What The Spell: Part 1 Part 5

"I didn't get-"

Gigi shook her head at me from across the table, as if telling me to let it go.

"So you can blend in. How else can you be useful to us?" Camden continued.

My head was spinning as I tried to make sense of what was happening. "I'm pretty smart-well, not Rhodes smart, but I've never gotten below a B in any of my cla.s.ses."

This didn't seem to impress them much, considering Gigi was an A student and Camden ran the student body. And Rhodes-well, he was in a league of his own. No way was I going to bring the intelligence factor to this group. I tried to think of something I could do that the others weren't already contributing in their own ways.

There was the obvious, of course, but how was I supposed to express that without outing myself in the process? Yet magic was my biggest a.s.set. I had to give it a shot.

"I have the uncanny ability to make things happen," I said desperately.

"What do you mean?" Gigi asked curiously.

"I mean, give me a task and it will get done. It doesn't matter what it is, I will succeed. That, I can promise," I said. "I'm the person you call when you've tried everything else."

The five of them looked around at each other wordlessly, as if communicating telepathically. I waited silently, willing them to say something, to give me an idea whether they were buying my story or not.

Finally, Gigi nodded. "Okay. We're going to give you a chance to prove that what you say is true."

"Now, we're not promising anything," Camden said, leaning back in his seat, like he was posing for a catalog. I could practically hear people taking pictures on their camera phones as he did it. "But if we're impressed, we may just keep you around."

My mouth dropped open. Unless I was reading into things, The Elite were giving me the chance to possibly join their group.

"What do you need me to do?" I asked when I'd regained my composure.

"Nothing big," Gigi said, inspecting her nails critically. "I'm sure we can find a few ways to determine your loyalty, drive, and desire."

"Okay," I said, wondering if they weren't being a bit melodramatic. But given their reputation, I knew they weren't joking. They meant just what they said.

"And if you stick around, it will be like you've won the lottery," she said, gesturing around the room.

"You'll be existing among future politicians," Camden said.

"n.o.bel Prize winners," Rhodes said.

"Hollywood's next big stars," Eliza delivered dramatically.

"This awesome guy," Wheatley said, pointing at himself between bites of his burger.

"And high-powered attorneys," Gigi said evenly. "If you have what it takes and stick with us, Brooklyn, your life will change. I can guarantee it."

I nodded to let them know that I understood what they were offering me and then waited for them to tell me what they wanted me to do next.

"Well . . ."

"What devious plans are you little Gremlins plotting today?" a voice boomed up to us from the floor, interrupting our discussion. "Getting out of your school-ordered community service because you might get your hands dirty? Intimidating others into thinking you're special? Convincing your mommies and daddies to pay your way out of the problems you create? I can't wait for the day you all mess up and I get to lock you up and throw away the key."

"And you wonder why people think school's a prison," Wheatley said, not even bothering to turn around to look at our princ.i.p.al. I did, however, and was shocked to see him flanked by two security guards, both with their hands on their walkie-talkies as if they might need to use them at any moment. My heart started to race as I wondered what was about to happen and what we'd done to make the princ.i.p.al think he needed police a.s.sistance.

"I don't know what you've been hearing about us, Frankie, but we're just sitting here eating lunch," said Eliza innocently. "By the way, did you get the tickets that Daddy sent you last week?"

He sneered at her. "It's Princ.i.p.al Franklin, Miss Rivers," he said snidely. "And I'm not a fan of basketball."

"But they were floor seats!" Eliza said, her good-girl act dropping for a second. "I mean . . . well, Daddy has tickets to practically every team in LA, so if you let me know what sports you do like . . ."

"That won't be necessary, Miss Rivers."

"You seem stressed, Princ.i.p.al Franklin," Gigi cooed. "Is something wrong?"

"Besides having to deal with you kids?"

"Well, I'll be sure to bring up the topic of stress levels on campus in our next student government meeting," Camden said. "Stress can be damaging to your health. And we wouldn't want anything to happen to you, now, would we?"

"No."

"Uh-uh."

