tonight’s assembly.”
“This is crap!” someone shouted. I rose up on tiptoes and saw a tall boy with reddish hair.
“Evan,” Archer murmured.
The crowd sort of scooted away from the boy as he and Mrs. Casnoff faced each other down.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Butler?” Mrs. Casnoff asked, and this time, she sounded a lot more like her old self and less like a frail old lady.
“The Eye and the Brannicks have been killing us off, and the school freaking disappeared. And now, what, we’re all just supposed to start a new school year?”
No one was whispering now. In fact, everything had gone unnaturally quiet, I realized. The wind had died, and there were no birds, no distant sound of the ocean. It was like the island was holding its breath.
“Enough,” Mrs. Casnoff said. “As I said, the assembly this evening will answer all—”
“No!” Evan shouted, his voice echoing in the still air. “I’m not setting foot in that place until you tell us what the hell is going on. How did you get us here? Why is he here?” Evan jerked his thumb at Archer, and several people glanced in our direction. Archer was wearing a bored expression, but the bruise on his cheek was darker against his suddenly paler skin.
“Mr. Butler,” Mrs. Casnoff snapped, drawing herself up taller. “Stop it. Now.”
Evan snorted. “Screw this.” The girl next to Evan, a witch whose name I thought was Michaela, put a hand on his arm and said something to him, but he shook her off. “There’s no way I’m spending another year in some rotting mansion, hidden away from the whole damn world. Not when a war is coming.” With that, he shoved his way through the crowd, his feet kicking up a cloud of dust down the gravel driveway.
“Evan.” Mrs. Casnoff’s voice rang out, and this time, there was more in it than anger or irritation. It almost sounded like a warning.
But Evan didn’t even turn around.
“What the heck is he gonna do, swim to the mainland?” I muttered under my breath.
By now, Evan had reached the thick wall of fog circling the house. He hesitated, and I saw his shoulders go up and his hands clenched into fists at his side, like he was trying to psych himself up. He raised a hand, and I saw a couple of sparks shoot from his fingertips. They died almost immediately with a faint popping sound, like a wet firecracker.
Next to me, Archer wiggled his own fingers, and the same thing happened to his magic. “No powers allowed, apparently,” he murmured.
I looked back at Evan and thought that he’d probably come back now. Instead, he moved one foot into the fog.
For a moment, he stood there frozen, half in, half out of the gray haze. “What’s happening?” Jenna asked. “Why isn’t he moving?”
“I don’t know,” I said, and Archer slipped his hand back into mine.
That’s when Evan started to scream. As we watched, the mist seemed to grow tentacles that wrapped around the rest of Evan’s body. One shot out and grabbed his arms, swallowing them, as a second curled around his torso. A third wound its way sinuously around his head, and Evan’s cry suddenly stopped. And then he was gone.
No one moved. I think that was the weirdest part, how there was no screaming or fainting. This was real. Evan was…well, if not dead, then gone.
Almost as one, the crowd of students turned back to face Mrs. Casnoff. I don’t know what I expected her to say or do. Cackle, maybe. Or look down her nose at all of us and smugly declare, “I told him not to go.”
But she was leaning against the porch rail, and she didn’t look smug, or satisfied, or even grimly pleased. Just old and tired and maybe a little sad.
“Go inside,” she told us listlessly. “Your room assignments are the same as they were the previous semester.”
There was another pause, and then, slowly, the students nearest the house began to shuffle up the steps.
“What do we do?” Jenna asked.
“I guess we go inside,” I said. “It’s either
“This is crap!” someone shouted. I rose up on tiptoes and saw a tall boy with reddish hair.
“Evan,” Archer murmured.
The crowd sort of scooted away from the boy as he and Mrs. Casnoff faced each other down.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Butler?” Mrs. Casnoff asked, and this time, she sounded a lot more like her old self and less like a frail old lady.
“The Eye and the Brannicks have been killing us off, and the school freaking disappeared. And now, what, we’re all just supposed to start a new school year?”
No one was whispering now. In fact, everything had gone unnaturally quiet, I realized. The wind had died, and there were no birds, no distant sound of the ocean. It was like the island was holding its breath.
“Enough,” Mrs. Casnoff said. “As I said, the assembly this evening will answer all—”
“No!” Evan shouted, his voice echoing in the still air. “I’m not setting foot in that place until you tell us what the hell is going on. How did you get us here? Why is he here?” Evan jerked his thumb at Archer, and several people glanced in our direction. Archer was wearing a bored expression, but the bruise on his cheek was darker against his suddenly paler skin.
“Mr. Butler,” Mrs. Casnoff snapped, drawing herself up taller. “Stop it. Now.”
Evan snorted. “Screw this.” The girl next to Evan, a witch whose name I thought was Michaela, put a hand on his arm and said something to him, but he shook her off. “There’s no way I’m spending another year in some rotting mansion, hidden away from the whole damn world. Not when a war is coming.” With that, he shoved his way through the crowd, his feet kicking up a cloud of dust down the gravel driveway.
“Evan.” Mrs. Casnoff’s voice rang out, and this time, there was more in it than anger or irritation. It almost sounded like a warning.
But Evan didn’t even turn around.
“What the heck is he gonna do, swim to the mainland?” I muttered under my breath.
By now, Evan had reached the thick wall of fog circling the house. He hesitated, and I saw his shoulders go up and his hands clenched into fists at his side, like he was trying to psych himself up. He raised a hand, and I saw a couple of sparks shoot from his fingertips. They died almost immediately with a faint popping sound, like a wet firecracker.
Next to me, Archer wiggled his own fingers, and the same thing happened to his magic. “No powers allowed, apparently,” he murmured.
I looked back at Evan and thought that he’d probably come back now. Instead, he moved one foot into the fog.
For a moment, he stood there frozen, half in, half out of the gray haze. “What’s happening?” Jenna asked. “Why isn’t he moving?”
“I don’t know,” I said, and Archer slipped his hand back into mine.
That’s when Evan started to scream. As we watched, the mist seemed to grow tentacles that wrapped around the rest of Evan’s body. One shot out and grabbed his arms, swallowing them, as a second curled around his torso. A third wound its way sinuously around his head, and Evan’s cry suddenly stopped. And then he was gone.
No one moved. I think that was the weirdest part, how there was no screaming or fainting. This was real. Evan was…well, if not dead, then gone.
Almost as one, the crowd of students turned back to face Mrs. Casnoff. I don’t know what I expected her to say or do. Cackle, maybe. Or look down her nose at all of us and smugly declare, “I told him not to go.”
But she was leaning against the porch rail, and she didn’t look smug, or satisfied, or even grimly pleased. Just old and tired and maybe a little sad.
“Go inside,” she told us listlessly. “Your room assignments are the same as they were the previous semester.”
There was another pause, and then, slowly, the students nearest the house began to shuffle up the steps.
“What do we do?” Jenna asked.
“I guess we go inside,” I said. “It’s either
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