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  As I eat my tuna sandwich, Bridget reaches across the table and grabs my right hand. I have to be quick to keep my sandwich from falling. “Hey!”

  Bridget pulls my hand up to her face and squints. “Gah, Kristyl, what are you wearing?” She studies my father’s ring.

  Before I can respond, Lexie pulls my hand from Bridget so she can perform her own inspection. “Isn’t that your dad’s ring?” She presses her lips together thoughtfully. “Yeah. I’d recognize that ugly thing anywhere.” She raises her eyebrows before taking a bite of her apple.

  Bridget wrinkles her nose. “Oh, yeah. I remember it now. Crystal, didn’t you say it was the ugliest piece of jewelry you’d ever seen?”

  Although I already knew a bit of my alternate-self’s history with this ring, hearing it repeated irks me. I cock my head at Crystal, waiting for her to say something.

  It takes a beat before she sighs. “It’s still the ugliest piece of jewelry I’ve ever seen. Why would you willingly wear something that hideous?”

  I narrow my eyes. “Maybe you didn’t hear Lexie. This ring belonged to my dad.”

  Her dark blue eyes fix on mine. “Oh, I heard her. It still doesn’t answer my question.”

  I pull my hand from her grip and settle it on the table, not breaking eye contact. “Yes, it does. I don’t care if you don’t like it. This ring makes me think of my dad, and I want to wear it. I want to feel close to him. If you don’t like it, don’t look at it.”

  She stares, mouth twitching like she’s got too many things to say and is sorting through which comments should go first. Her lips part, but before she speaks, Lexie points across the lunch table toward the wall by the courtyard.

  “What do we have here?” A cruel smile curls the corners of her mouth and she holds her hand out toward Crystal, opening and closing her fist. “Give it.”

  Crystal’s eyes flash to mine for a second before we both follow Lexie’s gaze. My heart sinks. Bria Tate is sitting on the floor, her back against the courtyard windows, large headphones covering her ears, her head down. No one sits near her. Doesn’t she have friends? Sure, she and Lexie aren’t friends anymore for obvious reasons, but it’s hard to believe someone as vivacious, as sweet as Bria wouldn’t find a new group to be with.

  Lexie knocks on the table impatiently. “Come on, Crystal. Give it to me.”

  After a beat, Crystal opens her purse and pulls the drawstring bag out of it. She glances around the cafeteria before handing it to her cousin.

  My blood runs cold. What is Lexie planning?

  Bridget is watching with interest, leaning forward so far that her cleavage appears to expand exponentially, spilling out over the top of her dress. She’s not doing it on purpose—well, I don’t think she is—but that doesn’t mean that the guys around the table haven’t taken notice. To his credit, Fox turns to the table behind us and strikes up a conversation with some guys sitting there.

  Lexie rubs the pads of her fingers over the bumps and ridges of the crystal for a few moments, her eyes closing in concentration. My whole body tenses. When Lexie opens her eyes, they’re narrowed intently. I turn just in time to see several lunch trays launch themselves at Bria from nearby tables. Bria screams as she’s splattered with french fries and ketchup, milk, and lettuce dripping with dressing. She covers her head with her arms, pulling her legs up toward her torso. Lexie lets out a cackle and a second barrage of food flies at Bria.

  Kids at the tables nearest Bria jump up, looking around for something to explain why their trays are sliding away from them. Just as eyes flicker in our direction, the bell rings and in a flash, everyone is standing. Crystal closes her hand over Lexie’s, pulling the stone from her grasp. Lexie gives it up without a fight, still laughing. She and Bridget link arms and head into the swelling stream of bodies. I peer toward the courtyard but can only catch glimpses of Bria between people. Everything in me wants to go to her, to help her get cleaned up, but I know I can’t.

  Crystal tucks the pouch containing the quartz back into her purse and merges into the mass of students heading for their next class. With one last glance at Bria, I start for her. How can she be so nonchalant about what Lexie did?

  I don’t get more than a few steps before Fox catches my hand. A scan of the vicinity doesn’t reveal Crystal: She’s been swallowed by the crowd. I allow Fox to lead me toward the nearest stairwell. Zane is on Fox’s other side, going on about Lexie’s display. I do my best not to listen.

