The Fairytale Curse (Magic's Return Book 1) (16 page)

“No, I’ll wait outside unless I hear a need for me to come in.”

“Damn.” She gave him a lazy smile. “I thought you might be able to do my maths homework for me.”

He laughed. “Trust me, you wouldn’t want me doing your maths homework. You’d end up with a D.”

“Don’t answer any questions you don’t want to,” Simon added. “Just smile a lot and tell them it was just a prank. Understood?”

Of course. We weren’t stupid. The guy couldn’t seem to open his mouth without patronising us. Frankly, I wondered what Gretel saw in him. CJ threw him a mock salute and I saw his lips tighten. Naturally she got Kyle, who at least knew how to crack a smile, while I was stuck with Simon.

Then the car turned into the school’s street and I clutched my backpack tighter, scanning the street for suspicious cars. Everything seemed quiet enough—looked like the only photographers around were the ones trailing after us like baby ducklings following their mama. I swivelled in my seat to watch them make the turn too—there were four of them now. That wouldn’t be so bad. I forced myself to release my deathgrip on the straps of the backpack before my hands started to cramp.

I was just turning back to face front again when I caught a flash of red and Simon slammed on the brakes. As we lurched forward against our seatbelts a little red convertible turned straight across the front of us. If Simon hadn’t stopped when he did we would have slammed right into the side of it. I caught a glimpse of the driver as the car roared down the driveway to the teachers’ car park: a woman with long black hair streaming behind her in the wind of the zippy little sports car’s passage. I didn’t know her, but then I wasn’t familiar with many of the teachers yet.

“Bloody woman!” Simon snarled. “What does she think she’s doing, driving like that around a school?”

He pulled in to the kerb outside the main entrance, still shaking his head. I got out and stuck close to him as instructed. He had a ferocious scowl on his face, though whether that was for the woman or the photographers sprinting toward us I wasn’t sure.

“This way, ladies.” He put an arm around my shoulder and began herding me toward the gate.

“Violet, how are you feeling?” one man shouted, raising a microphone. The girl next to him had a massive zoom lens on her camera, and was shooting furiously. I ducked my head, suddenly self-conscious.

“Crystal, can you tell us how the last two days have been for you?” someone else called, while flashes went off all around.

We stopped in the gateway and turned to face them.

“It’s been a bit crazy,” she said with a bright smile. “I can’t believe everyone’s making such a fuss about a little prank.”

“So those frogs weren’t real, Violet?” The man asking sounded disappointed.

I glanced at CJ, horribly conscious of the strange collar digging into my neck underneath my uniform. What if it stopped working now? I’d be an international laughing stock before the day was over.

CJ grabbed my hand and squeezed, then stepped in smoothly to fill the gap. Times like these her self-confidence came in handy.

“Of course they were real. We can’t make frogs appear out of thin air. We’re not magicians, you know.”

Someone laughed. In a minute they’d be eating out of her hand.

“Say something, Violet!”

I scowled at the speaker. “Like what?”

“My sister’s the strong, silent type,” CJ said.

More laughter, and someone asked us to pose for a picture, so she smooshed her face against mine and we both smiled until our cheeks ached. Then she cut smoothly through the questions by saying we were late for class and had to go, and then we were through the gate at last. No one followed us.

“Well done,” said Kyle, and CJ rewarded him with a dazzling smile.

As we hurried past the hideous statue out the front of admin, I noticed that Year 7 had finished cleaning up the toilet paper. Now the only thing decorating it was a large crow perched on its head. It cawed mournfully and flapped away as we entered admin.

“Won’t be a minute,” Kyle said. “We just have to sign in.”

The office ladies gawked at the two large official-looking security types invading their foyer, but the formalities were soon completed and we were on our way to class. I had Physics in E block.

“There’s that stupid woman,” Simon said as we cut through C block past the canteen.

Up ahead, mounting the stairs, was the woman from the sports car. She wore a tight-fitting red dress that hugged some rather impressive curves. Her long hair rippled down her back past her waist, but she was soon out of sight round the bend in the stairs, so I didn’t see her face.

