What the Spell Part 1 (6 page)

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to fix your imperfections,” Eliza said to no one in particular. “Like none of you have had anything done.”

“So you’ve been right here all the time, then?” Gigi continued, rolling over Eliza’s last comment.

“That can’t be right,” Rhodes said, giving me a smile that made my heart dip in the way that only a gorgeous guy could. “I would’ve noticed
you
.”

“Down, boy,” Gigi said without looking at him. “But seriously, why haven’t you been on our radar before now? What’s the story?”

Even though I was wearing a tank top, I could feel myself starting to sweat. This was beginning to feel more and more like an interrogation rather than a friendly first meeting. And truthfully, I wasn’t sure how to answer their questions without raising suspicions or having them realize who I really was. So I winged it.

“I honestly don’t know
why
we haven’t crossed paths before,” I said, shrugging. “And there’s no story, really.”

“Or it’s just not a story you want us to know about,” Camden said.

He said it nonthreateningly, but I could tell he was deadly serious.

“No, really. I’m just a regular kid.”

“There’s nothing regular about you, girl,” Rhodes said, shoving his hands into his back pockets.

I couldn’t help but blush at his compliment. Gigi looked from me to Rhodes and then back at me.

“Okay, then. Well, it was nice meeting you, Brooklyn,” she said. “I guess we’ll be seeing you around. You definitely won’t be able to hide from us now.”

She and the other Elite stepped to the side, allowing me to continue on down the hallway. As I was walking away I heard Eliza say, “I don’t see why it’s such a big deal to give me her doctor’s number. Hello? Share the wealth.”

As I walked away from the most influential kids in the school, I could no longer hide the grin that had been threatening to appear on my face. Had that
actually
just happened? The fact that one of them remotely envied something about me just about made my head explode. Even if Eliza
had
thought I was made up of fake parts, she’d still noticed me. It was all I’d ever wanted.

Well, that, and to be a part of the group myself.

But this was a start.

I began to skip the rest of the way to Ms. Zia’s office, but when I nearly tripped over my three-inch heels, I slowed my gait to a slightly awkward power strut. Practically bursting to share my earth-shattering news with someone, I hurried in and sat down in my usual spot.

Ms. Zia was reading something intently on her computer and only looked up briefly to see who’d walked in.

“And how can I help you?” she asked me in the “I’m a responsible adult” voice she usually reserved for people who weren’t me.

“Um, you can listen to this crazy story I have to tell you,” I answered, too excited to bother giving her a hard time for her less-than-stellar hello.

Ms. Z. looked back up at me from her screen and shook her head as if clearing it. “Brooklyn?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s you.”

“That is correct—now give the lady a prize!” I said in my best game-show announcer’s voice.

“But you’re . . . blond.”

I rolled my eyes. It was the first time she was seeing me after my magical makeover and she was understandably thrown off by my newfound hotness.

“And my skin cleared up,” I added.

“Wait, weren’t your eyes brown before?”

“You’re very observant, Ms. Z. You know, I’ve always really liked that about you,” I said, feeling extra hyper after my run-in with The Elite. “So, what do you think of my makeover?”

“Makeover?”

“Yeah,” I said, standing up and slowly turning around so she could get the full effect.

Ms. Zia swallowed hard and then leaned in closer to study me. “You’re like . . . a whole new person.”

“I know! Isn’t it great?”

But instead of getting the same level of enthusiasm back, my question was met with silence. After a few awkward seconds, Ms. Z. seemed to gather herself and then cleared her throat.

“You look . . . different.”

“Good different?” I asked, giving her a chance to react more like I’d been expecting her to.

She hesitated before answering.

“Different different.”

When she saw my face fall, she got up from her chair and came around her desk to sit down next to me. “I didn’t mean it that way. You look great, Brooklyn, it’s just—I thought you looked pretty great the other way too. What’s with the extreme makeover? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s pretty freaking awesome,” I said, still riding
high after my encounter with the upper crust. “I was just tired of being the me that nobody knew. I wanted to look back on my high school experience and actually be able to say that I experienced it. Right now I’m just . . . existing. And I’m over it.”

“Brooklyn . . .”

“Look, Ms. Zia, I know what you’re going to say. High school isn’t everything. And yeah, okay, maybe it’s not. Maybe I won’t even care about any of this a few years from now. But for once I want proof that I was here. I don’t want people to look at my picture in the yearbook and wonder, who is that girl?”

“But do you really want to do that as somebody else?”

Now I was starting to get annoyed. This was possibly one of the most significant experiences in my life so far, and she was taking all the fun out of it. Not that I thought she was doing it on purpose, but still, the line of questioning felt a bit harsh.

“How is this any different from you working out to stay in shape or getting your hair dyed? Why is it okay for everyone else to take steps to improve themselves, but I get the third degree when I do it?”

“Calm down, Brooklyn. I’m not trying to upset you, I just want to make sure you’ve thought about this. If any other student walked in here having changed their entire appearance, I’d be asking them these questions too. Just because we’re closer than I might be with other students doesn’t mean I’m going to sugarcoat things for you. In fact, I’ve always been honest with you.”

