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All books now with new covers!
I’ve updated all books of Chatoyant College so they all have matching covers!
If you’re a patron on Patreon, you’ve already seen these. If not and you’re interested in your own copies with the new covers, you can go check them out at Smashwords!
The new covers will all be up at Wattpad eventually as well. Currently, Book 9, Sundered, is updating at Wattpad.
Book 14 available for purchase/download
You can get Chatoyant College, Book 14: Ghost Stories on Smashwords now! It is available for pay-what-you-wish.
I don’t think I ever mentioned it here, but Book 13 is available as well.
If you are a patron, go visit my Patreon for a special download! The patron version of Ghost Stories includes all three bonus stories–“Mardalan and Lal,” “Let’s Do This,” and “Babe.”
You can also visit my page on Wattpad if you’re looking for older stories. Books 1-6 are available there now (in addition to on Smashwords), and I’m currently posting Book 7.
Protected: Chatoyant College Book 14: Bonus: Babe
Protected: Chatoyant College Book 14: Bonus: Let’s Do This
Chatoyant College Book 14: Bonus Story: Mardalan and Lal
Mardalan raised her eyebrows, impressed despite herself. “You’ve dressed appropriately.”
“Well, of course.” Lal sat in the spindly chair across from Mardalan, arranging her skirts with delicacy—as much delicacy as her long, pointed fingers could manage. “I didn’t want to insult my hostess by dressing down.” She was awash in a froth of purple-gray fabric, as many bows and furbelows as could be tucked into every nook and cranny. Her narrow frame was almost invisible under the flounces that adorned her shoulders and chest, so that it almost looked as though she had the bust to fill it out. She even had a matching hat, complete with enormous feathers and a stuffed pigeon, atop her tightly curling black hair.
It was all glamour, of course. So was Mardalan’s table and chairs, and her food and drink. But they were faeries. They lived and breathed glamour; there was hardly a way to separate themselves from it.
Mardalan laughed, remembering the number of balls and parties Lal had come to wearing a black turtleneck sweater and black jeans, but chose not to ask why Lal would dress well for a meeting she had requested and not at a formal ball. Instead, she raised the teapot, fragrant steam issuing from its delicately curved mouth. “Tea, Lal?”
“Please.”
The two of them were silent as Mardalan performed the ritual of pouring tea into both of their cups, adding milk and sugar as requested (Lal inclined her head to say yes to two lumps of sugar, and shook her head to deny milk), and placing a fragile sugar cookie on each of their saucers.
She lifted her teacup, but did not drink yet, watching Lal. Lal lifted her own teacup and brought it to her face, closing her eyes as she breathed deeply through her nose. “You provide a lovely spread, as always, Mardalan.”
Mardalan inclined her head at the acknowledgment of her hospitality. “I could provide something lovely for the ears as well as the other senses, if you would allow it.”
Lal gave a sneering, sideways look to Mardalan’s musicians, who were curled up asleep in a corner of the hall. “Yes. I appreciate your hospitality in acceding to the wishes of your guest and not forcing me to listen to music produced by slaves.”
“Feloc is no slave. He is a prisoner.” Mardalan sipped her tea. Perfect, as always. “But we have had this argument before.”
“We have. You will not change my mind, and I know I will not change yours.”
They were silent again. Lal took several sips of her tea and a bite of her cookie, her teeth bared as though she were snarling.
Mardalan finally put down her cup with a sigh. “Come, Lal. Out with it.”
Lal, to her credit, did not dissemble. She put down her cookie and looked directly into Mardalan’s eyes. “We want to reopen the school, but we must guarantee the safety of our students.”
“Your students have always been safe.” Mardalan lowered her eyelashes and reached for her cup again.
“Safe until you steal them from their beds. Safe until you ruin their lives. Safe until you destroy their futures.” There was a snap to Lal’s voice.
“What do you expect me to do about it?”
“The court is yours now. No more infighting. That means you have the power.”
Mardalan raised her eyes again and smiled at Lal. “Now you are saying things I agree with.”
Lal had not moved. “But you are not the only thing in this forest.”
“Of course not. You live here somewhere, as well.”
Lal did not rise to the bait—but Mardalan had known she would not; her dwelling place was well hidden, even from the prying eyes of Mardalan’s best spies. “Because you are the one with power, I need your help to keep the students safe.”
An unladylike snort escaped Mardalan. “Would you trust it if I did? You know I have no love for the humans.”
