scattered on a long table, nothing out of the ordinary. But still, something nagged at me.
“There,” I said finally, pointing to a tiny scrape of white peeking out from underneath one of the easels. “Do you see that?”
Will’s gaze followed the length of my finger, toward where I was pointing. “Nope.”
I sighed, handed him my flashlight, and pushed the stool and easel aside. I could see another line now, thick, white, and arched, chalked on the floor. “You have to see that.”
I saw him squint in the darkness, then sink down onto his haunches. “I have no idea what you’re pointing at, love. It looks like cheap linoleum to me.”
I groaned and pushed a few more easel setups aside, sucking in a surprised breath when I had uncovered an entire half-circle etched onto the floor.
“It looks like someone has made a chalk outline of a circle,” I said, pointing again and now walking beside the arch. “You can’t see it?”
Will shook his head, eyes still fixed. “I can’t.”
I frowned. “Help me push the rest of these out of the way.”
He did as he was told, the look of confusion marring his features the whole time. “I’m sorry, I just don’t see what you’re seeing.”
I stepped back and felt my mouth drop open. The front legs of the stools were set up on a large circle. The back legs of the easel were covering a slightly smaller inner circle, and inside that—a star.
“It’s a pentagram.”
Will swung his head yet again. “I’m sorry, Sophie, I just don’t—”
I did a mental head slap. “It’s veiled.”
“Huh?”
I gestured toward the drawing. “It’s veiled. It’s been hidden—magically. I can’t—you know—I can see through that stuff.”
Will looked at me, and even though I knew that he knew that one of my “special” abilities is that magic can’t be done on me—the characteristic also allowed me to see things hidden magically—I still felt weirdly exposed standing here in a high school classroom.
“You can’t see it because it’s veiled.”
Will put an arm around me and pulled me to him as if he felt my awkwardness—and wasn’t repulsed by it. The warmth of his body the length of mine was comforting.
“So, it’s here.” I pointed out the loop. I leaned down, brushed my fingers over the line. “And it looks like it’s been drawn in chalk. Geez. It’s—it’s like the whole thing is vibrating.”
The chalked circle looked almost animated—thicker, deeper than it should be, and almost as if the line itself were pulsing.
“It’s definitely magiked. This isn’t just a few kids playing with chalk.” My stomach started to roil and the heat broke out again, all over me. “This is big, Will. There’s more to this.”
“Well, of course there is, love—”
“No. No. I mean this.” I gestured to the circle. “There’s more to this. Here. Now.” I looked around the room. “I can feel it.”
“Okay.” Will’s gaze swept the room. “So how do we deal with a ‘feeling’?”
I chewed my bottom lip, then pulled my cell phone from my pocket.
“Tupperware, toads, or finance, this is Lorraine.”
“Hey, Lorraine, it’s Sophie.”
“Sophie! You must have heard about the new salad spinners. They are ex—”
“No, thanks. I have a salad spinner, actually.” Not that I’d ever used it. “I’m calling about a spell.”
I heard Lorraine suck her teeth—whether she was angry about losing a potential salad spinner sale or the idea of imparting her witchy wisdom to me, I wasn’t sure. I continued on anyway.
“I’m standing in front of a pentagram, chalked into the floor. But it seems like something—like something is underneath it, maybe? It’s like it’s pulsing.”
“Ooh.” Lorraine sounded interested. “It’s active.”
“Like in use right now?”
“Not necessarily right now, right now, but recently, likely. Or there is another more active one underneath it. That happens sometimes especially when legends of hallowed grounds brings out the fake teen witch crowd.” She didn’t bother to hide the disdain in her voice.
“Well.” I pinched my bottom lip as Will pulled out a stool and perched himself on it. “If someone were to draw something on the floor and then erase it, is there some kind of spell that would bring it back up?”
“Um, like an anti-Mr. Clean spell or something? That’s not really what we focus on—”
“No. If someone were to draw a pentagram on the floor and then clean it up. Like you said. Maybe one stronger than the other.”
“Oh! Oh, of course. Anytime a circle is drawn in the earth it leaves a faint magical outline.”
“Thank you! Will doesn’t believe me.” I glared at him as he bit his thumbnail, looking wholly uninterested.
“That’s because he probably can’t see it. If a pentagram has been used magically, it’s veiled.”
“Okay.” I paced the perimeter of the room. “This one is really bright—to me, at least. Is there some kind of spell that could restore the other circle?”
“Oh, sure.” I imagined Lorraine pressed back in her chair, scratching her hellacious cat Costineau between the ears. “Super easy. You’re going to need four orange candles, some dust from the floor, and an eight-inch string.”
I bit my lip, looking around the classroom. “I have two flashlights—one is almost orange, dust from the floor and”—I scanned, then brightened—“one of Will’s shoelaces?”
“What?” Will snapped to attention. “These are my good shoes.”
“Good shoes don’t have laces,” I hissed. Then, to Lorraine, “Will any of that work?”
“It’s not perfect, but probably close enough. Place the flashlights torch-side-up on the opposite points of the circle. Sprinkle the dust in the center.”
I relayed the instructions back to Will, who growled at me, stomping around the room in one shoe, but did as he was told.
“Now you’ll need to take the dust and the string—or shoelace—and go stand in the center of the circle.”
A flutter of nerves rippled through my stomach as I crossed the threshold of the pentagram and found its center. “Okay, now what?”
“Sprinkle the dust and repeat after me:
I slowly circled, dusting, and repeating Lorraine’s chant.
“Now take one end of the string, and let it flow out as you circle, chanting.” Lorraine cleared her throat and I did the same, pinching the string between my forefinger and thumb.
I stopped, Will’s shoelace flopping to the ground at my feet. “Nothing happened.”
“Give it a second,” Lorraine said before hanging up.
“Well, that was quite a fun show,” Will said, striding into the circle and snatching back his shoelace. “But —”
He paused, openmouthed, as a rumble emanated from the floor. I could feel the vibration through the soles of my shoes; it was as if hundreds of students were running through the halls.
I saw Will’s mouth move, but any word he spoke was drowned out in the chanting wail that shook the walls of the art room. I couldn’t make out one single voice or one single word; each blended into the others, creating a din so solid and loud that it pressed against my chest like a weight. A hot wind shot up, too, circling us.
I felt Will’s hand slice through the air and grip me around the waist, pulling me so that my hammering heart was pressed up against him. A light kicked up—then a thousand lights—circling us and moving in time with the din.
“Oh my God, Will, look!”
