I try to ignore the blush that’s settled in Sang’s cheeks, the shy smile that forms on his lips at Mr. Mendez’s praise. Sang is the perfect embodiment of spring, gentle and warm with a quiet confidence that radiates from him.
He begins his demonstration, first talking about the emotional toll of pulling plants from the earth. Springs are devastated when plants die because so much of our magic is focused on life. Death is to us what heat is to winters and ice is to summers: something we’re ill equipped to handle.
Sang turns to the table at the front of the room, where one healthy sunflower sits in a clay pot.
“When we tear plants from the ground, it’s very jarring for them. They leave behind a kind of stress that permeates the soil and creates suboptimal growing conditions. It’s hard on the plants, hard on the earth, and hard on us. But imagine if we could simply put them to sleep and let their energy and nutrients seep into the soil, creating a richer environment than before, without causing them the trauma of being ripped from the ground or sprayed with poison.” His voice makes the whole world slow, as if it’s the sound of the ocean or rain falling on palm leaves.
His hands are caked in dirt, but even from here, I can see the faint stain of watercolor on his skin. The room falls perfectly silent as Sang brushes the yellow petals with his fingers and closes his eyes. At first it doesn’t look like anything is happening, but then a trail of golden light bursts from the sunflower and stretches toward Sang’s hands. The class inhales in unison as he gently pulls the sunlight from the flower. The light pulses, dims, and finally vanishes.
Sang turns to the room. “Now that the sunlight is extracted from the plant, it has no more energy left. We can remove sunlight faster than a plant can absorb it, weakening it so much that it’s no longer able to grow.” Sure enough, the sunflower has already begun to wilt.
“That’s amazing,” Paige says beside me.
“How do you differentiate between the sunlight in the plant and the sunlight everywhere else?” Ari asks.
“With a ton of practice,” Sang says with a laugh. “I’ve been working on this for eight months now, and there’s been a lot of trial and error. That’s why I’m demonstrating on a sunflower—the stem is really large, making the sunlight within it easier to target. I’m still working on smaller plants and flowers.”
Several more students ask questions, and Sang answers them with enthusiasm and grace. I want to jump up and shout that I saw this before anyone else, that it was our secret first. I wonder if he feels that way when I train with other witches, using their magic instead of his.
Paige leans toward me, breaking my train of thought. “I can see why you like him,” she says.
I want to tell her she’s wrong, that I don’t like him in that way, but lying to Paige has never made sense. She can always see right through me.
“Yeah,” I say with a sigh.
The greenhouse door opens, and Mr. Burrows rushes in.
“Pardon the interruption, Vincent,” he says to Mr. Mendez. “Clara, please come with me.”
There’s something in his voice that worries me, and it makes me want to stay right here, safe in this greenhouse with Sang and his sunflower. I’ve completely ignored Mr. Burrows since the test last week, but he speaks with an urgency that forces me to move. I shoot Sang a quick glance before walking toward the door.
“Grab your things,” Mr. Burrows says. I walk back to my seat and get my sweatshirt and bag.
I catch Sang’s eye again on my way out. “Okay?” he mouths, and I nod.
It’s been a long time since someone has looked out for me like this, and it fills me with warmth. It’s these little moments I’m terrified of losing, terrified my magic will destroy in the span of a single heartbeat.
I don’t want to lose him, and in my weakest moments, I feel overwhelmed by the reality that I very well might.
I pull my eyes from his and leave the greenhouse.
“This better not be another test of yours,” I say to Mr. Burrows.
“It’s not.”
When we get outside, I understand what’s happening. The sunny sky has been replaced with layers of dark clouds, and the temperature has dropped by thirty degrees, something I would have thought impossible prior to our winter heat wave.
“As I’m sure you can see, we’re about to be hit by a substantial blizzard we didn’t create. We’re working on getting everyone inside for the afternoon and evening.” Mr. Burrows leads me to the dial, where Ms. Suntile is waiting for us. I wrap my arms around my chest.
“I’ll get in touch with the witches in the area and make sure they defer to us while the blizzard is on campus. We may not have planned this, but it’s an opportunity for you to try out your magic in a real situation and see how you do. We won’t force you, but I think it’s worth using this chance to see what you’re capable of,” Mr. Burrows says.
I’m instantly reminded of the tornado I couldn’t stop, the tornado that killed Mr. Hart, and even though my pulse is racing and I’m filled with dread, I want to try. It won’t erase my failure in autumn, but maybe it will bring me some peace, knowing I’ve done what I set out to do: get stronger.
“He’s right,” Ms. Suntile says, but I cut her off.
“I’ll try,” I say. “But not with him.”
Ms. Suntile nods. “Understood. Mr. Burrows will coordinate with the witches in the area. Is there a particular winter you
