Of all people, why me? I don’t have a lick of magic. What could I possibly do? Why not speak to literally any other kid at the school, or better yet, one of the tietäjät? The lack of answers curdles my thoughts.
It doesn’t make sense.
Grudgingly, I follow Toivo’s footprints along the path, glancing back at the water with every other step, willing the voice to call my name. I need to be sure that I’m not losing my mind, that what I heard was real, because I’m like ninety-five percent sure the voice coming out of the green ball of flames belonged to Natalie.
7
Everything is normal. Kids chat at lockers, hang about before class, finish up homework, or make final adjustments to hair and makeup with a snap-crackle of magical fingers.
All I can think about is Natalie. Her voice. And that ball of flames.
“Hey, you all right? You look like you’re gonna be sick,” Morgan says when I stumble into math.
My usual spot is up front but he heads to the back and I follow. He pulls out a chair for me and I crumple into it, trying to ignore the looks I’m getting from Sini & Co., who are sprawled across the second row. Natalie isn’t with them. Her absence makes me feel woozy, as if all the blood has decided to puddle in my feet instead of making my brain work.
“Tai, you really don’t look good.” Morgan peers into my face.
“I—I’m—I think…” The words get all netted up in my throat, my thoughts tangled in knots. I know what I saw, no matter what Toivo says. I know what a liekkiö is and I know I heard Natalie’s voice.
“Wanna skip?” Morgan keeps his voice low.
The final bell rings. Any second, the teacher will arrive and there’ll be no escaping after that. I think I manage to nod because Morgan grabs my hand and hauls me to my feet, saving me from an hour of parallelograms.
I let myself be led through the emptying corridors until Morgan ducks into the student lounge reserved for eleventh and twelfth graders.
“Not supposed to be in here.”
“It’s cool.” He closes the door. “Aoife lets me hang out sometimes. Should be safe from teachers for a while. Want to tell me what’s wrong?”
I collapse onto the couch. It groans under the weight of my newfound delinquency but doesn’t buckle. I pull my knees up to my chest, sitting scrunched into the corner so I’m protected on two sides. Morgan sits backward on a chair, so effortlessly cool it would be annoying if he wasn’t being so kind.