"And none of it would have happened if Evelyn hadn't been so careless with her gifts," my dad said gently.

"You're blaming her for what happened?!"

"He's not blaming her, sweetie. We're just trying to make you see that magicking is a big responsibility. One that shouldn't be taken lightly, or abused. Our history has shown that using your powers too much can become dangerous. That's why we raised you in a low-magic household. We just want you to be safe."

Logically I could see that she and Dad truly believed what they were saying, but as far as I was concerned, they were going overboard. They'd never been comfortable with letting me use my powers, and they were still trying to control me. And despite the horrible story I'd just heard, the way they babied me made me want to scream.

"First off, just because a few people had bad experiences using their gifts doesn't mean I'm going to make the same mistakes," I said, trying my best to keep my voice even. "And second, that was, like, fifty years ago. A lot's changed since then. I think people are more open to different lifestyles. I mean, Harry Potter has his own theme park."

"Harry Potter's not real," my mom reminded me, sounding annoyed. "And even Harry had his enemies. Prejudice and fear are still very much alive today, Brooklyn. Our family isn't prepared to take on that kind of battle."

"Nor do we want to," Dad said firmly. "Look, Brook, the bottom line is this: we're not saying you have to stop using your magic. Though we don't necessarily agree with all the decisions you make in that respect, we promised that you could use your powers once you turned sixteen. And we will keep that promise, unless we think you're endangering yourself or others. We just want you to think about how you're using your gifts and understand that there can be serious consequences to your actions."

"I got it. Restraint good, magic spree bad," I said.

"We're serious about this, Brooklyn," Dad warned.

"So am I. Really. I get what you're saying and I promise I'll be more careful with my spells in the future."

Luckily, being more careful didn't mean I had to quit entirely. I could be careful while still having fun, for sure.

Walking into school the next day wasn't as much of a sh.e.l.l shock as it had been the day before. I was even getting used to the way people looked at me. It was easier to tune out the whispers and pointing now. Even the little voice in my head that used to tell me that everyone was saying negative things behind my back began to get quieter.

It wasn't like I was popular yet by any means, but at least I existed, which was a huge step up from the previous week. People knew my name now, and guys made flirtatious comments as I walked by. The attention I was getting just reinforced to me that my magical makeover had been a good thing-despite the lecture I'd received stating the opposite the night before. I could ease up on the magic for a while, now that I'd gotten what I wanted.

Well, kind of.

As I walked up to my locker, I saw that I already had a visitor. The first thing I noticed was the dark hair that swooped into a point at the top of his head; I didn't even have to see his face to know it was Asher. Despite our last interaction, my heart began to race as I got closer to him.

"Hey," I said, trying not to fumble as I worked my locker combination.

"Hey," Asher responded. I didn't dare look at him, for fear that he'd see how nervous he made me. I could feel his eyes on me anyway. "So, what was that yesterday?"

"What was what?" I asked, even though I knew what he was talking about.

"You sort of took off fast."

"Oh, yeah, well, it was sort of a weird day for me," I said, not wanting him to know that I'd been hurt by his response to my new look.

"Oh. Okay," he said, oblivious to what was really going on in my head. Then, as if it had just dawned on him, he added, "You changed your hair."

"It's a little blonder, I guess," I said, still shocked that he'd noticed me enough before to know that I looked different now. Excitement bubbled up in my chest as I thought about what this might mean.

We both stared at each other for a second and then looked away. This time Asher chuckled and I looked down at the ground.

"You look good," he finally said.

My cheeks burned with heat as I let the compliment wash over me.

"Thanks," I said shyly.

I closed my locker door but wasn't ready for our conversation to end just yet. I began to walk away, and then slowed as I waited for him to catch up with me. Without my having to ask, he joined me and we walked side by side a few steps before starting to talk again.

"So-and please don't take this the wrong way-what's with the new look, anyway?"

I looked down at myself, even though I was well aware of what I would see. Slender legs that were a little longer than before, tucked into jeans that made my b.u.t.t look rounder-but in a good way. And when he looked at my face, which I could tell he was doing now as we walked, he'd see my kissable lips, perfect skin, and beautiful green eyes. We'd already talked about the hair, so he'd obviously noticed the changes there, too.

"I wanted to see if blondes really do have more fun."

"And do they?"

"Jury's still out. I'll have to let you know in a few days," I said with a mischievous smile. As I said it, I wondered if I'd accidentally changed part of my personality when I'd done the other spells. I'd never been this bold with a guy before, let alone with someone I had an enormous crush on. But there I was, flirting with Asher. My biggest crush. A guy who was both mysterious and bold, cla.s.sically good-looking but one of a kind. He had a motorcycle, but he wasn't a bad boy. He was perfect.

