Page 67 of Magical Academy for Delinquents
Instead of spilling my guts, Malcolm sat next to me on my bed and helped me work through the spell. He actually taught me a neat little spell that you could write to reveal the original spell. The Latin letters and numbers from Grayson’s work shimmered in midair. It made it twice as easy to come up with the unraveling spell I needed so that I could talk again. Still, even with all that help, unraveling took until after one in the morning, because every time I tried to contribute to the conversation, or even write out my ideas, what came out was stupid Shakespearean gibberish. Grayson didn’t mess around. He’d gone full communication blitz on this spell.
Luckily, Malcolm wasn’t a quitter. And that night, as we unraveled the spell together, I realized how well we worked as a team. And how good he smelled. And how warm his arm was against mine even when he wasn’t sending out tiny jets of fire in my direction.
When Malcolm snuck out my window at one a.m., I closed the curtains and turned away with a smile on my face. But then a tapping at my window had me turning back. I opened the curtains and the window to see him perched on the sill.
Malcolm gave me a tiny, goofy grin in the moonlight. And then he whispered, “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?”
I giggled. “You are such a nerd!”
“She speaks. O, speak again, bright angel!”
I leaned down, putting my elbows on the sill on my side. “Go to bed, Malcolm.”
He leaned forward and pressed his lips, chilled by the winter night air, to mine. Our lips caressed one another as he slid his hand behind my head and threaded his fingers through my hair. And then he deepened the kiss, the warmth of his tongue plying my mouth. He leaned in further and I felt his chest press against mine, felt his heartbeat racing and my chest strove to match his pace. My head spun and burned from the power of the kiss, and just when I thought I might faint, Malcolm pulled back.
We stared at one another in the stark moonlight, memorizing each other’s features—raw, honest looks exchanged by two people who know that they’re connected in a way that defies description.
Malcolm stroked my cheek and winked.
Before I could invite him in, he leaned back and said, “And thus, with a kiss, I die!” He waved a dramatic fist in the air. Then he started to climb down the wall of the girls’ dorm.
I leaned out of the window to watch him. “You’re a dork!” I called down to him.
“Whatever, Shakespeare,” he jumped the last six feet. He looked up at me one last time a soft smile on his face.
A loud stomp from one of the stone lions broke the magic of the moment, and Malcolm ran off the guys’ dorms.
I stayed in the window, staring up at the moon and wondering just how relevantRomeo and Julietwas for Malcolm and me. When he found out … would everything be okay? Or would it all blow up in my face? If there was a tragedy in store, I wasn’t ready for it.
Chapter 27
I mademy way down to the guys' dorm four days later. I was pissed that Grayson had gotten me twice in a row with a spell and I hadn’t gotten him back yet. Pissed.
Somehow, miraculously, my tongue and lips and I had managed to hold Malcolm off from all the questions. I hadn’t told him anything yet. Instead, our tutoring sessions had become heavy make out sessions—which was just fine by me. I wanted to keep them that way as long as possible.
I hadn’t really had a chance to talk to Evan because he had standardized testing this week instead of class. So, I couldn’t tell him what was going on. Zavier had been stuck in there too, so I’d had nothing to do with my time but plan for sweet, sweet revenge.
It was only the second time I'd been to the guys’ dorms. It felt stupid, because I'd broken into different parts of campus at all my old academies—though none were quite as dangerous as this. But tonight, I was nervous. The back of my neck was sweaty even though the temp had to be a crisp, lash-your-face thirty degrees because March had decided to turn into a cold-hearted month. I needed to cool down. I needed to be cool like March.
But I was about to search Grayson's room. I'd violated his privacy and personal files to the max. But there was a disassociation with that. I had been attacking from a distance. I had been bombing his bunkers with drones like norms did when they tried to destroy their enemies. But going in with boots on the ground? I had to wipe my palms on my jeans. I’d broken into Malcolm’s room and it had worked out. I knew I needed to do the same with Grayson. But the idea of him catching me …
Grayson’s anger was different from Malcolm’s. Malcolm got quiet. Disappointed. Domineering. Grayson was more the punch-your-lights-out type. Though I kind of hoped our feud was changing that. Still, if he found me snooping, all bets were off.
Think of it as practice for the Pinnacle,I told myself as I drew shadows around me to avoid a faculty member who walked through campus, doing a last check for the night. I reached the grey stone facade of the guys' dorm and looked up. I swallowed. Grayson's room was on the sixth floor. Not that Metamorphose had thousands of students. It didn't. A few hundred at most. But the guys tended to get violent. So, I'd been told the boys were spaced out every other room. Magic supposedly blocked the empty rooms and green Peaceful Thought amulets housed in abstract sculptures hung from the hallways—one of Professor Huchmala’s hokey creations.
I started to climb, my fingers aching only two moves into my rock-climbing attempt. Dammit. This was harder than it looked. Way harder than the gym's rock-climbing wall. It made me respect Grayson’s crew’s escape and Malcolm’s descent from my window all the more. If I had to scale the Pinnacle, I was screwed.
I sucked in my complaints and forced myself to muscle through. Every bit of my concentration went into handholds and footholds until I wasn't a person, I was just a machine.Extend arm, tighten foothold. Ratchet grip down until knuckles are white and shift body weight. Repeat.
I took a break on the third floor, crouching on a windowsill to shake out my rapidly numbing hands. Why did I do this again? I should have broken in through the front door and gone up the stairs like I had when I’d gone to Malcolm’s room. But that had been during school hours when no one was home. I wouldn't have made it anywhere close to Grayson's room at night when the rooms were occupied, even with my shadows around me. His little minions swarmed the place like bees. He was their little queen, ruling over the hive-minded dopes willing to lay down at his feet.
I had it on good authority that Grayson had tutoring tonight though.
I took a second to peer into the room beyond my window ledge. It was dark, so at first, I assumed it was one of the empty rooms, the buffer zones. But then I heard a moan. I drew my shadows closer--and the nosy voyeur inside me stuck her face closer to the glass. I made out figures on the bed. At first, I was confused. There were too many legs.
I turned on my heat vision and realized that there weren't two people on the bed. There were three. Two guys and one girl— based on their size. My cheeks flushed and I immediately looked away. Awkward. My mind twiddled her thumbs and stared at her feet, scuffing her shoes, but my body grew warm. That was a sign. I definitely needed to move. I raised my hands and grabbed the top of the window frame. My eyes scanned the wall and looked for a new handhold. I latched onto a groove and started to pull myself up. My left foot slid over into the grouted crack between two stones. My right foot lifted off the ledge and snuck forward in space. But then my fingers slipped, and my foot smacked into the glass.
Fuck!
