I feel stupid, because I did think her hair just did that. But if she’s able to manipulate her hair to look that good, maybe there’s hope for mine.

“I could show you how to take care of your hair. If you want,” she says, turning away from me. She bends her head, and a thick section of curls falls over her ear to block her face. Since I can’t see her expression, I’m not sure if that was a sincere offer. But I’m so desperate to stop struggling with this unruly mop on my head that I immediately nod.

“Yeah, that would be cool.”

She lifts her head, and an expression of surprise crosses her face for a moment before she settles back into her customary seriousness. “Great. Maybe on Friday night? I can’t do this week, but I could do the week after.”

“I have work.”

“That’s fine,” she says. “I have a dance class after potions club anyway, so later is better.”

“Okay.” I guess I’m going to hang out with Ana. Voluntarily. Wow.

“Want me to time you?” Ana says, gesturing at my magic practice tools. “We can run electricity-generation drills to warm up for class.”

“Sure. We were supposed to do the five-volt drill, right?”

“Yup,” she says, pulling her stopwatch from her bag. “I can usually hold the current for two minutes.” She gives me a smug look, daring me to take the bait.

“Only two minutes?” I say, turning my attention to my electrical meter.

“Let’s see you do better.”

I reach for the magic in the air, pulling nearby threads to flow in a slow circle through the meter. “Watch me.”

Chapter 23

The Brockton Foundation was established through the generosity of Arthur T. Brockton, one of the founding partners of the luxury magical real estate services company Alliance Financial Group. Our mission is to promote the arts, education, and initiatives that bring magical training opportunities to underserved areas.

—The Brockton Foundation website

The week goes by excruciatingly slowly. Even though my workload is lighter now that I’m not volunteering, every day still feels like I’ve stuffed three days in by the time I go to sleep. It doesn’t help that the deadlines for the Brockton Scholarship application are coming up fast.

The deadline for the first part of the application—the intent-to-apply form—is on Thursday. The form takes almost no work to put together. It’s a single piece of paper with your basic information and the names of two T. K. Anderson teachers who have agreed to nominate you. Even so, my stomach is full of butterflies when I go to the main office before rehearsal on Thursday to turn it in. The secretary barely meets my eye before pointing a manicured finger in the direction of a plastic inbox labeled BROCKTON SCHOLARSHIP INTENT FORMS.