Lady, You Don't Need to See

Who Will Catch You When You're Falling?

Folding the omelets over on themselves, Misty whistled her own tune to herself, drowning out the white noise of the other witches. Madison played on her phone over a bowl of cold cereal quickly growing soggy. Zoe and Kyle talked in hushed whispers with toast between them. Queenie had an unopened granola bar between her and her textbook. The silence held an unusual tension. I don't want to compete with any of them. Zoe was her friend. Madison—Misty didn't know how she felt about Madison anymore, but she had brought her back to life, and that meant something. And she didn't necessarily get along with Queenie, but they were both friends with Nan. I've gotta find Nan. It can't be too late yet. She fidgeted, her lower lip between her teeth. She felt that Cordelia would have told her if reviving Nan was a priority, and she hadn't mentioned a thing.

She didn't know what happened to Nan, and she was afraid to ask. Flipping the omelets, she listened to the sound of Cordelia's footsteps on the stairs. Cordelia took the stairs slowly. Her cane tapped with every other step, determining the height of the stair and repeating once her weight had come down. She flipped one of the omelets onto a plate and placed it in front of one of the bar stools. "Anyone else want one?"

All eyes landed on her. Kyle started to raise his hand, bright eyes widening, but Zoe smacked his hand down and shook her head. She raised her eyebrows. Were they all so fast to make an enemy of her? Madison cleared her throat. "No thanks, Swampy. I'd rather not ingest warm cholera."

"Be nice, Madison." Cordelia bumped Kyle's ankles with the cane, and she mumbled an apology. She climbed onto a barstool. Misty slid a glass of orange juice across the bar to her. "Thank you, Misty." She hesitated, her hands in her lap.

Misty, trying her best to demonstrate grace and finesse, ignored Madison's quip and focused on Cordelia. "Fork's at three o'clock. Orange juice is out past the one." The guidance helped Cordelia as her shy hands darted around the surface of the countertop. The sight of her hands warmed the pit of Misty's stomach. Cordelia had pretty, elegant hands. Misty took her own omelet and a glass of orange juice and stood across from them, bowing her head over her plate.

Uncomfortable silence consumed the room. Misty watched Cordelia, prepared to steady her or help her if she required it. Something about Cordelia made her heart explode into a flock of butterflies. Cordelia made Misty feel warm and full in a way no one else did. Tilting her head, she gave a dumb smile as she watched Cordelia chop up the omelet with the side of her fork. She stabbed the bite she had cut off with the prongs, and then she brought it toward her face, hesitating when it came a few inches away. Steam rose off of the egg and peppers and tomato. She drew it in closer, closer, until the steam brushed her lips, and then she blew it off. Misty waited with bated breath. Then, Cordelia opened her mouth. The egg vanished inside. She didn't even stab herself.

The victory crossed Cordelia's face. She didn't say anything, but the wrinkle between her brows eased, and the tension in her muscles relaxed. Chewing and swallowing, she asked, "What are you girls doing today?"

No one answered. It seemed, in the moment, everyone stopped breathing. The air cracked with tension. Queenie cleared her throat. "I'm going to the library. Can't speak for anybody else."

Madison slurped at her gross, soggy cereal. "Going to the spa."

"Kyle and I are going to the park."

It seemed everyone was leaving the academy. "Has anyone seen Myrtle?" Misty asked, hoping to change the subject before Cordelia said anything about their plans for the day. She didn't want the other girls to know what had happened the night before. There's no point in me making enemies of anybody. One of them is the Supreme. Misty's stomach curdled at the thought. Her intuition had never failed her before, but as much as she knew within herself that she did not hold the magic of the Supreme, she couldn't decide which one of them it was, either.