“Jennifer Matsui was talking to Call,” said Jasper. “Which is weird, because she’s pretty and popular, and Call is hideous and unpopular.” Jasper caught Alastair glaring at him, and flushed. “Just kidding. But I didn’t think they knew each other.”
“They do a little,” said Tamara. “Jennifer’s friends with my sister.”
“She’s not friends with Call, though,” said Celia. She turned to Call. “Why would you be talking to Jennifer?”
Call had had it. “She was giving me the note,” he said. “Your note.”
“What note?” Celia looked totally baffled. “I didn’t write you a note.”
Call pulled the paper out of his pocket. “So what’s this?”
Celia frowned at it. “But this isn’t my handwriting. And it doesn’t have my signature or anything — just my name written out. Did she say it was from me?” Then, she reread the words and flushed, her neck going red. “You thought you were meeting me? That’s why you were in the Trophy Room?”
Tamara scowled. “You didn’t tell us that.”
“Callum,” Master North said, his voice stern enough to make everyone else go quiet. “Let’s go through what happened today again, very slowly. And this time you’re not going to leave anything out. Do you understand me? This is too important.”
“Okay,” Call said, chastened. “It was just that I —”
“No excuses,” Master North said. “Begin.”
“I was looking for Alastair when Jennifer Matsui gave me a note and said it was from a … uh, pretty blond girl,” Call said, wishing that he knew enough magic to make himself invisible or turn into a mist that could slither through the floorboards.
Celia beamed at him. “Really?”
Jasper started snickering. At Master Rufus’s scowl, he tried to stop, but didn’t seem likely to be successful.
“You’re the only blond girl he knows,” snapped Tamara, clearly far less amused. Nearly being crushed by ten tons of glass and crystal probably made her less interested in embarrassing Call.
Master North reached out his hand for the note and Celia gave it to him. He peered at it for a long moment, then looked at her. “And you didn’t write this? You’re sure?”
Celia shook her head. “I didn’t. I mean —” She looked at Call unhappily. “I feel really bad someone used my name to try to hurt you.”
“It was no problem,” Call said, trying to seem as if he didn’t mind one way or the other. Then he realized that saying that nearly being crushed by a chandelier was no problem was kind of bizarre. He looked helplessly at his dad. Alastair shrugged.
“Where is Jennifer Matsui now?” Master Rufus asked, clearly impatient with Call’s dithering. “The person who gave her the note is likely to be the person responsible for tampering with the chandelier. Unless she did it herself.”
“Jennifer?” Tamara said. “Why would she do that?”
Aaron frowned. “Why would anyone want to kill Call?”
“Well, he’s a Makar,” said Master Rufus. “Just like you.”
Aaron, Tamara, and Call exchanged quick looks. It was true that Call was a Makar, but in Aaron’s question, Call had heard the second question that everyone who knew his secret probably had. The question they couldn’t ask or share. Because while everyone else was thinking that the person trying to kill Call had been targeting one of the Makaris, there was another possibility: that the person who had been targeting Call was trying to kill him because he knew what Call really was.
Maybe if the truth comes out, Call thought, whoever tried to drop a chandelier on me will get an award, too.
“Yeah, with his winning personality, it’s hard to imagine who’d want to kill Call,” said Jasper.
“Jasper!” said Tamara, but Call, for once, didn’t mind it. Jasper being a jerk to him was normal, and right now, normal was all he wanted.
But that wasn’t going to happen. A scream split the room — and then another, and another. Someone in the Collegium was shrieking in terror.
Tamara bolted to her feet. Aaron’s energy bar went flying. Alastair looked horrified. “What’s going on?” demanded Mrs. Rajavi, whirling to look toward the Masters.
Call was on his feet, too, running toward the door. His leg ached but he pushed past the pain — even so, he wasn’t as fast as the others. He could hear voices, yells and cries, all echoing from one end of the Collegium. He followed the others as they ran back through the long corridor and down another hall, back into the War Room.
The room was full of people. The person who’d been