“Eliza!” Theresa scolded.
“Let’s do this one,” Eliza said. “This one will get us exactly what we need.”
“Boys?” Alice asked.
Giggles ensued. Catherine rolled her eyes, but smiled.
“Freedom,” Eliza corrected, her eyes gleaming as she looked out at the other girls. “Although the company of boys could be a welcome side effect,” she added to appease her romance-hungry friends. Alice, Viola, Bia, and Genevieve squealed happily. A picture of Harrison flitted through Eliza’s own mind as well, but she shoved it aside quickly.
“What is it?” Catherine asked, stepping up to better see the page.
“It’s called the Spell of Silence,” Eliza said. Her eyes flicked over the page. “It says that if we cast it successfully, no one but us will be able to hear a sound we make. We’ll be able to shout, slam doors, laugh, scream . . . and Miss Almay will be none the wiser.”
“So we can sneak out and visit the boys!” Alice cried happily, clasping her hands together under her chin.
“For what are we waiting?” Genevieve pushed the last of her cream puff into her mouth, dusted sugar from her fingers, and chewed. “Tell us what we are to do.”
“Wait,” Theresa snapped. “There are hundreds of spells in here that we could try. I don’t see why Eliza has the last word.”
Eliza’s cheeks burned indignantly. “Fine. Then let’s take a vote.”
Theresa opened her mouth as if to retort, but Clarissa interrupted her. “All in favor of Eliza’s spell, say ‘aye,’” she said, flipping one of her braids over her shoulder.
“Aye!” the shouts filled the room. Only Theresa abstained, although Jane’s “aye” was slightly less adamant than the others, and she made sure not to look at Theresa as she cast her vote.
“Spell of Silence it is!” Eliza said triumphantly. She retook her spot at the center of the podium, bumping Theresa out of the way. “Everyone kindly form the circle.”
Theresa’s lips were set in a thin, angry line as she took her spot between Eliza and Jane. It was all Eliza could do to keep from sticking her tongue out at the girl. But she had gotten what she deserved for trying to take over so rudely, and after being more than fifteen minutes late, no less.
“Please take one another’s hands,” Eliza instructed. She reached for Theresa’s and Catherine’s hands. Theresa did not clasp her fingers in return, but left them flat. Alice swung Catherine’s and Clarissa’s hands in anticipation, swiveling her hips as well so that her voluminous skirts swished back and forth.
“I’ll recite the spell once,” Eliza said, “then we’ll all recite it together: ‘Wherever we go, wherever we might, let us walk in silence as the night,’” she intoned.
“That’s it?” Clarissa blurted.
“Sometimes the simplest spells are the most powerful,” Catherine informed her.
“At least it’s easy to remember,” Jane said.
“Shall we get this over with?” Theresa snipped.
The girls nodded and spoke as one. “Wherever we go, wherever we might, let us walk in silence as the night.”
The strange wind picked up again, and Eliza’s grip on her friends’ hands tightened. Even Theresa’s fingers now curled around hers. The wind sent chills all up and down Eliza’s arms. For a moment she thought of Catherine’s warning about upsetting the natural balance of the world. But when she glanced over at her friend, Catherine seemed perfectly at ease.
Eliza breathed out and told herself it would be all right. If Catherine—the one among them who knew more of magic than the rest—was unconcerned, so should she be. A minute later, the wind stopped. This time, the candles held strong and the light prevailed, but Eliza herself wobbled on her feet. Her vision prickled over, but the sensation quickly passed. Jane staggered forward slightly, but after a few breaths, seemed fine. As Eliza looked around, she could tell that each of the girls had felt the momentary dizziness. Was it a side effect of the spell?
Another thump of apprehension vibrated through Eliza’s chest, but she forced herself not to consider it. They were fine. Everyone was fine.
“Well? What do we do now?” Alice asked finally.
Eliza smiled, deciding to put her concerns aside and embrace the fun. “Let’s go see if it worked!”
