hat’s with you two?” Blue asked as we were putting back our borrowed books in the library’s restricted section.

SJ and I hadn’t spoken a word to each other during dinner. We just sipped soup and chewed chicken in silence. Now, back in the library for our book borrowing session, it seemed Blue finally decided to say something.

SJ appeared deeply absorbed in a large, withered text and didn’t reply.

“Nothing,” I said, sliding my current book about Neverland back on the shelf in exchange for two new ones—a text focusing on famous mermaid lagoons and another on ancient jungle temples. Unfortunately, I’d been so distracted by the task and Blue’s question that I didn’t see the small cloud of burning dust floating my way. I sidestepped, but a few specks grazed my shoulder. Since the dust only affected biological things, it easily passed through the cloth of my dress and burned the skin underneath.

“Argh.” I cringed.

SJ gave me a once over, but didn’t ask if I was okay.

“Yeah, sure,” Blue said in disbelief as she slid down her ladder. “Well, whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here.” She looked at each of us. “For both of you.”

She had two new texts in her possession—one entitled Monsters of Camelot and another called Enchanted Woodland Creatures—Squirrels, Beavers, Armadillo Edition. I decided to change the subject from the awkward topic at hand and pointed at the latter text. “What Wonderland map is the woodland creatures book for?”

Blue scooped up another book she’d already set aside on a nearby shelf and ducked under a cloud of incoming dust. “It’s for Limbo,” she responded with a huff. “I hope the boys have better luck with it when we switch map assignments at next week’s ball. I have had zero. The only thing I’ve been able to find is a bunch of references to some beaver. If it weren’t for your White Rabbit friend’s assertion that it’s a Wonderland, Crisa, I would have trouble believing it even exists.”

SJ gave her watch a glance. “Five minutes,” she said. She snatched one more book off a shelf then nodded at the exit. “Shall we go?”

Blue and I checked that we had everything then followed her out. As Blue worked on relocking the doors to the restricted section, I decided to take a moment to swallow my pride and give forgiveness a go. I pivoted and leaned in closer to SJ.

“Hey,” I whispered. “About our fight earlier—”

“Crisa,” she whispered back, cutting me off. “I do not want to talk about it, or talk to you. Let us just do our jobs and carry on.”

I withdrew. I had been mad at SJ for what she’d said earlier. In fact, I’d been steaming at her for all the things she’d accused me of. But given our history, and the compassion I felt for her insecurity, I’d decided to be the bigger person and try to give her an out. Maybe we could just pretend like it never happened and let it go. I ground my teeth. Clearly she didn’t want that. She was being as curt with me as ever, and that ticked me off even more.

Blue finished locking the doors and we hurried through the library. Once we were outside, I put down my books and scaled the brick wall while Blue secured the main doors.

“You look bummed,” Nick the Guardgoyle commented as I reached out to give him his bacon. I glanced back at SJ, who was staring off into the distance with a thin frown on her face.

“Rough day,” I responded.

“Want a piece of my bacon?” Nick offered. “I can share today if it helps.”

I managed a smile. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

I clambered down the wall and made my way toward Russell. “I’m not going to offer to share my bacon,” he told me as I ascended. “I don’t know you like that.”

“Aw, and here I thought we’d been growing closer these past few weeks,” I said with fake sadness.

“I’m still upset about that night you brought us vegan bacon.”

“Hey, don’t blame me,” I said with a shrug. “I’m the one who had to carry it around all day. My book bag still smells like tofu and broken dreams.”

I leapt off the wall right as Blue finished with the doors. I picked up my books. SJ gave me a sour look, and I mirrored it, but we both stopped glowering at each other when Blue turned around.

“Night, boys,” I waved to Nick and Russell.

“Good night,” Russell said.

“Hope you handle your issues,” Nick added.

I stole another glance at SJ.

Yeah, don’t we all.

The rest of the week passed in a blur.

Every day, I went to class, skipped lunch to train with Liza, went to class, trained in the practice fields, went to class again, worked with Madame Alexanders, then finished off the day with Wonderland mapmaking in my room, with a bit of actual homework thrown in. If I was feeling particularly ambitious, I got out my Mountain Troll dictionary and Shadow Guardians book. But I rarely had time for that anymore.

The most colorful parts of my day were the frosty run-ins I had with SJ. The two of us had barely spoken since our argument.

In addition to all this, I was increasingly worried about my potions TA sessions with Madame Alexanders. More specifically, I was perplexed about what was wrong with me. Poppies did not seem to affect me the same way they affected others.

After the flower-touching incident, I’d paid special attention to the effect of the sweet dreams potion. Lo and behold, my dreams had been nightmarish as usual, which meant something was amiss.