“I would trust your word, Mardalan. I know your word, and it is good. I know you do not love the humans like I do, but you are not interested in having your people interfere with them, either.”
Mardalan took a long sip of her tea, then set it down. “Very well. I will bind my people to an agreement that will genuinely stop them from harming or touching the humans. Will that satisfy you?”
Lal took another vicious bite of her cookie. “Perhaps. What’s to stop you from becoming another ruler like Alaineth, granting permission to touch the humans to any who gain your favor?”
Mardalan smiled, imagining what her people would do to gain her favor if they thought it might mean doing what they wanted to, or with, the humans. “Nothing, I suppose.”
Lal finally bent her head, lifting her arm and touching her forehead with her long fingers. “That’s not good enough, Mardalan. You need to understand how we feel about these humans.”
“They’re humans. Lesser beings.” Mardalan shook her head. “Why is it so important to you that they not be harmed? Why reopen the school? Without the humans here, we might live in peace.”
“I’ve tried to explain this to you. You never listen.” Lal gave her shoulders an impatient shake, as though her dark silk and lace were irritating her.
“What’s the point? I have my own humans here, anyway.” She gave a negligent wave at her sleeping musicians. “They never interest me. Only what they can do. I do love music.”
“You’ve never—“ Lal lifted her head and shook it. “You don’t speak to those humans. Not as fellow beings. You just take them and use them. No consideration at all.”
Mardalan frowned. “Why should I—“
“I don’t mean that you should be talking to your musicians and asking them their deepest desires. But you treat them like props. They do have deepest desires. If you had started with a conversation, you would know.”
“Conversation? With humans?” Mardalan rolled her eyes. Conversation with other faeries was bad enough—as Lal was showing her so clearly.
Lal smirked. “It’s no worse than conversation with most faeries I know, and far better than with some.”
“Still.”
“Have you ever bothered to try it? They might surprise you. In your hundreds of years, don’t you miss surprises?”
Mardalan looked down at her spread, admiring it anew. “I don’t need surprises. I have power.” She lifted the remains of her cookie and popped it into her mouth, letting it dissolve pleasurably on her tongue.
“You do miss surprises. Find a few humans to talk to. Just try it out.”
“How?” Mardalan was irritated that Lal believed she knew her better than she knew herself.
“We don’t only need a way to keep the students safe in the fall. To reopen, we will also need a teacher to replace Strega.”
Mardalan sneered at the mention of Strega. “She was weak.”
“I would have thought she’d want to stay, now that we’re making such strides in human-faerie relationships, but it seems she’s made up her mind. So what do you say?”
“What?” Mardalan looked up from her tea, confused.
Lal was smiling. “Come teach a class. You’ll have contact with dozens of students. I guarantee you’ll be surprised.”
“And what if I’m not?”
“At the end of the semester, we can reevaluate. Let me bind you and your people to keeping the students safe from harm. Come to campus a few times a week to teach. If they never surprise you, I’ll unbind you and you can have free rein again.”
“You’re very confident.”
“I’ve been working with humans for a long time.”
“What if I want to leave at the end of the semester? Will you let me go?”
“Of course. You can leave now, if that’s really what you want. You know that, right? There’s no more ruler. There’s no more constraints.”
Mardalan looked around at her hall. “I’d need time to put my affairs in order. The court…”
“There’s time. Just let me know who you’re leaving in charge, so I can negotiate with them.”
Mardalan straightened her spine. “No. I’ll take your bet.”
“Very well, then. Let’s write up an agreement for you to bind your people to, and for me to bind you to.”
Mardalan swallowed the rest of her tea, then snapped her fingers. Her servant scurried up. “Parchment and pens,” she told him. As he rushed off for the supplies, she looked back up at Lal, pressing her lips together. “This will be interesting.”
“Yes,” Lal agreed, a faint smile still playing around her lips. “It will be interesting indeed.”
—
Mardalan lay back on a chaise, throwing her hand over her eyes. She couldn’t believe the semester was finally over. How did Lal and Rook manage it, teaching not just one class, but several per semester? All those human students! It was exhausting.
“It’s been a long twelve weeks, hasn’t it?” came Lal’s voice.
Mardalan lifted her arm and glared at the other faerie. “How did you get here?”
Lal raised her eyebrows. She was dressed again in her customary black human clothing, but at least she’d made the concession of a skirt, rather than jeans. “Are you telling me I am unwelcome? I have always been permitted in your hall before.”
