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It was only then that I caught sight of the woman behind the books. Or some of her, at least. All that was currently visible was a mass of steel-gray curls, a pair of bespectacled eyes, and a short snub of a nose.

Doyenne Portencia. Miserable old – my throat tightened, and I could feel the word changing even as I thought it.

“Independent study or in-school detention?” she asked, not bothering to round the desk.

“Detention.”

“Which class?” She managed to look down her nose at me, even though she sat below me.

“Doyenne Elmwood sent me.”

Her eyes narrowed and I smiled serenely back at her as she motioned. “Back room, farthest to the right. Sign in at the door. Your assignment is self-explanatory.”

I padded through the library, marveling at the seemingly endless shelves and banks of computers. While there were a few older students working independently, the space was mostly empty as the rest were likely in class.

All but you, big mouth.

I wanted to regret it. I really did. But all I regretted was not having time to come up with more cutting insults. If I had to be in detention, might as well have earned it.

When I reached the assigned room, I pushed the door open with the toe of my boot and stepped inside but stopped short when a clipboard on the wall began to glow like a beacon.

“Sign in at the door,” Doyenne Portencia had said.

“Right,” I muttered, looking for a pen. There was none, so I traced my signature on the blank paper, and my name appeared a moment later. Glittering for a moment, it sank into the paper, black as night.

It was sort of neat being back in the magical world, but I wasn’t about to admit it to anyone besides myself. And it certainly wasn’t neat enough to offset the trauma of being here.

But there was still Opie, who was absolutely losing her sheet with happiness – her face that morning as the two girls included her was ... was everything for her. She’d dreamed of being part of the magical Dwimmer world for so long. I sighed. I had to play ball.

At least for now.

I headed into the empty room and took a seat in the back. There was a laptop set up on each desk.

I opened the nearest laptop, which powered up instantly. For a second, I stared at it blankly. It looked like a standard interface, except there was no internet icon. In its place was a magic wand.

Could I send a message via the internet out of the Dwimmer realm after all? It was a long shot, but I had nothing to lose by trying. I tried to sign into my Gmail, but the site wouldn’t even come up when I searched for it.

“Come on,” I whispered. Nothing. Apparently, it wasn’t just the phones that worked on a local net. “Son of a pixie beech.” I frowned “Beech. Beech!” I slapped my hand on the table.

With nothing else for it, defeat rolling through me, I clicked on the wand after my failed search engine results. A flying wizard buzzed around the screen like a mini tornado, before the words Choose an assignment appeared with two clickable options beneath it.

– Write a 5,000-word paper on a dark Dwimmer and their inevitable defeat. Use the library resources and cite your work.

– Write an apology in the form of a sonnet to the doyen or doyenne you have disrespected that resulted in your detention.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

It wasn’t my first detention, I’d had my share, but the punishments had apparently gotten even stupider over the years.

I would literally rather lick one of Bones’ empty eye-sockets than do either of the things offered to me.

As I sat there, though, the text color of the choices shifted from black, to orange, then to red.

Select your assignment now!!! came slashing across the screen like a hollered warning before disappearing.

“Geez!”

With a sigh, I clicked on option B, which opened a new window that mimicked a luxurious piece of stationery with a flowery border.

I glanced around the room, grabbed a chair from a few feet away, and dragged it up next to mine.

Then I propped my feet up, cracked my knuckles, and began.

If I couldn’t say the words, at least I could type them . ..

There once was a bitch named Pendergast

With a stick way too far up her narrow –

The laptop snapped shut on my typing fingers like a toothless maw, and I let out a gasp of pain.

“Son of a biscuit!” I yanked my hands back and flexed my sore knuckles.

Clearly, the academy hadn’t gotten the memo about corporal punishment being so twentieth century ...

My knuckles were still smarting when the laptop opened again a minute or so later.

This time, there was only one choice remaining, and I let out a groan.

Looks like I’d have to spend my day researching some long-dead or imprisoned witch or wizard. But that didn’t mean I had to start right now. I was nothing if not an expert at procrastination.

I shut the laptop and stared down at the toes of my boots. I’d probably feel a lot more like myself if I wasn’t dressed like some prep-school version of a Stepford wife.

