Page 34 of Spelling Disaster

I send a mental high five down the connection to Gus to let him know, without words, it worked.

Either the protection is holding or the popular click really has decided I’m not worth their time anymore. I mentally cross my fingers for the latter. I’ve been working toward something bigger than me my whole life, I reason. It’s past time for me to worry about what others think of me.

Saying it in my head doesn’t help, though. It’s a mantra I pay no attention to.

“Everything you need for today’s alchemical reaction is in your booklet and the ingredients are on your desktop,” the professor calls out. “I’m not going to set a time limit with today’s exercise but of course, you only have until the end of class to complete the assignment. I’d like you all to give this your best shot. Not that you will be keeping the gold, mind you. I’ll be turning it all back to metal by the end of the day.”

“How much do you want to bet he’s slipping some in his pocket?” someone hisses out.

A couple of chuckles follow.

I’ve already read and reread the instructions for today until I feel like I’ve got a good handle on what to do.

Grabbing a bowl of sage and purposely keeping my attention away from Theo, away from wondering if he noticed my haircut, I get to work. Blaire isn’t in alchemy with me and, unsurprisingly, no one wants to work at my desktop as a pair. Which is okay. I’m better off doing it on my own.

I’ve got the ingredients laid out like a chef’s workspace with everything in its place ready to go.

The professor stands at the front of the classroom ready to answer any questions. “You’ve got it well in hand,” he continues as if we’re in need of encouragement. “Keep it steady, try not to get too caught up in logistics.”

And right off the bat, the person sharing the desk with Theo raises his hand.

“Can you come help?” the guy asks. “We’re having a bit of a hard time here.”

Theo elbows his friend in the side to get him to shut up.

“I mean, I’m the one having a hard time. It’s like I can’t get the steps to match up,” his friend corrects.

“What seems to be the problem over here, gentlemen?”

The professor shifts over to their table and taps down on the book with the directions.

Except, I notice, Theo’s friend isn’t the one having the issues, not really. As we proceed alchemizing the hunk of scrap metal in the wooden bowl in front of us,Theois the one with questions. He hesitates, second guessing everything he does.

And while I have it easy, it seems Theo is having problems.

He’s trying not to make it obvious, but his friend keeps calling the professor over for clarification. Until it gets to the point where they start working separately and soon the other guy has a pile of gold in front of him while the apple of my eye does not.

I stop what I’m doing—cleaning up as I’ve been done for fifteen minutes—to watch Theo do his best not to let the others see him struggle. Cocking my head to the side, I study him openly. Wondering how he expects to keep others from noticing, and how long he’s been at it.

Long enough to fool me.

The rest of the class sees it, too, although they must prefer to stay quiet about it rather than point out the obvious. Theo needs help.

I keep part of my attention on him for the rest of the period. The metal in front of me has been alchemized and arranged into neat piles of gold brick long before the bell rings to signal the end of class.

The professor claps his hands and calls time.

“Class, wonderful job today. I’m proud of all of you, whether you managed to actually accomplish the task or not.” He smiles around at the students who are scrambling to get their stuff and get out.

Everyone else hurries to escape, either to study hall or to their next class.

I stay behind and linger for nothing short of curiosity, still focused on Theo. Rather than cleaning up, he’s staring at his pile of metal like he’s expecting to get a miracle. Or answers. Neither of which happen.

“Mr. Acaster, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have a word with you?” the professor asks.

Theo jolts at the sound of his name.

“Ah, sure, Professor. I’ll stay.”

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