  I need to talk to Crystal. Is this what the circle is all about? Picking on other people? And this is the way Crystal thinks things are supposed to be? I don’t know what kinds of magic the circle has been practicing until now, but I can’t be part of a group like this. And I would hope Crystal wouldn’t want to be either.

  Chapter Six

  Zane doesn’t stop talking about what happened at lunch until we’re all seated in math. I’m distracted all hour.

  Bria’s supposed to be in this class.

  Agitation grows with every minute Bria’s absent. Is she in a bathroom somewhere, trying to clean up? I should get the pass and go find her. Maybe I could help get the food off her clothes. Or maybe I could do a glamor like I did this morning.

  No. I can’t do magic. I have no idea if she even suspects witchcraft. Before, it was Lexie who proposed the theory, based on what she knew about her late aunt, Crystal Taylor. But since Lexie’s one of the witches now, who would even come up with the idea of magic?

  As hard it is to get through math, health class is worse. Last time I was in health class, Lexie, Owen, Felix and I all sat together in one often-chatty group. The teacher, Mrs. Stanton, threatened to break us up several times—sometimes more than once a day—though she never made good on the promise because we always got our work done. But now, Lexie and I share a table with a girl named Heidi who seems desperate to be accepted by the two of us; she keeps offering us things—to give us the answers or to get us a special at the salon her mom works at. Owen and Felix sit on the other side of the room, but not together.

  I do my best to be polite to Lexie, even though I want nothing more than to yell at her for what she did to Bria. Heidi, while annoying, is perfect for running interference.

  I count down the minutes until the end of fifth hour. Crystal is in my last class of the day and I want to catch her before she makes it there. We need to talk and I’d like to do it before we get to Mr. Martin’s history class. I swing my backpack over my shoulder and head out of health as soon as the bell rings. If Lexie calls after me, I don’t hear her. I’m the first one in the hallway and I start for the nearest stairwell.

  Crystal’s not at her locker and I hesitate in front of it before going to my own. So far, all my teachers’ personalities have been intact and I don’t want to be caught in Mr. Martin’s class unprepared. I keep one eye on Crystal’s locker as I change out my books, but she doesn’t show up. Maybe her fifth hour teacher held her back? I’m not sure what class she has fifth hour, but she always approaches her locker from the same way. Pulling my backpack back on my shoulders, I head down the hallway past her locker, toward a stairwell I’ve never used. There are fewer people at lockers in this area of the hall and half of the classroom doors are closed, like they’re not even in use. I’m a few feet from the stairwell doors when I stop. There’s no reason she’d come from down here. Maybe I’m remembering things wrong.

  I’m about to turn when I hear a raised female voice. A muffled male voice follows it immediately. My skin prickles. The voices are coming from the stairwell. I shift on the balls of my feet, unsure whether I should investigate. There’s no further sound for a few seconds and my body relaxes. I must be hearing things.

  But then a shriek turns my blood cold. I run at the stairwell door and push it open so hard it bangs against the adjacent wall. A guy with short dark brown hair presses a girl into the corner of the stairwell, pinning her arms against the walls on either side of her head. The black leather jacket he wears is unmistakable. Tucker.
Sense memory overwhelms me—I feel the rough chill of the brick wall outside the book store against my back, the warmth of his body pressing against mine.

  Although I can’t see the girl’s face, the pattern on her blue baby-doll dress tells me all I need to know.

  Crystal.

  Heat builds in my center and before I can direct it, it flashes outward. Tucker flails as he’s blasted backward, away from Crystal. He stumbles, landing on his back just a few inches from my feet. He groans, but I ignore him, rushing to Crystal’s side. Her eyes are wide, shocked, as I approach.

  “Are you okay?” I scan her body, but everything appears to be in place. Even her hair is unmussed.

  “The hell, Barnette!” Tucker pushes himself to his feet, glaring. “What’s your problem today?”

  I stare at him, incredulous. “What’s my problem? I could ask you the same thing!”

