“Did you ever go to those apothecary summer camps?” Mr. B asks. “I know lots of T. K. Anderson kids went to those in middle school.”

“No.” I let out an awkward little laugh. “They’re kind of . . . expensive? I don’t know, I was pretty DIY as a kid.”

Great job, Shay. Way to be weird as hell about being poorer than other people at this school.

Mr. B, thank god, flashes me this super-genuine smile that makes me feel better. “That’s cool,” he says. “DIY all the way. What kinds of things did you like to make when you were younger?”

“I used to make a lot of joke potions. Like, Sonic Sneeze, you know?” I say, laughing a little. “But eventually I got really into making stuff that my parents could use around the apartment. Cleaning potions, basic healing stuff. Honestly, I’m amazed my parents let me try so many recipes when I was that young. A lot of them didn’t work right, but it was still fun for me.”

Potionworking is an upper-level magic skill, but it’s definitely the most accessible one. Unlike transfiguration or herbology, if you stick to doing easy stuff, you probably won’t kill anybody or anything. Still, my parents let me try a lot of things most people wouldn’t let their child do.

“How old were you when you got started?” he asks. “Eleven? Twelve?”

“Seven,” I say sheepishly, and I brace myself for the inevitable response.

He goes a little slack-jawed. “Seven?” he repeats. “You started brewing potions when you were seven?”

“I had been obsessed with potions since I was, like, five,” I say. “I begged my parents nonstop to let me make them. I’m pretty sure I was really annoying.” I chuckle and send up a silent thank-you to my parents for encouraging my early potions fixation. “My mom vetted everything I did a lot when I started, so we only had a few disasters.”

I hadn’t mastered the basic magical skills—manipulating magic flows to adjust physical properties of objects like temperature, texture, weight, and density. I couldn’t generate electricity or fire, and my magic level was only around five. But Mom and Dad helped me with anything I couldn’t do yet, and it just made me more determined to figure out those skills for myself.

“No wonder your magic level is so high,” he says. “I don’t know anybody who started potionworking that early.”

Oh my god. I’ve impressed him. I’ve impressed Mr. B. This is the best moment of my whole life. Ana Álvarez can suck it.

“Yeah,” I say, trying to sound humble. I really hope he can’t tell that I’m running victory laps in my mind. “It’s been my thing for a long time.”