AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He doesn't need to worry about being overheard, though. There's chatter everywhere. Some of it is coming from people talking to their friends about getting diamonds, and a little bit is coming from people who think intent isn't enough and have made up their own words for the spell. It all depends on how powerful the witch or warlock is, but beyond that, I'm not sure exactly how it works.
"Want to try first?" I ask him, mostly to cover up my own nerves about the spell. I'm not ready to produce another kitten. Though I'm not sure if the idea of doing that is worse than not being able to do the spell at all.
"Reckon I need words?" he responds, frowning down at the bag of sand even as he pulls out his wand. I'm lucky Ryan isn't the egotistical type who needs to show off. At least he takes class seriously, even if he isn't any good at potions.
"Depends how confident you're feeling." I shrug, unsure if I'm going to use them myself yet.
He clears his throat and raises his wand. "Here goes nothing. Sandy bag all full of din, make me something to make Mona grin."
A giggle escapes me, even though I don't want it to, and Ryan winks at me, then waves his wand over the sand to do the real spell.
To my surprise, it moves, almost as if something is happening.
"Oh well, better luck next time," he says, sounding much less bothered by the lack of success than he maybe should. "You ready to try?"
I gulp down my nerves, all the laughter completely gone at the thought of having to do this. But I can't avoid trying.
"I'll try." I take out my wand, the polished wood heavy in my hand, almost like it knows what's going to happen next. Or like it's full of a kitten about to escape. One or the other, and I wouldn't like to guess which.
I wave it across the sand, thinking about the sand turning into diamonds, just the way the charm instructs me to. I try to think of some words, but none come to me, and I stick with the intent. At least with the complexity of the spell, it's more likely to fail this way and then I won't end up the laughing stock of the class.
My arm begins to tingle and my eyes fly open in panic. Magic isn't what I want. Not this time. It seems silly to think that considering I'm a witch, but every spell I try to do is ending badly for me at the moment, I don't want to actually do more. Not if I can't help it.
The power builds, stronger than I've experienced before, and I'm not sure what to do with it. Or, I do. I'm just nervous about it happening.
"Mona, it's working." Excitement shines through Ryan's words as he points at the sand in front of me.
Sure enough, it's starting to form clumps and begin to glisten in the dim light of the classroom.
Oh wow.
I don't even know how to deal with that.
Magic surges stronger from within me, bursting out of my wand and engulfing the sand completely. But something else is coming, I can feel it, and a blur of white and orange fuzz spurts forth.
"You still managed the spell?" Ryan tries.
I blink away the frustrated tears that start to form. I can't believe this is happening again.
A little meow sounds from the ball of fur, and I react instantly, scooping the kitten into my arms and hugging him close.
"What are you going to call him?" Ryan asks, leaning in to scratch the kitten's head.
"I've no idea. Why don't you?" I let Daphne name one, it's only fair that her twin gets to name one too.
"Romeo."
"After the Shakespeare character?"
"Yes. He looks like a lover, don't you think?" Ryan's grin is full of mischief. "Plus you conjured him while trying to make diamonds. Kind of fitting for him to have a romantic name, don't you think?"
I almost roll my eyes, but hold back. It's kind of cute logic. Instead, I look down at the purring creature nestling in my arms. He's just a ball of fluff, half white, and half browny-orange. It's hard to put a name on his colour. And Ryan's right, he definitely looks like a lover. I can tell already that he'll be one of my more affectionate kittens.
"Has Mona got a kitten?" one of the idiots who circles Ivy a lot asks loudly.
I shield Romeo from view, not wanting him to be confiscated, nor wanting to be the centre of attention. That's not my thing.
Someone sniggers from beside him. "Again?" they ask.
