“Hannah! Are you all right?” Benton catches me as I sway on my feet, dragging me away from the broken glass.
A brick lies on the floor, only a few feet in front of where I was standing. Our front bay window is in pieces across the living room. I’m afraid to look at my arms, my face, worried there’s glass lodged in my skin.
“Benton,” I say, my stomach clenching. “Can you see who threw it?”
He leaves me and runs to the window, which stands like a gaping mouth, a few jagged pieces of glass hanging on like teeth. “They’re gone.” Benton bends and picks up the brick. “But they left a message.” He unties the note from the brick and hands me the crumpled paper.
YOU’RE NEXT.
•••
Benton calls for an ambulance, and I’m too shaken to protest. The paramedics remove bits of glass from my face and arms, disinfect the wounds, and bandage me up. All things considered, I’m not badly hurt, but Benton fusses over me like I’m on my deathbed. He refuses to leave until I call both my parents and tell them what happened. He also tucks the threatening letter into his bag so he can review it for clues.
I thought he was overreacting about the fire, but maybe it wasn’t an accident. Maybe someone is after him. Afterus.
Benton leaves with only moments to spare before my dad makes it home. Dad, for his part, is furious that I didn’t call him sooner and worries over me until I have to shout that I’m fine. Once he’s sure, Dad goes into work mode, calling the police and the insurance company.
While he talks to the officer and grumbles about being on hold, I’m texting furiously with Gemma, desperate for a distraction from this nightmare. By the time the handyman has boarded up the window and ordered a replacement, Gem and I have concocted a plan to make my date with Morgan happen despite being grounded.
At dinner, I tell my parents Lauren asked me to pick up anextra shift to cover for Cal’s doctor appointment. They nod and remind me to be careful. Despite Benton’s concerns for our safety, my parents don’t think it’s anything to worry about. Dad’s positive the broken window was meant for him, that a family member of someone he sent to jail must have done it.
I’m less sure, especially since the brick flew through the window right as I was walking past, but I’m not about to argue the point. I try to ride my wave of good luck, casually asking my parents if I can take off my binding ring during tonight’s weekly lesson with Lady Ariana. That request doesnotgo over well. My parents decide to call my grandmother and fill her in on my infractions at the party. I still get to attend the lesson, but I’m forced to dust the altar while my peers work magic.
It’s the worst lesson of my life, but at least I have a date to plan.
The next day, as I get ready in the Cauldron’s tiny staff bathroom, I’m starting to think this wasn’t such a good idea. There’s approximately five billion butterflies causing havoc in my stomach. The patchwork of tiny cuts on my face is too fresh to cover with makeup, so my only weapon is a tube of lip gloss. I wanted to bring a change of clothes, but I forgot Mom’s classes didn’t start until noon today, and there was no way to sneak anything remotely cute past her when I left this morning.
My phone buzzes, the sound overly loud against the sink.
GG:No getting cold feet! Morgan is so excited.
HW:Is class done?
GG:We’re on break. About another fifteen minutes left. Get over here!
My reflection in the mirror smiles back at me. Maybe this look isn’t too terrible for a first date. I did manage to wear my favorite jeans, and the deep purple of the Cauldron T-shirt isn’t too awful. At least it’s not the highlighter-green fiasco Lauren tried out the first year I worked here.
The drive to the dance studio is brief, but my palms are sweating by the time I get there. I wipe them on my jeans after I park.You can do this. It’s just a date. With a cute girl. Who may or may not even like you without spelled crystals around your neck.
My thoughts continue to spiral, and I have to fight to force them away. I take a deep breath, asking the air to calm my nerves, but the binding charm on my finger prevents the elements from offering even the slightest comfort.
I shove aside the guilt over disobeying my parents, exit the car, and walk the familiar path into the studio and down to Room C. Music pours into the hallway through the open door. I lean against the doorjamb to watch, and the music sweeps me away. The dancers are working on a pointe number. Gemma is the lead of the piece, and it’s easy to see why. Her form is exceptional, her timing perfect.
But in the back row, the newest dancer is giving Gem a run for her money.
Morgan moves with a fluidity and strength unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The videos of her old recitals don’t do her justice. Her hair is high in a tight bun, which makes her features look focused and intense. Every movement is so precise, so emotive, it’s like she has complete control over every cell of her body. Every strand of hair. I can’t look away.
As the music comes to an end, the dancers strike their final pose and the instructor notices me loitering in the doorway. Sheglares in my direction, and I scoot out of the way. A few moments later, a dozen zippers slide across gym bags as the dancers unwrap their point shoes from their ankles.
The swarm of butterflies from earlier flutters their wings in my stomach.
Morgan emerges from the room first. A large duffel hangs off one shoulder. Her cheeks are flushed, but that’s probably from the class.
“Hey, Hannah.” She stops short. “What happened?”
My fingers drift to my face. “Someone threw a brick through my front window yesterday. I’m fine though.”
“Are you sure?” She steps closer, the tips of her fingers brushing along the edge of my temple. I nod, afraid to breathe with her so close, and she pulls her hand away. “I’m going to change. Are you up for getting smoothies after?”
