The Lingering Grace (9 page)

Eva grabbed her hand and an electric shock burned Alice’s fingers. She winced.

“You asked me if I wanted to get together. I think we should.”

“You—you do?” Alice asked. The ice hanging from the faucet broke and fell into the sink with a clatter; Alice glanced at it, then at Eva, wondering why she wasn’t shocked by the ice—why she was staring at the sink without the tiniest hint of confusion. Either Eva hadn’t noticed (but how could she not?), or …

She knew it was magic.

“Come over to my house after school today. My mom won’t mind.”

Alice hesitated, but Eva smiled at her and said very sweetly, “Please. I’d love to get to know you better.”

After their conversation yesterday, this eagerness to be friends was giving Alice whiplash.

“Okay. I mean … I guess I can.”

“Great. Now you’d better get to class. I don’t want to make you late.”

Alice nodded and rushed for the door, too many questions running through her mind to even begin to address.

“And Alice,” Eva called after her just before she opened the door. “Don’t worry about the ice. I’ll take care of it.”

Unable to restrain herself, Alice turned around. “What do you—?”

But Eva had already closed the stall door behind her and the bell was beginning to ring. With one stunned glance behind her, Alice sprinted out of the bathroom and down the hall, sliding into class just as Ms. Jordan was closing the door.

By the time she got to third period, Alice had decided one thing for certain: regardless of how she had acted yesterday and the assumptions Alice had made, magic was not new to Eva. Whether Eva was able to do magic herself or not, Alice couldn’t be sure. But she knew that no normal high school kid—no normal human, for that matter—would have accepted a frozen faucet in August in California with no questions asked. Water just didn’t freeze mid-drip like that. Eva should have at least been confused.

With Eva’s promise to “take care of it” ringing in her ears, Alice hurried back to the bathroom after first period to find no trace of ice anywhere. The faucets worked like they normally did. And, based on the flushes she heard from the stalls, the toilets were up and running again as well. This discovery sent Alice spinning into all sorts of crazy fantasies, which she spent most of second period dwelling on.

Eva could do magic, she thought. Finally—someone who could understand. Someone who could explain to her why she could do what she could do. Someone who could teach her how to harness it, how to use it. That was why Eva had known how to help her the day before. Maybe it was even why Eva seemed different. Maybe it was the power she had that made her seem strong—purposeful. Like she could see the world as it was without envy and fear because she had mastered a higher power. Because she was better than everything around her.

But another, more reasonable voice in her head argued back. Eva couldn’t possibly know how to do magic. Otherwise, her sister would not be dead—she wouldn’t have let that happen if she had power to stop it.

As for the ice, she had probably told a teacher. A very confused janitor must have found a way to thaw it. Or maybe it had just melted on its own. The building was fairly warm. It was just a little bit of ice. It couldn’t have lasted long.

Alice waited at her desk, tapping her foot against her backpack and staring at the door. Hailey sat down next to her and waved a hand in front of her face.

“You there, girl?” she asked, laughing when Alice jumped. “Wow. You stressed over something?”

“No—yes,” Alice shook her head. She couldn’t think straight and it was maddening. Her brain was bouncing from Eva to magic to the book to the ice in the bathroom, and normal functions like speaking were slipping through the cracks.

Hailey gave her a sympathetic grimace. “You need to worry less about things. That’s what I do. It’s just school. They’re just grades.”

“I know,” Alice assured her. Honestly, being a little
more
worried about grades would probably be a good thing. Her mom wouldn’t care much if her grades slipped, but her dad would go on a tirade about college and the importance of getting a good education.

“Chill out,” said Hailey, who didn’t look convinced that Alice had let go of her academic stress. “You’ve been through a lot, you know? Everyone understands if you’re not at the top of your game.”

Alice bristled as Hailey dumped her backpack on her desk and dug around inside. She’d suspected that this was how people thought of her—as some emotionally damaged creature—but no one had ever implied it was affecting her
mentally
. Sure, she hadn’t exactly been at the top of the class since the accident, but she’d never been a top student before either. The last thing she needed was word getting around school that she was dumb as well as unstable.

“I’m doing just fine,” Alice said sharply. “Thanks.”

Eva walked in right before the bell rang. She shot Alice a smile and slid into the chair behind her. Alice was just turning around to whisper one of her many burning questions when Mr. Segal started talking. She could feel his disapproving glare on the back of her head and she turned back around. Her fingers were drumming on the desk again and it took all the self-control she had to stop herself from turning back around the minute Mr. Segal started handing out the essay prompts.

There was a tap on her shoulder and she jumped.

“You dropped your pencil,” Eva said.

“No, I—” but Alice stopped as Eva thrust a mechanical pencil and a piece of paper into her hand.

Alice unfolded the paper under her desk and only dared look down at it when Mr. Segal sat down at his desk. She picked up her pencil and pretended to study the quiz in front of her, but dropped her eyes to read the note in her lap.

How long have you known about magic?

Alice’s stomach clenched and burned. She swallowed hard, gripping her pencil tightly, and flattened the paper out on her desk. With her head bent down over her desk, Mr. Segal wouldn’t ever have guessed that she wasn’t actually working on her quiz, but she felt like she had a neon sign pointing to her head. Alice was used to following the rules—she had no particular appreciation for them, but she hated to be scolded.

I read a book
, she wrote under Eva’s neat handwriting. This was a gross oversimplification, but there wasn’t room on the paper (or enough time) for her to write out the full story.

Can you do magic?
She wrote below her answer.

Alice folded the paper again, held it loosely in her hand, and, still bent over her quiz, let her hand dangle to the side of her chair. She barely felt the brush of Eva’s fingertips as she deftly took it back.