Mardalan sighed and sat up. “No, of course not. You are welcome here.” She was irritated—she knew why Lal was here, and she didn’t like it—but that did not give her leave to be a discourteous host.
She gestured, and another chair appeared for Lal to sit on. Mardalan would not honor her guest by providing a comfortable chaise when she had not honored the space with her dress; it was a tall, hard wooden chair.
Lal sat as gracefully as though she were surrounded by heavy skirts. “The semester is over.”
“And how was it for you?”
“It was most illuminating.” Lal smiled and shook her head. “Once again, the humans managed to surprise me.”
“I thought that was what you liked about them.”
“This was a bigger surprise than usual.” Lal drummed her fingers against the side of the seat. “I am not saying that I am not pleased. I am merely… surprised by how surprised I am.”
Mardalan shook her head. Lal was often baffling, but that had been an especially baffling little speech.
“And how was it for you?” Lal asked. “I was pleased to see that all your students passed your final exam, so you must have done a fairly good job teaching. I’m proud of you.”
Mardalan snapped her fingers for her servant. “Wine,” she said when he had arrived in a rustle of greenery. “Lal, will you partake?”
“Please.”
“Two glasses of the darkest red,” Mardalan said, and her servant scurried off to obey.
Lal looked around. “I’ve just realized something.” She was being excessively polite, allowing Mardalan to take her time answering the question. Mardalan recognized the unusual courtesty, and it only irritated her more.
“What?”
“No music. I don’t even see your human musicians—just Feloc in his cage.”
Mardalan waited until she had a wineglass in her hand, so she could look into the dark liquid and not at Lal. “I let them go.”
“You…” Lal’s wineglass shook in her hand as she looked around wildly.
Mardalan looked up and smiled, pleased that she’d managed to render the smooth-talking Lal speechless. “You value surprise, do you not?” She took a sip of her wine.
Lal snorted. “You didn’t do it to please me.”
“No.” Mardalan turned the glass about in her hand, admiring the way the wine shimmered in the light. “I did it because… well, you were right.” She had to force the words between her teeth. “Humans are far more interesting than I gave them credit for. They are not the puppets I took them as, and I could no longer treat them that way.”
Lal shook her head. “That is far better than I expected of you. Whether or not you did it to please me, Mardalan, I am pleased.”
“They did surprise me, many times,” Mardalan said. “When there was an injury in my class… I was surprised by my fear. I did not want a student hurt. I realized that it is not so different than what I did to the musicians, so I gave them back their freedom. And when the ghost came to my class—I knew about her, of course, but I had thought she was a phenomenon, not a person. Now I know otherwise.”
“You knew—“ Lal began to laugh, then took a deep drink of her wine. “Mardalan, you continually surprise me. This is why I come here, despite disapproval of your ways. Perhaps now those ways I disapprove are changing.”
Mardalan shook her head and drank her wine.
“So, will you return next semester?” Lal asked. “Or do I still need to find a permanent replacement for Strega?”
Mardalan frowned deeply into her glass. “How long do I have to recover?”
“Six weeks. You’ll be fine.” There was a smile in Lal’s voice.
Mardalan knocked back the rest of her glass. “I’ll have to take your word for it, as you have more experience than I do. I reserve the right to change my mind at any time, of course.”
“Of course.” Lal set her glass down by the chair, then rose. “I’ll take my leave of you and let you rest.”
Mardalan inclined her head in thanks, and looked about for her servant as Lal walked away—she needed more wine.
Lal stopped before she had reached the door, though, and turned back. “Mardalan. What happened to them?”
“What happened to who?” Mardalan turned to her servant and handed him her empty glass; he knew what she wanted and scurried off.
Lal raised her eyebrows. “The human musicians. Where did they go when you released them? Will I find them wandering, lost, on campus? Did they even survive?”
Mardalan shrugged, confused and irritated by the question. “What do I care where they went? They aren’t mine anymore.” Her servant returned with her wine glass, and she clutched the delicate crystal.
Lal opened her mouth for a moment, then closed it again and shook her head. “Perhaps you haven’t changed so much. Farewell, Mardalan. I shall see you again in six weeks.”
“Oh, you won’t miss the Solstice ball, will you?” Mardalan glanced over her shoulder at Feloc in the corner. “He’s been learning all kinds of new music.”
Lal smiled. “If I’m invited, I’ll be there.”
“Of course you’re invited. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Of course.” Lal’s smile widened. “In two weeks, then. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.” Mardalan returned her attention to her wine, and when she had taken a long sip, Lal was gone.
