have what it takes to be a member of Fennel?"
I hesitate. Should I tell him the truth? I know Christina doesn't care about Fennel, but somehow, I don't think it would be a good idea to be that blunt during the exam. What if the covens confer with each other before they extend their invitations? I don't want them to think my sister is a stuck-up prima dona or something. Finally, I shrug. "I'm not really close with anyone in Fennel, so I don't know how I'd fit in."
Mrs. McClure makes a face that's halfway between a smile and a pucker. "I know your sister is closer in age to Becca than you, but surely, you can't pretend not to know anything about her or our family."
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Becca's not exactly a ringing endorsement for anyone to want to join this coven, but I don't say that. "I don't know her well," I say instead, choosing my words carefully, "but I don't have any issues with her." It costs me a lot to say that and sound convincing, but Mrs. McClure is the only one who seems to hear the tightness in my voice. She narrows her eyes, but the other judges just nod.
"What do you plan to do after high school?" A woman in a purple track suit asks, studying my face with her head tipped to one side.
What is this, a job interview? I shrug, trying to think if Christina's ever mentioned her plans for life after high school. "I like fashion," I say, thinking quickly of all the clothes she hoards in her closet, "so I guess it might be fun to do something with that."
There are a few more inane questions, but by the end of it, I feel like I've done okay; I didn't sound enthusiastic, but I also didn't offend any of the coven members, I hope, other than Mrs. McClure, but then again, it seems like any King who's breathing is enough to piss her off. Just when I'm starting to relax, the other man on the panel leans forward.
"Can you describe your favorite spell for us?"
I hesitate. "Do you mean my favorite that I've cast, or just that I've seen?"
Mrs. McClure looks at me, and I don't like the strange glint in her eyes. "Let's stick with one of your spells," she says, and my stomach turns over with the way she emphasizes your.
I swallow, trying to think. I don't know what kind of spells Christina has been casting lately; even though I looked at her notebook, my brain is suddenly blank, and I don't want to risk making something up, especially since Mrs. McClure has been there for Christina's training sessions. "Um," I say, wracking my brain, "I've liked most of the spells I've cast, but I guess..." I sit up straighter as inspiration strikes. "I guess it was for my mom's birthday last year." That's the last spell I did with Christina, before all this mess happened, and even though it didn't work the way I wanted it to, it was a spell I was proud of, and I know Christina had been disappointed that it backfired.
Mrs. McClure leans forward. "And what kind of spell was this?"
"My sister and I—" I begin, and then I clear my throat. "My sister scribed the spell, and when I cast it, mom's birthday cake lit up like a mini sparkler without candles or matches." At least, that's the way the spell was supposed to work.
Mrs. McClure looks triumphant. "Would you mind recreating it for us now?"
"I—" I try to speak, but my brain has run out of words. They want me to cast a spell for them? But I'm a scribe...no scribe could do what they're asking for. I swallow, realizing that that's the point. Only a caster could pull this off.
The other woman waves her hand, mistaking my hesitation, and in an instant, a three-tiered birthday cake with purple icing is floating in the air before me. Mrs. McClure watches my face intently, and I flex my fingers, trying to think my way out of this mess.
"Could I have some paper?" I notice the skeptical expression on the judges' faces, and I hurry to add, "it's been a long time since we did the spell, and I don't want to get it wrong. It would help if I could jot it down before I cast it, to make sure I remember the words."
The judges look bemused, and Mrs. McClure opens her mouth, but the male judge shrugs and waves his hand. "I don't see why not."
A pad of paper and a pen appear in his hands, and he leans toward me. "Thanks," I say, trying to keep my hands from shaking as I accept the materials from him.
It's hard to write with the four of them staring at me, and even harder to scribe, but I have to try. I did this once before, I remind myself as I put the pen on the paper. I didn't mean to switch bodies with Christina, but I still made it happen. Maybe I can make that cake light up, just for a minute.
I scribble for a moment, aware of the four sets of eyes fixed firmly on me, and then I lift my hand and fake a confident smile. I point at the floating cake with the pen, crumpling up the sheet of paper with my other hand. "I remember," I say, and then I speak the words of my cake-lighting spell out loud.
For a moment, nothing happens, but all of a sudden, small pinwheels of light explode above the cake, and the four judges jump. I hold my breath, but this time, there are no fireballs shooting up to the ceiling, just a merrily sparking cake that fizzles and vanishes as I exhale, cake and all. My shoulders sag in relief as the judges applaud politely, and even though I know it's a mistake, I glance at Becca's mom.
She's staring at me with her eyes narrowed. Somehow, I forced myself to cast, but I have a feeling she's not convinced, and my stomach feels heavy as I turn to leave the room. Mrs. McClure doesn't say anything as she escorts me back to the hallway, but I can feel her eyes boring into my back as I wave to Christina and step away from the Fennel room to fill her in on what happened. Even though I'm not exactly sure what happened.
"Don't say anything yet," she says, her voice a hurried whisper.
