Spell Fire (The Teen Wytche Saga) by Moon Ariella

Author:Moon, Ariella [Moon, Ariella]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Astraea Press
Published: 2013-10-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

December Ten

Moon enters Aries at 5:06 a.m. Pacific Standard Time

Tarot: King of Cups

Your emotions, courage, and loyalties will be tested. Don't lose sight of your true purpose.

Anxiety swirled around my feet, looking for an opening, a way in. Its screechy voice wormed toward my ear. You need to study. You need great grades to get into Columbia. Don't blow your chance to study under Professor Sean Mackenzie. If your dad were here, he'd say, "Drop the solstice crap, Ains. Terra and Esmun are not your problem. Focus."

"Yeah. Right." I silently banished the voice from my head. If my parents had wanted me to concentrate on school, they should have left me at Athenian. Maybe there had been room in the dorm. Too bad none of us had thought to ask.

I heaved a long, resentful breath out my nose. My loyalties were in void of course, and if my emotions were tested any further, I would find a throwing star. Okay, maybe I won't, since they're illegal and I want to go to Columbia University, not jail. But still…

Standing — almost blocking — the front door at Spiral Journeys, I stamped my feet. The anxiety retreated a little. I sensed it eddying nearby. Waiting. Watching. My hand twitched, desperate for something I could hurl to disperse my frustration. Eleven days until the winter solstice, and Jett still hadn't stepped up. None of my backup ideas compared to his fire fortunes. The schools still thought we were going forward with the event. The press kept calling. Aunt Terra bit her nails a lot and deep worry lines had furrowed across Uncle Esmun's forehead.

I glanced toward the unisex bathroom at the back of the store and slid my palms against each other in long, up-and-down strokes. My cheeks heated as I remembered the dwindling stash of soap under the sink. I needed to buy more before anyone found out. Embarrassment joined the whirl of anxiety. They swirled over the shiny gold logo on my ballet flats and encircled my ankles. I squeezed my eyes shut, warding off the sudden memories from my medical lockdown — Suicide Watch inked on my chart, the cell-like room, counting the ceiling tiles so I wouldn't have to think about group therapy. Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four…

Warm air whooshed behind me. I stepped aside and a trio of teenage girls swung into the store. Giggling, they sashayed over to the rectangular register area, trapping Jett.

One cooed, "Hi, Jett!"

I figured she knew him from school.

Another, her tone snarky, asked, "How's it going, Emo Boy?"

I cringed. Was he mocked or harassed at school over the fire fortunes? What would happen if we cancelled the event? Would bullies descend upon him? His public school was probably far different from tiny Athenian Academy, where people like Rayne were embraced and the whole school had to attend weekly "town meetings" to work out issues.

Crap. Why didn't I think this through?

Jett threw me a furtive glance from beneath his bangs. The girls twirled two of the Plexiglas jewelry displays on the glass counter.

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