Page 31 of Spelling Disaster

“That’s enough, Kimberly.” The professor waves her hands in front of her and the charge in the air dissipates. “I won’t have you poking fun at someone in my classroom, especially when your own grades are slipping towards southern territories.”

Someone lets out a strangled laugh until Kimberly whirls to glare at them, her expression causing the sound to cut off.

“I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong,” I tell Blaire once I’m back in the room. When it’s just the two of us, I relax. “If I know the answer, then why shouldn’t I say it? Especially if someone else gets it wrong. They could hurt themselves or someone else if they’re not corrected. It’s for safety more than anything else.”

Blaire rolls her eyes when I refuse to sit down. “Because no one corrects Courtney Biggins. Don’t you get it, girl? She’s like witch royalty.”

“Courtney Biggins?” I repeat.

“Yeah, the one with the large gold hoop earrings. It doesn’t matter if she says the wrong thing. She’s the kind of person you do not correct. Like,ever. All you need to do is nod and smile and wave when she wants you to.”

It sounds exhausting.

Trying to keep up with the unspoken rules of this place will run me right into the ground and, even with Blaire’s constant corrections, I’m lagging seriously behind.

My head gives a twitch of pain.

“How would I know these things without you?” I sound as pathetic as I feel.

“You don’t,” she replies. “You have me as your guide and your guru. You’re going to have to accept it. Hell, even if you went to a normal high school, this would still be an adjustment.” She spins around in her chair with her headphones draped over her neck and her eyes painted to match her socks.

Pink, of course.

“Do you think I made a bad impression?” I ask, biting my thumbnail.

“Oh, definitely.” Her agreement without hesitation has the blood now draining from my face and pooling somewhere on the floor between my feet.

“I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t. Let’s hope you didn’t do enough damage to permanently impact your reputation,” Blaire insists.

I groan. “What reputation? I’m the weirdest kid in the misfit house. All facts in my head and no social skills.” I tap the side of my head. “There’s something seriously wrong with me.”

Which I find out soon enough. With Courtney’s disapproval, I’m quickly shut out of everything. The few people who sat at my table at lunch have moved on to other seats. There are no study buddies for classes where I want a little extra help or attention.

Not even the other misfits in the house will spend more than half a second of their time acknowledging me. Only Blaire, and probably only because she’s my roommate so there is no escape. Apparently, if this place is a prison, then Courtney is the warden.

Or some kind of gatekeeper.

And at first, I’m optimistic the freeze-out won’t last. Until another week goes by and things shift from bad to worse.

* * *

The alarm clangs shrilly from the nightstand next to my face and knocks me out of a dream about the library. A good one this time, thankfully. There’re no flames, only familiar stacks, and Remi waiting for me around a corner. Smiling. Offering me a hand.

I like to think it’s out of this mess I’ve made for myself.

Except the second my brain switches on from sleep to reality, I know the dream is only wishful thinking. My subconscious showing me something comforting where I’ve felt in control in the past.

There’s no control here. Even when I think I’m doing something right, like calling out the answers in class, it’s wrong. Alienating.

Stretching, I run my fingers through my hair and come up short on the right side.

Long layers on the left, down to my breasts, curling slightly.

Nothing past my shoulder on the right.

A gasp rips from my throat and I sit straight up in bed, gritting my teeth and blindly tugging on the short strands of hair.

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