"So, there was no breakup?" he asked.

"Breakup? Why would you think that?"

"Well, girls tend to perform extreme makeovers on two occasions: when they're going through a bad breakup or if they're hiding from the law," he said seriously. "Now, you don't look like a girl who committed a crime in the past few months, so the only logical thing left is a breakup."

I laughed and shook my head. "Neither. You really need to work on your theories of women," I said. "Though, I will admit the breakup thing tends to be right. Where did you learn that little secret?"

"I have a younger sister, Abby. If I'm nice to her, she tells me things."

"Ahhh, gotcha," I said, trying to place the name of his sister with a face. But no one came to mind. About 2,500 kids went to our school, though, so it was possible not to know everyone that walked the halls. "No breakup, just a birthday. Sweet sixteen. And it was time to try something . . . different."

"Well, you look great-not that you didn't before," he said, stammering. "Anyways, I've got to go. I'm meeting Mr. Jacobsen before cla.s.s to talk about a project. Talk to you later?"

"Sure. Yeah. That would be fun."

He gave me that lazy smile of his before heading off ahead of me.

Yep. The magic was totally worth it.

The bell had just rung, signaling that it was lunchtime, and I headed off on my usual walk down to Ms. Zia's. I was slightly nervous about seeing her after the uncomfortable conversation we'd had the day before, but I figured I'd mumble an apology, she'd probably do the same, and then we'd go back to our regularly scheduled friendship. As long as we didn't get on the subject of my new look or The Elite, I was thinking we'd be safe.

I was running through the apology in my head when all of a sudden something clamped down on my left arm. I turned my head to see what it was, but then the same thing happened to my other arm. I was quickly turned around and dragged against my will in the opposite direction.

"Hey! What are you doing!" I screeched.

"Come with us, please," a familiar girl's voice said to my right.

"And stop making that noise," a guy added to my left. "You're going to make my ears bleed."

I did what he said, and then looked up to see Eliza on one arm and Wheatley on the other.

"Where, uh, exactly are we going?" I asked, still bewildered by the whole situation.

"The caf, duh," Eliza answered.

"Why?"

"Because it's lunch," Wheatley answered, looking at me like I was even dimmer than people a.s.sumed he was.

"I just meant . . . why am I going? With you guys?" I asked as the two weaved us in and out of the crowd and navigated us toward the double doors ahead.

"We want to talk," Eliza answered. "Get to know you better. You know, what you like, what you do outside of school. We want to know absolutely everything about you."

"Yay," I said, trying to fake enthusiasm. Inside, I was panicking at the thought of being given the third degree. There were so many questions they could ask that I didn't have answers for. Well, I had the answers, I just couldn't tell them.

"And maybe once you get a little more comfortable around us, you'll tell me who did your work. I promise I won't tell."

I didn't even bother arguing with her this time, because it obviously hadn't worked the first time. Eliza was just going to have to believe what she believed for the time being, because I had way bigger things to worry about.

Like the fact that I was on my way to meet with The Elite. Again.

Once we were inside the hustle and bustle of the lunchroom, the two ushered me over to the raised table at the back of the cafeteria. I ascended the stairs and took a moment to consider what was happening. Less than a week ago, I'd been staring at this place from afar, and now I was about to experience it for myself. And I'd been invited up there. By The Elite themselves.

It was all I could do to keep from pa.s.sing out as I climbed my way to the top. When I finally arrived, Gigi, Camden, and Rhodes sat in a row like a panel of American Idol judges. And I was sure that, just like on the show, I was already being judged.

"Brooklyn! So glad you could make it," Gigi said, her hands folded on the table in front of her. I must have made a funny face at this because she added, "Why do you look surprised?"

"It's just-I still can't believe you know my name," I said. It was out of my mouth before I could stop it.

Gigi looked at Camden and then laughed. "We know everyone who goes to our school," she said. It wasn't lost on me that she'd deemed it "their school," even though everyone knew it was true. I also found it interesting that she was claiming to know me, though she'd had no clue who I was the day before. Guess The Elite knew everyone at school who they deemed worthy of knowing.

She patted the s.p.a.ce across from her and smiled her thousand-watt grin. "Now come. Sit."

