“No, it’s impressive!”
“And funny,” Lola chirps. “Which actually makes it more impressive.”
“Right?” Janet says. “They’re not like mafia potions masters; they’re creative and sometimes even silly. They’re like the epitome of mad scientists.”
“Mad scientists usually try to take over the world, don’t they? My parents just help people.” And yeah, their ‘help’ has made some major political changes throughout several different worlds but still. They’re my parents, and all they did was brew a potion that tricked a troll.
And stopped a war.
And ended a thousand-year monarch.
I cross my arms. All right, my parents are badass. I admit it. But they’re my parents, and it’s not like I’ve trained to follow in their footsteps. Yes, I’ve been around magic and potions since I could walk, so I’m above average, even in the supernatural world, but I’m just amostlyhuman teenager withmostlyhuman parents.
“Give me the run down on self-defense classes,” I blurt out, mostly to change the subject but also because my palms are sweating just thinking about entering that arena.
I don’t allow myself to enter a place where I don’t have some sort of upper hand. That’s my thing. Back at my old school, I wasn’t the most popular, but boy did I know all the secrets there were to know about everyone.
I didn’t do drugs, but I knew who did. I didn’t do much hooking up, but I knew all there was to spill about who did.
My parents made sure I had adequate self-defense training from a young age because even if we decided to stay out of the magical world, they knew we’d be vulnerable just living in their home if we didn’t train.
So, we trained.
I could hold more than my own in a regular school. Not that I used it for much more than volleyball and field hockey—and the one time I gave Jimmy and Dominic both bloody noses for harassing Liz during gym class—but I held enough confidence that no one messed with me.
I’m brutal, for a human.
It’s just that, here, my form of brutality is not enough. Not nearly enough. I’m like a middle schooler hopping onto the field with professional football players—without a helmet. If I push the wrong buttons, I’ll be pummeled quickly.
I hate that feeling.
So, in theory, I should be fine in a remedial self-defense class, but…
Janet shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. You can wear regular clothes. You’ll literally be with a bunch of freshmen. Some will have magic but nothing too strong. Only Minor and Major class supernaturals at most. And day one, she’ll probably make you lift weights or play a stupid ‘ice breaker’ game or something.”
I swallow. That doesn’t sound too terrible. “When do the stronger supernaturals train?”
“There are always multiple classes going, but they keep them very separate. Upper level students usually take the lower arena—there’s three levels in there—where there are more wards. You’ll be in the main area that’s just like an open field of nothing. They’ll teach you to block and break basic holds. Nothing too big.”
“But don’t wander,” Lola says seriously, her face suddenly in mine, wings beating so quickly they’re a blur of silver and purple. “Those higher-level kids will be around.”
“Right,” Janet says. “I would suggest going to the bathroom during lunch period so you can avoid even using the bathrooms in there.”
Lola does a little twist and then plops down on my shoulder. “Ugh, do you remember the time Rebecca got spelled in the stall and came out panting like a dog and running on all fours?”
Janet groans. “That was terrible. There are some bullies in the high levels.”
“Yeah, but if she knows Jarron, people won’t mess with her.”
Janet shrugs. “Maybe, but it also puts a target on her back. Especially for the girls who trail after him.”
I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean by girls who trail after him?”
“Well, I mean, boys too but—”
My eyes flare. “Not what I meant.” She was implying something and she knows it.
Janet gives me an annoyed look. “No one knows anything about you, and your first day here Jarron’s running after you? Rumors are bound to fly that you’re competition.”