"Your health is so important to us."

I sat there, completely silent, just listening to the exchange. I'd never actually interacted with Princ.i.p.al Franklin before, so hearing the way he was talking to The Elite was a bit of a shock. Weren't adults supposed to be nice to kids? Or at the very least lead by example? Princ.i.p.al Franklin was just being . . . nasty.

Not that my new friends were being entirely respectful either, but what did he expect after everything he was saying? I was completely dumbfounded by the whole situation and sat there praying I wouldn't be dragged into it.

Too late.

"New minion?" he asked, nodding at me. "How'd you pull her into your web of evil?" I was too shocked by what he was saying to respond, so I just stared at him instead. I'd never had any interaction with the guy before, so why was he picking on me?

"Of course. You've found one that's to be seen and not heard," he continued, sighing.

"She speaks," Wheatley said out of nowhere. "Maybe she just doesn't want to talk to you."

The princ.i.p.al flinched. I looked back and forth between the two, still unable to make my lips move.

"You're skating on thin ice, Mr. Thomas," Princ.i.p.al Franklin warned. When Wheatley didn't respond again, the princ.i.p.al attempted to intimidate us with a glare and then harrumphed and stormed off.

"What a tool," Camden said when he was out of earshot.

"Are we even sure he finished college? What person in his right mind would allow him to work with kids?" Rhodes asked.

"What was with the backup?" I asked, still thoroughly confused by the whole thing.

Eliza waved this off. "They go everywhere with him," she said. "He thinks he's the president and needs Secret Service with him at all times."

"Either that or he's scared of what Wheatley will do if he gets mad," Camden said, snickering.

Wheatley just snorted in response.

"Now that that's over, I think there's something you can do for us," Gigi said, looking at me with one of her eyebrows raised. I waited for her to continue. "How do you feel about TP'ing Princ.i.p.al Franklin's house?"

I nearly laughed at the request. "You want me to toilet paper the princ.i.p.al's house?" I asked, incredulously. When they nodded at me seriously, I realized they weren't joking. I didn't think people still did stuff like that . . . after the age of twelve, at least. "You want me to TP the princ.i.p.al's house," I repeated, this time matter-of-fact.

"Yep. You can show us that you're serious about all of this and get back at Princ.i.p.al Franklin at the same time. It's a win-win."

Except for Princ.i.p.al Franklin, of course.

I bit my lower lip and thought about what they were asking me to do. I know I'd said that I could do any task they threw my way, but I hadn't counted on it being so . . . vengeful. And potentially dangerous. And now that I'd seen how vindictive and horrible Princ.i.p.al Franklin could be, I didn't want to do anything to make him my enemy. In this case, having a target on my back was a whole lot worse than being invisible.

"He's just so unfair and treats all the students like they're slugs on the bottom of his shoe," Gigi continued, sensing my hesitation. "It's time he saw that there are consequences to his actions."

That's what I was worried about.

But in a way, she was right. Princ.i.p.al Franklin had been awful, and everybody TP'd a house at one point or another, right? I mean, I never had, but there was a first time for everything. And besides, toilet paper eventually disintegrated, which meant it was sort of a crimeless crime.

And if I didn't accept the challenge, I knew that would be the end of my chance to become one of The Elite. And that wasn't an option. It was the whole reason I'd done the makeover. I'd come this far, there was no going back now. And if I was being honest, I didn't even want to.

"I'll do it," I said.

After I agreed to the terms and conditions The Elite had laid out for me, they let me in on a few other useful bits of information that made it clear that pa.s.sing their challenge was going to be more difficult than I'd originally antic.i.p.ated. The first being that Princ.i.p.al Franklin's house was on a rather busy street in town, and it was going to be difficult to pull things off without someone seeing me do it.

And The Elite had made it clear that if I was caught, they didn't know me. Meaning I would be on my own in the blame department.

On top of that, the house itself was supposed to be somewhat of a fortress. Separated from the street by an electric gate that you could only get through via a pa.s.s code, Princ.i.p.al Franklin's place also had motion detectors located strategically around the grounds. With heavy gear like that, he was either hiding top-secret experiments inside or was extremely paranoid about trespa.s.sers.

