Unbound (Unbound, Book 1) ~Formerly Casting Power~

Chapter 37

Duvessa's smile disappeared when we stepped out of the office, and she began to look annoyed with the extra baggage I added to her weightless load. Did they teach a class in bitch here? Cause she was good at it. Maybe she and the secretary were related, and it was a genetic thing.

"Look, just show me to my locker and give me the low-down on how to get to the classes on my schedule. Then you can forget about me," I said, shifting my weight.

"Right, and if you are late for even one of those classes, it'll be my ass in detention. I so do not think so." Her regular voice was annoying, and I wished that she would revert to using the too-sweet tone she'd manifested for the principle.

"I don't want your help," I said without emotion and a blank stare. "I want to get the day over with and leave, so just show me the directions. I'm not dumb."

"You're serious?"

"Yeah, I am. Look, if I'm late for any of my classes, I'll just tell Mr. Corbin that I told you to shove off. Trust me, I have an attitude problem and can be convincing. No worries."

"You're kind of weird." She was looking at me with confusion, which didn't appear to be all that foreign for her.

I looked away and shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm not here to make friends, so it's not going to matter. Deal?"

"Okay. I'll, uh... I'll just give you the directions then." She grabbed a pen and paper from her bag and scribbled something down, and then handed it to me and pointed to a row of lockers straight ahead of us. "Here are directions, and that is your locker."

"Thanks," I said and stared down at the illegible chicken scratches as she sauntered off, then crumpled the paper in my hand. How hard could it be to find your way around a one-story building?

Since I had nothing to stow in my locker, I made my way to my homeroom, which was History 30. As the first to arrive, the teacher had time to tell me where they were in their studies so far and assign a textbook, which at least gave me a reason to go back to my locker.

Next, I had Law. At Pederson, I had enjoyed the subject, but that was because we had had an awesome teacher, Mrs. Janix. She'd set up the classroom so that it imitated life in a courtroom, explaining that visualization was a key ingredient to learning.

Mr. Joseph, the teacher who taught Law at Grimas, was dull and boring. When he gave me the textbook and showed me where the class was in the course, I was happy to realize that they were only a chapter ahead of where we'd ended at Pederson last Friday.

The bell rang to signal the start of class and students started pouring in. Most gave me a cursory glance before refocusing on the teacher, but there were some that stared at me without attempting to mask the effort. It was obvious which students were a part of the Craft's community—I felt a low hum emanating from them. Obviously, they were curious about my father. I wondered if they knew who my mom was. The first person to say something nice about her would make a friend for life—or until I turned eighteen.

"Okay, let's begin where we left off yesterday in chapter eight. First, we have a new student with us. Miss Dwyer? Why don't you come up here and introduce yourself to the class? Come on, don't be shy. Everyone here had to do it at the start of the year. Can't let you start feeling left out, now can I?" Mr. Joseph said, smiling at me as everyone else stared.

I cleared my throat and smiled. "Actually, I don't mind being left out," I said without looking up. Either the students were angels, or the janitor was awesome at his job. The top of my desk was bare of graffiti for me to distract myself with.

The class laughed. Mr. Joseph beckoned me up anyway. What was I supposed to say to a roomful of strangers that I had no intention of befriending?

I stood but didn't move to the front of the classroom. "My name is Noreena Fallyn," I said, making certain nobody repeated Mr. Joseph's mistake. "I just moved to Wickenton from Briarville for my senior year." I shrugged and glared at the teacher.

"What are your hobbies, Noreena? What is it you like to do in your spare time?"

"Sleep?" I offered, making the students laugh again. "No? Okay, I like to draw or paint, and I love the outdoors."

"An artist in our midst." Mr. Joseph clapped his hands. He looked to me and then back to the class and winked. "Are you a good artist, Noreena?"

"I guess that would depend on who is looking at it, wouldn't it?" I shrugged. "I don't make anything regarding the courtroom or justice system, so it's debatable how to answer that question to someone who teaches law."

The class snickered while the teacher smiled. "So, what made you decide to move to Wickenton?"

"Decide?" my voice squeaked out in a whisper.

"Yes. Why Wickenton?"

My mother's face flickered behind my eyes and my composure almost melted.

"I didn't decide to move here." I swallowed the lump in my throat. All the humor of the conversation had gone, and I had to brace my weight against my hand on the top of my desk to keep from falling.

"Oh? How did you come to be here then?"

Didn't he see what he was asking was doing to me? "I had to come to live with my father because my mother died."

"I'm sorry. So how many weeks of material do you need to catch up on?"

"One," I said under my breath, amazed that my voice didn't crack as I squeezed my hands into fists, creating half-circles in my palms. I felt my energy rise as my emotions swirled, and I bit my lip to keep from losing control.

"Pardon me?" Mr. Joseph leaned forward, tilting his head so his ear was facing me. "I didn't hear you."

"One," I said, my voice loud and clear, and then raised my head to meet his eyes. The only way to get through this was to imagine myself as cold as stone, unaffected by reality and scathing questions I couldn't avoid. I felt the boil in my blood begin to recede and flexed my fingers. "My last day of school in Briarville was Friday. My mother died on Saturday, and I moved here yesterday. May I sit down now?"

Mr. Joseph nodded, shocked into sympathy. I didn't want anyone's compassion, and I didn't want the students to look at me like I'd just sprouted an extra head, which of course, they were.

* * * * *

Finally, when lunch arrived after an uneventful math period, I made my way to the cafeteria, which was overcrowded and filled with the hum of pent-up magic. I could feel it like a current of static electricity upon my skin. It was overwhelming and, since I didn't know anyone to join, I bought a small salad and worked my way to the front of the school for a spot on the grass.

Nature.

It felt good to be outside and feel closer to my mother.

Memories trickled in of our annual vacations to the beach. We used to build sand castles together and then watch as the tide swept them away with frothing waves. Last year, I had gotten such a terrible burn, my mother had started to refer to me as her little tomato. Of course, this was only after she'd rubbed Aloe Vera lotion over the affected areas to help take the sting out of my throbbing skin. Everything had its balance, she'd said. So, I'd had fun creating a great memory, and as a reward, I had the painful sunburn. Right. Balance.

What was her balance then? What had she done to deserve to die?

"Hey, look. It's the new girl!"

I jerked my head up in time to watch Duvessa and a group of her friends plop down on the grass around me, barely giving me enough of a warning to grab my salad before it was stomped on. I narrowed my eyes on her, desperate to wish her away, but either this girl was ignorant, or she just didn't care. Having had a conversation with her, I figured it was a combination of both. I took a deep breath and tried to find an inner peace that would give me the patience to deal with her.