The first day of the next school week proved to be surprisingly decent for Esadora—beside the bothersome feeling of foreboding. Every time she forgot about what had happened the day before, she was greeted with a tug at her heart, as if she’d forgotten something that could prove troublesome in the future (and, honestly, it could). But it wasn’t like she could forget about it for long now, since that smell was sticking around permanently. Before, it had faded in and out, but now, every time she was around witches—which was for a good 80% of the day—it was like they had all sprayed strong perfume on themselves.

Because of this, Esadora had taken to breathing through her mouth, which felt at best, uncomfortable. And though the smell ceased, the feeling of it pressed against her nose constantly.

So, yes, if she forgot about all these things, the day had proved to be decent.

She might’ve even called it pleasant until Ximena showed up.

She seemed to be everywhere she was—more specifically, everywhere Ezra was, and since Esadora was with him for a large portion of the day, she had to bear witness to the strange and vile thing called flirting.

Currently, Esadora was only able to talk with Ezra because he’d told Ximena to wait for him at his locker.

Thank God for Ezra!

“Have you gotten your eyes and teeth checked in the hospital yet?” Ezra asked, shaking his head when he saw her averted eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”

“I’m just… a bit nervous.”

“About what? What do you think they’re going to do? Kick you out of Esmeralda?”

She suddenly regretted telling Ezra about her teeth. Nevermind, God. You can deconstruct Ezra any minute now.

“I didn’t think so until you mentioned it! Ohmygod! What if they actually kick me out?!”

He stopped and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her horrified face to look at him. “You’re so dramatic! Why would they do that? You haven’t done anything.”

“Except turn into a vampire,” she retorted after a minute, looking away once again.

His arms lowered from her shoulder in a slow manner, fists clenching at his sides. “You’re not turning into a vampire, Esadora.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Right. Then how do you explain the yellow eyes and fangs? ‘Cuz, if I’m not mistaken, those are vampire characteristics.”

He sighed and crossed his arms, looking about as depressed as Esadora did frustrated. “I don’t… you can’t be. You just can’t. I don’t know what else to say.”

Esadora forced down the anguish that threatened to overtake her when he said those words. He seemed stricken, face twisted in a grimace as he turned his face to the floor, eyes flashing with unshed tears. She took a tentative step toward him before being cut off by a girl with inky hair.

Ximena spun around to face her, and it seemed to Esadora that she was shielding Ezra. Like Esadora was going to hurt him.

Or she already had.

Esadora looked away from Ximena’s challenging eyes, letting her pull Ezra away. She couldn’t bring herself to even glance at him as he said, “I’ll see you later, Esadora.” Instead, she turned and stalked away, sullen at her cowardice.

She couldn’t bring herself to turn back around and call out to him, to explain to him how real this was, even though she knew that was exactly what she should do. She just… couldn’t. Something about what he’d said prevented her from it. She shook her head and—

Tripped.

She brought her hands out in front of her to keep from cracking her nose on the floor, wincing when her palms smacked against the ground. She didn’t have any time to recover, however, as she felt someone kick her in the stomach so hard that she rolled over.

Esadora struggled to get up, wheezing and gasping, all but ignoring the burn that spread across her sternum and chest. She managed to sit up, splaying her hands on the floor as she tried to catch her breath. She narrowed her eyes when red and black sneakers came into her view of the floor, and slowly looked up.

Sacha stood with her hands on her hips and head tilted down, drab eyes staring at her.

Esadora’s irritation pushed past the labored feeling in her chest, and she stood up and stepped close to Sacha, crossing her arms. “What the hell,” she said, “Was that?”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Sacha said, putting her hands up in mock surrender and stepping back. “I know your upset that your boy toy was stolen away, but you don’t have to take your anger out on me.”

“Excuse me?” Esadora growled.

Sacha shrugged. “It’s sad, really, seeing as he was your only friend and now that he has a girlfriend, you’re all by your lonesome. It’s kind of funny, actually.” She patted Esadora on the shoulder. “See you.”

As Sacha left, Esadora stood there, stunned with disbelief at what she’d said. She was not all by her lonesome, and Ezra had not been stolen away from her!

Right?

Sacha’s words stayed with her through the following day, all the way until she got home—

Well, until she got to her porch and saw Ezra.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

His eyebrows were furrowed as he stared up at her, expression thoughtful. “You seemed a little… off at school. Are you okay?”