First things first . . .

I stood and unfastened the tie from around my neck, already feeling better.

I tied it loosely around my waist and dragged it lower, so it hung off my hips, and let the ends fall to the side.

Next, I went for the fanny pack. With a few tugs on the adjustable straps, I was able to fit it diagonally, from my shoulder to the opposite hip, tight across my body.

Now it felt more like a place I could be packing heat instead of diapers and hand sanitizer.

I was just considering alterations on my pants, making the legs tighter so I could tuck them inside my boots, when a low voice called from the doorway.

“Hey there.”

I startled, and my hand lifted, a rune at the ready on the tip of my fingers. Old street habits died hard, and sneaking up on me was a good way to get a rune in the face. Or a fist.

A girl who appeared to be in her early twenties with wavy brown hair and cat-eyeglasses stood there looking pitiful as could be. I dropped my hand quickly, hoping she hadn’t taken offense to my nearly spelling her.

“Is . . . is this detention?”

“Yeah,” I said with a half-smile of encouragement. “Just make sure you sign in.”

She did, then tiptoed into the room.

“I can’t believe I’m here. I don’t ...” Her pale throat worked as she shrugged helplessly. “I’ve never gotten in trouble before.”

Seriously?

“Seriously?”

She’d never gotten in trouble? Ever?

“What are you in for?”

“I’m not sure.” She shrugged her slumped shoulders and sank into the seat next to mine.

“I just asked a few questions about the lesson. Doyenne Elmwood seemed irritated and asked what house I was in before. I told her Felinita. She said, “It figures,” and I asked why, because I wasn’t sure what she meant by that.

” She paused and gnawed at her bottom lip.

“That was the wrong thing to say, I guess. Apparently, it’s not for me to ask why and I needed to come down here and adjust my attitude. ”

No surprise there. Nikita had been head mean girl back when we were kids, and if her minions didn’t fall into line, they quickly became her enemies. The fact that she and the rest of House Kirinash always went head-to-head with Felinita probably didn’t help.

She looked around and then shot me a confused frown. “Where’s Ross?”

“Who’s Ross?”

“This guy who got sent here for trying to call Doyenne Elmwood,” – she lowered her voice to a whisper – “the b-word. We’ve all had the no swearing gag put on us. Apparently one of our new housemates is a potty mouth.”

I cleared my throat. “I haven’t seen him.”

“Weird. She sent him down here right after she sent you.”

It seemed like I wasn’t the only rebel at Neverthorn Academy this year. Either that, or Ross had written one hell of a sonnet in record time.

“He hasn’t shown up yet, not that I’ve seen anyway, but I’m sure he will before anyone comes looking. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Fable Delphinium O’Shanahan. And you’re Ms. Daygon. First name?”

“Harlow. Nice to meet you, Fable.”

She sighed heavily as she settled into her chair. “You too. Sorry I was being so weird. I just don’t like to upset the applecart, as my mom used to always say. I’m a people-pleaser.”

“Ah, yes. I guess you might say I’m more of a bear-poker.”

Her lips tipped into a hint of a smile, and then she drew back in surprise.

“Oh! I just noticed your uniform. Cool way to wear your satchel.”

“Fanny pack,” I corrected with a nod. “And yeah, looks much better this way.”

“Wow, she must be on a roll today,” a male voice said, interrupting our conversation a second before a tall guy in a student uniform walked in.

His nearly hazel eyes were striking, surrounded with long dark lashes that I would have spent way too much money to achieve.

His deep brown skin, and tightly shorn black hair only accentuated his eyes further.

“Ross Elkson,” he said, approaching me, hand extended.

“I already met Fable here at orientation yesterday.”

“Harlow.” I gave him the obligatory shake and made to pull away, but he held on for another second, his hazel eyes locked on mine.

“Are your legs tired, beautiful? Because you’ve been running through my mind since I saw you earlier.”

“Blerf,” I muttered, faking a gag. “Let’s just save that for someone way younger and dumber than me, okay, Romeo?”

He shrugged and shot me an easy smile. “Worth a shot.”

I was just about to ask him where he’d been for the last forty-five minutes when another voice chimed in, this one female.