The Book of Spells (Private 0.50)

The next morning, ten girls walked from breakfast to McKinley Hall together in a state of solemn silence. Lavender and Viola supported Bia between them, and every now and then Bia would sniffle and hold a handkerchief to her face, but otherwise, there was no sound from them. All ten of them had suffered nervously through morning services and their meal, waiting for Miss Almay to ask where Miss White was, to demand an explanation, but Miss Almay had been too distracted by a heated conversation with one of the teachers to acknowledge any of the students.

Yet now would come the real test of the Presence in Mind Spell. They were about to attend classes.

Jane pulled out the list of ingredients Theresa had jotted down for the Life Out of Death Spell. “We can gather most of this in the garden and the fields,” she whispered. “But what about the fig oil? That can only be purchased in a store.”

“And I hardly think the general store in Easton carries it,” Marilyn added.

Eliza turned around and everyone stopped. “We cannot talk about this now. After lunch we’ll meet under the elm tree. But right now there are too many ears.”

She slid her gaze from the left, where Miss Almay was talking animatedly with Helen and Mrs. Hodge, to the right, where two of their teachers were about to mount the stairs to McKinley Hall. The other girls nodded or hung their heads. Eliza looked at Theresa, and together they walked inside.

Most of the girls slipped into the French classroom, while Genevieve and Marilyn bid them good luck and headed to conversational English, a course established for all the foreign students, of which there was a grand total of four. Eliza was heartsick as she sank into her usual chair. She tried not to look at the empty seat to her right, but she couldn’t help it. Catherine should have been there, but instead she lay all alone in the chapel basement.

She’s gone and it’s my fault, Eliza thought. And if we are ca

ught right now, that will be my fault as well.

“It’s going to be all right,” Theresa said as she sat down at Eliza’s right.

Eliza felt a grateful pang for Theresa’s confidence. Not once had they mentioned their argument of the night before, and the word Harrison hadn’t been uttered between them. Eliza felt as if they had some sort of unspoken agreement to focus only on Catherine. Today, and for the next few hours, nothing else mattered.

Then Miss Tinsley walked into the room, and Eliza clutched her desktop. The Presence in Mind Spell had to work. It simply had to.

“Bonjour, classe!” she intoned.

“Bonjour, Mademoiselle Tinsley,” the girls replied, less than enthusiastically.

Just then, the door opened again and in walked Helen Jennings with a tea tray. She set it down on the teacher’s desk and went about pouring out a cup for Miss Tinsley. As she did, her eyes darted around the room and paused when she saw Catherine’s empty seat.

Eliza’s stomach sank through her toes. Helen saw that Catherine wasn’t there.

“Veuillez repondre quand je dis votre nom!” Miss Tinsley picked up her class roster and looked up at the room as Helen replaced the teapot on the tray. “Alice Ainsworth.”

“Presente,” Alice replied, sounding ill.

Helen stepped back against the wall and hovered there, waiting. But for what? Why didn’t she just go? Eliza clutched the desk harder.

“Jane Barton,” Miss Tinsley read.

“Oui, mademoiselle,” Jane said weakly.

“Theresa Billings,” Miss Tinsley said, looking right at Theresa.

“Presente, mademoiselle,” Theresa said rather loudly.

As the teacher read through the rest of the list, Eliza held her breath. She was last in alphabetical order, with Catherine right before her. There was a stillness in the room that she could hardly stand, and it felt as if all the oxygen had been removed, leaving behind a thick, wet cloud that choked her senses. She couldn’t stop staring at Helen, willing her to just leave. But Helen stayed where she was and stared silently back.

“Clarissa Pommer?” Miss Tinsley said.

“Presente, mademoiselle,” Clarissa said.

Eliza’s stomach clenched. This was it. This was the moment of truth. Miss Tinsley looked at her class list. She looked up at the empty chair next to Eliza. A huge lump formed in Eliza’s throat. Her hand shot out and caught Theresa’s, which was there waiting for her.

“Catherine White?”

No one moved. No one breathed. No one said a word. There was a moment of complete suspended time, in which Eliza felt as if the whole world was about to implode around her. Helen’s glare hardened as she seemed to stare right through Eliza’s chest. Then, as if drawn by some invisible string, Miss Tinsley’s gaze slid to Eliza.

“Eliza Williams,” she read.