Firespell (The Dark Elite 1)

I shook my head. “I’ve been there. Seen their diplomas. Seen their books. I’ve watched them grade papers.” Scout pursed her lips, eyebrows drawn down as she concentrated. “That’s really weird. On the other hand, maybe Foley was just confused. It’s not that hard to imagine that she’d mistake one student for another.”

“That’s what I thought at first,” I said, “but she seemed pretty sure.”

“Hmm.” Scout rolled over onto her back and laced her hands behind her head. “While we’re contemplating your parents’ possibly secret identities, what are we going to do about this note thing?”

“What do you mean ‘we’? The note thing is your deal, not mine. Someone must have seen you.”

“It was on your locker, Parker. They probably saw you following me. Probably heard you clomping through the hall in those flip-flops like a Clydesdale.”

“First of all, I took off the flip- flops so they wouldn’t make noise. And second, I do not clomp.” I threw my pillow at her to emphasize the point. “I am a very slender, spritely young woman.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t clomp.”

“I am not above hitting a girl.”

Scout barked out a laugh. “I’d like to see you try it.”

“Dare me, Pinhead. Dare me.”

That time, I got a glare. She pointed at her nose ring. “Do you have any idea how much it hurt to get this thing? How much I endured to achieve this look?”

“That’s a ‘look’?”

“I am the epitome of high fashion.”

“Yeah, Vogue will surely be calling you tomorrow for the fall spread.”

Scout snorted out a laugh. “What did someone tell me once? That they’re not above hitting a girl? Well, neither am I, newbie.”

“Whatever,” I said. “Let’s get back on track—the note.”

“Right, the note.” Scout crossed her legs, one booted foot swinging as she thought. “Well, clompy or not, someone saw us. Could have been one of our lovely suitemates; could have been someone else at St. Sophia’s. The path to the basement door isn’t exactly inconspicuous. I have to go through the Great Hall to get to the main building. That part’s not so unusual—going into the main building, I mean. Girls sometimes study in the chapel, and there’s a service in there on Wednesday nights.” She sat up halfway and looked over at me. “Did you notice anyone noticing us?”

I shook my head. “I thought I was caught when you stopped in the Great Hall. I sat down at a table for a second, but I was up and out of there pretty fast afterward.”

“Hmm,” Scout said. “You’re sure you didn’t tell anyone?”

“Did I tell anyone I was running around St. Sophia’s in the middle of the night, following my suitemate to figure out why she’s sneaking around? No, I didn’t tell anyone that, and I’m pretty sure that’s the kind of thing I’d remember.”

She grinned up at me. “Can you imagine what would have happened if one of the”—she bobbed her head toward the closed door—“you-know-what pack found us down there?” She shook her head. “They would have gone completely postal.”

“I nearly went completely postal,” I pointed out.

“That is true. Although you did have your flip- flop weaponry.”

“Hey, would you want to meet me in a dark alley with a flip-flop?”

“Depends on how long you’d been awake. You’re an ogre in the morning.”

We broke into laughter that was stifled by a sudden knock on my bedroom door. Scout and I exchanged a glance. I unknotted my legs and walked to the door, then flipped the lock and opened it.

Lesley stood there, this time in uniform—plaid skirt, oxford shirt, tie—wide blue eyes blinking back at me. “I’d like to come in.”

“Okay,” I said, and moved aside, then shut the door again when she was in the room.

“Hi, Barnaby,” Scout said from the floor. “What’s kicking?”

“Those girls are incredibly irritating. I can hardly hear myself think.”

As if on cue, a peal of laughter echoed from the common room. We rolled our eyes simultaneously.

“I get that,” Scout said. “What brings you to our door?”

“I need to be more social. You know, talk to people.” Still standing near the door, she looked at us expectantly. The room was silent for nearly a minute.

“Okaaaay,” Scout finally said. “Good start on that, coming in here. How was your summer?”

Barnaby shrugged, then crossed her ankles and lowered herself to the floor. “Went to cello camp.”

Scout and I exchanged a glance that showed exactly how dull we thought that sounded. Nevertheless, Scout asked, “And how was cello camp?”

“Not nearly as exciting as you’d think.”

“Huh,” Scout said. “Bummer.”

After blinking wide eyes at the floor, Lesley lifted her gaze to Scout, then to me. “Last year was dull, too. I want this year to be more interesting. You seem interesting.”

Scout beamed, her eyes twinkling devilishly. “I knew I liked you, Barnaby.”

“Especially when you disappear at night.”

Scout’s expression flattened. With a jolt, she sat up, legs crossed in front of her. “What do you mean, when we disappear at night?”

“You know,” Lesley said, pointing at Scout, “when you head into the basement”—she pointed at me—“and you follow her.”

“Uh-huh,” Scout said, picking at a thread in her skirt, feigned nonchalance in her expression. “Did you by any chance leave a note for Lily? A warning?”

“Oh, on her locker? Yeah, that was me.”

Scout and I exchanged a glance, then looked at Lesley. “And why did you leave it?” she asked.

Lesley looked back and forth between us. “Because I want in.”

“In?”

Lesley nodded. “I want in. Whatever you’re doing, I want in. I want to help. I have skills”

“I’m not admitting that we’re doing anything,” Scout carefully said, “but if we are doing something, do you know what it is?”

“Well, no.”

“Then how do you know you have skills that would help us?” Scout asked.

Lesley grinned, and the look was a little diabolical. “Well, did you see me following you? Did you know I was there?”