“Oh my gosh, I am so jealous,” Gabbie said. She turned Delali’s metric over in her hand, assessing the purple from different angles as they walked up to Alba’s from the 96th Street stop. “How did you do it?”
“Honestly,” Delali said, hands on the straps of her backpack, “I don’t really know. Most of it, I didn’t even do on purpose.”
“Lemme see.” Maya held out her hand.
“Ugh, I feel like I can’t do anything on purpose,” Gabbie said as she dropped the metric into Maya’s palm.
“Well we’ve only had one session. It’s not like we’re supposed to be pros or anything yet,” Maya said.
“True,” Gabbie replied.
“Agreed. I think using my named power was the most effective thing though,” Delali offered. “So maybe try that? We can ask Alba.”
“Let’s see yours Maya,” Gabbie said.
Maya handed Delali’s metric back to her, then fetched hers out of her Bianca Saunders tote. Her hand emerged with a metric that was decidedly purple, Maya’s pearlescent white manicure making a stark contrast against the color.
Delali’s mouth dropped open. “How did you do that?” In the days since Maya sent her last picture, her metric had darkened even more. She thought hers looked pretty good, but Maya was way ahead of her.
“Changed the thermostat while in bed over the weekend, curled my hair, revived a plant that was dying—”
“That’s smart,” Delali murmured.
“—changed the color of a dress at work, transformed into another girl at work so I could leave early . . .” She counted off the examples on her fingers, her high ponytail swinging as she spoke.
“Jeez,” Gabbie said as they walked up 115th. “I need to catch up.” If things continued at this pace, Delali and Maya would be traveling to the Sphere without her. She shuddered to think of falling out of step with the only people who knew what was actually going on in her life. “Hey, should we try and transport to Alba’s? Like we did by accident the first time? It would be good for our metrics.”
“We’re in the middle of the street,” Maya said. “It would be bad for our sanctions.”
“Oh,” Gabbie said, disappointed. “True.”
But the girls slowed their walking—the allure of additional color on their metrics was strong. How strange that just a week ago, they hadn’t even known what a metric was.
“What about,” Delali said, pointing across the street, “there?” The girls followed Delali’s finger, catching sight of a church’s red doors through breaks in the weekend crowds. Delali had noticed the cathedral on her walk from the station last week.
“You want to do witchcraft in a church?” Gabbie squawked. She tugged anxiously at her infinity scarf.
Maya tilted her head and considered it. “That’s kind of a slay.”
Delali shrugged. “It’s the good kind of witchcraft,” she said, already grabbing Gabbie’s arm and pulling her across the street.
The day’s services were long over, and the cathedral was empty and echoing inside. The girls walked through the tiled entryway, and on their right side, just before the space opened up to the rows of pews, there was a small wooden vestibule with purple stained glass windows. Delali pointed to the room and together, the girls quietly entered, then faced each other.
“Do we even know how to transport?” Gabbie asked, hiking her tote bag up on her shoulder.
“I mean, how different can it be from every other kind of direct magic?” Maya asked. “‘Center yourself,’ ‘highlight your intention,’ blah blah blah. Plus we’ve already done it once before. Even if it was by accident.”
Gabbie looked to Delali, who shrugged. “I haven’t read the transportation section yet but she’s probably right. Let’s just try it.”
Gabbie exhaled. “Okay,” she said.
Delali grabbed Gabbie’s hand, holding her other out to Maya, who stared at it, lip upturned. Delali sighed. “The shared intent and physical proximity of two witches aggregates toward their common end, rendering acts of magic more attainable for all involved,” she recited from Lesson 3. “Just hold my fucking hand.”
Maya relented.
“Ready?” Delali asked once they’d all locked hands. Gabbie and Maya both nodded, then the girls all closed their eyes, willing their magic to appear. It was awkward and quiet in the vestibule for a few minutes, and Maya was just about to open her eyes and give up when the air around them changed texture completely, as if thinning out, and the sounds of the world quieted. She felt weightless, like she’d been lifted off her feet, and found that when she tried to open her eyes to confirm, she couldn’t. She, Gabbie, and Delali were under the complete control of their magic. When finally they felt solid earth beneath them again, they opened their eyes to find they were on the steps of Alba’s building.
When Alba opened the door, she was in another of her cream-based ensembles, her neck cradled by a slouchy turtleneck sweater.
“Ladies,” she said. “Come in.” She offered the girls her usual, unreadable smile, and opened the door wider. “Take your seats on the sofa.”
Gabbie sat between Maya and Delali, the way she did when there were two students fighting on the bus. It wasn’t until they were staring at the empty tabletop that they realized they had come to expect food of some sort to welcome them—even on the day of the potions lesson, Alba had set out a charcuterie board on the coffee table for them to sneak bites during breaks.
“Hungry?” Alba asked playfully, watching the confusion on the girls’ faces. She paced before continuing. “Well, today it’s up to you to put together a meal.”
Maya scowled, her mind immediately going to the protein bar she’d left at home in anticipation of one of Alba’s luxurious spreads.
“Any good witch knows how to make the things she wants the most appear out of thin air. This is an extension of the direct magic you’ve already engaged with—catching the phone, filling your drink, whatever else you’ve been doing in your free time. These acts made use of, or replenished, existing matter. But this next lesson will require you to make something out of nothing. Conjuring. Conjuring is a real test of magic by intention. The key for this first attempt is that you don’t push the boat out too far—try something familiar to you, something you like and eat often. Ah, and it’s very important to pay attention to the temperature of the food you’re conjuring. Conjured food will keep its intended temperature—heating or cooling requires a separate act of magic. Go ahead, ladies.”