Wheatley and Eliza joined the rest of their crew, leaving a spot open for me in the middle. I looked around the room for hidden cameras and saw that everyone in the caf was staring at me, appearing to be just as surprised as I was that I was up there. Turning back around, I did what Gigi suggested and sat down.

"Kara," Gigi called out without taking her eyes off me.

One of The Elite's underlings scurried over from the nearest table and stood down below where we were sitting. She was a junior like me and was always just on the outskirts of the popular kids. She was willing to do anything to get into the inner circle, and that seemed to extend mostly to doing their c.r.a.p work and receiving nothing in return. It was hard to watch someone be so openly used like that, but in the end, she'd chosen to put herself in that position. And if she was okay being a slave to The Elite, who was I to judge?

"Yes, Gigi?" she asked hopefully.

"Brooklyn here needs a drink," Gigi answered. Now to me, she added, "What do you want?"

No way was I uttering the words "Monkey Business" among this crowd, so I looked around for a good alternative. Both Gigi and Eliza were drinking Diet c.o.ke, so I figured I'd join them, even though I wasn't a fan of diet drinks.

"I can get it," I offered, starting to stand.

"Don't be silly," Gigi said, motioning for me to sit. "Kara would be happy to get you something. Right, Kara?"

"Of course!" she said brightly. But when I glanced her way, there was just the tiniest hint of jealousy in her eyes.

"Um, okay," I said unsurely. "I guess a Diet c.o.ke would be nice. Thanks, Kara."

"No problem," she said, and bounded off toward the lunch line.

Once Kara was gone, the attention again turned to me. Growing increasingly uncomfortable under their stares, I began to look around at the view instead.

"Wow. Everything looks so different from up here," I said, trying my best to make small talk.

"It's easier for people to see us this way," Eliza cut in, nodding.

"And for us to see them," Camden added.

"Totally." I nodded.

I could tell that Gigi and the others were still watching me, even though I wasn't looking at any of them directly.

"Which is why we're wondering why we never saw you around here before yesterday," Gigi said slowly. I scrambled to try and find an answer that would satisfy them, but she cut me off before I could say anything. "We know you had some sort of makeover, but why now? Why so obvious?"

"What's your angle?" Camden asked bluntly.

I swallowed the bile that was quickly rising in my throat. This was all too much for my brain to handle. It was one thing to have The Elite notice me; it was another completely to be interrogated by them.

"It was my birthday and I was tired of blending in," I said honestly. If they didn't like my answers, then at least I'd crash and burn on my own terms. "I guess it was just time for a change." The words came out a lot more confident than I felt.

"I see," Gigi said, looking at me thoughtfully. "You know, a lot of people don't like change. It throws the balance of things off. Makes people nervous."

I nodded. I was having a hard time catching my breath at the moment.

"But sometimes change can be good," Eliza added. "It can shake things up."

Kara ran up then and handed me an icy Diet c.o.ke. I told her thank you and Gigi nodded at her to let her know she was dismissed. The girl walked back to her table and sat down, where she'd be ready if The Elite needed her again.

"Are you trying to shake things up, Brooklyn?" Gigi asked.

"Maybe," I said, watching their reactions to my confession. Eliza grinned wickedly, but Gigi and Camden remained unresponsive. I was terrified of saying the wrong thing, but at the same time, I felt like I really had nothing to lose here. "You never know what new blood can do for a group."

"And what would you be able to do for, say, The Elite?" Rhodes asked nonchalantly, like he was asking what I thought of the weather instead of something that could potentially change the course of my high school experience.

"Well . . ." I started, my mind suddenly going blank. I stalled as I waited for it to get up and running again, while surveying the scene in front of us. Most of the students who'd stopped to watch my ascension to the table earlier had gone back to their lunches and the conversations they'd been having with their friends. There were, however, a select few still eyeing us suspiciously, trying hard to figure out what the heck was going on.

To be honest, I was wondering that myself.

"Uh . . . Well, I have many, er, talents that I could bring to The Elite if given the chance," I said, hoping they'd buy my vague answer in lieu of something more precise.

No such luck.

"Like?" Rhodes asked.

"Like, I'm kind of . . . stealthy?" I said finally, seeing the argument building up in my head. "I've been at this school for a few years now, and I was able to get around without anyone noticing me until I wanted them to."

This was only partly a fib, since I had gone unnoticed for quite some time around this school. So what if the part about me wanting to go unnoticed was untrue? What did my favorite PR idols say? It was all about the spin.

"That's true," Eliza chimed in. "I had no idea Brookie existed until she got her b.o.o.b job. And then she was like, bam, all up in our faces."