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My grades in this class were slightly less uninspiring than the rest of my classes, mainly because I found the experiments fascinating. Nic and I were lab partners, though I was always aware of Peter and Sophia’s desk behind ours. In front of me sat Belinda and Anna, and I didn’t fail to notice the catty look Belinda shot me before sitting down.
Ren Tanaka entered then, shooting me a smile before he took a seat on the other side of the classroom. People had stopped gossiping about him as much as they had been on his first day, which must’ve been a relief to him. I certainly didn’t believe in the rumour that he’d killed his parents during a poorly executed spell. I got different vibes from people, and the vibe I got from Ren was that he was a good guy, despite the fact that Morticia Addams seemed to be his style icon.
“Hello, everyone. It’s good to see you all,” Mrs Kanumba said as she started the class. Behind me, I sensed Peter’s attention right before his voice filled my head.
Hi.
Hey.
Any news on the demon front?
Sadly, no. I’m still on house arrest.
Sorry. That sucks.
Yeah, it does.
“Today, we’re going to talk about transmutation,” Mrs Kanumba continued, garnering my attention. “Transforming one of the seven alchemical metals into another.” She turned and began drawing symbols on the blackboard. “Your next assignment will be to perfect the magic that transforms tin into silver. You’ll find all the ingredients for the spell in the containers I’ve placed on your desks, and I’m going to write out instructions here on the board. It’s down to you and your partner to complete the spell. I’m giving you a few days to work on it, and then you’ll be expected to perform a practical test next week.”
I glanced out the window while Nic started to unpack the spell ingredients. The rain was still pouring, the clouds heavy in the sky as day faded to night. I hoped this class would be over before the storm hit fully. The roads to St. Bastian’s were dark and winding, heavily wooded on all sides. They weren’t the sort of roads you wanted to get stuck on during a storm.
“Help me list these down,” Nic said as he lined up a selection of bottles and jars.
“So, this is the tin we’re supposed to turn into silver,” I said, holding up the small jar. “I hope you don’t have high hopes for good grades in this class. We’re more likely to end up with something even less inexpensive than tin.”
“You do that a lot, you know,” Nic replied as he scribbled down the names of our ingredients.
I frowned. “Do what?”
“Put yourself down when it comes to magic. Self-belief is a powerful thing. Your attitude could be what’s blocking your abilities.”
“Presuming I have them,” I countered, not liking the self-reflection he encouraged. “What’s this?” I asked as I examined a glass jar containing a black, semi-solid substance.
“Some form of pitch, I imagine,” Nic replied, frowning as he glanced at it. A small shudder went through him, which I found strange. “I need to use the bathroom. Be back in a minute,” he said, leaving our table.
It’s bitumen, Peter said, and tingles filled my stomach that he’d been paying attention to Nic’s and my conversation. Asphalt would be a more refined version, he went on.
Thanks. Good to know. I replied, the small hairs on my neck rising.
Nic was in the bathroom for a few minutes, and when he finally returned, he looked a little pale. “Are you okay?” I asked.
He nodded. “I’m fine now. I just felt a bit queasy for a minute. I shouldn’t have eaten the crab pasta for dinner. Seafood sometimes disagrees with me.”
“You sure you’re feeling better?”
“Yes,” he said and gestured to the jar I’d been examining. “Did you find out what it’s called?”
I nodded. “Bitumen.”
Nic scribbled it down.
You know, I said to Peter, this secret ability of ours could come in handy. You could help me cheat during exams.
Now, why would I do that?
To help out a friend.
What would I get in return?
Several things came to mind that I definitely wasn’t going to list for him. I’ll think of something.
I’m not helping you cheat, Darya. Besides, you’re smart enough to pass on your own. You don’t need my help.
He thought I was smart? A flush crept over my cheeks. You obviously have never seen my report card.
“Earth to Peter. Are you listening to me?” I heard Sophia say, distracting him from our mind speak.
“Yeah, sorry. I’m just tired,” he said.
“Please promise me you’ll start going to bed earlier. You’ve been looking exhausted for more than a week now. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Those extra shifts at Indigo are just taking it out of me.”
My stomach tensed as I remembered Peter was still working for his parents entirely for free. Not only was it morally wrong, but it also kept him dependent on them. It meant he couldn’t build up savings to go out and be independent after he graduated from St. Bastian’s. Not that Peter would have a hard time finding work. His magical talents would be in high demand out in the real world, and there were lots of supernatural-run businesses that were seeking to hire people.
