Despite being at a new school, a school involving magic, Cary's classes were mostly the same as what she had gone through back home. The differences were subtle, with the teachers bringing in magic into the topic more as an afterthought than as part of the main lesson. History was about the revolutionary war, with Mr. Horitz mentioning three sorcerers coming in at the battle of Philadelphia to turn the tide. From how he described it, Cary almost thought that the old teacher had been there at the time.

The biggest adjustment for Cary came in Math class. It wasn't just Rachel, the black wearing girl from the day before, cackling behind her at inappropriate times, as if subtly reminding Cary that she was sitting there the whole time. That she was very much one of those witches that weren't supposed to be at that school. It was the fact that the lesson didn't make any sense to her. It took her the first ten minutes to realize that was because Ms. Shultz was teaching the old math. The math they used to teach before the curriculum changed to make it easier for people to learn. And yet, as Cary listened closely to her, she realized that for the first time she actually understood the lesson. Math didn't seem as hard doing it her way.

But as she came into Art class at the end of the day, she was holding her backpack against her chest as a shield once more. This was the class that she dreaded the most. The one lesson that would prove once and for all that these really were witches that she was surrounded by. Or perhaps more likely that she didn't have a magical bone in her body.

David stayed close to Cary's side as the two of them stepped into the classroom. Cary's eyes scanned the room, searching for danger. Searching for means of escape. Searching for pentagrams and brimstone. But she found none of those. Instead, all she saw were a few kids that had gotten there before them, tables filling the space instead of desks, plenty of art supplies both against the walls and along the edges of the tables, and a teacher tucked away behind his desk. For their first real lesson on magic, the place seemed awfully tame.

"Ah, new students," the teacher said, as he got out of his chair and stood in front of the blackboard. "Come, come. I'll introduce you to the class once everyone is here. Don't worry. Everyone is new at some point."

"Oh, no, that's-that's fine," Cary said in a whisper. She had to suffer through six other classes where the teacher insisted on introducing them. But it was looking like they weren't going to get out of it for the last class of the day either.

"Nonsense," the teacher said. "By the way, I'm Mr. Biv. Some of the students call me Roy, but only when they feel comfortable. I want to create a safe space for you to learn what you can do with your magic. It can be a great blessing."

"Or a curse," Cary muttered. As usual, she was thinking about the loss of her immortal soul. But Mr. Biv seemed to take it differently.

"Yes, that too," he said. "For those that take it too lightly. For those that see the potential for destruction and lean into that. Magic can be dangerous, which is why we start with illusions. Now, do you both have your rings?"

"Rings?" Cary asked.

"Yup," David said. He raised his right hand, pointing to the ring on his index finger.

Cary stared at that ring, surprised to see it there. David wasn't one to wear jewelry like that. But then she remembered seeing that ring on Ms. Scott's desk the evening before. She must have given it to him when they had met after her.

"Good, good," Mr. Biv said. "You'll need those for this lesson."

Mr. Biv looked behind them, counting off the other students as they came into the room. Once he seemed satisfied, he called the class to order.

"Hello, everyone," he called out. Silence fell almost instantly, as all the students turned towards them. "We have a couple new students here today. This is Cary Simms and David Rodgers." Mr. Biv gestured to the both of them as a whole, rather than pointing to each of them in turn. Cary wasn't sure if he knew which was which, but she figured he'd know soon enough. "I hope everyone makes them feel welcome in this space. Now, I believe the back table in the corner is open."

And that was it. As Cary and David headed for that back table, she was immensely grateful that they didn't have to introduce themselves to the class, which she had to do in Math, History, and Science. Still, the other students stared at the two of them as they made their way through the room. Cary kept her eyes trained on the floor, trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone. The only person she was worried might be in that class was Greg, and he would have made himself known already. A teasing word thrown towards her, of Freak or Girlie or one of the dozens of words he had thrown at her over the years. But the students were silent as they all looked to Mr. Biv to start class.

"Now, I'd like you all to take out a cup of paint and a clean sheet of paper," Mr. Biv said.

Mr. Biv pulled one of the cups out of the collection on the front left table, showing it to the class. Cary couldn't see anything of what was inside, but she reached over to grab a cup from the line in front of her. She had randomly picked a light blue, just a few shades darker than the sky. David grabbed one himself, which ended up being green. Then David slid a sheet of paper off the stack next to him for each of them.

"Insert a finger from your off hand into the cup, just lightly touching the paint," Mr. Biv said. "Even that little connection to the paint is enough, and you don't want to end up with paint all over yourselves as you're heading out of here."