Considering what I was planning, maybe he wasn't so paranoid after all.

We'd decided that I should do the job right away-as in, that night. Without the Elite having to say so, I could tell it was to let Princ.i.p.al Franklin know that the toilet paper was payback for his little witch hunt earlier. No time to waste, as they say. So the plan was that I would head to the store after school and pick up no less than twenty-four rolls of toilet paper plus whatever else I needed to get the job done. Then, around 8 p.m., Gigi and the others would meet at the Burger Barn, where they'd stay until I joined them after I was finished. This would ensure that they had a public alibi in the event that Princ.i.p.al Franklin accused them of the TP'ing (and they insisted that he would). They all figured that no one would suspect me, still being relatively unknown and all, so it wouldn't matter if I hadn't been there with them the whole time. When people thought back to that night, they'd either a.s.sume I was there the whole time or not have noticed that I was missing.

After I bought the supplies, I was to sneak over to the princ.i.p.al's house around 9 p.m. and wait for him to go to bed before sneaking inside the grounds and making it rain with tissue. When I was done, I had to take pictures of my work as proof that I'd carried out the plan and then rendezvous with the others as soon as I could.

When The Elite asked me if I had any ideas on how I was going to pull it off, I just answered mysteriously that they'd have to wait and see. The truth was, I had no idea how I was going to do it, but I knew that magic would be involved. This was both good and bad in my mind.

After my big makeover, I'd planned on cooling it with the magic for a while, if just to appease my parents, but then The Elite noticed me. And, well, I felt like the only way I could do what they wanted me to, and not get caught, was to get a little help from the universe. Besides, the magic I was planning to do wasn't all that elaborate anyway. Just a flip of my hand here and a little spell there-I'd be in and out within ten minutes, tops.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that this kind of situation really was the best use of my magic. I'd never done anything like this before, and given my propensity for falling all over myself, I knew if I had to do it on my own, I'd mess it up somehow. By using magic I could cut my chances of getting caught in half. And getting caught wasn't an option. Nope, I definitely had to use magic.

After making a quick stop at the store on my way home, I headed up to my room to consult the witchboards. Once I found the spells I needed to pull it off, I got to work on all the other details.

Since the a.s.signment called for serious stealth, I knew I had to find an appropriate outfit to match the occasion. Something black, of course, because I didn't want to stand out. But it couldn't be anything that would tip people off, either. I didn't want anyone thinking I was coming to rob them and then call the cops before I'd even done anything.

I pulled on some black leggings, since those were practically a staple at school, and then paired them with a bright pink tank. Over that I threw on a loosely fitting, dark gray sweats.h.i.+rt to hide my body shape in case I was spotted. Lastly, I stuffed my blond hair into an old baseball cap of my dad's, giving plenty of coverage to my facial features.

Stepping in front of my full-length mirror, I surveyed my work. Unidentifiable yet still fas.h.i.+onable. Perfect couture for any girl looking to make a quick getaway.

I checked how I was doing on time.

Six thirty p.m.

Now all I had to do was wait.

My car was parked about a block away, and for the last half hour I'd been scoping out Princ.i.p.al Franklin's house from behind the bushes across the street. Thank G.o.d, The Elite had let me go on my own, because creeping in the bushes wasn't exactly chic.

It was only nine thirty, but the lights inside the house had been off for about forty minutes with no movement as far as I could tell. Since I couldn't sneak around to the back without setting off any lights, I had to guess that the princ.i.p.al was already in bed, hopefully pa.s.sed out to the world.

The traffic had died down a bit in the area, and cars seemed to be rus.h.i.+ng by only every five minutes or so, which meant that I had a bigger window of opportunity to unleash the TP. There was always the chance that I would be seen, and in that case, I needed to be ready to run for it. Luckily, as a last-minute thought, I'd changed into sneakers to make things easier. Women were always running around in heels in action movies, and I never understood that. Sure, fas.h.i.+on was important, but if I had to run in heels, I was definitely going to end up on the ground.

s.h.i.+fting my balance from one foot to the other, I knew it was time. I needed to get this done as quickly as possible so I could get back to the others at the Burger Barn and still be home at a reasonable hour.

