“Well, for my first spelling lesson I gave myself the ability to make the perfect cup of tea.”
“Tea?” I smile at her.
She rolls her eyes. “Tea-making was the biggest, stupidest deal back when we were in school, Pie. It was so dumb. But the girls who could make the best tea ruled the school.”
I laugh, I can’t help myself.
“And I sucked at it.”
“It’s tea,” I say. “How hard could it be?”
She points at me. “You’re right, but you’d be surprised at how easy it is to fuck up tea. I over-brewed. I under-brewed. My water was the wrong temperature. I used the wrong leaves. I added sugar and milk. I didn’t add sugar and milk. I used the wrong honey. I used the wrong mint. I used the wrong lemon.”
“Wow. I had no idea it was so complicated.”
“I mean, I guess it’s not. But when you have a whole school of competitive pre-teen girls trying their best to brew up the perfect cup of tea, it gets intense.”
“They were all magical teas?”
“No. They didn’t need magic to make perfect teas. And we were too young, anyway. We were supposed to use science. And I would follow the same recipes, and the same steps, and use the same ingredients, but they always tasted awful. Bitter, or too sweet, or too cold. So my proctor gave me permission to do a spelling.”
“How old were you?”
“Nine.”
“And it worked?”
Talina smiles. Like she’s reliving the memory. Then she snickers.
I point at her. “What did you do?”
She shrugs her shoulders all the way up to her ears. “I didn’t mean to make it so powerful. But let’s just say… from that day on I was no longer the girl who failed.”
“You were good at it?”
“I kinda kick ass at spelling. And no one was ever allowed to do a tea-making spelling after me.” She giggles. “It was a mind-control tea. Oh, what a fun week that was.”
“You devious little witch.”
She peers at me through hooded eyes. “Guilty.”
I let out a long sigh. “I don’t really kick ass at anything.”
“I heard you called up a dragon, and a swarm of moths, and banished some powerful wizard from your home.”
I’m just about to say, He wasn’t a powerful wizard. But then I realize she’s not talking about Russ Roth. She’s talking about Grant. I hold up my palm and point to the center. “I have moths inside here. They come out, sometimes, and they do things.”
Talina pulls up a chair, props her elbows on the table, and leans her chin on her hands. “Continue.”
“I don’t really know how it happens. Stress, maybe? Desperation? I’m not sure. But sometimes a whole swarm of moths just flies out of my palms and I can see through their eyes. And if I’m in danger they can overpower my enemy.”
“I wish I could see that,” Talina says.
I look at the spot on my palm where the moths appear and wish for them now. But nothing happens. I look back up at Talina and shrug. “I wish I knew how to control it.”
She sits up straight again. “See? This is why you need spelling. That’s how you control them.”
“With poems?” It comes out snarky.