End of Book 14
But stay tuned for some bonus stories coming in the next few weeks!
Chatoyant College Book 14: Chapter 59: A Guest
Tuesday, November 14
Corrie and Edie walked into their Intermediate Elementalism class. Corrie was working to hold back a smirk. Professor Lal probably wouldn’t like it if she was smirking at her. It would make her even less likely to take what Corrie was about to say seriously.
The two of them waited at the front of the class, by Professor Lal’s desk. There was also another presence along with them. Corrie couldn’t see or sense her, but—unless she had chickened out—she knew she was there.
Professor Lal frowned as soon as she came in, striding directly to her desk. “Corrie, Edie. Is there a problem?”
Corrie shook her head, working even harder to control her smirk. “Everything’s going well. We’ve just brought a guest to class, and wanted to let you know.”
Professor Lal raised her eyebrows. “A guest? Is that so.”
The professor obviously didn’t believe them. “Yes. Her name is Alice Atkins.”
“Corrie—“
“We’ve spoken to her,” Edie said. “She told us her name. She doesn’t like to communicate with people, but was willing to work with a medium.”
Professor Lal looked between the two of them, her lips pressed thin. “This is the ghost.”
“She has always hidden from magic professors because she was ashamed and embarrassed,” Corrie said. “We’ve known she was haunting Mary Thomas for months, and we spoke to her for the first time about a month ago, but we didn’t find out until recently how you and the other magic professors managed to not know about her.”
“We’ve investigated,” Lal said.
Corrie nodded. “She always hid from you and the other magic professors because she died making a huge mistake with a spell. She was trying to impress her magic professors at the time. Seeing any of you reminded her of the reason she died. You can understand how that would be painful.”
“I…” Lal’s eyes roamed around the air between Corrie and Edie as though she would be able to see Alice. Corrie was perversely pleased that they’d managed to render the faerie speechless.
“She doesn’t remember having you as a professor, which makes sense, since you didn’t remember her, either,” Corrie continued. “She remembers Professor Rook, so he might remember her, too. She’s not ready to face him yet, but she wants to—needs to, I think—come to magic classes.”
“Of course she can’t enroll as a student, since she has no way to fill out the forms or take tests, except through the medium, and the medium has their own classes to deal with,” Edie said. “But if she comes to classes, she’ll learn anyway.”
“And then maybe she’ll understand whatever went wrong with her final spell,” Corrie said.
Professor Lal sighed. “How do you know she’s here?”
“Alice?” Corrie said. “You don’t have to talk to Professor Lal, but can you move something on her desk so she knows you’re here?”
For a moment nothing happened, and Corrie feared that Alice had decided she couldn’t face a magic professor after all. But then a folder on Professor Lal’s desk flipped open and the papers slid onto the floor. To her credit, Lal didn’t jump, just looked down at the pile on the floor with her lips pressed together.
“Well, I can hardly stop your guest from attending class,” she said. “Not if she can’t be seen or touched. But I’ll get in touch with Lin and see if she can’t help illuminate this a little more.”
Corrie and Edie grinned at each other. Lal pointed at the papers on the floor. “However, we did have a handout for class today. So unless your ghost is willing to pass the papers to your classmates, the two of you have just volunteered to pick them up and do that. And hurry, because class ought to have started several minutes ago.”
Corrie shrugged. “Fair enough.” She bent, picked up the papers, gave half the stack to Edie, and began handing them out.
They’d helped Alice as best they could—and that had been quite a lot. From here, any more changes that had to be made, she could make herself.
Chatoyant College Book 14: Chapter 58: Otis
Saturday, November 11
Dawn was very disappointed that her friends had managed to actually get Alice’s full story without her present. When Roe managed to get in touch with Otis Atkins, she insisted that they all had to be there when Alice got to speak to him. Link had given Otis Roe’s phone number, and Roe had given Otis the basics of the situation, but they needed him to talk to Alice himself. Between his schedule, Lin’s, and everyone’s classes, it had taken them a few weeks to schedule something.
Finally, though, they all crowded into Annie’s room one more time and watched Lin sit in the chair and brace herself. She waited a moment, then frowned, her eyebrows drawing together quizzically. Dawn would have thought it was Alice who was confused, except this still seemed to be Lin’s expression. Was Alice somehow failing to show up?
Lin’s eyebrows lifted. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “I came here today to help you. I won’t come into this building unless it’s to help you.”
