Foretold (St. Bastian Institute 1)

When I returned home much later, I took a quick shower, needing to wash away the day's residue. Once out, I dried off and threw on a sleep shirt before climbing under the covers and closing my eyes. It was hard to fall asleep, mainly because I was far too wired about this new connection with Peter. I didn’t know how to feel about it. On the one hand, it freaked me out, but on the other, there was something exciting about hearing his voice in my head. This boy who I’d spent years secretly pining after could now speak to me anytime he wanted without even needing to pick up a phone. I could speak to him whenever I wanted, too. And there was something about our telepathy that was far more intimate than a phone call, way more of an adrenaline rush than a text.

As my mind started to drift, something from one of my magic classes at St. Bastian’s occurred to me. I wondered if it was why the spell went wrong. There was a theory that on rare occasions, a witch or a warlock could throw off a spell if their feelings were stronger than the magic being used. And those feelings could derail the function of the spell, bringing about an entirely different result.

Was that what had happened tonight?

Had my crush on Peter derailed the intended results of our spell?

With these thoughts swirling around in my brain, I finally drifted off to sleep, but it was fitful, and I didn’t feel very rested when I woke up. Rebecca and I drove to school together, and she informed me that there was still no news on who had killed Mr Williams. A brick settled in my gut. The spell had been a good idea, but there was no way I was turning to magic again, not after how badly things went wrong last night.

No, I would have to use more practical methods.

Peter didn’t broach communication even though I encountered him several times in the corridors and classrooms. He merely made brief eye contact before looking away every time. Given our newfound ability, his silence made me feel like he truly hated the entire situation.

That was a depressing thought.

I wasn’t sure if he still planned to meet me at the library, but I made my way there at the end of my last class anyway. Admittedly, I’d never actually been to the reading tower on the south end before, mostly because my visits to the library, in general, were few and far between. I preferred to do whatever studying I had to do at home. Libraries always felt so tense to me, like people were daring you to talk too loudly so that they could reprimand you for interrupting the sacred quiet.

I was almost there when I spotted Angela walking my way, and I took the opportunity to check in with her. Her face lit up with a smile when she saw me, though I could see shadows under her eyes that told me she hadn’t been getting as much sleep as usual.

“Angela! How is everything?” I asked.

“Hi, Darya. I’m a little freaked out over what happened to Mr Williams, but otherwise, I’m fine.” She shuddered. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“That’s you and me both,” I replied. “So, you haven’t had any more visits from your mysterious garden creeper?”

She shook her head. “I really think that maybe I imagined the entire thing.”

I didn’t think she imagined it, but I knew she was just trying to put her mind at ease. “I don’t know about that, but promise me you’ll stay vigilant? Better yet, come and stay at my house tonight. I’ll invite Grace, too. We can watch movies and order pizza.”

“I can’t. My choir is performing in a competition early tomorrow, and I have a final rehearsal tonight.”

My chest deflated. The protector in me just wanted to keep Angela close, but at the same time, she wasn’t my personal property. She was her own person, and I couldn’t keep her locked up in my house just to ensure her safety.

“That’s too bad. Well, if you need anything, I’m only a phone call away.”

“I know,” she replied, studying me now. “Where are you off to? Got a hot date?” So maybe I’d run a brush through my hair and put on some lip gloss before heading to the library.

I rolled my eyes. “You know all the boys at this school are too scared of my father to ask me out. I’m headed to the library.”

“To study? That’s not like you.”

“I know, but if I’m going to salvage my grades, then I have to start putting in the work,” I lied.

“Well, if you need any help studying, let me know,” Angela said, giving me a quick hug before she left.