Stars Rise

XI. Frost

The cushion beneath Frost's cross-legged seat was like a cloud and never had good posture come so easy. Willow's classroom was the coziest in Oz. So bright from the impossible window, held to a temperature like soothing bathwater, the cave smell supplemented with rosemary or pine to stimulate deep breathing, because you constantly wanted to inhale it in. A smaller class size, due to secrecy and a selective entry test. It was possible to observe and keep tabs on every student.

There's a girl named Suwerte in the corner, practicing across from Amber, who looks like her name, not just honey-haired and bronze of face but glowing with a halo spell, because why not?

In the center is the clique of girls who likely had each other over for sleepovers and facials. They all chose code names that made them sound hot: Diamond, Jade, Swan, Cielo, and Divine. One week dressed like Greek goddesses, all in pastel togas, and the next Parisian models in pencil leg slacks and berets, today they more closely approximated the yoga pants-wearing girls who lived in the Marina neighborhood. In leggings and muted oversized sweaters that could only look like a uniform when worn by a pack of six girls, the only difference in the hues (burnt orange, olive, navy, off-white).

Pairing with one separated from the pack, Fog sat atop her cushion across from code name Jade, who came across as more articulate and bright when apart from the herd, capable of complex, full sentences and the occasional sit-com worthy quip. "I know I haven't guessed any of your secret messages, but you gotta believe me, I'm picking up Russian spies in Washington. They wanna know why there's no good pizza in D.C."

Twisting her ring, a habit that in no way aided spell-casting, Frost went between staring at Kudzu's head (shorn black hair close to the skull) in consideration of what might be inside and scanning the faces of classmates.

As much as she wanted to discern Kudzu's thoughts and read the message he would be repeating over and over in his head like a radio ad, a greater drive beneath the surface demanded to know what the rest of them thought of her.

Pure desire fueled her discovering the spell one unexpected instant. It was like in a game of broken telephone, watching the other kids in the circle going before her whispering a secret phrase she couldn't hear, and when her turn came as clearly as if he had whispered it in her ear, Frost heard the words, "Don't think about pink elephants. Don't think about pink elephants."

His lips remained still. She heard the voice inside his head.

Frost rocked on her cushion and laughed when she told him, "You made me think about pink elephants."

A cryptic smile waning and waxing over Kudzu's face the whole hour slid all the way off. His skin paled as blood drained, and his features blanked except his eyes, which rounded like those extra big marbles. He sputtered, "Say again?"

"You said not to think about pink elephants, which made me think about pink elephants."

His continued shock made her beam. Must be a big accomplishment to crack the spell so fast. His voice cracked slightly. "You worked the spell already?"

Maybe no one had ever discovered it so fast.

"How else would I know what you were thinking, genius. I worked the spell. Message received. Now, give me another one."

His lips didn't move but she heard his voice in his head ask, "How did she discover the spell so fast?" A thought overheard, not the next message for her to guess but a genuine reaction provoked by what she had said. "She's not that smart." Kudzu squirmed on his cushion, still disbelieving, not meeting her eyes.

Then he looked up as if scanning her from the top down, dissecting her for hidden potential or intelligence he had yet to see evidence of until this moment.