I nod, resisting the urge to glance back over my shoulder. When Mrs. McClure calls another name, I risk a look, but she isn't watching me anymore, and I sigh with relief.
Christina leads me away from the other casters into a tiny alcove with a fake plant and takes a step closer to me. "What happened?"
"I cast," I tell her, still too stunned to think.
"What?"
I take a deep breath. "I think Becca's mom suspects. At first, they all just asked questions, but then, they asked me to replicate my favorite spell, and...I did it."
She narrows her eyes. "That shouldn't be possible."
"You think I don't know that?" My voice lilts up dangerously, and Christina waves her hands to shush me. "I don't know what happened; I described Mom's cake the way I wanted that spell to go, not the way it actually happened, and then when they asked me to show them, somehow, I did."
Christina frowns, considering. "Do you think it has something to do with being in my body?"
I shrug. "I don't know. Maybe." I pause, and then I add, "but I wasn't you when I cast the spell that did this in the first place."
"That's true. I wonder—"
Before I can ask her what she wonders, a pair of casters walks by. The guy is gesticulating wildly and doesn't notice us, but the girl shoots us a suspicious glance, and I realize how ridiculous we look, hiding behind a big fern and talking in whispers.
"We have to get back," I tell Christina, stepping out of the alcove. "I still have three other covens to meet with."
She nods, but her brow is furrowed. "Shelby," she finally says, her voice so soft that I have to strain to hear her, "you wouldn't do anything to ruin this for me, would you?"
I glance at her. "It's my future, too."
She exhales sharply and averts her eyes. "I just...I've been thinking, and I never realized how nasty I can be to you." She bites her lip. "I thought you might hate me."
I stare at her in surprise. "Of course I hate you," I say without thinking, but when her eyes fill up with tears, I hurry to add, "I've hated you a lot lately. But you're still my sister, and I still love you; it's just hard to remember that sometimes."
She nods, but she doesn't look sure of herself anymore. In fact, my sister looks smaller and more lost than even I've ever felt, and it's sort of heartbreaking to see my own face look so hopeless.
Impulsively, I reach for her hand and give it a squeeze. "We're in this together, and I don't want to screw it up for either of us." It's sort of a surprise, but as soon as I say it, I realize I truly mean the words. I don't want to sabotage Christina anymore, and I especially don't want to screw up today. "Now, let's go get chosen for Henbane."
***
It's almost eight o'clock before Christina and I find ourselves facing Mr. Stone, the leader of the Henbane coven. The other interviews were fairly uneventful, and I didn't have to cast again, since Christina was actually allowed in the room with me for Lavender and Bittersweet, and we did our lip-syncing routine smoothly each time. I'm tired, and I really just want this day to be over, but I force myself to pay attention to Mr. Stone as he leads us into a small room that's less like the hotel ballrooms we've been in all evening and more like and empty storage closet.
He studies me for a moment. "I want you to know that your parents are highly respected members of our coven."
I start to smile, but he shakes his head, his eyes glittering.
"However," he continues, "that will not in any way influence our decision. Family is important, of course, but your coven comes first. If you are invited to join Henbane, it will not be because of your last name."
I glance at Christina and I swallow nervously. "I understand," I tell him.
He studies me for a moment more, then whirls on his heel. "Stay in this room. You will be facing another caster in a duel. First to cause harm will be considered the winner." He glances back at me, his hand on the door. "Do you have any questions?"
I gulp. Even though I've scribed for Miah in the spell battles, I've never had to fight someone myself, and a thousand questions about what Mr. Stone means by "first to cause harm" flit through my mind; will they heal us after the duel? What kind of harm is he talking about? In the spell battles, there are rules against death, disfigurement, and dismemberment, but I have no idea if those same rules apply here. But how can I ask these questions without sounding stupid, or, worse, giving away my involvement in the spell battles? I don't want to spoil mine and Christina's chance at Henbane by admitting I've done something illegal, so I swallow my questions and shake my head. "I can do it," I say, more to convince myself than anything.
Mr. Stone nods once and steps into the hallway, closing the door behind him with a soft click. I glance nervously at Christina. "What do we do now?"
"Wait for your dueling partner, I guess. We should plan to end this as fast as possible. Which of the spells do you want to use?"
I'm surprised that she's giving me the choice; I consider for a moment, thinking about the spells I scribed for Miah. "Not the flashy ones," I finally decide, and Christina laughs.
"No. Those are good for show, but we don't need to be showy, I don't think." She glances around the room curiously. "I'm not sure how they're going to judge, unless they've got some kind of magical surveillance set up in here." She looks at me, her eyes telegraphing an urgent message, and I nod once. We have to assume they're watching and listening, so I can't say anything that would give us away.
Before we can strategize any more, however, the side wall of the room begins to fold back on itself, and I realize why the room seemed so small; they had divided one of the larger ballrooms with a folding wall, to separate the casters, I guess. Christina gives me an encouraging smile, and we both turn to face my dueling partner.
Everything freezes as I take in the familiar face. It's Jeremiah.