I’m trying to decide if I should try to creep down the hallway and out the front door of if it’d be better to make use of my window. And the honest fact is that I have not one single clue.
My instinct says my window is probably better because it eliminates the chance of being seen by some random somebody out in the hall before bed, but I’m up on the second floor and that means I’ll probably hit the ground harder than I’d like. Plus, do I really have the courage to drop out of a second floor window? I pace back and forth around my room, trying to gather my wits, trying to work myself up to believe that yes, I’m actually gonna do this. Down the hall or out the window, it’s gonna happen.
I swallow hard and stride over to my window, lean on the glass, and look down at the grass below. Just as I start to open the locks and slide the thing open, I find another reason to pause. Shouldn’t I change into dark clothing? That’s what people do when they’re sneaking around, right? Wear dark clothes to blend into the shadows? As I change I’m struck by another thought. I’m a witch. I don’t have to jump out the window and let gravity have its way with me. I can just cast a spell so that I float on down without getting hurt.
Bolstered by my awesomeness, I zip up my dark gray hoodie and pull my hair back into a ponytail while trying to come up with the right incantation that will let me jump out of my window without getting hurt. Magic is weird, so much of it is reflex, like your hand shooting out to catch a ball thrown your way. (Or, dodging out of the way of said ball if you’re a wuss like me.) The right incantation can guide that reflex into something more purposeful.
The window sticks a bit when I try to open it and relief at having an external reason to back out of sneaking out washes over me, followed almost instantly by regret. I give the window one more heave and it slides upwards, the ancient wooden frame squeaking its complaint at the forced mobility. I freeze at the sound and wait for hordes of armed guards to rush through my door while alarms blare lights flash and whatever other kinds of insanity happen when someone gets caught breaking the rules. Nothing happens other than the cool night air filtering in through the screen, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and the promise of rebellion.
I fiddle with the screen until I get it out of the way and whisper the first incantation that comes to mind. “Adsurgere descendit.” With that said, and after a deep breath and several thoughts of fluffy white clouds and floating and landing on trampolines, I leap from the window.
And fall.
Fast.
I bite back a scream and focus hard on my magic, willing it out of me as the ground rushes up, a great big threatening mass of ‘this is gonna hurt’.
Nothing.
No magic.
I hit the ground with a thud.
Pain shoots up my ankle and I roll onto my back, clutching my leg.
What the hell? I can kill an entire garden and bring it back to life like the Amazon on crack, but I can’t keep myself from falling out a window? The pain in my ankle is bad. I call on my tiger, hoping that having my familiar around will amplify my magic into existence and whisper a healing spell once she’s at my side. The pain subsides, just like it’s supposed to. I look back up at my window, a gaping void in a wall of uniformity and whisper another spell, this one designed to set my window back to rights.
The screen slides into place and the window slips closed. If it squealed in its frame, I couldn’t hear it from here. Well, at least my magic isn’t, I don’t know, broken or something. Even if it was totally strange for that one spell not to work.
The tiger nudges me and I guess it’s probably a bad idea for me to be hanging out on the ground here, just waiting for someone to find me and send me back to Daya’s office for the second time in one day. I hop up and test my weight on my ankle. It’s fine. Whatever I’d done to it,
My instinct says my window is probably better because it eliminates the chance of being seen by some random somebody out in the hall before bed, but I’m up on the second floor and that means I’ll probably hit the ground harder than I’d like. Plus, do I really have the courage to drop out of a second floor window? I pace back and forth around my room, trying to gather my wits, trying to work myself up to believe that yes, I’m actually gonna do this. Down the hall or out the window, it’s gonna happen.
I swallow hard and stride over to my window, lean on the glass, and look down at the grass below. Just as I start to open the locks and slide the thing open, I find another reason to pause. Shouldn’t I change into dark clothing? That’s what people do when they’re sneaking around, right? Wear dark clothes to blend into the shadows? As I change I’m struck by another thought. I’m a witch. I don’t have to jump out the window and let gravity have its way with me. I can just cast a spell so that I float on down without getting hurt.
Bolstered by my awesomeness, I zip up my dark gray hoodie and pull my hair back into a ponytail while trying to come up with the right incantation that will let me jump out of my window without getting hurt. Magic is weird, so much of it is reflex, like your hand shooting out to catch a ball thrown your way. (Or, dodging out of the way of said ball if you’re a wuss like me.) The right incantation can guide that reflex into something more purposeful.
The window sticks a bit when I try to open it and relief at having an external reason to back out of sneaking out washes over me, followed almost instantly by regret. I give the window one more heave and it slides upwards, the ancient wooden frame squeaking its complaint at the forced mobility. I freeze at the sound and wait for hordes of armed guards to rush through my door while alarms blare lights flash and whatever other kinds of insanity happen when someone gets caught breaking the rules. Nothing happens other than the cool night air filtering in through the screen, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and the promise of rebellion.
I fiddle with the screen until I get it out of the way and whisper the first incantation that comes to mind. “Adsurgere descendit.” With that said, and after a deep breath and several thoughts of fluffy white clouds and floating and landing on trampolines, I leap from the window.
And fall.
Fast.
I bite back a scream and focus hard on my magic, willing it out of me as the ground rushes up, a great big threatening mass of ‘this is gonna hurt’.
Nothing.
No magic.
I hit the ground with a thud.
Pain shoots up my ankle and I roll onto my back, clutching my leg.
What the hell? I can kill an entire garden and bring it back to life like the Amazon on crack, but I can’t keep myself from falling out a window? The pain in my ankle is bad. I call on my tiger, hoping that having my familiar around will amplify my magic into existence and whisper a healing spell once she’s at my side. The pain subsides, just like it’s supposed to. I look back up at my window, a gaping void in a wall of uniformity and whisper another spell, this one designed to set my window back to rights.
The screen slides into place and the window slips closed. If it squealed in its frame, I couldn’t hear it from here. Well, at least my magic isn’t, I don’t know, broken or something. Even if it was totally strange for that one spell not to work.
The tiger nudges me and I guess it’s probably a bad idea for me to be hanging out on the ground here, just waiting for someone to find me and send me back to Daya’s office for the second time in one day. I hop up and test my weight on my ankle. It’s fine. Whatever I’d done to it,
Similar Books
