I awoke abruptly, shaking and disoriented. My dream... was it really only a dream? I didn’t think so. It felt very close and very real.

As soon as I could trust my legs, I slipped into the bathroom and ran cold water over a washcloth. Pressing it to my cheeks, I gazed at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. My eyes were dark and shadowed against the paleness of my skin. My hands still trembled, and my eyes hesitated on my wrists as I saw them in the mirror. I could see Nell’s scarred arms in my mind, and I could hear her taunting voice.

Shivering, I darted back to my room and climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to my neck. I tried to go back to sleep, but each time I closed my eyes, panic gripped me. Sleep was a long time coming.

So when the alarm rang at 6:30, I was groggy. I moved so slowly through my morning routine that I was in serious danger of being late for the first time in my high school career. My mom’s worried voice followed me out the door.

“Don’t speed or drive crazy just to get there on time. I’ll write you a note if you’re late!”

I waved to acknowledge her words and concentrated on making it to school safely and quickly. The bell was ringing just as I slammed my locker shut and took off for history.

Mercifully, nothing too challenging happened in my morning classes. If I was zoning through physics and calculus, no one seemed to notice. My stomach began to churn toward the end of math class, however, as I faced the prospect of seeing Ms. Lacusta again.

I had finished her book over the weekend, and honestly, it had raised more questions for me than it answered. It was simply a history of a group of people, and while it was interesting, it didn’t give me any answers.

So it was with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation that I made my way to the chemistry classroom. I shivered a little as I went through the door, seeing it again as it had been last night: fuzzy lines and hazy shapes. Today, at least the lights were on and everything appeared to be pretty solid.

Ms. Lacusta was seated at her desk, as she had been last week, and again there was a chair pulled near to hers. She looked up and smiled with genuine pleasure as I approached.

“Tasmyn... hello. Here, have a seat.” She gestured to the chair and then leaned back, gazing at me. “I hope you had an enjoyable weekend.”

I glanced at the teacher skeptically. Was she seriously going to try to make small talk?

“It was all right, I guess. Pretty quiet.” I wasn’t about to share anything important with her.

“Good. Were you able to complete your reading assignment?” She looked at me expectantly, and for a fleeting moment I wondered what she would have done if I said no.

“Yes. It was... informative.” That was an adequate word.

Ms. Lacusta laughed and pushed her hair back over her shoulders. “I hope that wasn’t your polite way of telling me that it was dry and boring. Frankly, I find it fascinating. But then of course, I imagine one always finds one’s family stories more interesting than others might.”

“Your family?” I raised an eyebrow, looking at her questioningly.

“Yes. As you read, the Rom are an ancient people. Others used to think we came from Egypt, and that’s where the term Gypsy came from, but of course, that’s not accurate. We came from India, or what I suppose is now part of Pakistan. We weren’t greeted with open arms, but you’ll have read that, too.

“And during those years, those hard years... we retained our national identity. We diversified, so to speak. We took on different trades. But no matter what happened, our women kept our stories alive, and more than that... they kept the power alive.”

I tried to keep my face carefully blank. So far, Ms. Lacusta hadn’t shared anything that I hadn’t read in her book. But now she was moving into new territory. I toyed with the idea of trying to hear her mind, but the pain and futility of my past attempts made me reluctant. Instead I concentrated on her mood and feelings, which were much more difficult to control even if she knew I could pick them up. I sensed pride and passion, and just the slightest hint of cool calculation.

“The power... I assumed it was just legend,” I said, keeping my face as blank as possible.

Ms. Lacusta leaned forward and held my eyes with her own. “No, Tasmyn, it’s not legend. I understand that the book might have been somewhat... ambiguous about that, but I would think you of all people would find it easy to accept the truth. The power is real, and it is... ” She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, in and out. “It is everything.”

A chill ran down my back. The intensity of her words brought back the image of Nell so vividly that I had a hard time keeping my breath even. There was no doubt in my mind that this was the side of Ms. Lacusta that Nell knew very well.

After a moment, she spoke again. “I don’t mean to overstate it, Tasmyn, and I wouldn’t blame you for shying away from any expression of the power after what happened last autumn. But that was an aberration. It had more to do with Nell’s mental illness than it did with the vrajitorie—the power, that is.”

This time it was me who leaned forward. “What did you call it? Vra--?”

“Vrajitorie. It’s Romanian; it’s the word we use. You would have seen it in the text.”

I nodded. “So... I understand about the—the power, whatever you want to call it, being handed down. I get this is your family history. I still don’t understand why I’m here, why you made me read about it. Not that I don’t find it fascinating,” I hastened to add.

She smiled slightly. “You’re jumping ahead of the story, Tasmyn, and nothing will make any sense if you do that. What I had you read last week was a good foundation. You’re now at the point that I was when I was—oh, well, slightly younger than you are. I grew up surrounded by this history, by the everyday practice of the vrajitorie. It was part of us, as natural as breathing.

“I was particularly gifted. I don’t say that with pride; it was just as I said, a gift. The power flowed from me without effort. I was a favorite of all the elder women for that very reason. They took special care of me and gave me particular training and teaching.”

I could almost see it in my mind, the way she was describing it and the words from the book meshing to form a clear picture. Her mood had shifted to one of fond reminiscence, and a sad smile played about her lips.

