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“Yeah, I think so,” I answered shakily. “She’s probably headed to her dormitory to tell her friends all about me. I’m sure they’ll all have a good laugh at my expense.”
“Those Grimsbane witches are pieces of work,” the woman said with a yawn, stretching her soft arms to the ceiling. Then she stood, brushing flour off her apron. “Drunk on the smell of their own crap, I wager. Probably think it smells like rose perfume.”
I choked on a laugh. “Yeah, probably. Have you been listening this whole time?”
She nodded. “Thought it best I didn’t let Vivian know she had an audience so I snuck off. She would’ve made things worse for you, just to put on a show.”
She was probably right. It seemed exactly the sort of thing that Vivian Grimsbane would do. Anything to grind me harder into the dirt.
“Thanks. I’m Astrid, by the way. Astrid Depraysie.”
The woman seized my hand in her large, calloused grip, giving it a firm shake. “Nice to meet you, Astrid. My name is Madea, but most people call me Mads. I’m a brownie.”
“Oh, nice to meet you.” I glanced around the kitchen. “Do you run this place?”
She nodded quickly. “That, I do. You keep your workstation clean an’ do yer job, and we won’t have us any problems. Slack off, an’ you’ll see me go bogart.” Then she laughed at that. “Trust me, you don’t wanna see that.”
I swallowed nervously. I’d heard of bogarts and from what I’d heard, she was right. I never wanted to meet one. “Understood, ma’am.”
She laughed that deep chuckle again, then reached up to muss my hair in an almost grandmotherly fashion. “No need to be so formal. Call me ‘Mads’. After the way you handled Vivian so well, beatin’ her at her own stupid game, I think you an’ me’ll be right friends.”
“I hope so,” I said, laughing.
“You’ll do just fine down here. You came at a good time. One o’ my Summer faeries, Shasta, left, so I need me an extra hand. C’mon. I’ll show you to her old room.”
Mads waddled off behind the ovens to another door at the back of the kitchen. I dutifully followed as she led me out the double doors, halfway up the hall, until we reached the third door from the stairs. Then she produced an old-fashioned, skeleton key and slotted it into the lock. The mechanism clicked a moment later, and she stepped aside to let me enter.
The room beyond was around the size of a walk-in closet, hardly big enough for the twin bed, end table, hope chest, and bookshelf it contained. My bags had been piled haphazardly on the bed.
“Now I know it’s small,” Mads said. “But I didn’t get much notice you were comin’. I wager they thought you’d up an’ leave when they told you about yer new job.”
“I’m made of tougher stuff than that.”
She smiled at me and then sighed at the room again. “Not like we got us a lot o’ extra space down here, anyway.” She shook her head. “Ah, never mind that. You ever worked in a kitchen before?”
“I’ve done lots of babysitting. Then I took a summer job at a candy store back home in Haven Hollow. It’s not exactly the same thing, I know, but it’s something.”
“It’s better than most witches o’ yer age an’ station. We’ll make it work.” She paused at the door and gave me another kind grin. “Night then, Astrid. I’m sure there’ll be plenty o’ time for introductions during the daylight hours.”
After she turned to leave, she quietly closed the door, all the while muttering profanities about unthinking professors beneath her breath.
I waited until I no longer heard her footsteps against the wood floors before shoving my bags off the bed. Then I curled into a ball on top of the white and nearly threadbare duvet cover and buried my face in a pillow, feeling sorry for myself. I should have expected something like this from a school full of witches. Scapegrace wasn’t exactly well-regarded in the broader community. Still, part of me had hoped for a normal education.
Mads was right though. I’d make it work. But tonight, I’d indulge in a pity party, getting the hurt feelings out of my system. Then I’d hold my head high, daring any of those stupid girls in class to laugh at me. I was a Depraysie witch, and we didn’t surrender. We got even.
That meant I’d study, I’d work hard in the kitchen, and I’d outstrip them by a mile. The best revenge in this case was a perfect attendance record and the top scores in the school.
I’d show up the headmistress’ daughter if it was the last thing I did.
Chapter Four
Poke. Poke. Poke.
Someone with long, witchy nails was poking me in the side and calling my name. I rolled so my back was to them, burying my head in my pillow, moaning, “Five more minutes, Wanda.”
“Sorry,” a soft female voice said. “But I can’t let you stay in bed any longer. Sunrise is in ten minutes and Mads will expect you at your workstation before then.”
Mads? Workstation? What?