  The warning bell sounds and Tucker shakes his head. “Jealous much? It’s not my fault if you’re bored with your boyfriend.” He raises his chin in Crystal’s direction. “Later.”

  He exits the stairwell and Crystal hits me in the arm. “What’s wrong with you?”

  The adrenaline in my system ebbs and I release a shaky breath. “I thought he was… He wasn’t attacking you?”

  She gapes. “No. Why would you think that?”

  I replay the scene in my head—the sounds of their voices, the way he had her pinned against the wall. Even now, I can’t compute that Crystal was a willing participant. “You—you shrieked.”

  She cocks her head to the side and rolls her eyes like I’m hopelessly infantile.

  “What, are you guys, like, together or something?”

  She shrugs, a grin spreading across her face. “I have no idea. But he seemed to be expecting me.”

  A memory floats to the surface of my mind: In the other timeline, Crystal and Zane Ross hooked up on a few occasions. She has a thing for bad-boys. She’s probably pleased to find out her alternate-self is together with Tucker.

  I shake my head to clear it of the image of the two of them making out. “Whatever. I’m sorry I interrupted. Now, let’s get to history before Mr. Martin kills us.”

  The two of us emerge from the stairwell and make our way through the progressively emptying hallway toward Mr. Martin’s class. A couple of freshman girls dawdle by a freshman boy’s locker, but all three scatter when a friend hurries by whispering, “Better move, Mrs. Cole’s coming.”

  I freeze and so does Crystal. When her eyes meet mine, they’re round and wide; this is news to her, too.

  “Mrs. Cole’s alive?” I whisper. In our other reality, our principal died on the night of the harvest dance. It was some kind of curse that killed her; the same curse was affecting Jodi before I decided to help Crystal and the circle go back in time. But when I got back, Jodi was fine—nothing had ever been wrong with her. Maybe nothing happened to Mrs. Cole either.

  Crystal tugs on my arm. “Looks like it,” she says, her voice quiet. “And we’d better move or she’ll give us detention for being late.”

  I think it’s safe to say that this is the first time anyone has ever been elated to be threatened with detention. I didn’t know Mrs. Cole terribly well, but she’d been nice to me, even though my school record gave her no reason to be. She was friends with Jodi, but I know that wasn’t the reason she gave me a chance here; she really believed I could do better here, I could be better here.

  Crystal and I ease into Mr. Martin’s class just as the tardy bell rings, but it’s not Mr. Martin behind the teacher’s desk. A woman with short, dark hair is bent over the desk, peering at something written on a piece of paper. Her face is obscured by her hair, but there’s something familiar about her. She must be a substitute in for Mr. Martin today; I’ve probably seen her around school before.

  Someone taps at the still-open classroom door behind us as Crystal and I head toward the empty desks by Bridget. “Miss Tanner?” calls a woman’s voice.

  The woman behind the desk looks up, and, in front of me, Crystal lets out an audible gasp. She’s our principal, Mrs. Shelly Cole. But that doesn’t make any sense—the freshman in the hallway said she was behind us. Besides, the woman in the door called her Miss Tanner. The name Tanner sticks in my mind, but I don’t know why.

  Crystal has turned toward the person in the doorway and is staring open-mouthed. I follow her gaze. The woman standing there is familiar; I know I’ve seen her before, but I can’t place where. Her straight, light-brown hair is pulled into a chignon at the base of her neck, accentuating her pointed chin and almost elfin features.

  “Yes, Mrs. Cole?” asks the woman I thought answered to that name. I look to Crystal to see if she knows what’s happening, but she seems incapable of speech.

  The elfin woman smiles and nods in my direction. “Could I see Miss Taylor and Miss Barnette for a moment?”

  “Sure.” The darker-haired woman makes a sweeping motion with her hand and I have to tug on Crystal’s arm to get her to follow me.

  The woman called Mrs. Cole closes the door after Crystal and I follow her into the hallway. She crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head at us. “Have you been using the bathroom as your private office again? There was a complaint earlier about how a bathroom door wouldn’t open after you two and Lexie and Bridget walked in.”

  I wait for Crystal to respond, but she doesn’t. I clear my throat. “We had to talk about something.”

