Page 32 of Magic in the Woods
Arcana walked over, rubbing the pads of her fingers against the smooth outside of the glass. “No frost…” she murmured. “Incredible.”
I looked back out at my classmates to see Brooke smiling at me, while Petunia, I couldn’t help but notice, appeared to be seething.
Looking back at the glass, I began questioning myself. Had I done too much? Should I have frozen the water, made it expand so much that the glass shattered?
Arcana started clapping.
I looked up at the dirt ceiling, wishing it’d collapse and bury me.
“We have another powerful witch!” she crowed as she escorted me back to my seat.
Brooke grabbed my hand again, squeezing it hard. We met eyes, exchanging tight smiles.
“I screwed up,” I whispered.
“You did great,” she whispered back.
I felt someone’s stare and turned to find Petunia sitting on the bench behind me, glaring at me.
Brooke followed my stare and physically grimaced before she patted the top of our clasped hands.
Whoosh.A breeze tickled my nose.
I stirred, my mind groggy from sleep.
Click.A sound…like a door closing came from somewhere in the room.
Opening my eyes, I looked up above me. The mattress didn’t have a Petunia-shaped bulge.Where is she?I sat up. Brooke tensed next to me, the sheet pulled from her body as Isat. Tugging the sheet to cover her back up, I blinked my eyes, scanning the room.
It was too dark to see anything, and now it was quiet, the air still.
Maybe what I’d felt and heard had been a dream. Arcana had been working us hard for the past week. After she’d separated us into groups based on our magic, she’d begun drilling us. The water magics had to brew the same potion over and over again until everyone got it right. The wind magics sent objects flying across the room, Arcana demanding they fly with enough force that they dent the wall on impact. Our instructor was the most frustrated with the earth magics. Only in the last few days had she given up hope of them sprouting anything green.
Whoosh.
The breeze was back.
I squinted, begging my eyes to adjust. There was a shadow near the door of the room—a shadow the size of a body with its arm extended in front of it.
“Petunia?” I whispered.
There was a gasp. Then more silence. What was she doing?
“I know it’s you, Petunia,” I said.
She didn’t say anything. She might’ve even been holding her breath.
“What are you doing up in the middle of the night?” I asked.
It was quiet, but I heard her voice. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“What do you mean?”
“Not everyone can be perfect like you.”
I stilled for a moment. I was far from perfect.
“I’m not?—”
