Winter Fire (The Witchling #3)(49)

“Yes. I’ve been here a little over three weeks,” she answered.

“It takes some getting used to, doesn’t it?”

Morgan walked side-by-side with Adam’s mother while Adam and his father followed, talking quietly. Distressed, Morgan realized that the Turners were going to greet everyone, even as the masses were working on filing into the ballroom.

“Yeah,” she answered, distracted. She was on the side closest to the Turners and wished she could think of an excuse to switch places with Adam’s mother.

“Witchling magick is strong in our family, though it skipped my generation entirely,” she continued.

Ever alert to pain, Morgan’s attention shifted to Adam’s mother. Sadness was in her voice.

“But your son has it,” Morgan said. “I’m certain he can do amazing things.”

“Some are amazing. Some are downright awful. When he threw temper tantrums as a child, he would make it rain in the house.”

Morgan laughed at the image that formed in her mind.

“Mom!” Adam hissed, face red.

“He flooded the ground floor once. You remember that, Adam?” his mom continued.

“I was like five,” he mumbled. “She acts like it was last year.”

“The year before he came here, he got his heart broken at Homecoming. He swears he can’t cause a tornado, but it was the wrong season for us to have one. Took out every last float that year.”

Morgan covered her mouth with her hands, trying hard to stifle her laugh. Adam was beyond embarrassed, and she pitied him. His mother was clearly proud of his magick.

“Alma, always a pleasure.”

Too entertained to know how far they’d progressed, Morgan looked up into dark eyes with a familiar shape to them. Beck’s father was hugging Alma, Adam’s mother.

“Who’s this young lady?” he asked, pulling away.

“Morgan. Apparently, she wasn’t able to find a date, so your sweet Beck set her up with Adam for the evening,” Alma replied. “She’s too pretty for this to be true.”

It was Morgan’s turn to flush. She looked hastily down the line at Beck. His features seemed a little pinker, but he continued talking to the couple in front of him.

“Michael Turner,” Beck’s dad said, holding out his hand to her.

“Morgan McCloud,” she mumbled.

“So you’re the fire witchling.” The woman beside him was beautiful, with dark eyes and skin, long hair, and thick shadows clinging to her every move. She wore a velvet dress.

“I … I guess,” Morgan stammered, uncomfortable under their intent gazes.

“I’m Rania.” The woman’s touch made her shiver. It was cool then warm then cool, her magick piercing rather than subtle, like her husband’s. “Welcome to the school.”

“Mom, you’re holding up the line,” Beck teased.

“It’s my dinner, son,” she snapped.

“It’ll be cold by the time you’re done talking.”

“Just get this over with,” Decker muttered.

“Thank god they’re almost out of the house, right, Rania?” Alma asked. The two women kissed each other on the cheeks.

“Hi, Morgan!” Summer grinned. She flung her arms around her.

“Hi, Summer,” Morgan answered.

“I’m glad you’re here. The boys are driving me crazy,” Summer whispered. She released Morgan. “You should hang out with us some time.”

“Wait about eight months,” Decker replied. He rested one hand on Summer’s hip and offered the other to Morgan.

Summer blushed, and Morgan looked between them, not understanding the statement. She shook his hand and moved on.

Beck offered his hand, smiling broadly. He winked at her, his blue eyes sparkling in a way that made her pulse soar.

“Stop being an ass, and I’ll consider shaking your hand one day,” Morgan said and crossed her arms.

Decker laughed, and Summer giggled.

“Fire witchling,” Michael Turner murmured, amused.

“Ah, young love,” Beck said with an exaggerated sigh. He clutched his heart as if wounded. “The boy pines, and the girl burns his heart to the ground. Get it? Pines? Like the tree? I’m earth magic and -”

Morgan shook her head and walked by him into the dining room. She smiled only when she was certain none of them could see.

“I am so sorry about my mom,” Adam said, joining her. “She just says the lamest things.”

“She’s cool,” Morgan replied. “No worse than Beck.”

“He’s a character,” Adam agreed, chuckling.

Morgan glanced back over her shoulder. Beck was watching her, the smile on his face once again warm. She rolled her eyes at him and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

Young love.

The words made her whole body tingle and fluttery. It wasn’t possible that he was serious. Nothing he did seemed very serious.

Adam managed to find them seats with a few other kids from the school, towards the back of the ballroom. Morgan sat down, content to watch. The Turners and Summer sat at a table near the front of the ballroom, near a dais, where speakers began talking about the importance of preserving the environment, just as dinner was served.