Girl of Fire and Shadow

Chapter Three

MY MOTHER'S COPY of The Catcher in the Rye stared at me from my bedside table in both accusation and disappointment. Holden Caulfield would not approve of what I was about to do.

I gritted my teeth, fastening the red tie and pulling on the snug-fitting, black blazer. My fingers brushed the embroidered school crest—the initials of the school intertwined, with a crescent moon curling around a star in one corner. Beneath it in tiny script was the motto: Statera Reliquias. Balance Remains. Even Redwood Grammar clung to the town legend.

The witches who lived in Darkwell had divided into two groups—those who practised white magic, and those who dabbled in the dark arts. There was this mystical altar somewhere in the woods that was super old and had the power to grant miracles or enhance magic or something like that. The white witches believed their dark counterparts would use the altar, thus deciding that the solution was to wipe out all of the dark witches.

Because that was a sure-fire way to solve problems.

Naturally, a war started. It was bloody, it was brutal—a lot of spell-casting and wand-waving. Both sides were prepared to fight until nobody remained.

Enter stage-left: the spell of balance.

To save their species from extinction, one, ultimate spell was cast, a spell ensuring that no witch could kill on of their own, white or dark. As a sign of the truce, the altar was shattered and the pieces buried, so nobody could draw power from it again.

According to the legend, the spell of balance was still in effect, and the pieces of the altar lost in the woods that surrounded Darkwell.

In summary, my town was magicky-magicky, witchy-witchy.

I allowed myself three seconds to examine my refection in the mirror. I didn't have Jade's stunning looks or Ella's stunning everything. People would never look at me the way they would at them, but I chose to take that as a blessing. When everyone was distracted staring at my friends, nobody would focus on plain Parker Pierce, and the absolute fool she was making of herself.

"Can I come in now?" Xander called from outside, where he had been posted for the last ten minutes, either for support or to prevent my escape.

I grabbed my backpack and opened the door, clenching my fists to ease the trembling.

He gave me a once over and nodded his approval. "It's not as bad as you think."

"I know. It's worse."

"Loosen your tie," he said, before slinging his blazer over one shoulder and heading for the stairs.

THE DRIVE TO school was a relatively short one, but for me it seemed like hours. I hugged my backpack like a lifeline, watching out house on Swan Avenue grow smaller and smaller, before disappearing as we turned the corner. I felt the bowl of cereal I'd downed for breakfast steadily solidifying to cardboard in my stomach.

Xander was chattering away as he drove. "... knew the whistle was going to go any second, so I just kicked without looking. The mud made me trip, so my aim was crap, but somehow it got in."

I shook my head. "I still think it's weird."

"You mean the defender that kept touching my butt? I told him, 'Dude, I'm not switching sides for anything less than Channing Tatum in a bikini,' but I don't think he got the picture."

"Nobody wants to get that picture, thanks." I shuddered. "Actually, I was referring to the huge gust of wind that pushed the ball into the goal."

Xander shrugged, indicating and swerving onto the main road. "Was it the gust of wind or was it my incredible skills?"

"The wind. Even you admitted your aim was way off."

My brother rolled his eyes. "Think about it, Park. Are you really saying that a random breeze appeared just to help us win a soccer game? We're talking serious intervention by the universe, here. Unless you ..." He side-eyed me. "Unless you think it was magic." He twinkled his fingers in my face. "O-o-oh, the witches of Darkwell have risen from their graves!"

I shoved his hand away.

Outside, the houses of Upper Well stood trim and shiny as we moved into the suburb of Redwood. Bright green lawns, freshly painted picket fences. In the distance, the Whitlock mansion rested upon a hill, looking down on Darkwell. The Descending Families all had one, inherited from our ancestors, but I liked living with Auntie Carrie in her little two storey, even if it did have cracks and creaks.

Besides, it was a far better home than the charred earth where the Pierce mansion had once stood.

The firemen had picked through what was left, back then, managing to save a few things—my mother's novels and some of her favourites by other authors in the basement safe—but my parents were not among those things.

Nearly eleven years later and the tragedy of the Pierce family rivalled even the Darkwell legend. Xander was a resilient kind. With the support of his remaining family and friends, he'd been back at school, playing soccer and shedding his shadows.

Whereas I had shut the windows and lived in mine.

Xander pulled into the carpark and killed the engine. Neither of us moved. He was waiting for me to be ready, but that was never going to happen, so I sucked in a breath and stepped out into the crisp, morning air.

Redwood Grammar loomed above me—stone pillars, stained glass windows, gargoyles and all. An unending stream of students flooded through the gates, but in the sea of red and black, there were trickles of new colour.

Their uniforms were the same make as mine and Xander's, but where we had red and black, they had green and white. They clung in groups and kept a healthy distance from anyone in a black blazer.

"Always so sullen," Xander muttered, pulling my sleeve to make sure I was following him. "Ignore them."

It was the same advice I'd always received. The scholarship kids—either academically gifted, financially disadvantaged, or both—were what my friends described as 'elitist'.

They think they're better than us, Ella was always saying, just because the school pays for them to be here.

I'd never had the opportunity to speak directly to a green and white, thanks to the invisible wall that existed between us at all times, but since I'd be sharing class with them, perhaps that would change.

We made it through the gates without incident. One by one, heads turned, but the stares weren't hostile, more curious than anything, Twins were a rarity anywhere, and our surnames made us all the more intriguing—not to mention I'd spent maybe an accumulative moth in the public eye over eleven years.

As quickly as they had turned, their gazes drifted away, and the crushing weight on my chest eased. Just a little.

Ella, Jade and Walt were waiting by the entrance with the Ophels. Ella bounded towards me—a shiny, bubbly, giggling tidal wave. "You're finally here!"

The Ophels moved in, fussing, murmuring, touching. Jac tighten my ribbon, Josephine loosened my tied and Georgia straightened my shirt. I was Mia from The Princess Diaries to them.

"You look good in black," Jade said. "Now give me your timetable." I fumbled for the scrunched piece of paper in my blazer pocket and handed it over. She snatched it, clicking her tongue. "Literature, ew. Biology, fine. Maths, what are you, suicidal? Oh man, you picked History? Everyone says that subject sucks."

"Don't be insensitive," Ella hissed. "Her dad used to teach that class."

"Yeah, like a gazillion years ago."

"We're trying to keep her calm and you're not helping. Back up." Ella wedged herself between us, hooked her arm through mine and yanked me away, not even pausing to say goodbye as we parted ways from Xander and Walt. Still, my brother gave an apologetic wave, before we mounted the steps and disappeared into another world.