Chapter Eight

"I should have known," Dee said several days later in the lunch hall. Everyone kept looking our way, probably because they didn't recognize me in my original white-blond hair. I had done it as soon as my magic returned, just like I was ordered to. Dyeing spell was one of the first spells I had learned when I discovered it in the academy's library. Most everyone in the school knew me as original redhead, except for people like Dee, who had been here before I was even here. "Lord Ellison is so devious. He never meant to transfer you from the start. He just wanted you to obey his wishes and threatened you with the thing you most cared about. Additional points to observe your negotiation skills, I bet."

I had also realized that the moment after I signed the contract, but since it was all done, I was just glad I got to stay at the academy. "Well, you can't turn back time with any magic."

"I still can't get used to seeing you with platinum hair," Amy muttered, stabbing her steak viciously with her fork. "You are so...blond. Even your eyebrows and lashes. I look like a mouse next to you now."

"I think it suits your skin color," Dee supplied helpfully. "Don't you know that red hairs used to be a sign of vampirism in Greek? Now you look more like a Norse nobility."

"Hear that, Amy? From Greek vampire to freaking Princess Elsa." I sighed into my cup. "It'll all be over in less than a year. And then I can change my hair back."

"Mmph," Amy grunted. "Now Hot Baby Face is just going to get more smitten with your full ice princess glory. And don't say there's nothing going on between the two of you. I see how you exchange long glances. I'm not blind."

"It's unrealistic," I said, more to myself than to her. "He's only assigned here until the end of the month, which is two more weeks. And then I'll never see him again."

And the fact was, I didn't feel sad about that. We talked and yes, flirted a couple of times. And maybe I had some hero-worship thing for him, but that was all our attraction was. I didn't miss talking to him that much. I never felt any urge to touch his hair or feel his lips. Not like I did with...him.

Across the hall, I sought for his face. He sat in his usual table, surrounded by his buddies and some fan girls. As if he sensed me looking, he looked up from his plate and met my eyes. We hadn't talked since what happened that day in the pond. No banters, no mocking gaze, no 'Isla' or 'Williams'. The other day when I passed by him in Archery, he met my eyes briefly, and it seemed like he was going to say something, but he never did.

I guessed kissing had broken our frenemy relationship. I just didn't know if it would ever go back to the way it was or we'd stay this awkward until graduation.

"So you really are taking Duels after lunch?" Amy asked me after Dee left for the restroom. "You know who teaches Duels, right?"

"Um, wasn't it Mr. P?" Everyone called him Mr. P because his last name was too hard to pronounce. It was either that, or his first name, which we learned was Edward. Behind his back, kids often called him Mr. Ed Pee. I wasn't worried about the teachers. I was more worried about the fact that I was now enrolled in three sports classes in one semester. If I took fencing, too, I'd hold a record.

"Not this semester. It's Mr. Abercrombie this time."

Wow. Mr. Abercrombie was one of the teachers who were just plainly mean to students. He always found a reason to bully students. I never had a class with him, but his reputation preceded him. "I thought he only teaches senior classes. He doesn't seem the sports type."

"Yeah, up until this year. Seriously, didn't you hear all the hot gossip from August?"

I didn't. Not when they weren't about me. I was just that self-absorbed. "He's going to hate me for getting in mid-term, isn't he?"

"Well, everyone now knows your uncle is Lord Ellison. I think you can get away with pretty much everything."

Amy just didn't how wrong she was, I thought as I had myself blasted to the wall for the ninth time that day. The impact jarred all the breath out of me and I thought for second I was going to cough up blood, the way those B-movies actor always did before they died. Of course, near-death didn't stop Abercrombie from torturing me further. "Up!" he barked. "Up, now!"

Dizzy, I dragged myself up and stood. I really sucked at Duels. I hated classes that I sucked at. In this class, we were supposed to learn combative spells against an opponent—hence the name Duels. I had never used a combative spell in my life and suddenly I was in this class and there was no introductory chapter for me whatsoever. Abercrombie just barked at me name, "Ellison!"—which I still wasn't used to hearing. And then he face me off with this tall senior girl with curly dark hair and what I recognized as permanent-bitch-face, because I had the same look on my face most of the time, too.

I thought as we had something in common, she would go easy on me. Instead, she used all the advanced spells I didn't know. I really should have read the textbook before I came into the class. How was I supposed to know Abercrombie was going to live up to his meanest teacher reputation? It also didn't help because there was one person in the class whom I didn't want to be humiliated in front of: Lucas Island. He was dueling with the Dewitt girl far off on the mattress near the corner. I had been too busy getting knocked off to the wall to see if he had looked our way once. He must have. Everyone had.

"Again!" Abercrombie barked.

Fueled by my determination not to be humiliated in front of my frenemy—if we were still that—I stood up straight and pointed my finger at the senior girl, before she even finished muttering her spell, and I shot a linear force field straight to her chest, careful not to insert too much intensity into it.

