Spells

TWELVE

LAUREL AND DAVID STOOD TOGETHER IN THEIR chemistry lab, watching their first graded experiment fail miserably. David was scouring their calculations, looking for a step they’d missed or math they’d done incorrectly. Laurel wrinkled her nose at the pungent mixture bubbling over their Bunsen burner.

“Did we put in the sulfuric acid?” David asked. “We did, didn’t we?”

“Yes,” Laurel said. “Fifty milliliters. We balanced the equation three times.”

“I don’t understand!” David vented under his breath. “It should have turned blue, like, two minutes ago!”

“Give it a few more minutes. Maybe it will.”

“No. It’s definitely too late. Look, it says right here, ‘The solution should turn blue within one minute after reaching boiling temperature.’ We totally screwed up. And she said this was just a simple lab.” He raked his hands through his hair. For some reason David had decided that four AP classes weren’t too much for one semester; Laurel wasn’t convinced. Just two short weeks into the school year and already he was more than a little high-strung.

“David, it’s okay,” she said.

“It is not okay,” he whispered. “If I don’t get an A in this class, Mr. Kling won’t let me into AP physics. I have to get into AP physics.”

“You’ll be fine,” Laurel said, a hand on his shoulder to soothe him. “I hardly think one funky experiment is going to keep you out of Mr. Kling’s class.”

David hesitated for a moment, then his eyes darted back to their shared paper. “I’m going to balance this one more time, see if I can find where we made our mistake.”

It was so unlike David to freak out over anything, but here he was on the verge of melting down. Laurel sighed. She took a deep breath and put her fingers over the steaming beaker, far enough away that it didn’t burn her fingertips. “It’s just supposed to turn blue?”

David looked up at her even tone. “Yeah, why?”

Laurel shushed him as she concentrated, wiggling her fingers in the steam for a few more seconds. After a quick glance at David, still bent over their calculations, Laurel closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to clear her mind the way her instructors in Avalon had taught her. Her fingers tingled vaguely as she tried to sift through the elements of the solution, but there was no plant material to identify. This was going to be tricky.

“Laurel,” David whispered close to her ear, “what are you doing?”

“You’re distracting me,” Laurel said levelly, trying to maintain her tenuous hold on her concentration.

“Are you doing faerie stuff?” he asked.

“Maybe.”

David’s eyes darted around the room. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why, because I might ruin our perfect experiment?” she said sarcastically.

“I’m a little concerned you’re going to blow up the school,” he said, his voice still a low murmur.

She yanked her hand out of the steam. “I’m not going to blow up the school,” she said, just a little too loudly. The team at the table behind them looked up and exchanged amused glances.

“Come on,” David said, his hand on her arm. “Things haven’t exactly been going well in the potion-making department.”

He had a point. She didn’t feel like she’d made any progress since returning from Avalon, despite practicing for at least an hour every day. Jamison had told her to be vigilant, and she was doing the best she could. But it wasn’t working. Yet. “So I should just give up?”

“No, of course not. But should you really be experimenting here at school, and on a graded assignment?”

Laurel wasn’t listening. “Be my lookout, okay?”

“What?”

“Just tell me if Ms. Pehrson looks over.”

“What are you doing?” he asked, but his eyes stayed locked on their teacher.

Laurel reached into her backpack and unlatched the lid of her kit — a permanent fixture at the bottom of her bag. She sifted through its contents and unscrewed a small bottle of valerian oil and squeezed a drop onto her fingertip. She grabbed another bottle and shook a sprinkle of powdered cassia bark into her palm. After blowing on it, Laurel rubbed the oil onto the palm of her hand, mixing it with the gritty powder. “Give me our little spoon thingy,” she whispered to David.

“Laurel, you can’t do this.”

“I can! I really think I’ve got it this time.”

“That’s not what I meant. This is an assignment. We’re supposed to—”

Laurel cut him off by reaching across the table for the long-handled, stainless-steel spoon he’d refused to hand her. She scraped the mixture off her palm and, before David could stop her, popped it into the boiling mixture, stirring carefully in one direction and then the other.

“Laurel!”

“Shh,” Laurel ordered, concentrating on the mixture.

As she watched, the mixture slowly began to take on a bluish tinge. The longer she stirred, the bluer it became.

“Is that good?” Laurel asked.

David just stared.

Laurel glanced behind her where two other students had completed their project. The blues looked about the same. She went ahead and stopped stirring.

“See if you can get her to come to our table next,” Laurel said. “The mixture’s too hot for the color to hold very long.”

David stared at her with an expression Laurel couldn’t quite identify, but he didn’t seem pleased.

“Very good, David and Laurel,” Ms. Pehrson said, catching them both off guard as she walked up behind them. “And just in time. Bell’s about to ring.”