Initially I assumed the potion was flawed, but when Madame Alexanders reported how well it had worked on her and a few other students she’d allowed to sample the brew for extra credit, I realized that the problem was me. I needed to investigate further. Just not now.

SJ, Blue, and I had been working intensely on finishing our Wonderland map assignments. We’d be trading tasks with the boys at the February ball next week. But as soon as that was over, I intended to look into why Poppies had a different effect on me. Maybe Blue could help me find answers in the library.

With my days jam-packed and my nocturnal consciousness more tormented than usual, I felt exhausted all the time. Ironically, the only thing that brought me peace was sneaking off to the barn for some combat drills when the rest of the school was asleep.

While the loss of z’s made me yawn during the day, I welcomed the change of pace at night. It was a distraction, and a productive one at that. Every night I’d gone down to the barn this week I’d crossed paths with Girtha. Evidently she was stressed too; she claimed she couldn’t sleep because she was anxious about the results of the Twenty-Three Skidd tryouts, which would be posted this Sunday. I didn’t share with her my multiple stressors, and I was glad she knew well enough not to ask.

The two of us ended up training together. I showed her some moves with the spear and helped her improve her agility. In exchange, she aided me with my unarmed combat.

After what went down with the magic hunters a few weeks ago (and the chilling dream I’d had of Parker nearly killing me with a dagger), I’d been wanting to work on my hand-to-hand fighting skills. I wanted to be able to rely on more than just my magic and my wand to save me. If for some reason I didn’t have access to either, I still needed to be able to defend myself. Girtha was the perfect person to help me with this endeavor.

She was one of the few protagonists at school who preferred things the old-fashioned way—no weapons, just fists. Between growing up in a forest, being picked on as child for her larger size, and having a pair of much older, extremely scrappy siblings, Girtha had learned from an early age how to fend for herself with nothing but her two hands. She was a force to contend with au naturel, and she made for a good sparring partner late into the night when I had a lot of pent-up frustration that needed releasing.

Of course, I didn’t know how much of a challenge I posed to her in return. Attacking Girtha was like attacking a stone wall—there were very few weak spots. Moreover, she was incredibly strong and fully capable of tossing me around like a rag doll.

Ooof!

I smacked into one of the haystack walls hard, the wind knocked out of me.

“Why don’t we try something else,” Girtha proposed as I caught my breath.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, getting up with a painful grunt. “Getting bored of throwing me across the room?”

Girtha scoffed. “No, it’s good weight training actually. But even with the sparring mats we’ve laid down and the walls of hay, I’m assuming you’ve had enough.”

“Not even close,” I scoffed in return. “Besides, I think I’m finally starting to get the hang of this.” I stood upright and stretched. “Ready for round six?”

“You know it,” she replied. She cracked her neck and then her knuckles.

We took our positions. Girtha lunged at me and I ducked under her arm. I spun and threw a reverse, spinning kick. She turned in time to block it, grabbed my foot out of the air, then used it to slam me to the ground.

Ooof!

“Can I make a suggestion?” Girtha asked as I heaved myself off the sparring mat.

“Please,” I said, rubbing my leg.

“Look, you’re fast, your reflexes are good, and you’re great with improvisation. Combining that with a weapon makes you pretty formidable. But one thing you’re not accounting for is space. You’re used to distancing yourself from your opponent because your spear relies on that type of fighting style. But hand-to-hand combat is different, even more so for an offensive fighter like you. When you put too much space between you and your opponent, you leave yourself vulnerable. Weaponless fights are always won at close range, Crisa. Got it?

I nodded.

“Round seven?” she asked.

“You’re on,” I said. “And this time I’m comin’ for ya.”

“Take it down a notch, princess. Just try not to tap out before ten seconds.”

I frowned, provoked. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Girtha lunged at me again, but this time I didn’t duck and dive out of the way like my instincts urged me to do. Instead, I met her head on. My left arm thrust to the side, blocking her strike. Meanwhile I lifted my right hand to punch her in the solar plexus.

She swatted my hand away and moved to nail me with a left hook. I raised my arm just in time to stop it. She struck right. I blocked left. She kneed me in the side of the leg, but instead of buckling from the blow, I moved with it—spinning and hitting her in the temple with the back of my fist.

Girtha’s balance wavered for a second, but not long enough for me to make any kind of strike. She shoved me back with her massive arms. I staggered a few feet then ducked her next blow. Rapidly I leapt in and kicked her knee outward. She stumbled a bit, but still managed to seize my arm and flip me over.

