to him about something regarding class scheduling as I make my way out of the room.
The whole time though, I can feel the heat of Roman’s gaze on my back.
Chapter 14
After that, things are normal for a period.
Or as normal as they can possibly get at a magical school, especially one for people with extremely volatile powers.
I’m getting better at controlling my magic, which I have to say is a huge goddamn relief. I don’t want to accidentally hurt anybody.
I even realize I have a new ability, a second ability. Apparently, that’s something that happens to some of us with Unpredictable magic. If the power inside us is strong enough, it’ll manifest in more than one type of magic. In extreme cases, a lot more. The oldest documented age at which a new ability was discovered in an Unpredictable magic user was seventy-six. I learned that in my History of Magic class, thank you very much, Professor Goldstein.
On the day my new power sparks, I’m in Combat class, fighting with Dmitri again and trying desperately to pretend I’m not hugely turned on, when I decide to mix things up a little.
A bit of parkour never hurt anybody, right?
I figure if I get a short running start and then kick off the wall, I can tackle him and take him down.
But that’s not what happens.
Instead, I run at the wall—and keep running.
Up it.
“Holy shit!” Dmitri blurts out, his shock overcoming his usual code of grumpy silence where I’m concerned. “Jesus, Elliot, be careful!”
I’d tease him for finally caving and talking to me like a regular human being, but he sounds genuinely worried about me, hugely worried, in fact. And to be honest, I’m… uh, a little panicked myself.
“Um, Professor Tamlin?” I call, trying not to let my voice squeak. “Any ideas on how to get me down?”
Turns out, getting down is just a matter of walking. My footsteps are as solid on the wall as they would be on the floor. It actually almost feels like the wall is the floor, which does funny things to my perspective. If I think about it too hard, my heart starts to race and my hands get clammy, so I just focus on strolling evenly across the wall toward the real floor.
Cam catches my gaze, and he must see the slightly terrified look in my eyes, because he starts singing the Spider-Man theme at the top of his lungs. That sends everyone—including me—into laughter, and the anxious knot in my stomach unclenches a little.
“More like a cockroach if you ask me,” I overhear Alyssa muttering to her groupies as the rest of the class joins Cam in his song.
Ah, yeah, those four. They’re still a problem, unfortunately.
I’m sure I could come up with rude nicknames based on each of their powers—physical transformation, disintegration, conjuring, and telekenisis—but I’m trying to be more mature than that.
If I were a psychologist, I’d probably theorize that Alyssa and her three cronies feel inferior to most of their peers outside the academy because they have Unpredictable magic, and that they’re under a lot of pressure from their families to compensate for that and to be the best.
But I’m not a damn therapist. So I’m sticking with the theory that they’re just spoiled brats who are pissed they’re at the “weirdo school”, and they’re taking it out on me.
And I really don’t appreciate it.
There’s not really much I can do about it though. And just ignoring them, as much as I hate to admit it, is the best thing.
If I retaliate, it’ll become an all out war. Maybe that’s exactly what the four of them want. It would give them some drama and excitement in their boring lives, make them feel like they have some control in a world that just yanked the rug out from under them. But I can’t afford to play that game. I’m not risking getting in trouble. Sure, I already broke one rule by moving in with the guys, but that risk seems worth it somehow. I like living with them, and I’ve gotten used to having them all around—even cranky-ass Dmitri. Besides, crashing in the men’s dormitory is a bit different than getting into a fight and getting hauled into the dean’s office for it.
I’m not hurting anyone by staying in a room where I feel safe. We’re all adults, we’re all consenting, and I haven’t even been in the rest of the men’s dorm.
But engaging in a petty high school level catfight with