Cary gently placed the cup back down onto the table, as far away from her as she could reach, treating the cup like the bomb that it was. This was magic. This was what she was dreading. And she'd sooner get an incomplete or a failure for the class than cast a spell. David, on the other hand, was nothing but smiles as he reached into his cup.

Mr. Biv looked around the class, his eyes stopping at each of the students. He was smiling at each of them, nodding his confirmation. After checking the first few tables, he started making his way up the middle aisle. Cary saw it when he got to her, as his smile dimmed noticeably. But he didn't say anything, didn't yell at her or threaten her. He just turned around, heading back towards the front of the room.

"With your main hand, I want you to swipe across your piece of paper," Mr. Biv said, taking a piece of paper off the table on his right. "The movement is freeform, whatever picture you want to make. Think of this as finger-painting. Now, as you move your hand around, pull your magic forth and say 'Punt Paractice'."

"Punt Paractice," the class said. The words came out randomly, with several of the students repeating them over and over again. David said them once, drawing the words out as he swept his hand around on the page. Nothing was happening, and he seemed instantly distraught.

"Remember, class. The words aren't as important as the intent. They just help you focus. Help you tap into the magic already inside you. You need to concentrate. Focus. Picture the end result. Picture the picture that you wish to paint."

Mr. Biv made his way around the class, looking down at people's work as he went. Cary watched him closely, expecting him to do something. Some trick that would result in the loss of her soul. In all of them being condemned to hell. But he didn't do anything. He just looked at the pages for a moment before moving on.

"I did it," someone called out. Cary looked around for the person, expecting the clue to be revealed. The truth come forth once and for all. But before she noticed the girl's triumphant face looking back at the teacher, it was gone. "Or, I thought I did."

"No, it was there," said the girl sitting next to her. "It just disappeared. "

"Remember, these are illusions. There will be no permanent impact to the page. Any result at this point would be an accomplishment."

Cary had lost track of Mr. Biv until he was standing right next to her. His eyes were suddenly locked on her, on the cup stuck on the edge of the table. He looked towards Cary, smiling her way.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

"Umm, sure," Cary said, hesitantly. She didn't want to let on that she was onto him. She didn't want him to have his guard up. She needed proof. She needed confirmation.

"Well, then, let's see you try it."

Reluctantly, Cary stretched her hand towards the cup, pulling it closer to her. Once it was next to the paper, she placed her finger inside it. But she kept it away from the paint, not wanting to touch it. She was all but convinced that there was something in the paint. That it was that which caused them to lose their souls.

"Uh," Mr. Biv said, shaking his head at her. He tapped her other hand, motioning it towards the cup. "Use your off hand. Your ring hand is what you should be waving around. It might not feel normal, if your ring hand and your writing hand aren't the same. But the ring is on that hand for a reason."

Cary nodded her understanding before switching hands. Again, she kept her finger away from the blue paint, gripping onto the cup in the process. She moved her ring hand towards the page, thinking about drawing a single line across the sheet. The words barely passed her lips, feeling like a curse.

"Punt–" she said. But before she got more out, a streak of red crossed the page.

When she saw that, her instinct told her that it was blood. That she had fallen for it after all. That Mr. Biv had managed to get her to sign her name. She let out a shriek as she jumped up from her chair, backing away from the table and hitting the wall behind her.

"Wow," Mr. Biv said. "Impressive. Most people need the more raw color source of the paint. You tapped into the color in the cup itself." He tapped on the red plastic of the Solo cup.

Cary looked between the cup and her red streak. It was the same shade, not nearly as dark of a red as she had thought. And when she looked at her arms and hands, there was no sign of injury. No sign of blood. Nothing to show that anything had happened to her at all.

Nothing, besides her casting her first spell. And as far as she could tell, it had cost her nothing.

"It looks like we have quite the sorcerer on our hands," Mr. Biv said. "I see great things in your future. Great things indeed."

Cary thought the words sounded quite malicious, but they were said with a completely different tone. One more filled with hope and admiration. The same tone that her grandparents would use when they said the same thing.

"Try doing something fun with this," Mr. Biv said. "Use all the colors here you'd like. The real trick is to use multiple colors at once, without tapping into any source. But I wouldn't expect anyone to manage that in their first year, let alone their first class."

With that, Mr. Biv headed off, with barely a glance towards David's paper. Once the teacher was gone, David looked over at Cary with a look that he had never given her in all the years they had known each other.

Jealousy.