"I... I don't mind," I said. "And it all needs doing."
She chuckled. "Yes. And you insist on going above and beyond in your tasks, don't you? No matter how inconvenient for you."
I shrugged. "I like to do a good job, ma'am."
"You do an excellent job. Far better than you need to. And you do it without complaint. Therefore, the least I can do is make a few phone calls on your behalf." She laughed again. "That startles you most of all, doesn't it? Having someone praise you."
"Oh no," I said lamely. "I mean, it happens."
She took off her glasses to look at me more intently. The laughter was gone. "No, I'm thinking it doesn't. I don't know your particular situation, but I have known a lot of students like you - ones whose parents ship them off like this. While I appreciate the concern for higher education, I find that more often than not, a bigger piece of students coming here is that their parents simply don't have the time or inclination to be involved with - or even pay attention to - their children's lives."
We were dealing with one of those interpersonal areas that made me uncomfortable, particularly because there was an unexpected element of truth in them. "It's more complicated than that, ma'am."
"I'm sure it is," she replied. Her expression turned fierce, making her look far different from the scattered teacher I knew. "But listen to me when I say this. You are an exceptional, talented, and brilliant young woman. Do not ever let anyone make you feel like you're less. Do not ever let anyone make you feel invisible. Do not let anyone - not even a teacher who constantly sends you for coffee - push you around." She put her glasses back on and began randomly lifting up pieces of papers. At last, she found a pen and grinned triumphantly. "Now, then. What is your brother's name?"
"Adrian, ma'am."
"Right, then." She took out a piece of paper and carefully wrote down the name. "Adrian Melbourne."
"Melrose, ma'am."
"Right. Of course." She scribbled out her mistake and muttered to herself, "I'm just glad his first name's not Hobart." When she was finished, she leaned back casually in her chair. "Now that you mention it, there is one thing I'd like you to do."
"Name it," I said.
"I want you to make one of the spells from that first book."
"I'm sorry. Did you say, make a spell?"
Ms. Terwilliger waved a hand. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not asking you to wave a wand or do an animal sacrifice. But I'm terribly intrigued by how complex some of the formulas and steps of the spells were. I have to wonder, did people actually follow them in such painstaking detail? Some of these are quite complicated."
"I know," I said dryly. "I typed them all out."
"Exactly. So, I want you to make one. Follow the steps. See how long it takes. See if half the measurements they ask for are even possible. Then write up the data in a report. That part, I know you excel at."
I didn't know what to say. Ms. Terwilliger wasn't actually asking me to use magic, certainly not in the same way vampires did. Such a thing wasn't even possible. Magic was not the province of humans. It was unnatural and went against the ways of the universe. What the Alchemists did was based on science and chemistry. The tattoos had magic, but it was us bending vampire magic to our wills - not using it ourselves. The closest we came to anything supernatural was the blessings we called down on our potions. She was only asking me to reenact a spell. It wasn't real. There was no harm. And yet... why did I feel so uneasy? I felt like I was being asked to lie or steal.
"What's the matter?" she asked.
For a moment, I considered using religion again but then dismissed it. That excuse had come up too often today, though this time, it was actually semilegitimate. "Nothing, ma'am. It just seems weird."
She picked up the first leather book and flipped to the middle. "Here. Do this one - an incineration amulet. It's complicated, but at least you'll have an arts and crafts project when you're done. Most of these ingredients should be easy to come by, too."
I took the book from her and scanned it. "Where am I going to get nettle?"
"Ask Mr. Carnes. He has a garden outside his classroom. I'm sure you can buy the rest. And you know, you can give me receipts. I'll pay you back whenever I send you out to get something. You must've spent a fortune on coffee."
I felt a little better when I saw how random the ingredients were. Nettle. Agate. A piece of silk. There wasn't really even anything flammable. This was nonsense. With a nod, I told her I'd start soon.
In the meantime, I typed up an official letter to Amberwood on Keith's behalf. It explained that our religious beliefs required family church attendance twice a week and that Jill needed to be excused from her punishment during those times. It also promised that Jill would check in with Mrs. Weathers both before and after the family trips. When I finished, I was rather pleased with my work and felt that I'd made Keith sound far more eloquent than he deserved. I called him up when school ended and gave a brief rundown on what had happened with Jill. Naturally, I got the blame.
"You're supposed to keep an eye on her, Sydney!" Keith exclaimed.
"I'm also supposed to be undercover as a student here, and I can't be with her every second of the day." It wasn't worth mentioning that I'd actually been out with Adrian when Jill had run away - not that Keith could do any more to me. He'd already done his damage.
"And so I have to suffer the consequences," he said in a world-weary voice. "I'm the one who gets put out for your incompetence."
"Put out? You don't have to do anything except sign the letter I wrote for you. Are you home right now? Or will you be? I'll drive it over to you." I figured he'd jump all over the offer, seeing how annoyed he seemed to be by the matter. So, it was a surprise when he said, "No, you don't have to do that. I'll come to you."
"It's not a problem. I can be at your place in less than ten minutes." I didn't want him to have any more reason than necessary to go on and on about how I was inconveniencing him - or complain to the Alchemists.
"No," said Keith, with surprising intensity. "I'll come to you. I'm leaving right now. Meet you at the main office?"