David looked up as Ms. Pehrson marked something down on her clipboard and turned away. “Wait, Ms. Pehrson!”

Ms. Pehrson turned, and Laurel shot David a warning look.

“Um…”

Laurel and Ms. Pehrson both stared at David.

His eyes looked determined for a second, then relaxed. “I just wondered if it’s safe to dump this stuff down the sink.”

“Yes. Didn’t I put that on the handout? Just make sure you don’t burn yourself,” she said, moving on to the next lab table.

Laurel and David cleaned up in silence, both jumping when the bell rang. As they walked into the hall Laurel slipped her hand into David’s. “Why are you mad?” she asked. “I just got you an A.”

“You cheated,” David said quietly. “And I let her give me an A for it because there was absolutely no way to explain why it was cheating.”

“I didn’t cheat,” Laurel said, offended now. “I figured out how to make the solution turn blue. Wasn’t that the whole point?”

“The point was to follow the directions.”

“Was it? I thought the point was to figure out what to mix together to get blue stuff. Isn’t that just as important?”

He sighed. “I don’t know. I suck at chemistry.”

“No, you don’t,” Laurel said, but her tone wasn’t very convincing.

“I do. I just don’t get it like I get biology. It doesn’t make sense to me. We’re two weeks in and I already feel overwhelmed. What’s the rest of the semester going to be like?” He sighed. “I study so much for this class.”

“I know you do,” Laurel said. “And you deserve a good grade. So what if I helped a little? I think all the studying you put in justifies a little tampering. Besides,” she added after a pause, “you’re the only reason I got into AP chemistry. I think it’s only fair that I help you get into AP physics.” They were silent for a moment before Laurel elbowed his ribs gently. “She did say that we should think of our lab partner as a team member.”

“Are you sure it’s not really cheating?”

“David, for all I know, the reason the experiment failed is because something about my”—she lowered her voice—“Fall faerie abilities was interfering. She said she gave us an easy one for the first lab. All we had to do was follow the directions. It should have worked. I really think I made it not work.”

He stared at her for a long time. “You may have a point,” he said. “The directions have never failed me before.”

“See?”

Now David started to laugh. He backed up against his locker and slid down onto the floor. Laurel joined him warily. “How bad is it that I don’t know whether to be mad or think that’s the coolest thing ever?” David asked. He slung an arm around her. “You did it, though. You did it right.”

Laurel smiled. “I did, didn’t I?” She laughed now. “I don’t suck.”

“You don’t suck,” David agreed, then pulled her in, kissing her forehead. “Good job.”

“Get a room!”

David’s head jerked up, but it was just Chelsea, who grinned at them from across the hallway before turning back to Ryan.

“I’m still not used to that,” David said, shaking his head with a smile.

“I know,” Laurel said, feeling intrusive watching someone else kiss, but unable to tear her eyes away.

“I wonder how long before they have to come up for air.”

“Be nice,” Laurel said, just a touch of seriousness to her tone. “She’s happy.”

“I hope so.”

“We should do something with them. I mean, the four of us.”

“Like a double date?”

“Yeah. We haven’t done anything all together since they hooked up. I think we should. I like Ryan. He has great taste in girls.”

David laughed. “My taste is better.”

Laurel raised her eyebrows. “I think anyone who has kissed me would have to agree that I have the best taste of all.”

“Not all of us can taste like nectar,” David said teasingly, his hand at the back of her neck as he kissed her. “You have an unfair advantage,” he murmured against her mouth, his hand sliding down her back and pressing her against him.

“Ow!” she said, pulling away.

David looked down at her, confusion plain on his face. “I’m sorry?” he said — both a pronouncement and a question.

Laurel glanced around the hall. “I’m getting ready to blossom,” she whispered. “Another two or three days, I think.”

David grinned, then coughed to try to hide it. It didn’t work.

“It’s okay,” Laurel said. “I know you like it. And since I know what it is this time around, it doesn’t bother me, really. It’s just sensitive.”

“Well, I’ll be careful,” he promised, leaning in for another kiss.

They both jerked as the door to the chemistry lab flew open, smacking loudly against the wall beside it. The earsplitting clang of the room’s smoke detector filled the hall as blue smoke billowed out of the doorway and several students emerged from the cloud, coughing. “Out, out!” Ms. Pehrson’s voice sounded above the din as she shooed a bunch of sophomores from the classroom. The blue haze spread down the hallway and somebody pulled the fire alarm, setting off the entire building’s cacophonous alert system.

David looked at the blue haze and the students running toward the exits. He stood and helped Laurel to her feet. “Well,” he said wryly, his mouth close to her ear, “whose experiment do you think that was?”

