Page 83 of Magical Academy for Delinquents
“Evan!” I cried out as I came, clutching his forearms.
When I went limp, Evan released my breast and pushed up onto his hands. He hovered over me, thrusting shallow, eyes piercing me. “Say my name again, Hayley,” he asked roughly, as sweat dripped down his brow.
“Evan,” I repeated, watching him as he arched up and faced the ceiling, coming apart in silence.
Afterward, we cleaned up and laid back down, forgoing clothes because we had something better. We snuggled together, sharing body heat. The magical buzz underneath our skin flared out randomly. Evan put a flurry of snowflakes into the air above us but melted them before they could touch us. Fairy lights shot from my hands and filled the room. I could only hope no professors were out on patrol, or they’d wonder what the hell I was doing. But I couldn’t hold all that power in.
My clock radio flickered and static fuzzed and then it turned on, my power flickering through it, sparking the electronics inside.
“What’s going on?” Evan asked.
I giggled. “It’s me. Well, technically, you caused it.” I waved my hand. The stations flipped, one to the next, until some station playing Norah Jones’ “Come Away With Me” was playing. I left it there, music flowing through me.
“I thought you had light powers,” Evan murmured, kissing the top of my head.
“Radio waves are on the light spectrum,” I responded, loving the little tingle that ran through my body at his kiss. “I’ve just never had access to them before.”
That made him grin. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
Evan and I turned and laid on our sides, facing each other. We exchanged glances that teetered between shy and ecstatic, playful and awed, as jazz singers crooned love songs in the background.
“I’ve always loved your blue eyes,” I confessed.
“I’ve always loved your smile,” he returned.
His hand came around me and curled me in closer. I fell asleep thinking all was right with the world for the first time in years. I fell asleep dreaming about this heist, visualizing us pulling it off.
Of course, dreams were easy. Reality was not.
Chapter 32
We metup in the woods on Sunday for our first official practice for the heist. We met near an old shack that had originally been built for the stone lions to sleep. But apparently, they preferred dozing on some rocks on the far side of campus. Thank goodness.
The shack was apparently a well-known spot for the gangs. But Grayson had his goons clear it out so we could use it.
When we walked up, I wasn’t that impressed. It was little more than a massive rundown barn at this point. The paint was peeling, and the bird shit stains had piled up over the years to make it a very uninviting spot. I wasn't surprised that the gangs claimed it though. It was the most privacy you could get at MAD. I looked over a spray paint monstrosity that Professor Huchmala probably hated (if she knew about it) of a wolf. The paint dripped from the eyes, nose and edges. Whoever had done it had clearly been a novice tagger.Lame.
I turned to face my crew. That word still rung oddly inside my head. I had a crew. I'd done it. They'd said yes. The very thought brought a smile to my lips.
We formed a circle, facing each other for an awkward second, in the green shadows under the trees. Every eye landed on me and I felt the weight of expectation. It was a different kind of expectation than I was used to, however. I was used to people watching, expecting me to fuck up. These guys were watching, expecting a leader. That was a different pill to swallow.
I kicked a pinecone before I said, "Okay then. Assignments. Recon is mostly done, though we probably need to suffer through a couple more rounds of possession like yesterday to verify more of my dad's intel. I also have an interview, I hope anyway, coming up at the Pinnacle, to verify last minute items.”
The guys nodded and I turned to my fifties-era bad boy. His blonde hair was a little less than perfect today, which made me smile. I wasn’t the only one nervous. “Malcolm. I need you to come up with a couple things. A femme fatale or a wham bam, maybe a who blew. You decide. We’ll probably a couple levels of distraction strikes so we can slip inside.”
Malcolm nodded. “I’ve got a few ideas.”
I added, “The big thing is to get the ground security focused on something else so we can get in. Because if we get taken down by goddamned prairie dogs, I'm never letting you live it down."
Malcolm laughed and grabbed his laptop. "Got it." He went and sat with his back against the outside wall of the shack, just below the crappy, drooling wolf painted on the side. He propped his laptop up on his knees.
I grabbed a bag full of crappy sculptures I'd made in Huchmala's Art Therapy. I tossed them Grayson's way. He caught them and held one up.
"Been playing play dough with a five-year-old?"
I ignored his jab. "Use that spell you used on my boobs. Make them bigger. Then see if you can safely lift them and yourself seventy feet into the air. That's how high we need to be to hit the seventh story."
