CHAPTER 3: Spell
911 Words
The sharp ring of the alarm jolted Clara awake. Her heart raced, and she blinked rapidly, adjusting to the sunlight pouring through the window. It was already 8:30 AM. She sat up quickly, scanning the house for signs of her mom—but Anastasia was gone. Breakfast was neatly arranged on the table.
Clara sat and ate slowly, deep in thought. She tried to recall the recurring dream—but this time, the images were foggy. Blurred flashes of blue clouds and her mother’s choking face drifted through her mind like smoke. It unsettled her. Clara always remembered her dreams, but this one felt... faded.
After bathing and packing her things, she rushed to the door—only to remember her mom had taken the keys. Frustrated, she sank into the chair, tapping her fingers. A moment later, a spark of mischief lit her eyes. She dashed into her room, opened the window, and jumped out.
The street was busy. Clara ran until she caught the bus, panting. Twenty minutes later, she arrived at school and bolted to her class.
Mrs. Andrew was already teaching. Clara burst through the door. "Sorry, ma’am. I was behind schedule," she said breathlessly.
The teacher glanced at her and nodded. "You're lucky. Claudia, please review what we covered yesterday."
Clara froze at the board, marker in hand. Her memory was blank. Her palms grew sweaty. Five long minutes passed.
"Can’t remember anything?" Mrs. Andrew asked, raising a brow.
Danielle chuckled uncontrollably from her seat, then squeaked mid-laugh. The class turned toward her.
Mrs. Andrew sighed. "Danielle seems confident. Here, take the marker."
"Ma’am, believe me, I didn’t mean to laugh," Danielle stammered, the squeaking still slipping through her words.
"Just write, Danielle."
Danielle tried but struggled to complete the explanation. Her hand trembled. Mrs. Andrew turned to Betty.
"Betty, why don’t you help us out?"
Betty strutted to the board with a smug grin. She erased Danielle’s attempt and redid the entire explanation flawlessly. The class watched silently.
After the lesson, Clara sat quietly, her thoughts racing. The forgotten dream... the blank memory during review... it was all too strange.
Danielle slumped in her chair nearby, her head resting on folded arms.
"Danielle?" Clara whispered.
"Leave me alone," she muttered, chuckling involuntarily.
"Why are you laughing like that?"
"I'm not laughing. I’m squeaking. Ever since Betty mocked me yesterday, I haven’t stopped. I don’t know how to stop it," Danielle’s voice cracked, her eyes glassy.
Clara felt helpless. Comforting people wasn’t her strength. She hesitated, then said, "This morning... I couldn’t remember my dream clearly. And now, I couldn’t remember what was taught yesterday."
Danielle sat up slowly. "That’s not normal. Do you think… there’s some kind of magic involved?"
Clara leaned in, intrigued. "You believe in magic?"
"I don’t just believe. I know. We just don’t see it often. But Betty... she’s suspicious."
Clara nodded. "There’s one way to find out."
"What are you up to now?" Danielle asked.
"You’ll see."
---
After classes, Clara and Danielle followed Betty from a distance, tracking her car by taxi. It stopped in front of a grand mansion—no surprise.
Danielle turned to Clara. "Now what?"
Clara narrowed her eyes at the estate. "We’ll come back during break tomorrow."
"Isn’t that dangerous?"
"Then don’t come. I’ll go alone."
Danielle sighed. "I’m coming."
---
Clara ate quietly that night, staring toward the locked room her mother forbade her from entering. Her curiosity burned, but she left it alone—for now.
When Anastasia returned home, she ate in silence and went to bed. Clara was already fast asleep.
---
The next morning, Clara sat at the kitchen table, barely tasting her food. Her dream had returned—but it was still blurred, distorted. She saw blue clouds again. Her mother choking. Herself watching, eyes glowing blue... but everything felt muffled, distant.
"How was your night?" Anastasia asked, locking the door.
"Fine. Morning, Mom," Clara replied absently.
Once her mother left, Clara slipped out through the window and made her way to school.
That day, the lessons didn’t stick. Her focus drifted. When break came, she sat alone until Danielle—still squeaking—approached.
"Ugh, when will this stop?" Danielle groaned.
"Claudia, let’s go. We don’t have much time."
Clara blinked. "Go where?"
Danielle raised a brow. "The plan? Betty’s house?"
Clara snapped back to reality. "Right. Let’s go."
---
They arrived at the mansion and searched for a way in.
"All the doors are locked," Danielle huffed.
Clara pulled a pin from her bag. "Not for long."
She picked the back door, and it creaked open into the luxurious kitchen. They tiptoed into the vast parlor.
"We’ve got 40 minutes. Let’s go," Clara said.
They explored upstairs, opening room after room—but nothing felt unusual. Until Clara spotted a door tucked beside the bathroom.
"Let’s try that."
Inside was Betty’s bedroom—full of glossy pictures and expensive decor. Another door stood to the side, locked.
Clara worked the pin again.
Click.
The door swung open. Clara and Danielle froze, their jaws slack, eyes wide.
---
Back at school, Betty frowned.
"Where are those dummies?" she snapped at Eric.
He looked up. "Excuse me?"
"Where’s Claudia and Danielle?" she barked.
"How would I know? Do you own them?" he shot back and walked off.
Betty scowled. "Two idiots. Where could they be?"
She muttered Clara’s name under her breath, storming back to the dining hall.
- Writer
