Awakened (Unbound, Book 3)

Chapter Twenty

Everyone straightened and turned to glare at Duvessa, but she didn't notice—or care. She studied each of the students behind her, trying to determine blame, and then her gaze met mine and narrowed.

"You," she said between clenched teeth. "You tripped me."

The two in front of me looked at each other and then to me, puzzled.

I smiled and tilted my head slightly, narrowing my eyes as I studied Duvessa. "And how would I do that without anyone noticing?"

"You—you have abilities, don't you?" He eyes widened as though the thought was a revelation to her.

"Do I?" I raised both eyebrows and laughed. "I'm in WC-1, remember?"

"That doesn't mean you can't—"

"Did anyone hear me say anything?" I asked, looking around. Focusing back on Duvessa, I shrugged. "See? Even I know I can't use the Craft without using spells, so nice try." I looked down to her feet where the laces of both shoes were tied together. "I would've thought after yesterday that you would be more careful."

"I—"

"It's your turn," the boy said to Duvessa and pointed to the keypad.

Duvessa glared at him, darted her eyes to me, and then raised her chin and turned. Mumbling under her breath, the laces fixed themselves as she put her thumb to the sensor and then placed it in her mouth. She shot one last glare at me before stomping through the door.

"That was cool, Nora," Brad said, and everyone else nodded.

I looked down to the floor, smiling. "No clue what you mean," I said, though when it was my turn to go through security, the cloak I'd erected dropped, and the lights in the hallway shone a few shades brighter.

Pranks—the kind that had been pulled at Grimas—were one of the things I would never do because I was scared that they would go wrong and hurt someone. What harm came from a little fun at Duvessa's expense? Harmless, of course, though this was just the beginning. By the time everyone knew she was the prankster—even if she found her brain and stopped—Duvessa was going to be the number one believer that karma was a bitch.

Payback came in so many possibilities, I didn't even know where to begin.

*****

Twenty minutes later, sitting in the middle of the front row of desks in WC-1, I was barely able to suppress a yawn. Mrs. Hendrey's monotonous voice as she relayed the current events happening regarding the Craft, which was definitely something that couldn't be shown on the evening news, was like a lullaby. Only in this case, it never ended. Even if it did, I doubted that anybody would be awake to hear the conclusion.

I was a few minutes away from vandalizing the top of my desk when Mrs. Hendrey finally put her clipboard on her desk and started the lesson. Unlike the mandated sessions with my mother, seeing what was taught—how it was delivered—had me curious. How different would it be? Would I figure out what I should be hiding or was being here simply a waste of time?

"Over the last few weeks, we've discussed alter tools and the significance each represents," Mrs. Hendrey said, shuffling back to the center of the room, directly in front of me, and I looked down. "We talked about how objects, especially personal items, can help bring a spell to life and add to the effectiveness once it is."

Mrs. Hendrey paused, and the rest of the classroom remained quiet. I tried to tune it all out, keeping my head low as I sketched, but the stillness settled, causing the hairs on my arms to rise. Slowly, I quit doodling and glanced up to find Mrs. Hendrey was watching me, expectant.

She held my gaze and smiled, and then nodded to my paper. "Are you bored, Miss Dwyer?"

No way could I answer that honestly, but I didn't want to lie, so I shrugged wordlessly.

"What? You were talking about altars, so that's what I drew. See?" Spreading my fingers, I placed my palm on the page and rotated it ninety degrees so Mrs. Hendrey could see it right-side-up. "There's the chalice and athame—that represents the polarity, right? Yin-yang, male-female, God-Goddess?" I shrugged. "Then you have the little details. See? There's incense, candles—"

"In the future, drawings are not an approved method for note-taking."

"Why?" I turned the paper back over and studied it. It was perfectly clear what the drawing represented. Raising my eyebrow, I looked back to Mrs. Hendrey and asked, "Do you really think this isn't clear enough?"

"For studying?" She shook her head. "No. It makes sense to you now because you just did it, but how can you expect to memorize it in one class when you have written no words?"

Perhaps she should revisit her education degree where I was sure she would have been taught that everyone has a different form of learning—visual, audio, hands-on, whatever. Instead of saying that and getting myself in hot water, I smiled and cocked my head. "Maybe I have an eidetic memory."

"Right. Well, I guess that explains your amnesia."

Shrugging, I smiled wider but said nothing. If she only knew how many times that I'd made this picture—with and without labels—maybe Mrs. Hendrey would stop playing instigator. Was she trying to get me rattled? Because unlike what had happened in the bathroom, I knew this material inside-out.

"Why don't we just move on and I'll let you know if I'm confused?" I closed my book and put it in my bag along with my pencil. Then I leaned back and folded my arms.

"You still need your notebook to write."

"No, I don't. Consider it a compromise—I stop drawing and listen, but I won't be writing." I shrugged. "That way, I don't have to leave my favorite notebook here when I leave and you avoid cluttering the classroom since we can't take anything except the syllabus with us when we leave."

Mrs. Hendrey sighed, and her gaze circled the rest of the room, pausing at each student watching us. No one spoke or wrote anything down, just like yesterday. I might be annoyed because I knew what Mrs. Hendrey was talking about, but the class was full of beginners.

"So, personal objects are needed for spells?" I asked to get the lesson moving along again. "Why?"

Mrs. Hendrey held my gaze for nearly a minute and then took a deep breath, pasted on a too-bright smile, and glanced around the room. "Okay then." She looked at me again and shook her head. "Candle magic is a powerful object to utilize during spells."

I raised my hand. "Why? I mean, your abilities aren't enough?"

"You're sure you shouldn't be taking notes?"

"Oh no. I know the answer," I said and shoulder-checked once on both sides. "But they don't."

"You can complete spells without objects or circles, Nora," she said, "but one keeps you from depleting your energy and the other provides protection."

"Okay..." I rolled my eyes. "At some point, you might want to explain that better so that everyone understands."

"Candles can be purchased pretty well anywhere," Mrs. Hendrey said, breaking eye contact. "By using these, some of the energy needed to maintain the spells can be drawn from it, which allows you to reach a balance—neither too low nor too high. That's why, before a circle is cast, you'll see many of us ground and shield our energy to rid of negativity and draw strength."

Bought candles? That's not personal at all. Shifting in my seat, I leaned forward, placing my elbows on my desk and my chin in my hands. More than my curiosity, and second only to finding the magical signature belonging to the prankster, discovering Mrs. Hendrey's level of ignorance was something to look forward to. Was it wrong to be excited over correcting a teacher?

Not when they deserved it.