Free Kelly McClymer-Salem Witch 01 The Salem Witch Tryouts by Kelly McClymer Page A

witchworld. “I just had to test with Agatha herself to get into this school, and I was beginning to think my fate would be to look like her forever—unless she banished me back to the mortal realm for being hopelessly unmagical.”
    Apparently Samuel recognized my truce-flag gesture. He relaxed and smiled. “You really are new at this, aren’t you?”
    “I did magic at home, of course,” I exaggerated. “My mom homeschooled us in magic, you could say.” No way did I want him to know how unprepared I was.
    A bell sounded faintly. All the tables and food vanished, and we were suddenly back in the hallway lined with lockers. I thought wistfully of the few bites of curry remaining on my plate.
    “They really don’t give you much slack here, do they? At least at home they only ring the bell, not make the room disappear.”
    Samuel, Maria, and Denise looked surprised at the thought of having to move through hallways on your own. “Wow. Don’t you get lost that way?”
    “Umm, hello? It’s a school building. Even if you get lost, you just turn around and try again.”
    They didn’t get it, but they just shrugged and the girlspeeled away to get stuff in their lockers. The clang of lockers opening and closing made for a familiar sound with a real twist. Just like my old school. If we popped from classroom to hallway to lunchroom without any choice, that is.
    I took a chance, since Samuel and I had been engaged in mutually assured questioning. Every new kid has to face this moment, usually several times until they know the layout of the most important things—lockers, bathrooms, and classrooms.
    “How do I find out which locker is mine?” No way would I ask a boy how to find the bathroom. That question I would save for a girl—and only in an emergency. I glanced around the hallway, wondering vaguely what the other kids were getting out of their lockers. They were witches, they could pop anything they wanted, couldn’t they? But I wasn’t going to ask. Not on my first day.
    “Can’t you tell?” He seemed genuinely surprised.
    “I’m not psychic.”
    He flipped his glasses at me for a moment, as if trying to decide if I was serious, or teasing him. I suppose he got a lot of that. But at last he realized I was not about to yell gotcha. “Well, neither am I, and I can home in on my locker.”
    Great. Another thing I didn’t know how to do.
    “Home in. Oh. Of course. I didn’t realize,” I lied. Well, not really lied, but the way I said it sounded like I knew howto home in on something. And that was a pure, charcoal-colored lie.
    Which he was very likely to find out, given that he didn’t seem to need anything from his locker, because he just stood there staring at me.
    “Thanks,” I said, hoping he would walk away. No luck. I could see he wanted to say something. For a minute I hoped he wouldn’t, but then, when I realized he was going to get the courage up, I changed to wishing he wasn’t going to ask me for a date.
    Be careful what you wish for. Sometimes what you get is worse. “I’d like to know more about mortals.”
    Right. Mortal groupie. At least he wasn’t gross about it. He even looked like he was a little embarrassed to admit his addiction to knowing all about mortals. I shrugged to show him I didn’t hold it against him. “I’d like to know more about magic.” Which, I realized as I said it, was very true. I wanted to be able to do what these kids could do when they were in kindergarten.
    “We could—” He couldn’t seem to get the words out. It was kind of cute, in a fringe geek crush kind of way. Believe me, I’ve had plenty of experience—guys aren’t always so smooth with a girl they like. As cute as it was, I didn’t want to encourage him. Really, I didn’t. I just wanted to pick his brain while he picked mine. Fair is fair. “Would you like to come to dinner at my house?”
    He looked stunned.
    Too late I realized my invitation sounded like encouragement, but really it