  The woman bites back a smile. “While I’m sure it was very important, that still doesn’t give you the right to commandeer the lavatory. It’s not your personal meeting room.”

  I nod. “We won’t do it again.” I look to Crystal, waiting for her echo of my assurance, but she doesn’t speak. I nudge her with my elbow and she blinks heavily.

  “Yeah, of course not. We won’t do it again, Aunt Crystal.”

  I gasp. That’s where I know this woman from—when I know her from. Crystal told me this the day after we got back from our excursion in the past, but it’s still a shock to see it with my own eyes. Crystal Taylor didn’t die in a house fire the way she did in our reality. Somehow we changed that by going back.

  Crystal Taylor smiles at her niece. “What have I told you? At school, you’ve got to call me Mrs. Cole, just like Lexie.”

  Crystal Jamison nods numbly and her aunt opens the classroom door. Our business is done. As we take our seats by Bridget, I try to piece everything together. Crystal Taylor is now Crystal Cole, and she’s the principal of Clearwater High. It makes sense, I suppose—I had a vision of the past before going there, and Crystal Taylor’s mother mentioned something about her hanging out with David Cole—the man who, in my reality, was married to Clearwater High’s principal—Shelly. Now I remember why the name Tanner sounded so familiar: It’s Shelly’s maiden name. Apparently since Crystal Taylor lived, Shelly Tanner and David Cole never married. And now Crystal Taylor-Cole is the principal of my school and Shelly Tanner is my history teacher.

  By the end of class, I’m massaging my temples to stave off the ache gathering in my head from doing so much thinking. Beside me, Crystal Jamison doesn’t look like she’s doing much better. When the bell rings, the two of us are out of the room as quickly as possible, leaving Bridget behind. Once we merge with the groups of students already pouring into the hallway, she shakes her head. “I think my brain just exploded.”

  I nod. “Me, too.”

  We’re almost to my locker when she tugs on my arm. “Are you working at Jodi’s shop today?”

  I bite my lower lip. “I have no idea. I mean, before I worked there after school every day—”

  “I know.” She shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. It closes at six, right?”

  I nod. “I mean—it did. I don’t see why it wouldn’t be the same.”

  She glances down the hall like she’s making sure no one’s listening to us. “At seven, the circle’s meeting at Fox’s place. It’s important for you to be there.”

 
I press my lips together. If the circle’s meeting again, it’s probably about the anchoring spell. I should go—it might give me more opportunity to convince Crystal and the others there’s something wrong with the stone. Or maybe it’ll convince me that everything’s okay. “I think I can make it.”

  “Good.” She glances over my shoulder and nods a greeting. “I’ll see you at seven.” She turns and calls over her shoulder, “See you later, Fox.”

  I’m thankful for Crystal’s warning as it’s the only thing that keeps me from jumping when Fox slides his hands over my hips. “You ready to get out of here?”

  Fox’s lips are close to my ear and I squeeze my eyes closed, willing myself not to pull away. I take in a breath before turning to face him. “I just have to stop and get my stuff,” I say, forcing brightness into my words.

  He nods. “I’ve gotta stop in to see Miss Tanner. I’ll meet you at your locker.”

  I smile and pivot, heading down the hall. I take two steps before colliding with someone. He grunts and his books slip from his hands, clattering on the floor.

  “I’m sorry!” I crouch down and begin collecting the belongings without thinking.

  “It’s okay.”

  I freeze as Owen’s hand brushes mine as he reaches for his notebook. I meet his eyes for the first time today and immediately wish I hadn’t. There’s a barrier up behind his eyes, like he’s uncomfortable around me. I bite my lower lip and hand him his textbook. He takes it and nods a thank you as he presses himself to standing. I stand too and, not wanting our interaction to end quite yet, grope for something to say. “Yeah—I’m sorry about that. I should’ve been watching where I was going.”

  He shrugs. “It happens.” His eyes dart down the hallway and a muscle in his jaw jumps. “See you, Kristyl.”

  Owen starts down the hall and my stomach sinks with every step he takes.

  Chapter Seven