ONEThe Rotten Egg
MAY 1907
Maeve
Maeve slipped her feet into the stiff ankle boots of her school uniform. She’d been in New York and at the Manhattan School for Magic for two weeks, and everything about her new life pinched worse than the boots.
She tied the laces and let her heels clunk against the wooden bed frame. How long could she dawdle before Cook expected her downstairs for her shift on kitchen duty? She looked around the room for an excuse. Her roommate, Antonia Sabetti, was brushing her glossy black hair for what Maeve estimated was the third time that morning. Antonia’s older brother, Tom, was friends with Izzy. Apparently, this meant that Maeve and Antonia were supposed to be friends too.
Antonia caught her eye in the mirror and Maeve pretended she’d been looking at the pink paisley wallpaper. There was far too much pink in this room. Both of the beds had pink and cream bedding, and the pink wardrobe that stood in the far corner contained a bunch of new dresses for Maeve—some pink as well.
Maeve was uncomfortable here, and not only because she didn’t like pink. She didn’t feel like she deserved any of this. Not the lovely study desk—thankfully, cream colored—or the textbooks with their new, store-bought scent. She felt guilty every time she put her school-issued crystal into the pocket of her pinafore to go to class because she knew the terrible truth: She shouldn’t be at the Manhattan School for Magic at all.
Maeve was terrified of magic.
She raked her fingers through the tangles in her red hair and wove it into a single braid down her back. It wasn’t the tidiest braid she’d ever done, but her mind was distracted. She wanted to love her magic the way that Izzy did, but every time she tried to do magic, the word dangerous sizzled in her mind. Yesterday, their teacher Miss Lawrence had given each pupil a glass of water with the instruction to channel her magic into the water until it steamed. When Maeve had searched down inside herself and felt the raw edges of her magic, she’d panicked and dropped her glass. It shattered into so many pieces even Miss Lawrence couldn’t magic it back together.
The school year had started in April instead of January because the new school had still been under construction. The headmistress, Miss Clementine, was always reminding the students that the shortened school term meant they needed to work extra hard. But working harder was exactly what Maeve was afraid of, and she knew today would be no different.
At the thought of trying to do magic again, fearful silver sparks shot from Maeve’s fingertips.
“Bleeding stones,” Maeve cursed, as a few of the sparks fell on the pink paisley carpet.
“You should be more careful.” Antonia paused her hair brushing. She eyed the spot on the carpet where Maeve’s sparks had landed. “You know what happened to the last school that was here, don’t you?”
“Right. Sorry.” Of course Maeve knew. Everyone she met here told their own rendition of the courageous Isabelle O’Donnell’s dramatic kindling amid the burning of Miss Posterity’s Academy for Practical Magic. It had been an amazing story the first two dozen times Maeve heard it. Izzy had saved the students at Miss Posterity’s when the school caught fire during last year’s kindling in December. The mayor of New York had been so inspired by her actions that he’d enacted a law that permitted new kindling schools to open, and that allowed anyone to apply, no matter whether they were rich or poor. He’d named the law the Isabelle O’Donnell License after Izzy, who wasn’t afraid of anything. Izzy, who was incredibly brave and had learned to kindle against the odds. Izzy, who everyone loved and Maeve could never match.
“I’ve got kitchen duty this morning. See you at breakfast,” Maeve said to end the conversation as she opened the door.
Antonia stood up. “We’re both on kitchen duty this morning. It’s Wednesday, remember?”
With no option to escape Antonia’s presence, Maeve led the way out into the hall.
There were seven other bedrooms on the second floor, their varnished doors identical and matching the wood-paneled hallway. The other half of today’s kitchen crew, Ida and Minnie, came out of the door opposite theirs. Ida was Black, tall, and carried herself in a graceful way that made her seem even taller. Minnie was even paler and shorter than Maeve and had already busted a hole in the knee of her stockings. Both girls greeted Antonia warmly and mumbled hellos to Maeve before they all started down the hall.
“It’s a good thing we don’t have to do magic on kitchen duty if she’s on our shift,” Minnie whispered to Ida, but everyone heard her.
“Shh. Don’t be rude! She’s Izzy O’Donnell’s sister,” Ida shushed her.
Maeve’s shoulders rose up to her ears. She wondered what the penalty would be for missing kitchen duty if she turned around now.
“We should probably hurry,” Antonia said, a little louder than was necessary. “Hey, last one down to the kitchen is a rotten egg!”
The other girls took off, laughing as they ran toward the stairs. Maeve hesitated only a split second before she raced after them. Two weeks at the school had taught her that she did not want to be the rotten egg. Zuzanna had been the rotten egg heading to their Everyday Enchantments class two days ago, and it had made her dress smell so bad they had to open every window in the classroom.
Maeve’s heart pounded in time with her boots down the stairs. Not last, not last, not last, it said.
The main hall on the first floor was lit by a huge magicked skylight. Despite the fact that there were three more floors of the school building between the skylight and the actual sky, it always accurately displayed the weather. Gray clouds drifted in the glass above as Maeve and the others ran past the library toward the dining room. She could see the closed kitchen door at the end of the hall.
She gained on the others, her residual strength from farm work winning out over their head start. But as she was about to reach them, her shin twinged where she’d broken it last summer and her new boots skidded on the floorboards. She lost a length and then another behind the girls. When she made it to the doorway, the other three were panting and pointing at her.
Last.
“You’re the rotten egg!” Minnie declared. She gripped her crystal and pointed at Maeve’s uniform.
Instinctively, Maeve thrust her hands into her pockets and ducked. Her fingers brushed against her own crystal and she felt her magic surge at the same moment Minnie’s enchantment hit her.
The stink was immediate and unbearable. The other girls danced away from her, shrieking while pinching their noses in disgust. Maeve had somehow deflected the enchantment and had made the whole kitchen reek of rotten eggs.
Ida gagged. “Why did you do that?”
“I—I didn’t mean to,” Maeve protested.
She wished she knew a good invisibility enchantment, but she’d undoubtedly mess that up too. Every time Maeve tried to do the pretty magic they taught at the school, it came out wild and uncontrollable. Her magic is dangerous, a dozen voices whispered in her memory.
Cook chose that moment to enter through the door from the dining room. She peered at them through the silver-framed spectacles perched on her pointy nose. “Morning, girls. Are you ready—Stones alive, what is that smell?”
Minnie pointed at Maeve with the hand that wasn’t holding her nose. “She did it.”
“It was an accident.” Maeve took her hands from her pockets, determined not to touch her crystal.
“Go and open the windows. Thank goodness you’re unkindled and the smell won’t last long.” Cook pointed first at the row of windows near the stove and then at four aprons hanging on pegs by the doors. “Put those on, the rest of you. We’re making eggs this morning.” She winced. “On second thought, toast sounds better.”
“No more rotten eggs when Maeve’s around,” Ida whispered to Minnie.
Minnie wasn’t very good at keeping her voice down. “It’s not my fault. You would think Izzy O’Donnell’s sister would be good at magic but she’s … not.”
Copyright © 2022 Alyssa Colman