Then she gasped, closing her eyes, and when they opened again it was Alice who looked through them. She looked around. “Is it time? Really?”
“It’s time,” Annie said, smiling.
Roe took out her phone and dialed, setting it to speaker so they could all hear it ring. Then a male voice on the other side said, “Hello? Roe?”
“Hi, Mr. Atkins,” Roe said. “We have someone who wants to talk to you. Will you identify yourself?”
“Yes, of course. My name is Otis Atkins. I’m named after my grandfather, who was named after his father. I have an aunt named Alice Norburn. She was named after her great-aunt, Alice Atkins, who died while she was attending Chatoyant College.”
Alice gave another gasp and began to cry. “I’m Alice Atkins.”
“I know,” Otis said. “It’s amazing to be able to speak to you. I wish my grandfather could be here to witness this.”
“Your father is my brother Otis’s son?”
“Yes. He never knew you, of course, but he grew up hearing stories of his brilliant aunt.”
Alice cried harder. “I’m not brilliant. If I was, I wouldn’t have… I would have found a way to learn the spell I needed, instead of having it blow up in my face. I would have returned to help my family.”
Dawn felt sorry for Alice in her obvious difficulty of thinking of herself as dead. It made sense—she was here and talking to them, wasn’t she? And yet, of course, if she weren’t dead, she wouldn’t be a ghost forced to possess a medium in order to communicate. From what Dawn had learned about attitudes toward death in her sociology class, she couldn’t be sure that she wouldn’t feel the same way as Alice after she died. Though, of course, she hoped she wouldn’t be forced to become a ghost.
“But from what my grandfather told me, Otis was very proud of you,” Otis said. “He was so impressed that you had worked hard enough to be able to go to college, and to not even have to pay for it. He never went to college himself, but you inspired him to work hard. Do you remember where he was working when you went to college?”
“Yes, of course. He was an assistant at Nickelson’s Shoe Store.”
“Well, that store went on to be the Atkins Shoe Store.” Otis’s voice was warm.
Alice swallowed hard. “Really?”
“Yes. My great-grandfather owned that store. My grandfather turned it into a franchise—seven stores throughout the state. My father inherited the franchise and ran it well, but decided to send me to college. To the same college you attended. I learned so much here, but I never imagined that the ghost I heard about, haunting the girls’ dorm—Mary Thomas was all girls then—was actually my great-aunt.”
“So my family… they did all right without me?”
“Yes, from what I know. Otis worked hard all his life, but his children never wanted for anything. I don’t know exactly what happened with your sister Grace, but she married and had seven children, so I assume she was happy, too.”
Alice gave a watery chuckle, but her tears seemed to have stopped. “Grace always doted on children. I’m glad she got what she wanted. What about my father?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know. My grandfather never spoke about his own grandfather. But the family didn’t fall into ruin. All his descendants have happy lives.”
“Your life is happy?”
“Very much so. I retired a few years ago from my job as a lawyer. My father sold the shoe stores, and the money was divided between my three daughters. I have two grandchildren now and another on the way. Maybe if it’s a girl, I’ll ask them to name her Alice.”
“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that,” Alice said quickly. “I’m so happy to hear you’re all doing well. It’s… it’s all I could ever ask for.”
“Would you like me to come visit you?” Otis asked. “Perhaps when the students here are on a break?”
“I… no. You don’t have to do that.” It was plain from Alice’s face that she didn’t like the idea of her great-grandnephew visiting her. Dawn agreed that it was a strange thought. If she had lived, they would have never met unless she had lived a very long time indeed. “You won’t be able to see me, after all, and I can’t ask for any more of this medium’s time.”
“Oh. Yes, that makes sense. Still, it’s good to know that you’re there.”
“Thank you so much for speaking to me, Otis,” Alice said.
“Thank you for speaking to me,” he said.
“Can I ask a question?” Corrie put in.
“Certainly,” Otis said politely.
“When you went here, you heard stories about the ghost, right? How come you never investigated?”
“I, well—“ He gave a little cough. “I did, once. A friend and I, along with our girlfriends, who were living in Mary Thomas, tried to have a little seance. But the ghost tipped over our candles. Nearly set Mary Lou’s dress aflame.”
Alice’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“No worries. I didn’t think much of it, really. I didn’t know who you were, and you obviously didn’t know who I was.”
“No, I… suppose not.”
There was a moment of silence. Then Roe spoke. “Mr. Atkins, do you have anything else to say to Alice?”
“Ah, just that she should feel free to get in touch with me at any time. You have my phone number?”
