Miss Mabel's School for Girls (The Network Series #1)(16)

“Ha!”

“How would you know that?” I hissed.

“I know a lot of things,” she said vaguely, trying to wave it off. “This will be a lot easier than I thought. All right, well, in this book–”

“Wait.” My hand shot forward to stop her. She quickly jerked out of my grasp. “What else do you know?”

She released a burdened sigh.

“Look, I just said it as a guess. The way you looked at the books seemed like you had seen them before. Don’t read too much into it.”

Her eyes shifted away from mine. Her free hand made a white-knuckle fist, and there was a hesitant, rushed tone in her voice.

“You’re lying,” I whispered. She looked up at me with a flash of anger, and for a second, I almost lost her to another mini-daze. But she pulled herself out of it with a growl.

“No, I’m not.”

“Tell me what you’re lying about.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Then why can I see your heart pounding in your throat?”

Her eyes jerked to mine for the first time since my accusation.

Watch their throat, Papa’s voice whispered through my mind. If they really are lying, and they aren’t used to it, you’ll be able to see their heart beat in their throat. They might look breathless or flushed.

“Fine,” Leda said, slapping her book shut. “You want to know more? I’ll tell you what I know. I know that you’re scared. I know your grandmother is very sick and could die at any moment. I know that you look like your mother and dream about your father at night. I know that your family has a curse that ties you to Miss Mabel and–”

She stopped with a nervous breath, her steam dying like a kettle taken out of the fire.

My heart beat so loud in my chest that I almost didn’t hear her finish. I pushed off the bed and turned my back to her, trying to hide my fear.

“Sorry,” she whispered. I heard the wince in her voice. “I should have handled that better. I don’t . . . I don’t really have friends except for Camille.”

“So I’ve heard,” I muttered, pressing a hand to my chest. I hadn’t felt this kind of heart-fluttering panic in a long time, and it was hard to get under control.

“Look, I’m not going to sell your life story for money, all right? No one would want it. You’re not that exciting. Except for the Miss Mabel part. You’d probably get a few headlines in the Chatham Chatterer if they knew that your teacher held a curse over you. Pretty horrific, by the way. Poor stroke of luck for you.”

Her droll tone and bad attempt at rectifying the situation were half-hearted and pathetic. I turned around to find her face screwed up in a grimace.

“I know you have a lot of questions,” she said in a rush when I opened my mouth. “I’ll explain myself, okay?”

I sat back on the end of the bed, but further away this time.

“Go ahead,” I said.

She let out a frustrated breath.

“I’m not sure where to start,” she murmured.

“Start with how you know that much about me.”

“Because I’m alive.”

My forehead ruffled in confusion and she readjusted, shoving the books away from her with a sharp movement. “I perceive things before they happen that normal witches can’t. It’s an involuntary function of my mind. It just happens. Strong emotions give it power, just like any magic in our world. So when I get frustrated, or happy, or sad, it brings a rush of images into my head. Possibilities.”

“Is that why you space out?”

Her face flushed and she looked at her shoes. “I don’t have a lot of control over it right now. All the emotions of starting school and moving from home make it unpredictable. I have a hard time keeping my thoughts in control.”

“Camille knows about it, doesn’t she?”

“Yes. We’ve been friends for years. She’s the only one who does.” She gave me a pointed look, a warning to keep her secret.

“I won’t tell either,” I promised, to put her at ease, knowing I wouldn’t get answers if I didn’t.

“Thanks,” she said, looking down again, clearly uncomfortable. She really didn’t know how to have friends.

“Not even Miss Bernadette?” I asked.

“No,” she said forcefully, reddening again. “I don’t want her to know either.”

Leda wasn’t that different from me. I drew in a deep breath, feeling a little calmer.

“Did you see that I had levitated before?” I asked, eyeing the feather that sat on the edge of the desk, precariously close to falling.

Leda pressed her lips into a line. “No, because I don’t see the past. I saw you completing the magic in the future and took a guess.”

“Then how do you know I dream about my father?”

Just mentioning him sent a nervous thrill through me, and I had to suppress the need to change the subject. I never talked about Papa. We had to keep him safe, so we never mentioned him.

“I saw the possibilities. You may have a dream about your father tonight or the next night. Based on your possible reaction, you have it often. That’s how I knew.”

“Does this happen with everyone?” I asked, thinking about how exhausting it would be. How did she learn anything in class? Her lone desk and penchant for avoiding people suddenly made sense.