Page 9

I rush outside the classroom, ignoring Vega’s shouts behind me.

“Miss Woo, during a surge we must stay—”

I slam the door shut, my heart racing. I didn’t account for what might happen during a mana surge, and if anyone gets hurt—

I made this problem. I have to fix it.

Mana rushes through the air, desperate and wild and racing through every active spell, every bit of potential. Hallway lights flicker erratically, and thick gusts of hot air rush down the hallway, the environmental cooling spell system overshooting in the other direction.

Students brace themselves by their lockers or dash out of the way as a torrent of whole pineapples cascade from the cafeteria doors.

The pineapples multiply rapidly, each one shimmering with mana as the spell takes and takes and takes—I’d programmed it to keep going until it exhausted the mana charge, and unfortunately there just happens to be an endless supply right now.

Pineapples tumble past my feet, and while the students near my end of the hallway have all escaped into open classrooms, those closer to the cafeteria aren’t so lucky, up to their knees and waists in ferociously multiplying fruit. The waves rise quickly and threaten to smother—

“Hannah!” My throat seizes up with fear, and I can feel the surge raging around me as I push my way toward the students now up to their necks in pineapples. The prickly edges of the fruit and the spiky leaves scratch at my arms as I struggle with my runebook.

It’s extremely dangerous to cast anything during a mana surge—but what if I modify an ongoing spell?

I pull up the matrix, drawing and redrawing runes as quickly as I can. “Pineapples belong on pizza!” I shout, just as the pineapples reach my neck.

The release phrase takes hold again as the spell updates with my new instructions, and then—

The pineapples start to disappear just as quickly as they were multiplying, and I exhale in relief as I escape my fruity stronghold.

“Are you okay?” I ask Hannah.

She dusts herself off, nodding quickly. “Yeah.”

We smile at each other a bit, and I suddenly don’t know what to say.

The thick, frantic rush of mana in the air dissipates and the sharp tang of ozone fades away. I exhale. The surge is over.

The pineapples also stop disappearing, which means my spell has run its course as well.

The bell rings, and students spill into the hallways, picking up pineapples and laughing as they survey the chaos.

“Thank you, Kat—you really are the Chosen One,” sniffles a freshman, who tries to hug me.

I pat them on the shoulder and awkwardly mumble “no problem” to all the other students who rush forward to talk to me.

“So that was one of yours, I take it?” Hannah asks, amused.

“Yeah,” I say, color popping into my cheeks. “I didn’t account for the surge; it was just supposed to be a prank.”

A voice clears behind me.

I turn around to see the stern face of Principal Martin, her hands on her hips. “Well, it’s good to see you take responsibility for your actions, Miss Woo,” she says. “Because you have a lot to account for.”

“Seven different violations of the Devonsford student code of conduct. Disruption of teaching activities. Misappropriation and destruction of school property—”

“It was a joke!” I say, gesturing at the recording of the laughing students in the hallway projected into the air on Principal Martin’s runebook.

“It was just pineapples.” It got a little out of hand during the surge, but that’s not my fault.

And I fixed it right away. There’s no need to have this circus with the principal and my guidance counselor and Dad all in one room.

Principal Martin doesn’t laugh. Her mouth puckers like she’s swallowed a lemon. Her auburn hair is gathered in a bun so severe not a strand of hair moves when she shakes her head vigorously in disappointment.

“I don’t think so.” She gestures at the recording, now centered in the cafeteria kitchens.

I watch the damning events: Ms. Gutierrez slices fresh pineapples for the pizza and is making fruit cups when she pauses in confusion as one pineapple duplicates, then another.

She shouts a warning and leads the kitchen staff out the door as the pineapples multiply with abandon.

I feel guilty; she always gave me second helpings of fries, and I’m glad she’s okay.

The recording speeds up and moves to the hallway, where students and staff flee the onslaught of pineapples, and then it comes to a pause to the present.

It is absolute pineapple pandemonium: an impromptu game of pineapple-hockey is breaking out in the hallway, and I see Joe stuffing pineapples into an otherspace pocket as fast as he can.

“Look, all that wasn’t supposed to happen,” I grumble. “It was the mana surge! You know—”

Dad shakes his head at me to stop talking, and I sigh.

He crosses his arms and sighs in return, rubbing at his temples. He’s covered in flour and coffee stains; he must have knocked something over at the shop when he got the call. “What proof do you have that this was Katherine?”