There was a soft crinkling of paper, barely audible over the sound of pencils on paper and gentle breathing that filled the room.

Alice stared blankly at her blank paper, waiting. None of the prompts at the top of the page made sense to her. She couldn’t focus; they may as well have been written in a foreign language. All she could think about was the scratch of writing on the desk behind her, the sound of a paper being folded once again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Eva push the paper to the very front of her desk. Alice reached over her shoulder and grabbed it.

Yes.

Dizzy, Alice realized that she had forgotten to breathe.

I’m learning. I found a book too. I’ve been practicing for a year.

Alice quickly scribbled out the question foremost in her mind and put the note back on Eva’s desk.

Can you teach me?

The paper sat there for five minutes; Eva seemed intent on finishing her essay and Alice halfheartedly picked the easiest prompt and started writing an introduction. She was trying to come up with a thesis statement, her mind wandering, when she looked down and realized she had written the word “magic” three times over.

She erased the entire thing and started again.

Finally, after Mr. Segal had collected the essays, Eva grabbed the note. She didn’t write back this time, but rather leaned forward and whispered.

“Yes. Meet me for lunch. The courtyard.”

The hour before lunch was interminable. Alice didn’t know how she endured history; she glanced up at the clock every thirty seconds and chewed her nails. She was out of her desk ten seconds before the bell rang (earning her a disapproving glare from Ms. Calloway, a severe-looking woman with thin, graying hair). Once in the hallway, she sped around bunches of students and into the courtyard, where she leaned against a low wall, waiting.

She pulled her usual lunch out of her backpack: a bag of chips, a box of raisins, and a bag of carrots. It was never enough, but she couldn’t ever get up early enough to plan better. Sometimes she bought something at the cafeteria out of desperation. Other days she just dealt with the hunger; it kept her awake.

Her mom was convinced that Alice was anorexic, but whenever she expressed concern, it was always with a tinge of envy. “You don’t eat enough, sweetie,” she would say whenever Alice ran out the door without breakfast. “I just wish I could get away with your diet. I’d never have to go to the gym again.”

But then again her mom didn’t know that Alice raided the pantry at night and had a particular weakness for cookies. Alice didn’t mention it to her either; so far she’d managed to pass the blame to Jeremy whenever her mom agonized over how quickly they went through Oreos.

She had just popped open her chips when Eva tapped her on the shoulder. Alice tried to act as unflustered as possible, knowing there was nothing more off-putting than an overeager friend.

“Hi,” she said, holding out the bag. “Want one?”

Eva’s nose crinkled, but she took one tiny chip and nibbled the edge.

“Thanks,” she said. Then, staring at Alice with unnerving intensity, she asked, “How long have you known about … ?”

Alice didn’t need to ask what she meant. “A few months now.”

“Only a few months?” Eva’s voice was hushed—reverent, almost. “It took me at least six months to get the hang of ice.”

“I wouldn’t say I’ve gotten the hang of it. I only found the book last weekend.”

Eva gaped.

“You’re joking? Only a couple days … you’re only an acolyte then.”

“‘Acolyte’?”

Eva nodded. She sat on the wall and looked Alice over, like a doctor diagnosing a particularly interesting patient.

“That’s what we call the new ones.”

“We? New whats?” Alice pulled herself up to sit next to Eva, holding the bag of chips tightly, uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

“I joined an online group. There are a lot of witches out there.”

“An online group of …
witches?
” Alice thought of Elizabeth and the girl—the witch—and shivered remembering those black, black eyes. When she thought of online communities, she thought of normal people staring at computer screens, not of powerful and potentially dangerous magic users. How many of these people were there, anyway? The curse she had faced was a century old; it hadn’t occurred to her that magic might have found its way into the Internet age as well. Though the more she thought about it, the less surprised she was. Didn’t they say you could find anything online?

Eva must have mistook Alice’s surprise for moral deliberation because she leaned forward and said reassuringly, “Alice, there’s nothing wrong with being a witch. It’s just a word. It just means someone who can do magic. Magic isn’t evil and neither are witches.” She paused, then added emphatically, “Magic is
good
.”

Alice nearly laughed—talk about an overgeneralization. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d been cursed,” she said, fully expecting Eva to backpedal.

But this argument didn’t have the effect Alice expected. Eva hardly batted an eye, as though battling a curse was par for the course these days. Instead of revising her opinion, Eva merely asked, “Is that how you found out about magic? Are you still trying to break the curse? I can’t make any promises, but I might be able to help.”

“No, I broke it myself,” Alice assured her. The sentence seemed inadequate to describe what it had taken to escape Elizabeth’s spell. She could still remember her panic as walls of mist closed in on her from every side. She still remembered the shrill sound of the breaking mirror.

“It’s no wonder you’ve caught on so quickly,” Eva said. “Breaking the curse must have taken a lot of skill. I’m sure conjuring ice is nothing compared to that.”

Maybe she was digging for details on the curse, but Alice didn’t really want to discuss it—and she had a more pressing question. If she was going to find out the truth about Eva’s sister’s death, this may be her best chance. She didn’t want to risk waiting.

“Your sister … ” she began, but stopped when all the color drained from Eva’s cheeks. Eva’s foot tapped faster and faster against the wall.

“What about my sister?” she asked breathlessly.

Alice could have kicked herself for bringing this up, but she had to ask and she had to ask now. She would breathe easier knowing that magic had not been involved in the drowning. If there was even the smallest chance that Elizabeth had been involved in this as well, she needed to know. She needed to know that Elizabeth was gone forever.