Sunlight pulses in the stream of magic, responding to Ms. Suntile’s force.
She isn’t releasing herself to me; she’s fighting me. And that’s when I realize what she’s doing. She knows I’m not using all my power, and she’s trying to force me to free the rest of it.
“We’re here,” Mr. Hart says. “You’re safe. We won’t let anything happen.”
I desperately hold on to my magic. Ms. Suntile squeezes again, and I groan under the pressure. It hurts, a physical pain that follows the stream from the sun into my body, like she’s squeezing each individual organ with hands made of fire.
I try to find the water I wrapped around the crops, but I can’t get back to it.
Ms. Suntile clenches her hand, and I cry out from the pain. Sunlight surges into my body and burns beneath my skin. I lose the thread and collapse to the ground.
“Enough!” Mr. Hart shouts.
“Why are you doing this?” I look up at Ms. Suntile, who is standing over me.
“Because things are worse than you can possibly imagine. Do you know how many witches died of depletion trying to deal with the aurora?”
I shake my head.
“Four. Four witches in one night. Before this, the most witches we’ve ever lost to depletion was thirteen in an entire year.” She levels her stare at me. “You’re more powerful than you realize, but if you can’t learn, you’re useless to us. We’ll try again tomorrow.”
Ms. Suntile walks away from the farm without looking back, but her words stay with me, a cruel echo of what Paige said during the aurora.
I wish it didn’t hurt.
I wish I didn’t wonder if she’s right.
Mr. Burrows remains still, watching me, saying nothing. He cups his jaw with his hand as he studies me. Then he shakes his head and follows Ms. Suntile.
Mr. Hart kneels on the ground next to me. “That was unfair of her to say, and I’m sorry you had to hear it. Are you okay?”
I don’t answer his question. “Is she telling me the truth? Can I actually make that big of a difference?”
Mr. Hart is quiet for a few moments. “Yes,” he finally says. “She’s telling the truth.”
“How bad is it?”
“Bad,” Mr. Hart says. “We’re losing witches to depletion at a startling rate. If it keeps up, there won’t be enough of us to manage the basics, let alone the anomalies we’re facing.” He pauses and straightens his glasses. “For now, try to forget about that and listen to me. I know you wish you were like the rest of us and didn’t have to deal with all the expectations that come with being an Ever, but change is what makes you powerful. Don’t be afraid to claim that power.”
Mr. Hart helps me to my feet and walks to his bag. He pulls out an object wrapped in brown paper. “I have something for you,” he says, handing me the package. It feels like a book.
“What is it?” As soon as I ask the question, there’s a change in the air above me. Goose bumps rise along my skin, and I shiver.
“It’s something I’ve worked for years to get you,” he says. His eyes sparkle with excitement, but I barely hear him. He doesn’t feel it yet.
I want to open the gift, but something isn’t right. My hand hovers over the brown paper. I close my eyes and listen. Feel the gradients and shifts. The warm air. The cold air.
Now I’m sure of it. Everyone needs to get inside.
“Clara? What is it?”
“Something’s happening,” I say.
“What do you mean?”
I look toward the sky. “We need to get inside.”
Mr. Hart tilts his head up.
I sense it before I see it: a change in atmosphere. Pressure. The fog burns away, revealing clouds so dark they suck up the daylight. Wind picks up in the distance, violent gusts that none of us summoned.
“You’re right,” he says.
Then we hear it: five short, loud rings screaming from the speakers.
One long ring: class is over.
Two short rings: class is about to start.
Five short rings: emergency.
“Get to the assembly hall,” Mr. Hart says. The sky is getting darker by the second. It churns above us, the clouds like waves in a roaring sea.
I shove the unopened package into my bag and sling it over my shoulder. “What about you?”
“I’m right behind you. Now, go!” Mr. Hart’s voice is full of alarm.
A storm is coming.
A storm we had no hand in making, one we’re totally unprepared for.
And it’s big.
Chapter Five
“You’re a witch, for Sun’s sake. You should have a cat.”
—A Season for Everything
The assembly hall is loud, people calling to one another, frantic voices and chaos.
I’ve been at Eastern for twelve years, and this is the first time I’ve ever heard the emergency system go off outside of scheduled drills for earthquake or fire. The room is dark, the large glass windows showing the ominous sky.
“Everyone in the basement, now!” Mr. Donovan shouts from the back of the room. Students flood down the staircase as the sirens blare. The wind is building outside. Ms. Suntile and Mrs. Temperly, our guidance counselor, talk in low, hushed voices, but I’m able to pick up bits of what they’re saying.
They’re wondering what we’re all wondering: What are the witches in charge of this region doing?
The storm is so unexpected that the staff has no time to coordinate with the other witches in the area. It would be too dangerous for them to try and help; too much conflicting energy directed at one storm cell can make things worse. If any faculty member tries to step in, they could lose their job.
But it doesn’t matter. None of them is strong enough to stop a storm of this magnitude on their own.
We have to trust the witches in charge of this region. But looking out the windows at the darkening sky, it’s hard to trust.
I’m rushing down the stairs to