Girls’ Night
“Who’s going first?” Eliza asked, peeking around the corner into the first-floor hallway. The door to Miss Almay’s room stood a few feet away. It was closed, but a shaft of light shone through the crack at the bottom, indicating that the headmistress was, indeed, inside and awake.
“Not so much the fearless leader now, eh, Eliza?” Theresa said, smoothing the front of her green dress as she stepped away from the corner. “You scaredy-cats stay here. I’ll be right back.”
“Theresa! Wait!” Catherine whispered, trying to grab for her skirt.
But Theresa just walked right up to Miss Almay’s door and knocked three times. Loudly. For a long moment Eliza couldn’t move or breathe or even think. All she could see in her mind’s eye was Miss Almay whipping the door open, her face purple with fury.
“Hello!?” Theresa shouted. “Anybody home?”
Then she turned, looked at Eliza and Catherine—the only two brave enough to peer around the corner—and raised her palms.
“We did it!” she said giddily. “Come on, girls! You try!”
Eliza’s heart was still pounding as she pulled Catherine out into the hall by both arms. She started to whistle a jaunty tune as she stomped past the headmistress’s room. Gathering her courage, Catherine hummed the tune as well, knocking her fist against the wall to keep the beat. When the two of them arrived at the far end of the hall without incident, they both collapsed on the floor, laughing with relief and a heady feeling of power. They had really done it.
“This is too fun!” Catherine cried, slinging her arm around Eliza’s shoulders.
“What now?” Viola asked.
“Let’s go over to the boys’ dormitories!” Alice cried.
“Not tonight,” Catherine said, stepping forward.
“What?” Alice lamented. “But Eliza, you said—”
“She’s right,” Eliza put in. “Tonight should be about us. Let’s go outside and have some fun.”
“Part of being a witch is about communing with nature,” Catherine added, taking Alice’s other hand. “I say we go out and celebrate with Mother Earth.”
Alice let out a disconsolate moan. “But boys are far more exciting than boring old Mother Earth.”
“Oh, come along, you,” Theresa said, rolling her eyes. “We’ll take some of the exercise equipment out of the shed and play in the moonlight.”
“I don’t know why we can’t celebrate just as well with the boys,” Alice pouted.
“Because this is not about the boys,” Eliza said. “This is about us.”
The eleven girls, led by Eliza, Theresa, and Catherine, marched down the hallway as loudly as they could possibly manage, talking at the top of their voices and stomping their feet all the way. Outside, Catherine opened the unlocked equipment shed, and Alice and Bia were the first inside, ransacking the shelves and hooks and emerging with armfuls of hoops. Clarissa went in after them and pulled out the badminton racquets and birdies, while Catherine and Eliza extracted a pair of bicycles with wide handlebars.
“Shall we race?” Eliza challenged her friend with a grin.
Catherine opened her mouth to respond, but Theresa came over and took the handlebars right out of her grasp.
“I’ll race you,” she announced. Then she straddled the bicycle and took off after Bia, Viola, and Jane, who shrieked as they chased the hoops down the slight grassy hill in front of Crenshaw House. Eliza’s heart dropped in response to Theresa’s rudeness, and Catherine looked stunned.
“What was that?” Eliza asked.
Catherine recovered herself. She rubbed her palms together and shrugged. “That’s Theresa. She wants what she wants.”
 
; “Come on, Williams! Are you going to race me or not?” Theresa shouted back.
Eliza looked at Catherine uncertainly.
“Go ahead,” Catherine said. “I’ll take the next turn.”
“Are you sure?” Eliza asked, even as she straddled the bike.
“Yes. Please. Just . . . beat her,” she said with a laugh. “She’ll be insufferable if you don’t.”
Eliza took off after Theresa, letting the wind whip through her hair and blow away her irritation and surprise over the way Theresa had treated Catherine—her supposed best friend. Theresa had ridden all the way down the hill and was now racing along the tree line, and Eliza pumped her legs to catch up. Lavender, Genevieve, and Marilyn chased after them, running and chanting the Spell of Silence over and over again like a triumphant mantra. Petit Peu brought up the rear, leaping about merrily at the chance to stretch his little legs.
