Chapter 8: Mystical

Miss Hendricks’ classroom doesn’t get used by another class this period, so once it ends, Iris and I watch as everyone leaves, off to their next class, while we stay at our now rearranged desks. They’re no longer connected. Instead, they sit next to each other, about a few feet apart. Our posters are at the front of the room for Miss Hendricks to take back to the English lounge.

After a minute or two, the classroom is empty, except for Iris, Miss Hendricks, the student she’s talking to, and me. From what I can hear, the student asked her a question about the project, something that’s already on the rubric. They could just need clarification.

But I shouldn’t bother with it. I shouldn’t pry. I shouldn’t fixate on it. I have other things to worry about.

“So… what did you want to talk to me about?” I ask, trying to block out Miss Hendricks’ conversation with the student. “Does it have to do with what happened yesterday? Or the project? Oh! Maybe homework? Do you need help with homework? Literature isn’t exactly my strong suit, but I’m—”

“Mika. Slow down for a second.” She places her hands on the desk and intertwines them. “And listen. This is really important to me, and possibly to a lot of other people.”

I nod, but the anticipation of knowing the context of what she’s talking about stirs around in my stomach and flutters in excitement and curiosity. Butterflies coming out of their cocoons. At the same time, something isn’t sitting right, and that stirring is making my stomach upset.

“Just, don’t freak out, okay?” Iris says, shifting towards me.

I scoff. “That’s assuring.”

Iris sighs and leans closer to me, across the space between the two desks. “I know you’re a Mystic.”

Instead of flying, those butterflies in my stomach fall, the acid swallowing them whole.

I never thought I would see the day where I would hear those words spew from someone’s mouth. Now that I have, I recall all of the things I said and did upon meeting Iris. I search through each file, each action I did in her presence and each word I said to her that could allude to that conclusion. A conclusion that is true.

Nothing turns up. I did everything right. So, how does she know?

“I’m sorry. A what? I’m not sure I understand…”

“Really, Mika? Don’t play dumb with me. I know you’re a Druid. Why else would you wear a hat?” She crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes.

“Because I like hats, and they’re cozy,” I tell her.

“Inside? Where it’s warm? If I remember correctly, you also wore hats when the school year first started in August.”

Shoot. There’s no way to run from that, is there? Make more sh*t up? Anything? Literally anything? Or nothing at all, because she knows.

She knows. Either she did a lot of research and somehow found out about our existence, or she’s a Mystic, too. It’s nice knowing that I’m not the only Mystic in this school, but the chance of that being true is little to zero.

“Fine. I’m a Druid. Blah blah blah. You caught me. But what are you?” I ask. Before Iris can respond, I continue on. “A Banshee. Witch? No. A Vampire.” I pause for a moment, then gasp. “You have to be a Telepath! How else would you know that I’m a Druid? You obviously read my mind.”

“I’m a Nymph,” Iris says.

A Mystic that controls the elements and nature. My parents say that Nymphs are like our cousins because of how similar we are, how we are both well affiliated with nature.

I guess I never realized how amazing this would feel, and the butterflies once swallowed whole are rising now, carrying exhilaration with them. Right in front of me is someone like me, someone who understands.

I’m not so alone anymore.

“Wow. I…” I pause, processing her confession. That might as well take years. “How did you know, or, uh, figure it out if you’re a Nymph?”

“It wasn’t—”

“Did you tell her yet?” A voice comes from the front of the room. “Did you not get to that part? Oh. I spoiled it, didn’t I?”

I shift my attention to the voice, one that belongs to the student that was talking to Miss Hendricks earlier.

She’s seated on the desk, her legs crossed, feet on the chair. She looks familiar, and I’ve heard her voice before. I mean, of course, she has spoken in class, but this is something else.

“I bumped into you yesterday. You’re the Telepath.”

She giggles. “Ding ding ding! A thousand dollar prize for you, Druid.”

I turn back to Iris, still having not wrapped my head around how this Telepath decided to barge into my thoughts without knocking first. “What in the actual eff is going on here? Did you tell the whole Mystic population of this school that I’m a Mystic?”

“No. Why would I do that?” Iris asks.

“Only the ones she knows!” The Telepath hops off the desk and skips through the aisle of desks over to my own. “I’m Riley. Pleased to meet you.”