The girls looked at each other for a second, then back at the empty glass tabletop before them.
“Don’t be shy,” Alba said. She settled into her chair. “It may take some time, but we do have all day.”
Maya wasn’t sure where to put her hands. Delali had to resist the urge to murmur to herself. Gabbie was afraid her magic face might be the same as her grading face. But after a few moments of concentration, the room fell silent as the girls shed their self-awareness, leaning determinedly into their magic. Alba flipped through a book. After nearly thirty minutes, the first thing that sprung up on the table was a superfood salad—Maya’s, of course. Close behind came Delali’s chocolate-covered pretzels and bagel. Then, sputtering to life after Maya had already eaten half her lunch, was Gabbie’s bowl of whole-grain Chex.
“Good,” Alba said. “Very good.” She could see now that the girls’ performance in their last lesson had not been a fluke. They were skilled, even without training. Her vision at the end of the last session hadn’t returned to her yet, but she was certain these girls, their incredible strength, had something to do with whatever it was.
“Question,” Maya said, swallowing her last mouthful of quinoa.
Alba stiffened—What now? From her initial tracking of the girls, she’d assumed Delali would be the most difficult to work with. But in only three meetings she’d realized that each girl was challenging in her own way. Delali read too much and was insatiable in her search for information; Gabbie’s naivety allowed her to ask questions most would find useless or embarrassing; and Maya’s entitlement meant she made everyone in her vicinity justify their very existence.
“Yes, Maya?” Alba replied, careful to keep her voice neutral. If they wanted to know why she hadn’t conjured lunch with them, that was easy enough to answer—she’d already eaten.
“Can we conjure some clothes next?” Maya asked. She was already imagining herself at the Gathering, standing under the Cradle in something riddled with cutouts.
Alba relaxed. “Well, you can certainly do that on your own time,” she said as the other two girls finished their lunches.
She stood and paced. She had never mentored before, so, when she prepared for lessons, she’d taken considerably from the work of her own mentor. Despite her weakness, she still had a witch’s memory, easily able to reenter those days as an adolescent witch receiving her first visions, feeling the first streams of uncontrollable magic in her body. She took those lessons but, of course, made changes she’d need in order for this mentorship to work. Now, Alba launched into the introduction she remembered from her own mentor.
“But I’m here to provide you with information you wouldn’t have on your own. I’m afraid not every session will be a blockbuster like the last. From this session on, you’ll be learning the absolute basics. We’ll start each session with an exercise like the one you just completed, then I’ll give you a lesson that covers fundamentals of magic, fundamentals of the Sphere, or both. A corresponding section in your lesson book will cover everything learned in the session so that you can continue studying in your own time. Reading ahead will not make these lessons go faster.” She glanced at Delali when she said this. “By the end of your training, you should know as much as any witch born and raised in the Sphere. And if I’m any good, you’ll know more.”
Maya deflated, but Delali, just moments ago working out whether she’d have time to see Lionel before he left for LA, snapped to attention. Basics, to her, were always the most interesting part of learning anything. They unlocked the kind of secrets that complicated knowledge obscured.
“Before we start,” Alba said. “Let’s see your metrics.”
Each girl pulled out her metric and placed it on the table. They were all darker than when they’d checked them before transporting. Gabbie, Maya, and Delali watched Alba’s face turn serious, almost unsettled.
“Is that a good face?” Maya asked after a beat of silence.
Alba nodded. “These are . . . these don’t look like the metrics of new witches.” Her brow furrowed, as she picked up Maya’s metric, turning it over. “It should have taken you two or three weeks to reach this color.”
“What does that mean?” Maya asked.
“I’m not sure,” Alba said frankly. She paused and fluffed her hair as she thought. “It’s possible it doesn’t mean anything at all. It may just be a genetic oddity, or perhaps a factor of your age. It’s certainly not a bad thing.”
“Does this mean we’ll finish faster? Like in time for . . . the Gathering?” Maya fished.
Alba, pulled out of her thoughts, laughed. “You’re very persistent, Maya. But the Gathering is held in May, which you’ll learn more about in this lesson. It’s September. I’m afraid that’s not very likely.” But as she said it, she thought again to the cloudy vision from last Sunday. Silk, laughter, lights. She thought of the prematurely colored metrics. The next part she said almost as if reasoning with herself. “Even if you had completed your assignment and were transporting by then, Gathering invitations are by lottery. New witches are favored in the lottery, yes, but there’s really no guarantee that you’ll be among the selected.”
“Well, is there someone who does know what it means?” Delali asked. “The shade of our metrics, I mean.”
“Perhaps,” Alba said. “Perhaps someone at the WHO would be interested in speaking to you, but it will be some time before you can transport there. I can attempt to contact them on your behalf, but they haven’t been seeing special cases for years now.” Delali watched, frustrated, as Alba lifted a hand and waved it to communicate that the whole endeavor would be a waste of time.
“Why not?” Gabbie asked.
Delali bit her glossed lip and closed her eyes to keep herself from answering—the answer was literally in Lesson 1.
Alba stood. “Well, that’s what we’ll cover in today’s lesson.” As she thought through the tenets of her lecture, she couldn’t help but be struck by the paradox of the girls—the unusual strength paired with the total ignorance. “You still have so much to learn,” Alba said.