o3 | be witched (part one)

IT'S BEEN A WEEK SINCE Archer fell from grace.

No one heard about it until the first day of school, but Rebel is insistent that its official date was last weekend—the first King City Saturday Night of the new school year. It's bad enough to lose your spot as an IP, but Rebel's mocking cackle is an ever-present reminder that losing your spot right at the beginning of the year is the worst way to go.

The other Witches and I are here to help her set up—she scouted an old Assembly Hall at the end of the abandoned Northeast wing, and has made it the location for this week's KCSN. Tonight's is important because the firsters arrive on Monday, and this is their chance to actually be someone instead of fading to black.

Cue another smirk from Rebel, because even though his name is unspoken, she can't stop thinking about him. Collectively, the rest of us can't decide whether that's a good thing or not.

This week, it's Everly Reach's turn to bring the drinks. Usually, it would be up to Rebel, whose parents' stock is a never-ending supply of glittering champagne and rosé vodka, but there's no trashing the firsters on a haze of expensive wine, so it's up to Everly to be bringing all the hard liquor.

Stashed in several coolers to the side, it feels like hiding a secret. We're all drinkers by occasion and used to this pattern of events, but every year it feels more and more wrong to hide alcohol straight on school grounds.

It's one more party, I tell myself, stacking chairs onto the trolley to be wheeled away.

Personally, I prefer it when we stick to Rebel's mansion in the suburbs, but it'd be breaking tradition if we let the firsters anywhere but here. Besides, not just anyone gets to go headlong to the Montenero mansion—only the best of the best, and tonight is the night when we decide who makes the cut.

When everyone's done setting up, the Witches begin to file out one by one. Everly Reach, Marcus Dee, Jake Hardman and Tyler Brown.

I hang back, opening the conversation with, "Archer doesn't care about not being an IP anymore."

"It's an act," Rebel dismisses, drawing her wild curls up into a ponytail. I can tell she's barely listening, but she continues to respond as if she is. "He can't not care."

"I don't think it is," I confess, leaning against the table which is soon to be crowded with drinks. "He went all screw the system on me. I really don't think he cares."

"You spoke to him?" This time, she's listening; her sparkling brown eyes enraged and fierce on mine. "What did I say? Don't interact. What did you do? Interact."

I contemplate telling her about the drawing. It's somewhere tucked into my sketchbook, where I hid it after the incident with Archer. Its message is still vivid in my mind—her name scratched into ivory; my stricken expression, and my hands bare of the ring I wear with pride.

The confession is deep at the back of my throat, but then I'm envisioning the darkness in his eyes��watch yourself, Ivory Blue. You're treading on a minefield—and I can feel the ground pulsing beneath my feet, but it's Rebel's wrath threatening to explode; shower down on me in a firestorm of sparks and ashes.

Secrets are treacherous among Witches, but I've kept them before. From the other Witches, never Rebel, but she's as much Witch as the rest of us. She won't understand. She never will.

"I'm sorry," I say instead, even though it feels false and unnecessary on the tip of my tongue. "He interacted with me, I couldn't stop him. I'm not outspoken like you are."

A lie, but I know it's exactly what she wants to hear: my inferiority compared to her.

"That's okay." Her anger deflates, dissipating out of her like a balloon. "Next time, I'd appreciate if you asked before engaging with him. You lose your Witchhood before doing this again, okay?"

"Okay." I smile through the shudder running through me. Call me paranoid, but her ruby-lips seem to be as flavoursome with threats as his own. "I'll ask. Sorry again, Reb."

"Don't worry about it, Blue." A sharp, sinful grin pulls at the corners of her mouth. "No harm was done."

☆☆☆