“Ansel?” I move towards him immediately. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Eight
ANSEL
“Izzy?” I blink, certain I’m seeing things or hallucinating. “What are you doing here?”
“What amIdoing here?” A multitude of emotions flicker across her face, but before I can put a name on a single one of them, she lunges forward, reaching for me.
I allow her to take my arm and haul me to my feet.
“We have class!” the teacher bellows, red mottling his face.
“Izzy, I don’t think this is a good idea.” The tiny redhead who came in with Izzy begins to wring her hands together nervously.
Dyson—my “mentor”—simply snorts and reclines back in his seat, throwing his legs on the desk.
Izzy ignores them all as she pulls me out of the room and into the hallway. Only then does she release me.
“What are you doing here?” she demands, and I’m finally able to pinpoint the emotion brewing in her eyes—fear.
But what is she afraid of?
I arch an eyebrow as shock, horror, and hope all war for dominance. “I could be asking you the same question. I’m a warlock, remember?”
And apparently, I’m required to attend warlock school or whatever the fuck this is for a month. I wasn’t given much of a choice in the matter when Dyson arrived at my home and demanded I come with him.
Home…
My heart pinches when I think of my mother and how I left things with her. I’m so damn pissed at her—furious, even—but…
She’s still my mother. She’s still the woman who always encouraged me to be the best version of myself I can be. Who drove me to and from orchestra rehearsal when I decided I wanted to learn how to play the bass. Who bandaged my scraped knees and kissed me goodnight. Who baked cookies for my campaign when I ran for class president.
But how can I reconcile who she is versus who she was? Is it even possible?
“Hey.” Izzy abruptly cups my cheeks, dragging my gaze down to her. Worry puckers her brow. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you? What happened?”
“There’s so much I have to tell you,” I confess through numb lips. But then I remember where we are. “After this…class, okay?”
She frowns, looking as if she wants to argue, before she nods once.
“Yeah. Okay.” She begins to move back towards the classroom but pauses, her hand extended to grab the handle. “You’re a student here now, aren’t you?”
I chuckle and shove my hands into the pockets of my khakis. Dyson must’ve stopped at my home shortly after he kidnapped me. When I arrived at my dorm, there was a suitcase of my clothes waiting for me.
“I suppose this means I won’t be valedictorian, huh?” There it is again—that pang.
Something as inconsequential as being valedictorian shouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but it does. I worked my ass off for years to be the best of the best, surpassing even Ethan in grades. But now all of my work has been flushed down the toilet. There’s no way I can make up an entire month.
For the one billionth time today, I think about how drastically my life has changed. And not for the better.
Even as I have that thought, my eyes lock with Izzy’s, and warmth suffuses me. Heat creeps into my cheeks, and I duck my head, suddenly embarrassed.
Okay, maybe a little for the better, at least in some aspects.
The two of us re-enter the classroom, and I try to ignore the dozens of eyes trained on my face. Izzy, for her part, doesn’t appear embarrassed. She walks forward with a swagger and confidence that suggest she owns not only this classroom but the entire building.
That’s my girl.