“Is she one of your teachers?” Simon’s expression made it clear what he thought of teachers who drove like maniacs.

“I don’t know her,” I said. “We’re new here.”

“She must have got her licence out of a cereal box.”

It was a relief to arrive at the lab. As if it wasn’t bad enough having a grumpy sister, now I had a grumpy bodyguard too. I hoped he didn’t cross paths with the woman in the red dress again. I could just see him having a go at her, which wouldn’t earn me any brownie points with the teachers at my new school.

As it turned out, the universe had other plans.

After Physics I had Ancient History, my one subject that was just for fun. CJ’s electives were all like that—arty-farty things like Visual Arts and Drama, but most of mine were focused on a career in science: useful subjects like Physics and Chemistry. But I’d always loved history, the older the better. At our last school we’d been studying ancient Egypt, which fascinated me, but here they’d spent the whole year on Greek history. The first semester had covered the Peloponnesian Wars and the city-states of Athens and Sparta. Now they were on to the Persian Wars, where the empire of Persia was trying to invade Greece, a mighty Goliath against a puny little David.

Having missed all the background, I’d been wading through the writings of Herodotus trying to catch up, but today Herodotus and how much work I had to do was the last thing on my mind. I was going to see Zac again.

I was a little surprised to find the whole class already here, seated and waiting. Usually most of the boys straggled in right on the bell, but here they were, looking as keen as if someone had offered free beer. Zac was over by the windows, next to a boy I didn’t know. He smiled at me and I gave him a little wave, then immediately felt like an idiot. I dropped into the seat next to Sona, the heat of another blush creeping up my cheeks. Nice one, Vi. Very smooth.

“What on
earth
are you wearing around your neck?” Sona asked.

Before I could answer, the woman in the red dress walked in, and the reason for the boys’ eagerness became clear. If the word “sexy” hadn’t existed, they would have had to invent it just for her. I’d forgotten Zac had said we had a relief teacher for history. Miss Moore, or something like that. Somehow he’d forgotten to mention she looked like a supermodel. I cast him a reproachful look, but he was oblivious, staring at Miss Moore like a kid on Christmas morning just longing to unwrap his present.

Great. Now I had to compete for his attention with Miss Sex Kitten Australia? And how was Simon going to react to my new teacher? He was waiting outside, out of sight. I hoped he’d keep his opinion of her driving to himself, but nothing I hoped for lately seemed to be working out. Why should this be any different?

“Good afternoon, Year 11. I have permission notes for you to take home to your parents, and I will need them returned by Friday, as the excursion is planned for the second day back next term. Don’t forget! You won’t want to miss out. We’ll be going to the Art Gallery to see the exhibition ‘Treasures of the Ancient Hellenic World’, which will be a marvellous opportunity to see some artefacts that rarely leave the Louvre in Paris.”

Her voice was so deep and husky it even made
me
think about sex. The guys had no chance.

She passed a bundle of notes to the front row, who then passed them back to the rest of the class. Her movements were fluid and graceful like a dancer’s. I barely looked at the note before shoving it into my backpack. Like everyone else, I was mesmerised by Miss Moore.

She perched on the edge of the teacher’s desk and surveyed the room with eyes that were such a dark brown they appeared black, matching her raven hair. Her skin was as pale as mine, but she made it look good, as if she was a goddess carved from marble. Her dress wasn’t low cut or even particularly short, skimming just above her knees, but the way she filled it out made it the sexiest garment I’d ever seen.

“Now, on to Thermopylae. Last week with Mr Chadwick I believe you looked at the Persian advance and the Greek preparations for battle. Did everyone read the passage from Herodotus?”

Most people nodded, though in a kind of dreamy way.

“And what did you think?”

Hands shot into the air. Even the boys in the back row, who usually chatted to each other and refused to participate in class discussion, were straining to answer her. She chose one. “Miss, I thought Leonidas was a bit of an idiot.”

“Oh?” Her dark eyes glittered, but her face showed only polite attention. “Why is that?”

The boy shifted uncomfortably. His desire to impress the glorious Miss Moore warred with his natural inclination not to draw the teacher’s attention. “Well, he only had three hundred men.”

