Residue (15 page)

“
He’s right,” said Spencer. “Charlotte won’t back down from that one.”

“
Ah, she can’t do anything,” Estelle brushed it off. Then she lowered her voice before supporting her statement. “It’s forbidden to cast in public.”

“
She just might break that rule,” Oscar warned, shaking his head while recalling Charlotte’s reaction.

“
And if she doesn’t, expect something else in private,” warned Vinnia.

Estelle released a loud exhale, evidently disagreeing with them, and disappeared through the door of her first class without a goodbye.

The conversation between my cousins lingered in my mind all through first period. There would be another retaliation, this time from the Caldwell’s side. The disturbing fact was that I didn’t really blame them. But I didn’t blame Estelle either for retaliating. I saw both sides equally and as much as I was a Weatherford I felt like an outsider, unable to participate and helpless with any efforts toward prevention.

My mind spinning at how destructive this cycle of revenge could get, I entered my second period far more solemn than when I’d woken up this morning. My attitude was buoyed, however, at the sight of Jameson.

He was already at his desk and attentively watching the door. Dressed in jeans and a fitted black, long-sleeved shirt, and his hair falling over his forehead, I felt a burning sensation take hold of me.

A flicker of a smile lifted his face, accentuating his features, as I recognized that we were alone again in the room. As usual when no one else was nearby, the excitement grew around us, something similar to almost palpable stimulation, a questioning tease over who would speak first, what might be said, and what might be the response.

I slid into my seat keeping my eyes straight ahead. Somehow, I knew if I looked in his direction, the passion would increase. “Interesting morning…” I muttered to which I heard him chuckle.

“
Jocelyn,” he said quietly and I turned my head toward him. I was correct. The excitement intensified. What I also noticed was that when our eyes met, his breath caught just before saying, “You look great in that dress.”

And the exhilaration escalated.

I never got the chance to thank him. Ms. Wizner and the rest of the class began filing through the door so Jameson swung his head forward, trying to appear as if we hadn’t been talking.

Then Ms. Wizner’s lecture began on the Battle of Baton Rouge and I gave my attention, partly to her and partly to Jameson’s presence beside me. I noticed every movement, the scuff of his foot, the shift of his legs, the scratch of his pen against the textbook.

Throughout it, I thought about what he’d said. He’d complimented my dress but he’d also done something more distinct. By ignoring what had happened in the hallway between our two families, he was sending me a signal that he didn’t want it to affect us. He was behaving exactly as he’d inferred the day before, as if we were two individuals who didn’t have anything to lose, who didn’t need to deal with feuding families, courtyard brawls or life and death risks. We were two average people awkward but interested when in sight of each other.

Near the end of class, I couldn’t hold back any longer and I slowly twisted my ducked head toward him. He made the very same move proving that his focus had been on me too.

Ms. Wizner must have caught sight of us because she raised her voice. “…and the Caldwells and Weatherfords actually fought side-by-side during this pivotal battle, the battle to take New Orleans.”

A few students snickered, recognizing that two of them sat in the classroom.

“
Imagine that,” Ms. Wizner went on. “It is believed this was the only time in history when both families united. Let’s hope it will happen again someday.”

She paused to stare each of us in the eye, confirming she’d acquired our attention before restarting her lecture. I did my best not to laugh at being singled out when I saw Jameson’s shoulders tremble in a silent chuckle, too. I don’t think Ms. Wizner had any idea how close her hope was to being met.

At the end of class she stayed back, delaying her traditional bathroom break, as she went about fiddling with her computer. Clearly, she was interested in ensuring an argument didn’t break out between Jameson and me.

We collected our books and laptops slower than usual, biding time, but there was no avoiding it. She wasn’t leaving.

Jameson must have come to the same conclusion because he walked down the aisle at the same time as I did. He stopped at the end to let me pass by as I headed for the door. In an effort to take one final look at him before our separation for the remainder of the day and through the weekend, I peeked over my shoulder expecting to say thank you.

He wasn’t looking at me. He was preoccupied with his arm, which had been covered throughout the class. With the sleeve now shoved up, the rash was clearly visible; thousands of red, swollen dots ran from his wrist to his elbow.

I drew in a sharp breath and he quickly pulled his sleeve down again.

I opened my mouth to speak, to tell him how sorry I was, to ask if I could do anything, but his responding gesture said that I should forget it. It wasn’t a big deal. It would pass.

Still, as we entered the hallway and went in opposite directions, I had the uncomfortable feeling this latest battle between our feuding families was about to get much worse.

8 THE HEALING

At dinner my fears were validated.

Midway through Miss Mabelle’s shrimp gumbo, everyone’s right hand went numb. All except for mine. We discovered this when a nearly simultaneous drop of all the spoons onto the table occurred.

Anyone not privy to the feud raging between the Caldwells and the Weatherfords might have thought my cousins had acquired a sudden and mysterious affliction. But it was evident to me, and I quickly set my spoon down, not wanting to have to explain why I was left untouched by this latest retaliation.

“
The Caldwells,” muttered Vinnia, slapping her limp hand against the table in an attempt to regain feeling. It didn’t work and she resorted to an irritated sigh as she leaned back against her chair.

Vinnia lifted one of her shoulders in a leisurely shrug. “That’s a good one,” she commented, referring to the hex. Unencumbered, she’d already started eating again.

Unlike Vinnia, who had the aptitude to levitate her spoon, the rest of us ate our dinner with our left hand, me included as I played along. This, I learned, was not easy.

“
How long do these last?” I asked, not certain I really wanted to know.