They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Laurel stood in front of the mirror in her room, staring at the pale blue petals that rose just above her shoulders. After her dad’s return from the hospital last year, their family had decided that home would be a safe haven for Laurel — that she would never have to hide what she was. But agreeing to that and actually walking downstairs without hiding her blossom were two very different things. She had to leave for school in half an hour; maybe it would be understandable if she came down with her petals already bound.

But her dad would be disappointed.

Of course, her mom might be relieved.

Laurel looked down at the sash in her hand. This year she was spared the fear of having some strange disease, but for some reason, the trepidation she associated with her blossom hadn’t really abated.

Clenching her teeth, Laurel wound the sash around her wrist. “I’m not ashamed of what I am,” she said to her reflection. But her stomach still twisted as she turned the doorknob and opened the door, her petals spread out behind her for everyone to see.

She tiptoed halfway down the stairs, then changed her mind — not wanting to appear as though she were sneaking around her own house — and clomped down the rest of the steps.

“Wow!”

Laurel’s eyes shot up to meet David’s. His gaze flitted to her exposed navel and snapped back up to her face. Leaving her petals unbound had a tendency to slightly raise the front of her shirt as well as the back. David seemed to appreciate the effect, but Laurel had forgotten how uncomfortable it was to have her shirt bunched up around her ribs, crowding the tiny leaves at the base of her blossom. Several of the tops she’d brought back from Avalon had low-cut backs, perfectly suited for wearing while in bloom, but what she needed today was concealment.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I’m glad to see you too,” David said, raising one eyebrow.

“Sorry,” Laurel said, squeezing his hand. “You surprised me.”

“I knew you were close yesterday; thought I’d stop by and offer support. Or whatever.”

Laurel smiled and hugged him. It did feel better to have him here. Even if he was really here to get an early peek at her new blossom.

In the kitchen, Laurel’s mother fussed with the coffeemaker, studiously avoiding Laurel’s gaze. From the corner of her eye, however, Laurel caught her mother sneaking furtive glances as she poured fresh coffee into a take-along cup. Nothing had changed after their fight at the store. No apology but no added awkwardness, either. It was as if Laurel had never showed up that day, which was somehow worse. Their relationship seemed to increasingly revolve around ignoring problems in hopes that they would go away. But they never did.

“Where’s Dad?” Laurel asked.

Her dad shook his paper from the couch, just out of sight through the living room doorway. “I’m here,” he said distractedly.

“She blossomed,” David called.

Laurel brought one hand to her forehead as she heard her father get quickly to his feet. “Oh, yeah? Let’s see.”

“Tattletale,” she whispered to David.

Her mom grabbed a canvas tote and passed by as her dad was coming through the doorway. “I’m headed to the store,” she said, her eyes avoiding his.

“But don’t you—?”

“I’m late,” she insisted, though her voice wasn’t sharp. It sounded strange to Laurel, almost like she wanted to stay and couldn’t bring herself to. She and her dad both watched her all the way out the door.

Laurel’s eyes stayed glued on the door, willing it to open; for her mom to come back.

“Whoa,” her dad said, refocusing on Laurel. “That…that’s huge.”

“I did tell you,” Laurel said, knowing that if she were human her face would be bright red right now. Being a plant was not without advantages.

“Sure. But, I thought…” He scratched the back of his neck. “Honestly, I thought you were exaggerating a little.” He circled Laurel as her embarrassment grew. “How did you hide this from us?”

Excellent timing. “Like this,” she said, pulling her sash off her wrist and binding the petals around her ribs and waist. She pulled her blousy peasant top down over it and dropped her waist-length hair over the whole thing. “Ta-da!”

He nodded. “Impressive.”

“Yeah,” Laurel said, grabbing David’s hand. “Let’s go.”

“What about breakfast?” her dad said as she picked up her backpack off the table.

Laurel shot him a look.

“Sorry, habit.”

“My car or yours?” David asked after Laurel shut the door.

“Yours. Driving with a smooshed blossom can’t be very comfortable.”

“Good point.” David held the passenger door open for her. Even after almost a year, he never forgot.

“Well,” David said, firing up the engine, “we’ve got about half an hour before first bell. Shall we go straight to school?” His hand slid onto her thigh. “Or somewhere else first?”

Laurel smiled as David leaned over and kissed her neck.

“Mmm, I have missed that smell.” His lips traveled up her neck to her jawline.

“David, my dad is peeking through the window at us.”

“That’s okay with me,” he murmured.

“Yeah, ’cause he’s not your dad. Get off!” she said, laughing.

David leaned back and shifted into reverse. “I guess I can hold on till I get a block or two away.” He looked at the house and waved at the small gap in the living room curtains.

“David!”

The gap disappeared.

“You are so bad.”

He smirked. “Your parents love me.”

And they did. Laurel had always thought that would be a good thing. Sometimes, though, she wasn’t so sure.