True to my approximation, she stumbled back and fell on her ass, looking shocked but not seriously hurt. Feeling better now, I looked at Abercrombie for a praise or maybe an approving nod.

Abercrombie, though, was furious. "Whose class do you think this is? This is not Mr. Hollister's Precision and Approximation! You are not allowed to use raw magic here, Ellison! Only combative spells. You know the rules."

Right. Screw everything. I couldn't take this anymore. "Well, maybe you should have taught me some of those precious spells before you threw me in front of Wonder Woman!" And then, as an afterthought, I added, "Sir."

"No one in my class talks back to me! Detention for you, Ellison!"

For a split of second, I had the urge to turn Abercrombie's hair purple, just to annoy him further. But I saw a pair of green eyes watching out of the corner of my eye and suddenly all I wanted was to get out of there as fast as I could. Stalking to the corner of the classroom, I grabbed my discarded bag and stormed out to the hallway.

In the principal's office later in the evening, Principal Edgerton sighed and rubbed her temple. "Again, Miss Williams?" She still called me Williams, for which I would be eternally grateful for, but the look on her face when she said was anything but kind. "Your detention is tomorrow night. You will write a five-thousand-word essay in my office."

I began to nod, and then I remembered what tomorrow night was. "Tomorrow is Friday!"

"So?" Principal Edgerton raised her eyebrow, which had been known to make a bigger man cower.

So tomorrow was the second Friday of the month. In Asphodel Academy, or at least among the students, we hosted a party every second Friday of the month in the boys' dormitory. Of course, with heightened security and mages running around now sneaking in and out would almost be impossible, but there had never been a time where the second Friday party was cancelled. It was the only time in Asphodel where we could be normal teenagers: make out, have some booze, play some lame games, etc.

Of course, so far, the principal hadn't known about the parties. Or at least I didn't think so. "I have...plans," I said instead. "Can't it be Saturday night? Or tonight?"

Her eyebrow rose even higher. "No, Miss Williams. Detention in Asphodel Academy has always been and will always be on Friday night."

I went back to the dorm to tell Amy my sad news. She rolled her eyes. "It's not like you ever enjoy the parties. You always say they're lame. Why do you suddenly want to go?"

"Because..." Because Luke might be there and everything was gray between us and I just wanted to know what he thought of me after that kiss or if he even thought about me at all. "Because I want a normal night. After my uncle, my hair, Duels, my freaking name change, you know..."

"So you have to be in detention room and in the party at the same time." Amy thought of this for a moment. "I can cast an illusion of you in the office, but I can't make your illusion write five-thousand-word essay. That's too complex for me."

Being in two places at the same time. Amy jumped when I suddenly grabbed her shoulders and shook her head. "Amy!" I exclaimed. "I know! Astral projection!"

There were two ways I could learn astral projection. First, I could ask Carter, who would be all about duty and honor and would report me to the principal before I could blink an eye. Second, I could look in the library for the senior Astral textbook. It was easy enough to find, but the practice itself was another matter. I didn't want to screw up and end up a ghost stuck in between forever with no way back to my body.

"It says here that you need an object as pointer to your body," Dee said, scanning over the page. She shifted her glasses and fidgeted, not looking comfortable to be sitting in a dark library at night. Amy was lighting the page with her phone's flashlight. "If you hold this object and think about your body you will automatically bounce back. This object works only for single projection, not multiple. You don't have to be anywhere else other than Edgerton's office and the party, do you?"

I shook my head.

"So this object is like a GPS?" Amy asked.

"In a way," Dee agreed. She looked worried. "Riley, I don't think this is a good idea. Astral Projection requires a lot of practice and control. Not to mention if you get caught—the second Friday party would be exposed and everyone will get into trouble. Astral projection might look solid to untrained eye, but once you decode it, it's very easy to tell. I don't think it's worth it, Riley."

"Oh, come on," Amy interjected. "How is she going to get caught? It's not like Edgerton can smell magic."

"Actually, I think she can." I thought of what she said a few days ago in the office about my leg and how it reeked of illusion spell. I told them this. "She even recognize it was yours, Amy."

"What? How did she do that?"

Dee piped in, "Edgerton used to be one of the reigning families before the Council was built. Their titles were stripped almost a century ago, but their bloodline has always been known to be very sensitive to magic. It's what made the Council members respect her so much, even though she rarely involved herself in the politics."

Amy was awestruck. "So Principal Edgerton used to be royalty, too? Dee, what else are you not telling me? Don't tell me you're some kind of witch princess."

"The last princess died decades ago. But my grandmother is an Edgerton—no, not related to our principal at all. She is a far, far cousin by marriage."

"Wow," Amy said. "I'm the only peasant here."

"Family trees are no longer important now, unless you have, for example, a werewolf or goblin in your bloodline, because that'd give you different kind of magic as a witch. Or a god, if you still believe in them."

"Wait, goblins reproduce?"