“You can’t catch me!” Theresa shouted over her shoulder, bending low over the handlebars.
“Watch me!” Eliza retorted. She leaned into the pedals as the tires bumped over rocks and tree roots and skidded on dusty dirt patches. Soon she had brought herself even with Theresa, and just before they hit the walkway to the McKinley building, Eliza burst ahead.
“I win!” she shouted, skidding to a stop.
Theresa slid to a halt a few feet ahead of her. Eliza heard her mutter a curse under her breath, but when she turned around, her expression was perfectly placid. “That’s twice now you’ve beat me at a race, Eliza. You’re so athletic, you’re practically a boy.” With that, she rode back past Eliza, giving her a condescending grin as she slipped by. Eliza was left with her jaw hanging open over the insult.
“Do not listen to her,” Marilyn whispered to Eliza, coming up alongside her with Petit Peu in her arms. She scratched the little dog’s head and bumped Eliza with her elbow. Together they watched Theresa as she hopped down from the bike and walked it back up the hill, toward the spot where the rest of the girls played badminton and cheered one another on. “You are prettier than half the girls in Paris.”
Eliza laughed as she dismounted, then slung one arm around Marilyn’s slim waist. “And you are lovely for saying that.”
They walked together up the hill with Lavender and Genevieve trailing behind. Up ahead, Clarissa let out a screech as the birdie sailed wide of her racquet. Then, as if from nowhere, Eliza heard a voice whisper in her ear.
“Turn back.”
Eliza whipped around suddenly, loosening herself from Marilyn’s grasp. There was no one behind her. No one anywhere in sight.
“Eliza? What is it? What is wrong?” Marilyn asked, following Eliza’s startled gaze.
Eliza swallowed a terrified lump in her throat and turned around again. “Nothing. It was nothing.”
But then, she saw something move in one of the Crenshaw windows. Her blood stopped cold. The movement had come from the window all the way at the far end of the first floor—the very same window in which she had noticed something flicker during the carriage ride from the train. This time, however, the blonde watching her didn’t duck away. Instead, she stayed and stared, her eyes as blank as stones.
It was Helen Jennings, the maid, who undoubtedly had seen everything.
Her Very Nature
“Do you think she’s tattled on us yet?” Theresa asked, running to catch up with Catherine and Eliza as they walked into the Prescott dining hall the next morning. She glared at Helen, who stood with Mrs. Hodge near the wall behind Miss Almay’s table, at the headmistress’s beck and call as always. Helen had her eyes trained on her feet. “Look at her, so smug. Doesn’t she know I could have her fired right now if I wanted to?”
“You wouldn’t,” Eliza protested.
“Wouldn’t I? I’ll wager she has told,” Theresa continued. “She has that look about her. Anything to please the headmistress. Probably went to Miss Almay with her hand out, looking for some kind of reward.”
“Theresa, please,” Catherine said as she pulled out a chair at their assigned table and seated herself.
“Helen seems like a nice girl,” Eliza said, sitting as well. “Perhaps she’s said nothing.”
Theresa laughed derisively. “She’s a servant, Eliza,” she said, opening her napkin with a snap and folding it in her lap. “They’re always looking to make an extra buck.”
Eliza cast an appalled look at Theresa. One of the servers rushed forward to fill their water glasses. As soon as the girl had scurried away again, Eliza spoke.
“Theresa. How can you lump all of the serving class together?” Eliza asked. “Everyone is different.”
“It’s not as if I’m saying it’s her fault,” Theresa replied, rolling her eyes. “It’s simply in her very nature.”
Eliza forced herself to keep her tongue. This was neither the time nor the place to debate matters of class. Soon Alice, Viola, and Bia had filled the other three seats at their table. Viola kept her hands folded in her lap. Bia’s every movement was a flinch, and she knocked her silverware from the table more than once. Alice had nary a conjecture about what the boys might be doing right then, and Catherine kept glancing up at the headmistress as if waiting for her to bring down the hatchet on all of them.
By the time the dishes were cleared, Eliza’s stomach was so knotted, she’d hardly been able to choke anything down. She reached up and rubbed her gold locket between her thumb and forefinger.
