Page 120 of How to Flirt with a Witch

Natalie stares at me.

I stay strong, lifting my chin. “You’ve lied to me, kept secrets from me, and now you’re telling me you regret bringing me here.”

Her shoulders drop. “Katie—”

“Out!” I roar. I want her to feel even a fraction of the pain she’s causing me. “I don’t want you here. I need to be by myself.”

Seeing my expression, she backs up with her hands raised in surrender.

Dropping eye contact, she leaves my room, plunging me into a ringing silence.

Chapter 29

The Other Kind of Magic

“Did you really getdragged through a graveyard by Wyatt Madsen yesterday?”

Two middle schoolers have stopped at my picnic table in the courtyard, summoning the bravery to talk to me after an obvious whispered debate by the koi pond. They look so much alike that they must be brother and sister, with deep brown skin, tight ringlets that reach the boy’s shoulders and fall a few inches longer on the girl, and string-bean frames like they’re in the midst of growth spurts.

“Yeah,” I say, shifting uncomfortably. The crutch is leaning against the table and my leg is stretched across the bench, slight relief offered by elevating my ankle.

“Wow,” they say together.

Wait, is that awe? Heat rises in my face. I’m not used to being admired at CSAMM. Or like, ever. “It was about as fun as it sounds.”

My laptop and psychology textbook are open in front of me, the textbook soaked in coffee after I spilled it while trying to juggle my drink, crutch, and bag earlier. After a painful and restless sleep, it hasn’t exactlybeen the best morning. Not to mention the hole burning in my brain over theother magicNatalie hinted at, which has fear prickling at the nape of my neck.

Seriously, what could be more powerful than earth magic? Should we be worried about the Madsens getting it?

I glance at my bag on the table, where Freddie Madsen’s business card lays hidden.

I betheknows about it.

“Did it hurt?” the boy asks.

His sister elbows him. “What do you think, turd? Getting mauled by a dog that weighs as much as she does?”

He looks down, ashamed. “Sorry.”

I smile at their innocent interest. “It’s fine. Yeah, it hurt like hell.” I pull up my pant leg to show them the injury, and they both gasp. It looks just as bad as yesterday, if not worse with the Frankenstein sutures pulling the skin.

“What’s it like being hunted by the Madsens?” the boy asks, which earns him another elbow.

“You can’t justasksomeone a thing like that.” His sister rolls her eyes. “Sorry. He has no filter.”

“But it’s worth asking, don’t you think?” he insists. “Nobody knows what powers they have, and the more we know, the more we can be prepared.”

I furrow my brow. These kids have a healthy dose of fear for the Madsens. “Be prepared for what?”

They exchange a look.

“For if they ever get their hands on magic,” the girl says seriously.

Unease coils within me. Should I be concerned that even these middle schoolers are afraid of what the Madsen family might do?

Nearby, an orange cat gazes into the koi pond, his tail swishing as he debates going in for the kill. I might as well be a fish swimming around in my safe little pond, oblivious as to what’s beyond it.

“So, what did the Madsens do to you?” the boy presses, scanning me from head to toe as if searching for more injuries.