Page 38 of Evergreen Academy (Society of Magical Botanists #1)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“ W ell, I must say that your mistletoe theme this year has reached a new level of whimsy, Briar Rose. Does someone have kissing on their mind?”

“Aunt Vera!” I faux gasped, snapping a tea towel at her.

We were putting the finishing touches on our Christmas cake decorating contest, a tradition my aunt had shared with my mom growing up. They would each make a cake, decorate it with as much festive pizazz as they could muster, and have their mom judge the winner.

A few years after my mom had passed, I’d taken her place in the competition with my aunt. She was always clearly the better of the two of us, but she called it a draw each time.

Aunt Vera put her hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying. You were really in the zone there. I wondered if your mind might be somewhere else.”

My aunt was much too perceptive for her own good.

There were multiple times throughout the evening when I wanted to tell her about Evergreen Academy, about what I was.

The urge was much stronger now that I suddenly had powers.

Had my power come from her side of the family?

Could she shed any light on what was going on with me?

But Professor East had warned me about discretion, and I wasn’t prepared to break that. Who would believe me, anyway? My aunt might just stick me straight into therapy and say I’d never properly processed my mom’s death.

I guessed I should be glad she thought my distraction was due to something as normal as a love interest and not the sudden appearance of magical powers.

While I’d been attending Evergreen Academy for months, the fact that I was a magical botanist had never felt real until my powers had activated.

Now, I was scared to look sideways at a plant outside of the academy, wondering if it might do something that would give me away.

“Maybe I made the mistletoe cake for you and Bryce,” I said, sliding it into a paper cake box and tying a ribbon around it. “He’s coming over soon, right?”

“Yep. I guess that means he gets to choose between your darling mistletoe cake or this completely gauche gingerbread-man monstrosity.” She eyed her creation as if regretting her design choices this year.

I peeled one of the fondant gingerbread men off the side and bit off his head, and my aunt made a shocked face before roaring with laughter.

“Hopefully, Bryce doesn’t have any trouble getting here. The snow’s really coming down now.”

I looked out the window to see that she was right. Thick flakes were falling in front of the windows. We cleaned up the café and carefully walked through the slushy snow to climb the stairs to the apartment, cakes in hand.

Before long, Bryce gave a soft knock before pushing the door open. “Love the wreath, B. Vera said you made it at school.”

“Thanks, Bryce. Do I have a future as a florist?” I teased. He gave me a quick hug before greeting my aunt with a quick kiss, and I made for the hallway, ready to make myself scarce.

“Make sure Bryce takes advantage of all that mistletoe I put on the cake,” I called over my shoulder.

Even though I couldn’t see her, I could practically hear my aunt rolling her eyes.

I got settled in my room with a warm blanket, the storm outside quickly increasing in intensity.

As I climbed into bed, I heard a loud scratching at my window. Thinking it was a wayward tree branch, I got up to ensure my window was shut tight against the incoming storm.

The scratching became more insistent, and I peered into the dark to see a volley of leaves swirling outside the pane as if of their own accord. I sucked in a breath, realizing what I was seeing.

Carefully, I opened the window, letting the small patch of leaves rush in before slamming it shut again.

Immediately, the leaves dropped to the ground. I riffled through them and noticed that one wasn’t a leaf at all but a leaf-shaped piece of paper. On it, I recognized Callan’s messy scrawl .

Merry Christmas. Hope you haven’t caused any local calamities with your powers yet.

-C

My stomach twisted so tightly in delight that I had to sink onto my bed and suppress a squeal. Had Callan sent this note to me on the wind all the way from the East Coast? Or was he back?

The idea had a smile splashing across my face, but then I realized there was no way he had travelled back on Christmas. The academy didn’t start up for the winter quarter until mid-January. I shouldn’t expect to see him until well after the new year.

The leaves on the floor began to rustle again, swirling from my ankles up around my wrists. They tugged me toward my desk, and I picked up a pen. Were they prompting me to write back ?

I searched for a small piece of paper then jotted:

None that I know of, at least. Merry Christmas!

-B

When I put the pen down, the leaves rushed around the paper and scooped it up then went zooming toward the window. I opened it, and with a loud rush of the storm, they were gone.

I flopped back onto my bed, unable to wipe the smile off my face. Callan could have texted me, like a normal person. But I was reminded again that nothing about him was normal.

He was a powerful magical botanist who’d grown up surrounded by other powerful magical botanists. And as far as I knew, he didn’t have my phone number. Did he even have a phone? The idea that he might not was so shocking that it almost wore off the surprise of what had just happened.

Almost.

When I fell asleep that night to soft Christmas music, I dreamed of sugarplums and dancing leaves.