I landed on the mat with a thud. It stunned me, but my adrenaline compensated. Girtha was leaning over me, still balanced on one knee. As she lunged down to strike, I grabbed her arm and the back of her shirt collar and flipped her forward.

She fell and I twisted myself to dodge her incoming body. She landed beside me. I tried to roll away and get up before she could beat me to the punch, but halfway to my feet she snatched me by the neck and tackled me down.

Girtha had the superior position now—bearing over me and pinning me to the floor with her meaty hand. I struggled to push back, but her strength and size were choking me.

“Come on, Crisa,” she said. “You don’t need to be stronger than me; just find a way out.”

“That’s . . . sort of hard to do . . . without . . . oxygen,” I gasped as Girtha’s hand crushed my throat. “Can’t . . . think straight.”

“You don’t need to think; just act. Do what you did before. Use my advantage against me.”

She was bigger, heavier, and had the better position. Fighting against her was like fighting an avalanche. So I let her do what avalanches do best—tumble.

I hinged my leg and kicked out Girtha’s knee. She lost her balance. I released her arm and hit her square in the jaw. My fingers wrapped behind her neck and—striking her underarm with my other hand—I pulled her down.

She rolled sideways, releasing my neck. The moment she crashed I let go and shoved her away. From there I jumped to my feet and stood over her.

“Whablamo! Totally lasted more than ten seconds!” I declared triumphantly as I stared down at my defeated sparring partner.

“Crisa,” Girtha said.

“Yeah?”

“Putting aside everything I’ve told you about hand-to-hand combat, when it comes to fighting in general, do you know what rule number one is?”

“What?”

“Don’t get cocky.” Girtha suddenly swung her massive arm and swept my leg out from under me.

Ooof!

My head throbbed for a second from having hit the mat so hard, but I supposed I was getting used to it. I totally should have seen that move coming. It served me right for getting smug. The same move had taken me down when I was fighting Daniel just a few weeks ago in this very barn. Lesson learned; no more cockiness.

After the oxygen had fully returned to my diaphragm, I stood back up.

“Good job. That was way better,” Girtha said. “You even got a battle scar out of it.” She pointed to my face.

I wiped the side of my hand over my lips and discovered a tinge of blood.

Oh, crud.

I made my way to an area at the back of the barn where a dusty mirror hung. The glow of the nearest flaming gas lantern illuminated my reflection. Despite the cobwebs and the dirt clinging to the mirror, I could make out a decent-sized cut on my bottom lip.

“SJ’s gonna judge me so hard tomorrow when she sees this,” I huffed.

“So?” Girtha replied. “Tell her it’s an occupational hazard of being awesome.”

“Somehow I don’t think that’s gonna fly.”

I sighed, thinking on my sadness over what had gone down with SJ this week. I hadn’t vented to anyone about my fight with her. Blue obviously noticed something was wrong, but I didn’t want to drag her into it. It wouldn’t be fair to make her take sides. Meanwhile, my other usual go-to friends, Jason and Daniel, were at Lord Channing’s. Even if they were here, I couldn’t talk to either of them about this. Jason would probably try to force SJ and me into some kind of reconciliation. And Daniel . . . well, he wasn’t an option. He’d made it very clear that I wasn’t to share anything personal with him ever again.

Irritation grew inside me. The disagreement with SJ had cut me deep. The thing was, I didn’t just feel sad over our sudden estrangement; I resented it. I had enough problems to worry about. I shouldn’t have to waste headspace or heartspace concerned with someone who was supposed to be my best friend and was suddenly acting like my rival. I’d been using my magic training with Liza as an excuse these last few days to avoid SJ at lunch, and it was easy to keep to myself in classes and just focus on our teachers. But dinners, our late-night library ventures, and even just being in our room together had grown unbelievably awkward.

I scowled in exasperation. Then the frustration got the better of me and I abruptly spun and punched a hay dummy so hard it nearly teetered over. When I turned around I saw Girtha eyeing me.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“No,” I lied. “Let’s go again. I feel like hitting something.”

Girtha smirked. “Good luck with that.”

She cracked her knuckles and lunged at me. I braced myself, reconsidered my life choices, then bobbed and weaved to avoid getting hit in the face.

Sigh. If only all problems were this easy to dodge.

Girtha took advantage of my lack of focus and smacked me in the side. I rolled to the ground. My stomach hurt from the impact, but it was nothing compared to the blow SJ’s spurn had delivered. Not to mention Daniel’s.

And if only they were this easy to recover from.

I launched myself up and rushed in anew—fire, ire, strain, and pain fueling me forward, and making me both stronger and weaker for the challenge ahead. Like they always did.