Chapter Thirteen

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"Shelby! What are you still doing here?"

Mom's voice is fuzzy, and I blink myself awake. Sunlight pours into my room, and the clock beside my bed says it's after nine o'clock. I shake myself and sit up, confused. "I guess my alarm didn't go off?" It was late when I finally stopped texting Miah, and I'm still tired, even though I know I better get moving; I've already missed the bus, homeroom, and the start of first block.

Mom stands in my doorway, shaking her head. "You've never been late before. Thank goodness I came in here to drop this off." She holds up my favorite T-shirt. "I found it in with the sheets."

"Thanks. You can drive me to school, right?"

She glances at the clock. "If you hurry. I have an appointment at ten, and I don't want to be late.

Before I can ask her what kind of appointment would be enough to make her miss work, she closes my door behind her and moves back down the hall. With an angry glare at the clock, I get out of bed and throw on my skinny jeans and the black T-shirt Mom just returned. My hair is a ratty mess, but luckily, it doesn't take much effort to tie it up in a knot that looks intentionally messy, rather than like I just rolled out of bed. It's a good thing I don't mess with makeup; if I needed to do everything Christina does in the mornings, I'd never make it to school before noon!

Mom is waiting for me by the front door, jingling her keys and shifting her purse on her shoulder. I veer into the kitchen and grab a Pop-Tart, and then I run back to Mom. "Ready," I say, taking a big bite of my breakfast as we step onto the porch.

"Are you feeling okay? You never oversleep."

I nod, not wanting to tell her that I was up late talking to the boy I'm not supposed to be dating. "What's your appointment?" I ask, hoping to change the subject.

"Oh, just something with a specialist." She waves her hand dismissively, and before I can ask anything else, she's slipped into the driver's seat of the car and closed her door. I get in, too, and Mom glances at me as she pulls into the street. "I'm worried about you, sweetheart. You haven't seemed like yourself this school year."

I snort. "Mom, it's only been a couple of weeks."

She lifts one shoulder in a gentle shrug. "I know, but you've been...distant. Is everything okay?"

"You mean other than the fact that my sister hates me and is trying to ruin my life?"

Mom sighs. "She doesn't hate you, Shelby. She's under a lot of pressure with the Threes coming up, that's all."

"Mom, she told Becca McClure that I'm not good enough to scribe for her!" My voice breaks, and I shove the last of my Pop-Tart in my mouth, determined not to cry.

"I'm sure she didn't say that."

I cross my arms over my chest. "Becca seemed pretty sure that she did."

Mom is quiet for a moment, and I wonder if she's going to deny it again. Finally, she glances at me out of the corner of her eye. "I'm sorry you aren't going to scribe for her."

My anger wells up. "Are you kidding? It's not like this is my choice. I didn't ask to be broken."

"You aren't broken." She hesitates. "Are you sure you haven't noticed anything...unexpected with your magic lately?"

I think of the spell I wrote for Kelsey, and my growing hope that maybe I can scribe, after all, but something holds me back. "If by 'unexpected' you mean have I suddenly become a world-famous scribe, then no, the answer is no."

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