It was now or never.

Focusing on the street lamp closest to me, I concentrated on slowing my breath until I was completely calm and clear. When I felt I was ready, I whispered, "Electro-reducto!" Immediately I felt the now familiar buzzing in my toes and fingers and knew that the power I was creating was expanding out into the street. Within seconds the lights all around me dimmed until nearly the whole block was black.

Confident that I was now covered in a blanket of darkness, I emerged from my hiding spot and lugged my duffel bag full of toilet paper across the street until I was directly in front of the princ.i.p.al's house. I stayed low to the ground and watched for any sign that someone was awake inside. But the night was silent. I peered through the dark to try and find the motion detectors set up on the grounds. Once I spotted them, I performed the same dimming spell as before and knew that if the sensors were set off, they wouldn't cast a glow on me or anything else.

It was time.

I stepped up to the gate and placed the bag on the ground at my feet. Unzipping it carefully, I leaned down to grab a few rolls. I was still ten feet away from the closest tree, but no way was I going to go inside the gate and get caught. At least out here, I still had a chance of getting away if I needed to. Luckily, I had magic on my side and a plan that would allow me to cover the whole area right from where I stood.

And then there was the time factor. The longer I stayed there, the greater my chance of getting caught-and if that happened, everything would be over. This was the part that had taken me the longest to figure out: how to get twenty-four rolls of paper to cover a yard before anyone caught me. After visiting more than a few message boards, I'd figured it out. And it was quite genius if you asked me.

"Here we go," I said to myself.

I hugged the rolls as tightly as I could and closed my eyes. Concentrating on the energy that I could already feel building inside me, I pictured what was about to happen and then said the magic words.

"Pyronicus mizzle!"

Once the words were out of my mouth, I knew I was holding on to ticking time bombs. Literally. Without hesitating, I took the first roll and tossed it as hard as I could toward the house. Seconds pa.s.sed.

One.

Two.

Three- There was a cracking sound as the roll exploded, and then I watched as strands of toilet paper fell down in streams, landing on everything below.

"Cool."

After that, I grabbed roll after roll and tossed it into the darkness, no longer bothering to wait for it to detonate before throwing the next one. It was like watching fireworks on the Fourth of July, and I had to fight against stopping to watch the show I was creating. Within minutes, every inch of the property was covered in white, and I questioned whether I really needed to use the full twenty-four rolls. But that was the number The Elite had given me and I wasn't about to fail on a technicality.

I had to admit, the whole thing was actually sort of fun, and I began to wonder if I could use the same spell to accomplish more productive things. Like decorating the Christmas tree or watering the lawn with exploding water balloons. I was so caught up in what I was doing, in fact, that I didn't even notice I'd gone through my whole supply until I reached in and my hand hit canvas. Slightly disappointed that the fun was over so soon, I looked at my watch.

Nine forty-five p.m.

I'd only been at it for a little over five minutes and I was already finished. I took a step back and looked at the scene in front of me. It was a wonderland of white. The house looked like a monstrous igloo and the trees like little ghosts swaying in the night. It was better than I could have imagined.

"Whoa," I said, admiring my work. I took out my phone and snapped a few quick pics before slipping it back into my pocket. "Now, for the final spell."

Even though I'd tried to tell myself that pulling the prank on Princ.i.p.al Franklin wouldn't really do much damage since the toilet paper would eventually disintegrate anyway, I still sort of felt guilty over the whole situation. So, to balance things out, I decided to do a spell to speed the clean-up process. My hope was that Princ.i.p.al Franklin would wake up the next day with a yard full of white, but that by that weekend, it would all have magically disappeared. That way, The Elite got their revenge and Franklin wouldn't have to spend the rest of the year picking chunks of TP out of his bushes.