Page 51 of Big Little Spells

Ask her, urges the voice again.

“You know, Carol, I haven’t even asked,” I say, my hand still on her shoulder. “How is Skip? I haven’t seen him around.”

There’s a flash of shock, a white-hot slap of power that has me snatching my hand back. It reminds me of that burning pain when we tried to do the water scrying. I look down at my hand, almost surprised at how similar it feels, that bright, scalding agony.

Did Carol have something to do with what happened to me at Frost House?

I look up at her, but she’s locking the fury down. Or she’s trying. She’s pretending like she didn’t slap at me, but I can see how hard it is for her. There’s murder in her eyes. Carol Simon wants to eviscerate me where I stand.

It’s a moment of almost unbearable honesty, because we both know it.

But she doesn’t do it. She can’t. Not here, surrounded by all these fledgling witches and too many chaperones and teachers and members of the St. Cyprian community, because it would be messy to clean all that up afterward.

Even so, I can tell she’s considering it.

I smile at her, a whole field of daisies. I’m holding on tight to that realization I had back at Wilde House two weeks ago.

We are threatening. Something about us scares Carol and her cronies.

Even with the static and the fracturing, I can see straight to the heart of the matter. I can see what people don’t want me to. And though my palm hurts like I poured boiling water over it, I want to reach out for her again—

But Felicia rushes up then, and Carol is saved from answering. Or I’m saved from her answer.

“We have an alcohol situation,” Felicia says, tugging on Carol’s sleeve, but not without sliding me a sneering look.

Carol smiles at me and I can feel that smile everywhere. It’s like a slimy reptilian thing, slithering all over me, and I can’t do much about the goose bumps that pop up, but I’ll be damned before I cringe and cower the way she clearly wants me to.

“Excuse me, Rebekah,” she says with a soft menace that I hear very clearly, though I bet from a few feet away you might be tempted to think she’s being polite.

Then she dismisses me as if I’m so unimportant she’s forgotten I exist before she shifts her gaze from mine. I can feel the urge in me to curl in on myself, go dark—but I fight it off the way I did that rash-y sensation. Because it’s the same unpleasant magic.

The two of them walk off across the gym floor, heads together, but before they get too far, Felicia looks back at me. There’s something in her gaze that’s different, and it’s not the flashing strobe lights from the DJ booth. It’s unguarded, nearly. Then gone.

Almost like fear.

I want to grin, but my palm still feels red and swollen. I shove it in my pocket in case it’s visible to anyone, and flinch a little when my fingers brush up against the crystal Nicholas gave me. But then I wrap my hand around it anyway, sighing a little as the burning sensation fades. My skin even stops itching. As if what he gave me was concentrated cortisone, created to repel the infection that is the Joywood.

I’ll have to remember to ask him about that.

I turn once again to look for my friends, feeling giddy, and this time not because of any fruit punch. That’s when I see Zander is stalking toward me. When he speaks, it’s in my head.

We’ve got to get her out of here. He jerks his chin toward the corner, where Ellowyn is all hunched over. Jacob has her hand in his, clearly trying to offer some kind of healing, but it doesn’t seem to be working. Emerson is holding her other hand, whispering what looks like encouragement.

We could tell Carol she’s sick and needs to leave, I offer, trying not to freak out that my best friend is that sick. Here. Of all terrible places to show even a hint of weakness. A sickness Jacob can’t seem to sort out.

Zander comes to stand beside me, like we’re both fiercely focused on one of those horrifying line dance situations that’s unfolding before us. But he’s still in my head when he speaks. I’m pretty sure Carol would laugh and Felicia would say good.

He’s not wrong. I look past all the to the left to the left nonsense and peer around the gym. Carol and Felicia have collected the rest of the Joywood, but they’re all standing in a circle, focused on each other. Not paying us—or anyone but one another—any mind. For now.

Georgie approaches, without her new bow-tied friend in tow. She looks worried as she glances between Zander and me. “Ellowyn?”

I nod. “Any bright ideas?”

Georgie chews on her lip, Zander stands there with his fists in his pockets—looking particularly volatile—and I...think about last night and teaching Emerson how to sneak out.

“The Joywood are busy,” I say slowly, watching them. “They know we’re all here, as ordered. So really all we need is the approximation of Ellowyn to be here until the dance is over.”

Georgie’s eyes widen, but Zander nods. “Jacob too, because she clearly needs a Healer.”