The Dragon of Rosemont High

"There's something I need to show you."

The Rosemont High gymnasium pulls double-duty as an auditorium, meaning one end is dominated by a long stage. There are rooms behind it, hidden and disused except during plays and assemblies, and Eli and Zoe hide out in one now.

"I hate crying."

Zoe is sitting in the corner, hunched over her own bag. Her tears have mostly stopped, but she's still sniffling. She's still in her gym clothes, too, unkempt and unarmored.

"How do you feel?" Eli asks. He wants to sit next to Zoe, to wrap his arm around her and pull her close, but isn't sure if she'll allow it. So he leans against the far wall, instead, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his hoodie.

"Headache," Zoe says eventually. "And . . . my mouth tastes gross." She smacks her lips a few times to demonstrate. "Like I've been licking garbage."

Eli doesn't bother to ask how she knows what garbage tastes like. He can taste it too. Not strong, but: "It's the rísók, I think."

Zoe looks up at him, narrowing eyes red-rimmed from crying. "The what-awk?"

Eli bites his lip. "Um," he says. "How . . . how much do you remember? About . . .?" He waves a hand, noncommittal.

"I . . . I warded my bag," Zoe says, looking down at the object in question. "After Morgan. I . . . I didn't want . . ." She stops, takes a deep, shuddering breath, and starts again: "We were outside. Running, y'know? When I felt, like . . . It was the ward. I can't explain how I knew, but I knew. You know?"

Eli nods. He does know.

Zoe continues: "So I faked an asthma attack, and came back inside. That's when . . . when I saw you." She pauses. "I was so mad. It was . . . my vision went black. Like, literally black. I didn't know that really happened. But it did. And, after . . ." She sniffs, two heavy teardrops falling on top of her bag. "There are, like. Gaps. In my memory," she finally admits.

"The other day," Eli says, "in the hall. You remember?"

"Not . . . not really."

"More gaps?"

"Yeah."

Eli nods, even though Zoe isn't watching him. "When you attacked me, I knew it wasn't you. Not really. I could feel . . . something evil. A curse."

"Someone cursed me." It's not a question, and Eli can feel the anger hiding somewhere behind it. Not close yet, but getting there.

"Yeah. I . . . did some research. The thing that came up is called a rísók. It's like . . . an evil charm, I guess? You put it on someone and it works its evil juju on them. I knew it was in your bag—"

"How?"

"I dunno," Eli says. "I just knew, y'know?" Zoe's glance flicks up and Eli gives her a weak smile. She doesn't return it, not quite, but she looks like she's thinking about it.

"Yeah. I know. You found it, then?"

"Yeah. Burnt it. Dunno if you remember."

"A little, maybe? Things are . . . it was like I was asleep. You know how in dreams sometimes you just, I dunno. Yell and scream and hit people? Just because it's a dream and you can and it doesn't matter and—" A thought seems to occur, and she gasps sharply. "I hit you!" Her face is a picture of devastation that crumples into something even worse a moment later. "I threw a fireball at you! Eli—!"

"I'm fine! I'm fine, Zee. See?" He holds out his arms for inspection. The scales and claws have long since faded, vanishing along with the rísók's bitter magic.