“Do you know what the most frustrating thing about this is?” I ask after a particularly long stretch of silence.
“What?”
“Mr. Burrows said the reason he was leaving me on the mountain was because I didn’t respect my magic and that I’d learn to if I was forced to rely on it. And he was right. My magic is what kept Angela and her kids alive, maybe even me. The reason I didn’t go into organ failure is because it never stopped pulsing through me. It cooled me down. It couldn’t do a damn thing to stop the heat wave, but it’s the only thing that kept me alive.”
“He didn’t have to leave you on a mountain to teach you that.” Sang’s voice isn’t aggressive or angry. It’s sad.
I don’t say anything, because I’m not sure he’s right. I’ve hated my magic for so long, it’s hard to imagine that I could have learned to respect it without something drastic like what Mr. Burrows did. But then I think back to my training sessions with Sang, and I’m not actually sure I hated it anymore. I didn’t love it—I still don’t—but I was learning to appreciate it. Maybe I was learning to respect it too.
“Maybe not,” I finally say. “But I think I was starting to learn it from you.”
Sang doesn’t respond, but the smallest hint of a smile forms on his lips.
It’s lunchtime when we pull into the Eastern parking lot, but everyone is inside. No one wants to be out in this heat, not even the summers.
I step out of Sang’s truck and groan. Today is supposed to be the last day of the heat wave, and then we can get back to winter. But this has been another reminder that things are shifting, that we don’t have as much control as we used to. That we need help if we’re going to undo all the damage that’s been done. The witches in charge of this area must be exhausted from trying to deal with the heat.
I think back to Mr. Donovan’s class, to what he told us about witches dying from depletion, and I finally understand it.
Winter magic is useless in a heat wave, and the summers are too weak for their magic to be effective right now. But they try to help anyway, because this world is everything to them.
And they die because of it.
Ms. Suntile rushes out to meet us. Her forehead is creased with worry, and her lips are pulled into a frown. “Thank the Sun you’re here,” she says. “How are you?”
“I’ve been better.”
“Mr. Park said the doctor released you with instructions to rest, but otherwise you’re fine?” Her eyes move from me to Sang.
“Fine? I was left in the middle of nowhere by a teacher during the worst heat wave in history. I’m not fine.”
Ms. Suntile winces. “Of course not. I’m sorry. I just meant that I’m glad you’ll make a full recovery.”
I’m already sweating from the temperature outside. “I’m going to my cabin to rest.”
“Good, that’s good.” Ms. Suntile walks beside me. “Mr. Burrows would like to see you when you’re feeling up to it.” Her tone is uncertain.
I stop walking. “He’s here?”
“Yes, and I can imagine you’re displeased with him. Those circumstances were too perilous for a test, and we are working out the appropriate—”
“Where is he?” I cut her off.
Ms. Suntile checks her watch. “I believe he’s in the dining hall eating lunch.”
I change direction, no longer interested in getting to my cabin. Ms. Suntile and Sang follow me, struggling to keep up.
“You should rest before speaking with him,” Ms. Suntile says, but I keep moving.
Sang keeps pace with me, and we burst through the dining hall doors at the same time. The hall is packed and noisy, and it takes several seconds before I spot Mr. Burrows in the far corner.
My entire body responds, shaking with rage. My heart slams against my ribs. The noise of the dining hall fades until all I can hear is the rush of blood surging through my arteries.
I storm across the room. Mr. Burrows stands when he sees me, and before he can say anything, before I even have time to think, I punch him in the face so hard I feel his nose crack under my knuckles.
He staggers back and hits the wall behind him. He covers his face with his hands, but there’s so much blood rushing from his nose that it runs through his fingers and dribbles to the floor.
My hand throbs, and I want to cry out, but I bite my tongue and force the pain aside. It was worth it.
The dining hall gets very quiet. Everyone is staring.
“Ms. Densmore, in all my years—”
I whip around to Ms. Suntile. “I don’t know who helped him or who signed off on what he did, but I will never be put in a situation like that again. I will sit in my cabin all day every day until you expel me before I do another test like that.” I try to keep my voice steady, but it rises and rises, piercing the air. I sound hysterical.
But I get my point across. Ms. Suntile clenches her jaw and nods once.
“And yet, somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if this exercise wasn’t exactly what you needed. No other winter could have produced that kind of hail in these weather conditions. You were extraordinary out there.” Mr. Burrows says it through bloody fingers, but his tone is confident.
I look at him. “Who helped you with the sunbar? I know you couldn’t have done that on your own.”
“I told the witches controlling the area that a sunbar of that magnitude would help mitigate some of the effects of the heat wave, which isn’t entirely untrue. The sunbar did end up absorbing enough sunlight to lower the temperature by a few degrees.” Mr. Burrows still manages to sound condescending, even with his face