“Three hundred
Spartans
,” she corrected. “There were also the Thespian and Theban contingents.”

“Yeah, but it still wasn’t very many, was it?” someone else piped up. “Not compared to the thousands of Persians they were facing.”

“So you think he should have run away like the rest of the Greeks and let the Persians take the pass without contest?”

The first boy shrugged. “He got defeated anyway, didn’t he? And he must have known he couldn’t win. What was the point of throwing away their lives for nothing?”

Miss Moore rose and prowled across the room, more panther now than sex kitten. Something about her had changed: a hardness in the eyes? A slight tightening of those full lips? Whatever it was, it had us sinking lower in our seats, hoping to avoid her notice. I bet that kid was wishing he’d kept his mouth shut.

“You’re forgetting the prophecy. Herodotus, Book 7, verse 220, everyone. Herodotus has already told us Leonidas is descended from Herakles, or Hercules, as you may know him. Here the prophecy tells us that either Sparta will be sacked, or a king descended from Herakles must die. So Leonidas faces a choice—either give up his own life, or see Sparta itself fall to the enemy. Leonidas makes the noble choice, the only acceptable choice for a king of Sparta, and chooses to die in glorious battle.”

True, the Spartans seemed a bloodthirsty lot. In my reading I’d found they trained their young men from a very early age in the arts of war, and Spartan women considered it better for their menfolk to come back from battle dead than return defeated. So three hundred Spartans were worth a hell of a lot more than three hundred regular soldiers. But still …

“It was only a prophecy,” I said. “Anything could have happened to change things afterwards.”

“Only a prophecy,” Miss Moore repeated. Her lips were a slash of red in her still, pale face. “You’re the new girl, aren’t you? Violet, isn’t it?”

I nodded. Her gaze rested for a moment on the hideous thing around my neck, but she didn’t comment. I waited as the silence lengthened ominously. Why hadn’t I kept my mouth shut?

“Well, Violet, in those days there was no ‘only’ about it.” There was ice in that husky voice now. “Men paid attention to such things. They lived much closer to their gods, and they knew better than to tempt fate. The Oracle at Delphi had spoken, and Leonidas was doomed. His only choice was the manner of his death, and so he chose the route of glory.

“The Spartans were the greatest warriors the world has ever seen.” She moistened those blood-red lips, and her dark eyes took on a dreamy quality. “What if the numbers of Persian arrows were so great they blotted out the sun? To a Spartan, that only meant they should enjoy fighting in the shade.

“The Persians whipped their men into the pass, but the Spartans leapt forward to embrace battle and waded through oceans of Persian blood. The screams of the dying meant nothing to them. They were merciless killing machines. They fought until their spears shattered in their hands, and then they fought with swords. When their swords broke they used their hands and even their teeth, ripping their enemy’s lives from them in whatever manner they could till the last of them fell, covered in glory.

“The fighting lasted until nightfall, and thousands of Persians bled their lifeblood onto the ground of that narrow pass. The ravens feasted that day. Such a battle has never been seen since.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the classroom, and nobody dared move. My skin crawled. She spoke as if she’d seen it. Worse, seen it and loved it. Her face was alight. Something was seriously wrong with this woman, however beautiful she was.

Her eyes refocused on the class and she smiled. It was as if a cloud had passed and now the sun shone again. “So, the Spartans lost the pass and the battle—but did the Persians really win? Thermopylae inflicted a terrible blow on Persian morale. When victory feels like a defeat, there are no winners. How do you think this affected the outcome of the battle that followed at Salamis?”

Zac put up his hand and the class resumed along more normal lines, but it took a moment for my heart rate to return to normal. I couldn’t shake the memory of her face as she described the blood and death. Not a pleasant expression. I hoped Mr Chadwick’s leg got better real soon.

When the bell went for the end of the period, I packed up and got outside as fast as I could. The boys all lingered, taking their time to pack away their gear, as if they couldn’t bear to part from the beautiful Miss Moore. My reunion with Zac would just have to wait.

“Is she
crazy
?” I muttered to Sona.

“Who? Miss Moore? What do you mean?”

“All that bloodthirsty stuff. She sounded like she was right into it.”