There’s silence from the other side of the stall door. “It just doesn’t feel real, Shay,” she says finally. “People don’t go around professing their undying hatred for me all the time, you know. Maybe I’ll be upset about it tomorrow, but for now I’m just going to try to be really nice to you so we can be actual friends.”

Just as another sharp pain goes through my head, she peeks under the door, her expression calm and assessing. I wince visibly. Then her eyes narrow with concentration, and the air around my head cools. It almost feels like there’s a cold compress against my forehead. “Does that help at all?”

“Yeah,” I say grudgingly. The cold feels nice on my head.

“Is your magic still feeling weird?”

My first instinct is to lie to her. But that seems pointless now, because I doubt I’m getting rid of her, and I don’t think she’ll believe me anyway. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Can I drive you home now?”

My face screws up into an expression of distaste. “No.”

“Rehearsal doesn’t end for another hour, so I doubt your ride is going to be here anytime soon, and I’m going the same way anyway,” she says, and I hate her for being right.

“Just bring me my backpack,” I say. “I have a magic stabilizer in there.”

“Why do you have . . . ?” She trails off. “Never mind, I don’t know why I’m asking that. Of course you just happen to have the potion you need in your backpack.”

“I test a lot of potions on myself.” It’s not a normal thing to carry around, I know, but Mom makes me do it.

“Right,” she says, sounding amused. “Do you think that’s enough to fix this?”

I frown, considering my response. It will definitely help, but I highly doubt the magic stabilizer will fix this enough for me to be able to show my face in rehearsal again.

She clearly reads the answer in my silence. “Okay. So step one is getting the potion. After that, do you want me to drive you home, or no?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on,” she says. “Let me make up for my unintentional assholery. You can pick the music in the car.”

“Ana—”

“You totally don’t have to,” she says smoothly. “I just thought you probably didn’t want to deal with your parents.”

Oh god, she got me there. I don’t want to wait an hour for Dad to come after work, and I definitely can’t call him and tell him to pick me up early. He would want to know why.

“Fine,” I say unwillingly.

“Great. I’ll tell Mr. B I’m taking you home,” she says. “Thanks for getting me out of this rehearsal.”

Chapter 18