“
They range. But for these little hexes, usually about a day,” said Oscar, his hand askew as he brought his utensil to his lips.

“
And the big ones?” I persisted.

“
Big ones are permanent,” Estelle replied stiffly.

I knew immediately what she meant. The big ones resulted in death.

By Sunday night, their hands began functioning again, but it was a slow process. In general, the weekend was long. Memories of Jameson crept into my head and each time my yearning to see him again would grow. His stunning translucent green eyes, his efforts to keep me out of harm’s way, his flattering comments - all made me eager for Monday morning.

When second period did arrive and for the next two days, we stole glances at each other, hidden smiles, the intentional touch of our arms as we crossed in the aisles. Ms. Wizner made sure she remained in class at the end and was there at the start of it to prevent any issue from arising, which limited Jameson and me. It was ironic that her efforts were meant to prevent a fight when our intentions were the exact opposite.

In fact, it was the rest of our families who should have been kept apart. On Monday, the Caldwells were each seen with a limp and by Tuesday each of my cousins had swollen, enflamed ears. I didn’t suffer from the reprisals and I knew it was Jameson I had to thank. That, however, didn’t last long. The Caldwells must have realized at some point that Jameson was blocking their hexes because they changed tactics and came at me directly.

It started on Tuesday morning between third and fourth period. The hall was moderately busy so I didn’t see her immediately, not until the chill ran up my spine and my skin began to prick from the coolness now present in the air. Instinctually, I wrapped my arms around my body and lifted my shoulders to unconsciously block my neck from the breeze that now ran through the hall. Then I realized no one else appeared to be affected.

That was when I saw Charlotte, half-covered by the corner of a set of lockers. She had her arms crossed, her chin down, and her eyes pinned on me. And her lips were moving rapidly. Although her words didn’t carry across the noise in the hall, I knew which ones she was speaking in rapid succession.

Incantatio frigus incantatores.

It was the same cast Miranda had made against Andrew in evening class.

Furious, I fought back the urge to stop and curl against the cold as he had done and instead marched directly toward her.

Her lips moved faster.

Halfway there, her lips became a blur. She was trying to beat me before I reached her, but I wasn’t going to allow it.

“
I may not be able to cast yet but I can think of ways around that,” I said. A traditional punch in the face would feel the most rewarding.

Charlotte concluded sometime before the gap between us closed that I could actually be serious and her lips stopped. Then she spun and fled through the students, putting as much distance between us as possible.

Almost instantly, the chill surrounding me was gone, her energy now focused on her attempt to avoid me. Despite this, I was on the verge of shouting that she’d better run when a teacher appeared in his doorway. Clearly, he’d heard my threat and I prepared myself for being reprimanded when he noticed that I was alone. His face confirmed he’d thought I was talking to myself and I was certain he made a mental note that the newest Weatherford in school might have a problem. I didn’t pay him much attention though. I was watching Charlotte flee down the hallway.

From then on, the Caldwells stayed hidden while casting against me. I knew this because when the wind whipped around just me and the sprinklers suddenly rotated in my direction, they couldn’t be seen.

I made the decision not to mention it, or any future attempts at me, to Jameson. Having a distinct feeling that if I was to inform him than it would cause conflict between him and his siblings. In turn, they would then take their anger out on me and my cousins and the entire situation would easily and rapidly escalate.

On Wednesday, as I entered the evening class, canvas bag of mystical supplies in hand, I wondered if it was ever going to end. They only cast when Jameson wasn’t present so I figured evening class would keep me safe from stray spouts of water and drenching heat spells. But I couldn’t be certain.

Ms. Boudreaux was already standing in the middle of the room, hands dropped before her and clasped together. She had a serene expression, but I didn’t trust it. Jameson had said she was one of the professors to watch out for.

The Caldwells were already there, in a group, Jameson included. He stood across the room, more interested in me than in what his siblings were discussing.

Ms. Boudreaux spoke up when the last student had entered and the door was closed. “Combinations make you more powerful. Using multiple tools in your casting, for example, will bind the energies and magnify the results. Some casters won’t work with less than three tools. For the next two hours, and each evening until our next class, you will practice using multiple tools. As always, use them without ill intent and cast only on inanimate objects. Do not affect your classmates or others. If you wish, you may pair up and benefit by using your tools collectively.”

The second Ms. Boudreaux’s instructions ended, Jameson was crossing the room toward me; his family, who he had his back to, were speechless and disgusted.

“
Hi,” he said softly.

“
Hi…” I tried to sound casual but it was difficult beneath his family’s stare.

“
Don’t worry about them,” he said apparently already knowing they were watching. “I need a partner and so do you.”

“
I’ll partner with you,” Alison offered from behind him. She was now only a few feet away, having approached without us noticing.

Jameson’s mouth closed and his eyes rolled up toward the ceiling in agitation. Without having to be told, I knew this was a showdown between siblings, a contest to determine who Jameson was most faithful to.

Alison’s hands were on her hips, her head tilted to the side, a smirk planted on her petite face.

“
Thanks, Alison,” he said, spinning to face her. “I’m going to work with Jocelyn.”

Very slowly, her smirk fell away and her eyes darkened.

Others in the class had stopped what they were doing now and started watching us.

“
You’re starting something,” Jameson cautioned. “We all agreed that we would avoid what you are doing right now.”

So, I thought, the Caldwells did discuss Ms. Veilleux’s warning and they’d come to the same conclusion we had - that it would be best not to pick any more fights - in public at least.

“
Turn around and walk away, remember?” Jameson said and my eyes shot up at him.