“So magnanimous,” I agree with a click of my tongue, although I can’t keep the humor from leaking into my gaze. Staying mad at Flint is starting to feel impossible. “Or, wait. I think I mean murderous. Sorry.” I deliberately widen my eyes. “I always confuse those two words.”
Flint’s cheeks flush just a little, and his expression shifts to a combination of embarrassed and impressed as he leans over and whispers, “Me too.”
I meet his eyes. “I remember.”
“Yeah, I know.” He looks sad, but he doesn’t try to argue with me. Doesn’t try to pretend I don’t have the right to be wary around him. Instead, he just nods toward the desks and says, “You might want to grab a seat in the back.”
“Why is that exactly?” I ask.
Flint just shakes his head, and his signature big grin stretches across his face again. He holds his hands out in a half-conciliatory, half-do-what-you-want kind of motion. “Sit in the front for a day if you must. You’ll figure it out.”
I want to ask more, but the final bell rings, and everyone is rushing for a seat—as far back from the front as they can get.
So it was a real tip, then, and not just Flint’s way of messing with me. Too bad I’m a little slow on the uptake, because now nearly all the seats in the back are taken.
Figuring the front can’t be that bad, I start to make my way over to the row against the wall—the second seat is open, and it seems like as good a bet as any.
I’m almost there when a slender arm, bedecked in crystal enhancing bracelets, shoots out to stop me. “Oh my God, Grace!” Macy’s friend Gwen beckons me over to sit next to her.
“Welcome back,” she practically shouts at me as I slide into the desk in front of her. “Have you seen Macy yet? She’s going to flip!”
She shoves a lock of her long, shiny black hair behind her ear as she talks, and when it falls right back into her face again, she makes an exasperated noise and leans forward to pull an antique hair clip—also crystal enhanced—out of her bag.
“I haven’t seen her yet. My uncle said she’s been taking a midterm since I…” I trail off awkwardly, as I have no idea how to finish that sentence.
Since I got back?
Since I became human again?
Since I stopped being a gargoyle?
Ugh. What a mess.
Gwen smiles sympathetically, then whispers something in Chinese to me. The look on her face tells me it’s something special, but I don’t have a clue if it’s a spell or a blessing or something in between.
“What does that mean?” I whisper back as the architecture teacher, a Mr. Damasen, according to my schedule, lumbers into the room. He’s a huge man—seven feet at least—with long red hair tied back at the nape of his neck and ancient gold eyes that seem to see everything.
Instinctively, I sit a little taller and notice everyone else in the class does the same—except for Flint, who currently has his long legs kicked up on his desk like he’s on a lounger in the middle of the Bahamas.
Mr. Damasen zeroes in on him, his eyes doing this weird swirling thing that totally freaks me out. But Flint just keeps grinning that lazy, dragon grin of his and even raises his hand in a little half wave, half salute.
At first, I think the teacher is going to bite his head off—maybe even literally—but in the end, he doesn’t say a word. He just kind of shakes his head before giving the rest of the students in the classroom a quick once-over.
“It’s a Chinese proverb my mother used to tell me all the time when I was growing up and struggling to figure out my powers and my place in the witchcraft world. ‘If heaven made someone, earth can find some use for them.’” Her bracelets clink together in a surprisingly soothing rhythm as she leans forward slightly and pats my forearm. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ll figure it out. Just give yourself some time.”
Her words are right on. So right on, in fact, that they freak me out a little bit. I really don’t like the idea of the entire school knowing how I’m feeling. I thought I’d done a good job of keeping my emotions under wraps, but now I’m really doubting that belief, considering this is only the second time Gwen and I have ever talked.
“How did you know?”
She smiles. “I’m an empath and a healer. It’s kind of what I do. And you’ve got every right to be freaked out right now. Just try to breathe through it until you get your feet under you.”
“Fake it till I make it?” I joke, because that’s pretty much been my mantra since I got to Katmere Academy.