“Of course, to what end was I taught? I would grow up to be like the rest of my family, shunned from much of mainstream society where I might have had a fuller life, an education. But the elders taught me so that when I had my daughter, I would teach her. There was a seer amongst us—we called her the ghicitor—and she said I would one day have a very powerful daughter who would be the culmination of all those generations of teaching and practicing. She would be widely known, and her power would be—it would be untouchable.”

A memory stirred in me just then. I could hear Amber’s voice last fall, as we sat in Marly and Luke’s living room on that surreal night, after Michael and I had stopped Nell from killing her. Still somewhat in shock, Amber had told us about the relationship between Nell and Ms. Lacusta. She had described the words the teacher had used to convince all the girls in the so-called chemistry club that what they were doing was destined.

“... she told us we could be unstoppable. She said that we were all her daughters, that she had foreseen that she would come to this place, which was a mystical spot, and that she would pass on her secrets to us... ”

“But you used that.” I kept my voice low and as even as I could manage. “You used that knowledge, or whatever you want to call it, to lure Nell to you. You played on what you knew was a weakness—you had to have known about it.”

She was already shaking her head before I finished speaking. “No. I never used them. I might have been mistaken—rushed in too fast before I was certain—but I never intentionally set out to--”

“It doesn’t matter what you meant to do. What you did destroyed a young girl’s life, and it could have been much, much worse. What if Nell had actually killed Amber, or Michael and me? How would you have justified that?” I stood up and moved toward the door. My heart was pounding.

“Tasmyn, come back here. Sit down. We’re not finished yet for today. And if you leave now, I will have no choice but to report you to the office.”

“Oh, really?” I didn’t mean to taunt her, but the words had that effect. “And how will you do that, when officially I’m not even in class with you right now?”

“Trust me.” Her voice had dropped and was low and dangerous, her accent more pronounced. “I would find a way. I can be very persuasive.”

I believed it. Bleakly I dropped into the nearest seat, farther away from Ms. Lacusta’s desk than where I had been sitting.

“I understand that you’re upset, Tasmyn, but we really must get through the next part of the story. It’s very important.”

I didn’t answer, just gazed at her steadily. Interestingly, I didn’t feel anything ominous or dangerous about her mood; instead, she felt guarded and apprehensive. I wondered if she were in fact more sensitive about the whole Nell situation than she let on.

“As I said, there was great hope that my daughter would be very powerful. I knew this from the time I was a small child. But in my teen years... I was like any other girl. I was rebellious. My mother had died when I was ten, but my aunts, the other elders, they tried to take special care of me. However, as I just told you, I can be very persuasive. Some might call it manipulative. I was able to invent ways to get around their rules. I used my power in some rather questionable ways.”

Her voice was sad and pensive, and she gazed at the wall above my head, lost in the memory.

“And it was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened. Like many other girls of my age, of my people, I found myself pregnant. The father doesn’t matter. He was useless, a boy who was there at the right time—or the wrong time, depending on your point of view. I was triumphant when I knew I was going to have a baby, because I knew this baby was what the ghicitor had seen. I presented myself to the elders and told them. I was prepared for them to fawn and dote on me.

“But it didn’t happen that way. They were angry. Beside themselves. The ghicitor said she couldn’t see clearly that this would be the child. I had rushed ahead, gone ahead of the power, of my destiny, and perhaps I had ruined everything. But they would wait and see.”

I found myself captivated by her story in spite of myself. Ms. Lacusta couldn’t have been much older than me when this happened. I couldn’t even imagine being pregnant at my age, let alone being happy about it. And I wondered with a twinge where her baby was now. I had never heard anything about Ms. Lacusta having a child.

“I was nearly eight months pregnant when the pains began. It was far too early, and the pain was. . it was horrendous. Not what the elders had been preparing me to expect. We lived a long way from any medical facilities—our women were always delivered by our own midwives. I don’t remember much of those days, but the pain seemed endless, and they told me later that I nearly bled to death. Luckily, a local doctor was passing through and was able to save my life, although it came at a high price.

“When I awoke, I was very weak. I asked immediately for my baby, but I could tell by the expressions of the women around me what had happened. She had been born dead, and she had nearly taken my life in the process. What the doctor had had to do to save my life meant that I would never have a child.”

Although Ms. Lacusta’s words and her tone were matter of fact, I could feel the palpable grief emanating from her. Tears filled my eyes, and I struggled to blink them back as she continued.

“It was devastating to all of us. To me, certainly; the grief of losing a child, even one you’ve never known, is nothing that anyone can imagine or describe. And to know that I would never have another chance to be a mother was one more blow. The elders... they were heartbroken, too. For them it was not only a child but the hope of that child... all those years of trusting and believing, and for what? Nothing left but ashes of that dream.”

I found my voice at last. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Lacusta. I had no idea.”

She looked back at me then, seeming almost surprised to see me in the room. “Well, how could you know? This is something I never shared with anyone, not even Nell.” She looked at me pointedly.

“I am sorry for you. But I still don’t understand what it has to do with me.”

She smiled, widely, and the atmosphere in the room changed again. The grief was gone, and in its place was a speculative hope.

“That, my dear Tasmyn, will have to wait until next week. The bell is about to ring, and I think we’ve both had enough for today. Think about what I’ve said, please. We’ll meet here again, next Monday.” With that she turned from me. Evidently I was dismissed.

I left the classroom shaken and wondering. I had seen a side of Ms. Lacusta that I never suspected. But how much of it could I trust? I was still no closer to any answers.

Sighing, I went to lunch.