Principal Martin slows down the projection and rewinds it. There I am in the middle of the fruity onslaught, clearly modifying the spell and making the pineapples disappear.

Ms. Applebaum shakes her head as she glances at Principal Martin. Her tone is much gentler, but disappointed. “A whole classroom witnessed Katherine invoking a release phrase, and multiple students confirmed that Katherine also cast a spell during the mana surge—also against school policy—”

“—and city safety guidelines,” Principal Martin grumbles. “And you were expelled from San Pablo High School for a similar incident.”

“Listen, I didn’t cast anything during the surge, look at my runebook if you want,” I grumble. “I modified the original spell I wrote—”

Dad groans.

“Look, it was supposed to be a silly prank. And the mana surge made it a little precarious, for sure. But I made sure everyone was safe!”

Ms. Applebaum nods. “You did, at that,” she says softly. “However, the pineapples appearing on the idleball field destroyed the goal posts.”

“That’s not so bad,” I say cheekily, smiling now that it seems like they’re starting to come around.

“The cleanup at San Pablo was pretty intense since it was chunks. Pineapple slush for days. The cafeteria was completely unusable. This? You basically got a bunch of free fruit. You’re welcome. ” I wink at Principal Martin.

Her mouth puckers even tighter. I didn’t think that was possible.

“Really?” Dad turns to me and throws his hands in the air. “I cannot believe this. After all the work we did to get you into this school, you pull another stunt like this—it’s just disrespectful, is what it is!”

“I can’t help but agree,” Principal Martin says. “At minimum, I was looking at detention every day for the rest of the school year, but you might consider a more drastic solution, Mr. Woo. I’m not sure Katherine has a future at this school.”

“Maybe I should ship you off to Covenstar,” Dad says, scowling at me.

Boarding school? No way.

Ms. Applebaum nods. “Oh, what a wonderful idea! I think that could be a great opportunity for you, Katherine. And they have such a fantastic array of extracurricular activities and…”

I sit back in my seat in horror as Dad and Principal Martin and Ms. Applebaum discuss me as if I’m not even there.

Principal Martin starts writing a letter to her sister, who just so happens to be on the board of directors at Covenstar.

I can see the rest of the school year mapped out for me: ugly school uniforms for a month and then I’m fast-tracked to some university where they’ll pretend to let me study something I’m interested in right up until the council calls me in for the Ritual.

No more independence, no fun, nothing to look forward to.

I already don’t get to have a future, and now they’re taking my present away from me.

The door opens and two knocks sound firmly on the hardwood. “Hello!”

I sit up a little higher in my seat as I recognize the bright voice behind me. I whirl around and there she is—Shannon Mayfield, my godmother and just about the coolest woman in the world.

“I’m so sorry to barge in like this, Delilah, but my schedule is so busy and this was the only time I could see you to discuss Chris’s new literacy fundraiser—oh!

Sam, Kat, what a surprise.” Shannon beams at us.

She’s dressed primly in a sleek white coat over a voluminous satin cream dress and looks stunning, as usual.

“Oh! Did we have an appointment?” Principal Martin blinks, stunned, staring at Shannon.

I wish people had that reaction to me—then again, everyone is expecting me to do something in the future, whereas Shannon is not only the scion of the great Mayfield name, she actually is a genius inventor in her own right, adding her own innovations to the ever-growing Mayfield Industries.

She and Mom were best friends at university, and I’ve known her for forever.

Shannon gracefully drops herself into a seat next to me. “Oh, no. I was in the area so I thought I’d drop by. Good thing, too! Sam, why didn’t you call me?” She sighs and pats Dad on the shoulder.

“You know I never want to bother you, and I had this in hand.”

Shannon turns to Principal Martin. “I’m Kat’s godmother. I’m happy to be consulted on any issues regarding Kat. I have her best interests at heart.”

“Oh, of course,” Principal Martin says. “Mrs. Prattlesby—Mayfield—er—”

“Either is fine.” Shannon laughs. She’s married to Christopher Prattlesby, the mayor of Los Angeles. When the press is being cheeky, they refer to him as Shannon’s husband. But they’re not wrong; she is way more high profile than he is.

And she definitely won’t stand for me being sent to boarding school.

“It was just a harmless prank,” I protest to Shannon. “And now Dad wants me to go to Covenstar, and it’s not fair!”

“Oh? Was this it?” Shannon glances at the open runebook on Principal Martin’s desk. “May I?”