“Yeah, sometimes a little
too
honest,” I muttered.

“It’s just, you know about my past. . . . I’m hoping you can learn from my mistakes instead of making your own.”

“I know, Ms. Z., but you think you’re trying to shield me
from the potential downside of high school? Um, sorry. Been there, experienced that,” I retorted. Seeing her face grow serious, I tried to calm down. “Look, I just want to be happy, and I wasn’t before. I wish I was. I wish the old me was enough. I wish there were more people in this school who were like you, but there’s not.”

We’d had this conversation so many times before that I was beginning to feel like a broken record. And because Ms. Z. was the only person in my life who I could confide in like this, she also ended up being the one who was always pushing back and challenging me.

Ms. Zia looked at me and bit her lip as she took in what I was saying. “And you think this will make you happy?”

“It already has,” I said, thinking about my run-in with The Elite.

After another long look and an even longer sigh, she patted me on the arm. “Then I’m here to support you,” she said. She forced a smile on her pretty face.

“Well, I guess I should head to my locker before lunch is over, then,” I said, getting up and gathering my things. “See you tomorrow?”

“Sure, Brooklyn,” Ms. Zia answered, watching me move toward the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I’d barely gotten my foot out the door when I immediately collided with another body.

“Oh!” I said, looking up. When I saw that it was Asher, I couldn’t seem to untangle my feet.

“Whoops,” he said, placing his hands on both my arms to steady me. “Sorry about that.”

I gave him a half smile, wondering whether he recognized me. Then he blinked in surprise and flashed me a smile of his own. “Wow. You look . . .”

Good? Amazing? Beautiful? Like the kind of girl you’d like to have as a girlfriend?

“Different,” he finished after a long pause.

My smile disappeared again.

“Seriously?!” I took one last look at my biggest crush and then stormed off in the opposite direction.

“Sweetie! Can you come downstairs for a minute?”

My mom’s voice drifted into my room as I clicked away on my computer. Given my new look, I decided it was time to update all my photos online so people would be able to find me if they were trying. I sat back and admired the self-portrait I’d taken with my phone.

It was perfect.

I’d pretty much avoided taking pictures of myself before, but now I got excited every time I took a snapshot. Each one seemed to be better than the last, and I wasn’t even sitting there overanalyzing all the things I’d need to edit out later. Instead I’d spent the last hour trying to narrow down which shot I liked the best, and then how to crop it.

I was putting the finishing touches on my number one choice when my mom called out to me.

“Right now?” I asked.

“Yes, please,” my dad answered.

I sighed and made a few hasty adjustments before hitting the publish button. Closing my laptop, I climbed off my bed and went downstairs. When I walked into the living room, my parents were sitting side by side on the couch, looking unusually serious. My stomach sank as I dreaded the conversation I knew was coming.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Why don’t you sit down, honey,” my mom said, motioning to the love seat across from them.

“Is everything okay? You’re kind of freaking me out.”

“Brooklyn, we couldn’t help but notice that you seem to have made some, er, changes to your appearance,” my dad began.

“You’re blond,” my mom chimed in.

“And, well, we know that you just came into your powers, and while it’s natural to want to experiment with things, we think you need to know that there are consequences to every spell that you do,” Dad said.

My fear dissolved into relief, and then the relief turned into annoyance.

“This is because I changed my hair?” I asked incredulously.

“It’s not just your hair,” my mom said. “It’s your eyes, your skin, your lips . . . I’m pretty sure you even made yourself taller. I barely recognize you anymore.” As she finished, her eyes began to well up with tears.

I instantly felt guilty. I had no idea my parents were going to take the makeover so hard.

“Guys, I just wanted a little change. I’m sixteen now. This is what kids my age do! They change their appearance. They wear makeup. They dye their hair—usually crazier colors than this, I might add. I’m just trying something new. Trying to figure out who I am.”

I didn’t add that it was also so I could catch the attention of The Elite. I knew my parents wouldn’t go for the changes if they were for anyone else but me. Even though
I
liked the new me, too, doing things to please other people was unacceptable in our household.

“Hey, at least I’m not getting tattoos or my tongue pierced,” I added, cracking a joke to try and lighten the mood.

“It’s not so much the changes you’re making that we’re worried about. We’ve read all the parenting books—we knew this would happen one day. It’s
how
you’re doing it that worries us.”

I blinked at them. “What are you talking about?”

“We think you’re using too much magic,” my mom blurted out.

I glanced from my mom to my dad and then shook my head. “I’ve only done a few spells,” I said, staring straight at them. “Look, you said that when I turned sixteen you would unbind my powers. I just thought that meant I could actually use them.”

“And you can,” my dad answered. “We just want you to practice responsibly.”

“You think I’m irresponsible?” I asked slowly. “Because I did a few beauty spells?”

This was unbelievable.

“We just don’t want you to use magic for
everything
. There’s so much you can do without using spells and we don’t want you to get used to taking shortcuts,” he said. “Your magical abilities give you an advantage over nonpracticing people, and capitalizing on those abilities isn’t exactly fair to them. It also turns a lot of unneeded attention onto you. We don’t want you to start choosing magic over good, old-fashioned hard work and perseverance.”