“Take a fifteen-minute break, everyone. Grab some water, cool down,” Mr. B says from the audience. “I’ll put up a callback list after that. If you’re not called back, you can head home.”

We all wander out of the auditorium and sit in the hallway. Tension fills the air. Nobody talks much except for Ed and his friend Mikey, who have a loud, weirdly performative argument about what local Mexican place has the best burrito.

I stink of sweat, so I reach for the magic in my clothes and will it to release the lavender fragrance woven into it. The shirt is old, so the magic of the lavender is faint, but it works okay as long as I redo the scentwork on it every few weeks. It’s embarrassing to smell like sweat when everyone else at this school can afford clothes with automatic scent magic sewn in.

After way more than fifteen minutes, Mr. B comes outside and tapes a printed piece of paper to the auditorium doors. Everyone immediately swarms the list. I hang back until the first rush is over and I can easily get to the front. I skim the list quickly. Surprisingly, I don’t see Mikey’s name. But there’s Ana, of course, and Ed and Mateo . . .

My name isn’t there.

Dismay washes over me. I must have flubbed the dance audition even worse than I thought. Maybe my acting was so embarrassing that Mr. B wants to save me the humiliation. There’s no way I’m going to be cast.

“Hey,” Ana says, appearing beside me.

She can’t bring me down with one of her sarcastic comments. Not right now. I meet her gaze, raising my chin defiantly.

“Don’t worry—” she begins to say.

“Good luck with your callback,” I cut her off, flashing her a tight-lipped smile. Then I turn on my heel and walk away.

Chapter 9

If you plan to pursue a career that significantly involves magic, you should attend an educational institution that offers higher-level magical training. Students can choose to apply to magical community colleges or non-licensing magical universities, which have less competitive admissions rates than universities that offer magical licenses. Only the most rigorous institutions are accredited by the US government to issue magical licenses.

—Magical Licenses and You career pamphlet

Pilar’s is slammed the next evening, so I don’t have time to think about the cast list that my name won’t be listed on. Both Lex and I are working the front while Pilar does the prep for tomorrow. Unfortunately for me, Mrs. Morris, one of our more frustrating regulars, comes in near closing and traps me in an obnoxious, never-ending conversation. She’s this retired old white lady who refuses to believe that me or Lex are ever telling her the truth.