Yeah, except for the fact that I’ve got it in my head that you’ve been “stolen” away from me. Instead of telling him these things, she shrugged. “Fine,” she muttered, and walked up the steps, bringing out her key.

“You don’t look fine to me.”

She rolled her eyes. “When do I ever look fine, nowadays?”

He bristled, averting his eyes, and she almost regretted her words.

Almost.

She opened the door and entered, hoping he wouldn’t come inside, yet also hoping he would. She was gifted with the second outcome.

Instead of going to her room, Esadora shuffled to the living room, Ezra following closely behind. When they were seated next to each other, she still didn’t speak, resting her chin on her fist and turning away from him. She wanted to tell him everything—how the Classy Quartet attacked her, how she could smell witch blood—but she wasn’t sure how he’d react. Well, she had a few thoughts about how he would, but everytime she even thought about telling him, the coward in her screamed not to tell him. What if he stopped talking to her? What if he thought she was weak too?

She felt his hand on her shoulder and faced him. “Esadora, I just want to know what’s wrong.”

She sighed. “I… um, do you remember the day I didn’t show up at lunch?”

“Yeah. You said you were at the nurse’s office.”

“Well, I hadn’t been planning to go to the nurse’s office at all—I was actually about to go to lunch when the Classy—I mean, when Fidelia and her crew kind of attacked me.”

Ezra’s eyebrows basically shot off his face, nostrils flaring. “They did what?”

She stared down at her lap as she described what had happened, trying to keep herself from thinking too hard about the details. As soon as she finished, Ezra pulled her into a hug, which she quickly sunk into.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked gently.

“I was… embarrassed.”

“Why?”

Because you would know just how pathetic I am.

But she kept this thought to herself, shrugging and pulling away from him. She took a deep breath to steel herself for what she would say next. Then another deep breath. And another. And another.

She scowled, clenching her fists. Speak, speak, SPEAK. You have to tell him!

“Ezra…” she trailed off, anxiety forcing her to hold her tongue.

“Yes?” he asked. When she didn’t speak, the corners of his mouth edged downward. “Esa, what are you so afraid of? It’s just me; you can tell me anything.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing herself to face him. “When I—I can… um…”

He put his hand over hers. “Esa, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, I… have to,” she said, and sighed. “I can… smell you.”

Way to be mysterious, Esadora.

Ezra arched an eyebrow, eyes widening with confusion. “Uh… what?”

She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her right hand's index finger and thumb. “Listen. And please don't freak out. Earlier you said that I wasn't turning into a vampire, but I… I can smell you-your blood. Because you're a witch. Yeah…” She snuck a glance at him to find that he, instead of looking at least somewhat anxious, seemed resigned.

“Well,” he said. “How do I smell?”

Esadora couldn’t tell if he was genuinely curious, or just fucking with her, but she turned toward him and took a deep breath through her nose, almost recoiling at the sudden, sweet smell. She closed her eyes and relaxed. “You smell… sugary, almost like maple syrup, but kind of like chicken, but…” she trailed off, and found herself leaning toward him, inhaling the rich and savory scent that came off of him.

She was quickly pulled out of her reverie when his hands gripped her shoulders, shaking her. “Snap out of it, Esa!”

Her eyes snapped open in horror as she realized what she was doing, and she quickly stood up, barely glancing at Ezra’s now pale face before dashing away. Before she knew it, she was in her room, back pressed against the door as Ezra banged on it.

“Esadora, please open the door! Let’s talk about this!”

“What is there to talk about?” she choked out. “I’m turning into a vampire.”

“...Esa—”

“You hesitated, so don’t even deny it.” She paused, shutting her eyes as a cold resignation came over her heart. “Plus, you saw me. I tried to… wanted to—”

“Don’t say that!” Ezra interrupted. “You make it sound like it’s your fault this is happening, but you know that’s not true! It’s just because of that vampire.”

Esadora sighed. “Yeah, I know, but none of this is normal for a vampire bite. That lady in the nurse’s office that day said so, and I’ve read up on this stuff. I’m not… I don’t think any of this is temporary.”