Amy rolled her eyes at me. "Even goblins are not celibate, Riley. You're worse than goblins."

When Friday night came, I had decided that doing as astral spell was indeed not worth the risk. Besides, if I was doing it only so that I could see Luke in the party, that meant I was a coward. If I wanted to sort things out, I would confront him myself. And it wouldn't be because I was harboring a crush on him. It would be because I wanted things back to normal, not the awkward disposition we had now. Really, he maybe thought I would go psycho fangirl on him now after one kiss and that was why he had been avoiding me. I had to straighten out the misunderstanding.

After dinner I went to the principal's office, which felt almost like my second home now. Luke or no Luke, I was still a bit bummed about not getting to go to the party. Yes, most of it was lame, but watching people making a fool of themselves had its own appeal, too.

Principal Edgerton sat behind her desk with a bunch of papers already laid out for me. She also had a blue pen ready. "Don't think of cheating," she said. "This is an enchanted pen. No spells will work on it."

"Oh, so all this time the spell should be worked on the pen. No wonder I found nothing on the cheating section in the library."

Her mouth thinned. "There is no such thing as a cheating section in the library."

I picked up the pen and made myself comfortable on the chair. "So what do you want me to write about?"

"An apology essay to Mr. Abercrombie."

I almost fell off the chair. "Say again?"

"You will be writing five-thousand-word essay with the topic about your remorse for disobeying your Duels teacher Mr. Abercrombie and I will personally hand the your work to him after you're done."

Taking a deep breath, I said, "I'm sorry, Principal Edgerton, but I have no remorse to write about. Can I write something else, please? What about sports championships and women emancipation?"

"You are not getting out of this office until you finish writing five thousand words to describe your regrets. Time is ticking, Miss Williams. You might as well start now and maybe you'll have some time left to catch up to your plans tonight."

The way she said it was as if she knew exactly about the second Friday party. Maybe it was my imagination. "Great," I muttered. "Cinderella, peel the peanuts before you can go to the party." There was no way I could catch up with the party. Five thousand words would take me three hours, at least. Throw in the fact that I didn't actually have any idea what I was going to write, it'd probably take four hours. By then, it'd be midnight and everyone in the party would have been too wasted to be any fun.

Dear Mr. Abercrombie.

I scratched off the words and began again. Word count was very important to reach 5000.

My most respected teacher Mr. Abercrombie,

I am very remorseful about your inability to teach properly. Having a student blasted to the wall for nine times is not an effective way to teach. Here is how you should teach a student: first, you lay out the skills your student is expected to master. Secondly, you start give the demonstration of the spells you want the said student to master. Third, you let your student try the spells for a time or two. After that, you may continue with having her blasted to the wall nine times by a more experienced student in hopes that she will learn faster that way...

I continued to write my nonsense pages after pages. I was convinced neither the principal and Abercrombie would read it anyway. They could use a spell to check the word count, but I doubted they would spare time deciphering my messy handwriting. Around eight thirty, Principal Edgerton left the office and told me she would be back. My neck was killing me by nine o'clock, so I sprawled on her desk and wrote with my face pressed against the paper. By ten, I was ready to migrate to the floor and lay on my stomach there.

And then, suddenly, the office door opened. "Principal—"

He stopped when he saw me inside instead of the principal. I wondered how I must have looked like—ink of my face, drool on my chin, messy (recently) white-blond hair. But just as soon as he had stormed in, he ran out of the office.

I blinked for beat and then shook myself out and ran after him. "Hey, Isla!" He didn't turn and was still running. I quickened my pace and finally caught his sleeve. "Isla. What's going on?"

He didn't stop running, but he did answer me. "Need to find Principal Edgerton," he said briskly. We were heading to the teachers' residence now. Something was strange tonight; the buildings weren't as heavily guarded as it had been for the past two weeks. And then I realized that the guards weren't using astral projection. I remembered briefly from what Carter told me that they turned off the astral projection spell when they exchanged shifts from day to night. But this was hours past sunset.

I was starting to get breathless. Luke was a fast runner. "Why do you need—" Inhale. "—to find—" Exhale. "—the principal?"

Instead of answering me, Luke ran faster and took the stairs up. Oddly, the residence receptionist wasn't on the desk. Where was everyone? Halfway to the third floor, a shadow caught my eye. "Luke!" I said, grabbing his sleeve. "She's there."

The principal looked much paler than usual when she looked up at us running to her. There were dark circles under her eyes, which was looking unfocused. Her pupils were also dilated—I recognized all the signs of someone who had been drugged. I saw a lot of people under influence back in my foster home days.

"Island?" she said. Her voice was so soft and feeble, unlike the usual authoritative tone she took. "Miss Williams, aren't you supposed to be writing—" Her tired eyes rested and focused on Luke. I couldn't blame her. Lucas looked as if he had seen a ghost. "What's wrong?"

"Principal Edgerton, you have to come with me right now," he said grimly. "Mr. Hollister is dead."

Alright. What do you think so far?