Page 44 of Fractured Fates

“No.” I hang my head.

“Hmmm,” he says, and when I lift my gaze I find he’s strolling away.

Damn it. Magic. I could have used my magic all along.

Not that anyone was kind enough to tell me.

I stare at the stupid bell and consider sending a blast of magic its way, just to make the fucking thing ring.

But, no, I’m determined to reach it myself.

With my eyes fixed on the ceiling, I call on my magic, letting it soar from the center of my chest, along my limbs, to my fingers and toes. I step forward and take the rope in my hands. Then I climb, using my magic to support me, to lift me through the air. This time I climb higher and higher, soon level with the top of the cheerleaders’ pyramid, then up to the windows and finally, finally, to the ceiling. The bell hangs right above my head and, concentrating with all my might, sweat pooling along my brow and trickling down my spine, I grip the chain in my hand and ring that bell so loud everyone in the gymnasium looks my way.

I grin down at them. At Summer. At Spencer. At all their minions.

Then I let go of the bell, of the rope, and float down to the floor, this time landing gracefully on my feet.

I can’t help a little squeal of delight when I’m down safely, punching the air. I spin on my toes, hoping coach is here somewhere now and witnessing my triumph. Instead I spy the man in black, hovering by the door, watching me. When I catch his eyes, he looks away, turning his back to me and walking straight through the exit.

Did he stay to watch?

And why does that make my insides flutter?

* * *

It takesme a while to track down Coach, who I find outside, timing sprints. I’m practically buzzing when I tell him I’ve done it, and even the way he looks at his watch and asks why it took me so long, isn’t enough to kill my good mood.

I skip off to the changing rooms, sweaty and stinky and aching everywhere, but elated nonetheless.

My mood takes a serious tumble in the opposite direction when I find there’s someone else already in the changing room. Not just anyone.

Summer.

I’ve known this girl less than a day and I already hate her.

At least she’s alone and not surrounded by her adoring fan club.

She hears me enter and peers over her shoulder.

“Oh, it’s you,” she says, her lip curling in disgust.

“Yep, it’s me.”

“I wondered what that smell was.”

I can’t help dipping my nose near my chest and sniffing. “I probably do smell pretty bad right now. Is the water actually hot in these showers?”

“You’re going to take a shower?”

“Erm, yes.”

“You can’t.” She spins around to face me.

I fold my arms over my chest. “And why not? You don’t own this school, Summer.”

“Debatable, but actually everyone knows Tuesday nights are my nights. No one else gets to come in. Didn’t your little friend tell you that? Or perhaps you’re a pervert as well as a pig.”

Staring at me, she reaches down to her waist, grips the lycra material of her top and whips it straight over her head. She’s not wearing anything underneath and I receive a full on flash of her impressive tits before I look away.