“Open your eyes,” said Ms. Terwilliger softly.

I did and saw a faint luminescence surrounding my hand holding the dirt.

“Try to put it in your other hand and hold it.”

The light had no substance, and I had to contain it with my mind. I tipped my hand, and it poured into my other one. The glow began to slip out between my fingers, dissipating into the air as it did. I closed my hand, trying to grasp those last shreds of light.

The door to her classroom opened, and I jumped, losing all mental hold of the remaining light. It vanished.

“Sydney?” Zoe stuck her head in.

“Come in, Miss Ardmore,” said Ms. Terwilliger coolly, shutting the book without looking down. “Although, please, next time, do us the courtesy of knocking.”

Zoe flushed at the rebuke. “I’m very sorry, ma’am. I was just excited to see Sydney.” She wasn’t offended so much as embarrassed. Like me, she’d been raised with very strict rules of etiquette and politeness. Her eyes lighted on the desktop. Ms. Terwilliger had made sure the book’s unmarked back cover faced upward, but my dirty hands were right there in the open. “What are you doing?”

Ms. Terwilliger scooped up the book and bowl and walked over to her desk, as I wiped my hands together. “Being silly and sentimental. I collected some dirt outside the Parthenon on my trip to Greece last summer and saved it as a souvenir. I was enchanted with the idea of holding on to something that had been present throughout the advancement of a great civilization.”

It was far‑fetched but a lot less weird than using the dirt to extract the magic of earth’s essence. I swallowed and tried to run with the story. “Yeah, and you know how I want to go to Greece, Zo. I wondered if maybe touching it would give me some connection to history.” My laugh was brittle. “But it just felt like dirt.”

Ms. Terwilliger joined me with a chuckle of her own. “You and I are both given to romantic flights of fancy, Miss Melrose. Someday you’ll just have to visit for yourself. For now, this will simply return to my collection.” She reverently set the bowl on her filing cabinet. I’d seen her fill it with dirt from one of Amberwood’s flower beds when we’d come inside earlier.

Zoe had a frown on her face, but she finally nodded because really, what else was she going to do? “Okay . . . well. Since school’s over, I wondered if you wanted to go run errands with me. We haven’t been able to hang out much, and I need new shoes for PE. The ones I brought are worn out. No one else needs us tonight.” The subtext was clear to me. There were no feedings at Clarence’s, and Jill was staying at the school, safely ensconced.

I could sense Ms. Terwilliger watching me, waiting for my cue. If I claimed I had to do some project for her, she’d agree. But Zoe was right about one thing: We hadn’t spent much time together. Not only was that making my time away suspicious, it was also hurting my relationship with Zoe. She was still my sister, after all, and I loved her. I wanted to have a good relationship with her. I wanted things to be like they used to be, though that seemed to become increasingly unlikely with each passing day. At least a trip to the mall seemed normal and sisterly on the surface, even if it didn’t feel that way in my gut.

“You’re lucky,” Zoe said as we neared the mall. The car’s blind‑spot detection had just chimed. “It always tells you when there’s a car there. In driver’s training, we always had to check blind spots ourselves. Those cars were junk.”

I couldn’t help a laugh. “You should always check, whether you’re driving junk or not. I usually see the other cars before it warns me.”

She gave a mournful sigh. “I wish I could drive. I just got my permit back in Utah.”

“You can’t drive without a parent there or in California,” I reminded her.

“Yeah.” She slouched into her seat, looking very much like an ordinary girl, not one part of an ancient and world‑spanning organization that covered up the supernatural. “Maybe someone could mess with the paperwork and get you legal guardian status. I mean, how else am I supposed to get a license? Unless someone just makes ‘Zoe Ardmore’ a fake one. I’m a good enough driver.”

“You’ll have to ask Dad,” I said, feeling a pang of guilt. It actually wouldn’t be that difficult to work some Alchemist connections to make that kind of thing happen. If we did it without checking with our dad first, we’d probably be chastised, and if we did ask . . . well, something told me he’d probably think it was superfluous. “If he hasn’t brought it up, then he probably just wants you to focus on learning other stuff. Our job takes priority.”

She couldn’t argue against that. After a long moment of staring out at other cars, she said, “Speaking of priorities . . . have you ever thought that maybe what you’re doing with Ms. Terwilliger isn’t appropriate?”

I flinched, even though I knew she couldn’t possibly be talking about magic. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know exactly. It’s just, you’ve already finished high school. You’re here to do Alchemist business, but you seem really into your classes–especially that thing with her. It seems personal too, like you’re just hanging out as friends. I mean, talking about her vacation? It wouldn’t be a big deal if it was just inside class hours, but you’re always doing work for her that doesn’t seem like work. Nothing wrong with wanting friends or social time . . . but you can’t do it at the cost of the assignment. What would Dad say?”

I kept myself very still and thought for long moments before my answer. “You’re right. I do have to be careful. It’s just hard when we talk about Greece, when I want to go there so badly. I love her stories. Still, that’s no excuse. I guess I just forget that when everything’s so quiet with Jill and the others. I’ve got to do something to pass the time, and I certainly can’t spend it with them.”

“You could spend it with me,” she said hopefully.

I glanced at her long enough to give her a smile. “I will. We’ll do more things–not just talking about the assignment. Getting out like this is good. I’ll try to make it happen more often–though I don’t want to act too  uninterested in my classes. I can’t risk getting in trouble for slacking off.” In truth, my teachers thought so highly of me, I could probably skip the rest of the semester.

My story was good enough for Zoe, though, who looked delighted at more sisterly bonding. Most importantly, she didn’t mention our dad again. Like her, he wouldn’t suspect magic, but he also wouldn’t like me having any sort of personal life. I sealed the deal when I told her, “We should stop for ice cream after we get the shoes. See if we can find some praline pecan.”

She grinned at the reference to an old restaurant near where we’d grown up. The menu had always said, “Ask about our daily ice cream special.” But every day, it was always praline pecan. When my dad had pointed this out to the elderly owner, she’d shrugged and said, “I can’t find anything more special. Why change it?” It had become a joke with the rest of us and even a sort of family tradition.

To my amazement, the ice cream at this place was almost as good, and we took our cones out to sit on the curb. As we ate, an idea suddenly came to me. “Are you serious about driving?” I asked her.

The light in her eyes answered before she did. “Yes! Will you try to get me a license?”

I munched on a pecan, my thoughts spinning. “Well, you know, the whole point of a permit is so you can practice before the license.”

“But I don’t need to–”

I gave her a stern older‑sister look. “Rules are rules, and there’s a good reason for them. I can’t expedite the license, but if you want to practice, you could do it on private property–parking lots and things. With a licensed driver,” I added.

She wrestled with the idea and then nodded eagerly. “Okay, I’ll do it. We’ll have fun.”