Page 33 of Spelling Disaster

My lower lip trembles and, ashamed, I bite down on it hard. “It’s not your fault, Gus. Thank you for helping me.”

The protection spell is one step toward making this right, sure. What next? Worry eats away at my insides. Things are going to get worse from here or so I’m afraid.

“Oh, honey. Your hair!”

I glance up at the sound of Blaire’s voice as she pushes through the door, fresh from her shower. She waves a hand in front of her face to clear the residual smoke from the burning sage out of her way. “What did you do?”

“That’s implying I’m the one who did this,” I say. Pushing aside the sadness, frustration, and worry for the future. “I woke up this way.”

“I know it wasn’t you. You would have come to me before doing anything drastic, so still the viper tongue and let me take a look at this.”

She sets her shower caddy down by her dresser, still wrapped in a fluffy towel the color of cotton candy. It’s knotted at the front and holds in place as she bends down in front of me and touches the frayed edges of my hair.

“Apparently it’s some kind of hex,” I say. “I have no idea where it came from.”

I stay still while she runs her finger through the strands of hair around my face, fluffing and examining those rough chopped edges.

“I guess it doesn’t matter where it came from. What matters is fixing it.” Blaire draws in a breath. “Good work with the protection spell but it’s not going to help you regrow your hair. No matter what anyone tells you.” She narrows her eyes at Gus almost as though she knows what he said to me.

“I had high hopes. It was my first time trying one.”

She grins at me. “Bang up job, then. Let’s see what we can do about the hair. Leave it to me. This is a time when my transformation magic is going to come in handy. Not to mention that I’ve been hoping you’d let me get my claws into you for some time.”

Blaire directs me on where to sit.

I don’t move. “I…I appreciate you looking for a silver lining, but…” My voice trails off as pending tears sting my eyes. “But I don’t think I can. Not right now.”

I like to think there is something out there helping to right the wrongs of the universe, but I’m having a hard time being optimistic these days.

My world, everything I knew and loved, came to a screeching halt and I found myself here. Andora Academy might be a great place. It might be a wonderful spot to learn, with opportunities to grow my powers and become a powerful witch in my own right.

I’m naive.

I’m hopeless.

Because I thought I’d be able to do what I’ve always done when that isn’t the case at all.

I go to class with my new fringe hairdo. No one says anything about the change except for a few under-the-breath whispers I can’t make out.

That night, once the lights are out and curfew in place, I bite back more tears and wish for home.

ChapterEleven

In a strange turn of events that feels like a distinctive slap in the face rather than anything synchronous, we’re practicing how to change metal to gold in alchemy class the following day.

The universe has a sick sense of humor sometimes and now it seems my joke from the other day has made it into the classroom.

I cast a glance at the ceiling and its worn beams, silently beseeching the powers that be to go easy on me. Not that I plan to make any more jokes about it but still.

There are no more whispers about my hair because, as Blaire assures me, it’s yesterday’s news.

Iam yesterday’s news.

I keep my eyes open and my ears trained for any more snide remarks or hastily whispered insults. When I hear nothing, see nothing, I still can’t relax. Hypervigilance has turned me paranoid.

I’m constantly staring over my shoulder waiting for something else to happen but there are no more whispered words and no more hexes.

The protection spell must be doing its job.

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