Ezra went silent for so long that Esadora thought he’d left. But then he spoke. “I’ve been thinking the same thing for a few days. But, first things first, we don’t know that. And regardless of whether it’s temporary or not, I’ll still be here for you. I’m not going to abandon just because of this. I love you too much to do that.”

Esadora felt her heart warm, tears prick her eyes. She couldn’t help the smile that flourished on her face. “I love you too.”

She rose from her place on the floor and opened the door, instantly hugging Ezra. “Thank you.”

She grinned when she felt him nod into her hair. For the first time in a week, everything in her was at peace.

Temporarily.

Even though Ezra’s words had reassured her that he would always be there, there were some things even he couldn’t help her with.

That being her classes.

She had four paces in the day, two of them being Fundamentals of Magic 2 and Supplementary Magic. And it was these two classes in which there lay a problem.

She could learn magic. But she couldn’t use it. So what was the point of all that knowledge?

Nothing. No point at all.

And her peers didn’t let her forget it.

“Hey, Esadora, do you have any idea how we could get this to work?” one boy in her group asked, glancing over at her.

She bought her head up from where it lay on her knees but didn’t get the chance to answer as the girl beside her said, “Barrett! Don’t ask her such a stupid question! You know she can’t—” The girl cut herself off, eyes wide with panic as she looked at Esadora.

Esadora felt her stomach clench with anxiety as Barrett smirked.

“Can’t what, Lena?” When the girl didn’t respond, he went on, “C’mon! Why are you so nervous? It’s not like it’s a secret or anything. Everyone knows she’s just a human now.”

“Barrett,” the girl beside her hissed.

But Esadora barely noticed. Her face felt like it was on fire, and she could imagine how it looked to everyone else. She buried her head in her knees to hide her flush as Barrett went on slandering her name.

“See how she’s not saying anything? She knows it’s true. So why defend her?”

Esadora felt a large swell of emotion grow in her throat, and she longed to let it free. She longed to defend herself—but her teeth stayed clenched.

“Wait until they kick her out of the class. Then you’ll understand how useless she really is.”

Don’t worry. I already know.

It was the last day of the school week when Esadora decided to leave. She lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling and recounted the events of the week in her head. A dim light shone through the window, shrouding her memories in a more depressing shadow.

She sighed, letting her eyes shut. Her organs felt like they were flopping around in her stomach, her heart beating faster and faster as a thought entered her mind for the millionth time that week.

What if I leave?

Almost immediately, like every other time she’d thought about it, her mind shouted No! once again.

But what if she actually left? She would be free from the verbal abuse the Classy Quartet and others put upon her. The downside to leaving, though, was that Ezra would miss her, as well as her mom—and maybe even Ximena. But it wouldn’t be forever. Just for a little while, so she could get some… fresh air, one might put it.

Then there was the issue of coming back. Would they even let her back in? There was a barrier surrounding Esmeralda, one that would allow people inside to leave, but not come in unless they held some sort of identification, or their face was in Esmeralda’s registry.

However, regardless of these things, wouldn’t they be glad if she left? She was only a human. Why would they let her back in? She shook her head and jumped out of bed, reaching over to her backpack. Her mother would help her get back in—after all, what was the good of having a mother on the Chamber if she couldn’t get you out tough situations?

A faint smile crept up on Esadora’s face as she changed into black pants and a black shirt, putting her violet cloak over them. She swung her still half-empty backpack over her shoulders and stalked out of the room. She entered the kitchen and searched the cupboards for something she could keep in her backpack.

She ended up with three containers of cranberries, a small box of crackers, and a couple bags of peanuts, and grabbed a few bottles of water.

It was enough. The journey wouldn’t be long anyway.

Her eyes caught on a piece of written-on paper on the edge of the dining table. It was on top of one of her mom’s journals. After a short contemplation, she walked over to the table and brought a pen out of one of her backpack’s compartments. She took a deep breath and began to write what she hoped wouldn’t seem like a goodbye.

When she was finished, she didn’t read the letter over, didn’t take a single glance back at it, for if she did, she was sure she would cry. Instead, she made her way to the front door, ignoring the piece of her heart that cried out to her, that begged her to stop. It was only when she gripped the doorknob that she truly understood what she was doing. Her whole body trembled, the hand on the doorknob clenched so tightly around it that the skin turned white. Tears burned the back of her eyes.

But she opened the door anyway.

She was done crying.