“Yes, I do. And Alice knows how to get in touch with me. Thank you.”
“Goodbye, Alice.”
“Goodbye, Otis,” Alice whispered. She covered her face with her hands for a moment, then when the hands lowered, it was Lin’s face looking out at them once more.
Chatoyant College Book 14: Chapter 57: Nothing Came of It
Once they had explained the whole story to Dawn, Annie yawned, covering her mouth unsuccessfully with her hand. “Well, now that we’ve accomplished that,” she said, “I think I’m going to go have the sleep of someone with a very light conscience.”
“That sounds good,” Corrie said. “Sleep well.” But she wasn’t looking at Annie. She looked at Edie and raised her eyebrows very pointedly.
Edie swallowed. If she didn’t do it now, she would never live it down. “I’ll come with you.”
“Oh,” Annie said, her cheeks going pink. “Yeah, okay.”
“I need to call Link,” Roe said, following them out of the room. None of them spoke on the walk back to Mary Thomas. Even after they parted with Roe, Edie stayed silent; she didn’t want to say this in the hall where anyone could hear them.
Once they reached Annie’s room, Annie sat on her bed and looked at Edie expectantly. Edie took a deep breath and sat on Annie’s chair. She couldn’t make this more intimate by sitting on the bed.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t give you the answer you want, so the answer has to be no. I don’t want to make you keep waiting.”
Annie looked down. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“I’m sorry,” Edie said again.
“It’s okay.” Annie lifted her head with what looked like an effort. “I’d rather a clear ‘no’ now than going on a date with you only to find out that you were just doing it because you felt bad, not because you liked me.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you!”
“I know.” Annie smiled. “I trust you.”
Edie lowered her head, embarrassed. “I wish I could give you a yes. You deserve to be loved. But I… I’m not ready, I guess. I don’t think you’re anything like Leila, but I can’t help thinking about her anyway.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. She really betrayed you. Was she your first girlfriend?”
“Yeah. I had crushes in high school, but… nothing ever came of any of them.” Edie shook her head. She didn’t want to think about those, either.
“What about you?”
“I’ve never actually dated anyone.” Annie sighed. “I had the same experiences in high school. I even joined my school’s Pride organization because I had a crush on the president, but I don’t think she ever really noticed me.”
Edie’s eyes widened. “You had a Pride organization? I’m jealous. My school never had anything like that. I was the only out lesbian there. There were a couple of gay guys, too, but things didn’t go well for them.”
“Things didn’t always go well for the Pride folks at my school,” Annie said. “But I guess we were a little more open-minded. We organized a couple of protests and stuff. I don’t think anything ever came of it.”
“I don’t know if I’ve ever asked this. How did you end up at Chatoyant College?”
“Oh, my family has always gone here. Haven’t I mentioned that? My parents met here, and three of my grandparents went here. My cousin Jack graduated a few years ago. Almost everyone in my family knows how to do magic.”
“Oh wow, you never said anything about that! So you knew what you were getting into.”
Annie shook her head. “None of them said anything about the faeries. Well, to be fair, when I went home for Thanksgiving last year I asked if they knew why the woods are off-limits, and if they’d heard about anything weird happening, stuff like that. None of them seemed to know what I was talking about, and this summer when I told them all about the faeries coming out, they were all shocked.” She laughed. “I don’t know if my mom has gotten over her favorite professor being a faerie yet.”
Edie grinned. “Which was her favorite professor?”
“Unbelievably, Professor Rook! It sounds like he gets a lot more interesting when you get into the higher levels of magic. My mom has always talked about how much she loved his Extending Life class.”
“Wow. What was it like to grow up with magic?”
Annie shrugged. “It didn’t seem very different to me. My parents and grandparents always looked younger than my classmates’ parents and grandparents. There was that one time in elementary school that I had two friends over and we all climbed onto the same branch of a tree. It broke, but because my mom was watching, none of us got hurt—not even a scrape or a bruise.”
“Didn’t their parents think that was weird?”
“I don’t remember,” Annie said. “I don’t even know if they told their parents. I probably wouldn’t have, if I’d done something stupid and almost gotten hurt. I do know my mom yelled at us.”
Edie nodded. “I probably wouldn’t have told my parents, either.” She took a deep breath and sat back in the chair. She still felt bad about not being able to give Annie the answer that she deserved, but it was really nice to be able to sit and talk with her so naturally. She was glad she hadn’t broken their friendship.
Clare K. R. Miller 