“If she’s already told, then why has the headmistress yet to say anything?” Viola said finally, looking up as the waitress whisked her dish away.
“I don’t understand it either,” Catherine whispered. “This is torture.”
“Perhaps that’s what this is meant to be,” Eliza mused, glancing sidelong at the headmistress. “Miss Almay’s own personal style of torment.”
She was just reaching for her water glass when her eyes caught Helen’s from across the room. Helen was staring right at her. Eliza felt the force of it right down to her toes. Why did it seem that Helen was always watching her?
Suddenly the maid stepped away from the wall, leaned down, and whispered something in the headmistress’s ear.
“Oh, no,” Eliza said, placing her glass back down so hastily that half the water spilled over the rim. “Don’t look, but I think she’s telling her right now.”
Alice whimpered quietly, looking up at the head table, as everyone else held their breath. Slowly Miss Almay placed her spoon on the table and rose from her chair. As she did so, Helen backed up to her spot near the wall, casting an unreadable glance at Eliza.
“Ladies, if I may have your attention,” Miss Almay said, casting a dour look at the room.
Instantly every conversation in the room came to a halt. Eliza felt her heartbeat pounding behind her very eyes. This was it. This was the end of her short tenure at the Billings School for Girls. Would any other respectable school have her once she was expelled? Would her mother even let her back into their home?
“As you all know, many of our students were put on probation on the first night of the term,” the headmistress said, her eyes sliding over those tables which were home to the offending girls, all of whose faces had drained of blood and now appeared pale and waxy. “At that time I revoked their welcome dance privileges and wrote out chores and punishments for each of them. But due to their recent ameliorated behavior, I have been forced to reconsider my decision.”
Eliza glanced at Catherine across the table. Confusion filled her friend’s eyes. “Because of their superb conduct over the past week, I have decided to allow these girls to attend the dance after all,” Miss Almay announced.
A shriek of delight emanated from the depths of Alice’s lungs, and all the girls laughed happily. Eliza was so baffled, she was not yet able to feel relieved. Why hadn’t Helen told? She looked at the maid, but the girl’s gaze was once again fixed squarely on the floor.
“Do not make me regret my decision!” Miss Almay announced loudly enough to be heard over the hubbub. B
ut still the girls gasped and chattered and began to plan their dresses and hair. Eliza smiled slowly and turned to Theresa with muted glee.
“Well. So much for Helen’s debased nature,” she said, raising her eyebrows.
Theresa’s grin dropped from her face. “No one likes a know-itall, Eliza.”
But Eliza was unaffected by the slight. All she could think about was the dance, and whether she’d get a chance to take a turn with Harrison Knox.
The History of Helen
“Oh, oh! What about this one? The Smitten Potion?” Alice giggled and pointed at the open page in front of her. “If a boy and a girl drink from the same draught, it’s guaranteed to make them smitten for twenty-four hours. I think we have all the ingredients for it too!”
Eliza glanced at Catherine in the three-way mirror at the dressing table they were sharing in the parlor. Three such tables had been added to the room for the night so the girls could all get ready for the dance together.
“I suppose we should have expected this,” Eliza joked. “There will probably be more spells cast tonight than any other night of the year.”
Catherine smiled slightly. “So long as no one overdoes it. There’s a fine line between good spells and bad.”
“And what do you think that line is?” Eliza asked, genuinely curious.
“Anything that alters someone’s mind or soul, anything that goes against the natural order of things,” Catherine replied, reaching for her powder compact. “I admit, it’s a fuzzy line. I suppose everyone has to define it for themselves,” she added, glancing over at Alice.
Like the rest of the girls, Alice had already changed into her dress for the dance, a peacock blue frock with a low neckline, of which Miss Almay would certainly disapprove, and a full skirt that accentuated her tiny waist. She was now seated on a parlor chair with the book of spells open across her lap and Viola and Marilyn leaning in from either side to better see the pages. Theresa stood nearby, tugging on her black gloves and admiring herself in a full-length mirror, while the other coven members helped one another with makeup and hair.