The cushion beneath Frost's cross-legged seat was like a cloud and never had good posture come so easy. Willow's classroom was the coziest in Oz. So bright from the impossible window, held to a temperature like soothing bathwater, the cave smell supplemented with rosemary or pine to stimulate deep breathing, because you constantly wanted to inhale it in. A smaller class size, due to secrecy and a selective entry test. It was possible to observe and keep tabs on every student.

There's a girl named Suwerte in the corner, practicing across from Amber, who looks like her name, not just honey-haired and bronze of face but glowing with a halo spell, because why not?

In the center is the clique of girls who likely had each other over for sleepovers and facials. They all chose code names that made them sound hot: Diamond, Jade, Swan, Cielo, and Divine. One week dressed like Greek goddesses, all in pastel togas, and the next Parisian models in pencil leg slacks and berets, today they more closely approximated the yoga pants-wearing girls who lived in the Marina neighborhood. In leggings and muted oversized sweaters that could only look like a uniform when worn by a pack of six girls, the only difference in the hues (burnt orange, olive, navy, off-white).

Pairing with one separated from the pack, Fog sat atop her cushion across from code name Jade, who came across as more articulate and bright when apart from the herd, capable of complex, full sentences and the occasional sit-com worthy quip. "I know I haven't guessed any of your secret messages, but you gotta believe me, I'm picking up Russian spies in Washington. They wanna know why there's no good pizza in D.C."

Twisting her ring, a habit that in no way aided spell-casting, Frost went between staring at Kudzu's head (shorn black hair close to the skull) in consideration of what might be inside and scanning the faces of classmates.

As much as she wanted to discern Kudzu's thoughts and read the message he would be repeating over and over in his head like a radio ad, a greater drive beneath the surface demanded to know what the rest of them thought of her.

Pure desire fueled her discovering the spell one unexpected instant. It was like in a game of broken telephone, watching the other kids in the circle going before her whispering a secret phrase she couldn't hear, and when her turn came as clearly as if he had whispered it in her ear, Frost heard the words, "Don't think about pink elephants. Don't think about pink elephants."

His lips remained still. She heard the voice inside his head.

Frost rocked on her cushion and laughed when she told him, "You made me think about pink elephants."

A cryptic smile waning and waxing over Kudzu's face the whole hour slid all the way off. His skin paled as blood drained, and his features blanked except his eyes, which rounded like those extra big marbles. He sputtered, "Say again?"

"You said not to think about pink elephants, which made me think about pink elephants."

His continued shock made her beam. Must be a big accomplishment to crack the spell so fast. His voice cracked slightly. "You worked the spell already?"

Maybe no one had ever discovered it so fast.

"How else would I know what you were thinking, genius. I worked the spell. Message received. Now, give me another one."

His lips didn't move but she heard his voice in his head ask, "How did she discover the spell so fast?" A thought overheard, not the next message for her to guess but a genuine reaction provoked by what she had said. "She's not that smart." Kudzu squirmed on his cushion, still disbelieving, not meeting her eyes.

Then he looked up as if scanning her from the top down, dissecting her for hidden potential or intelligence he had yet to see evidence of until this moment.

Now it was her turn to drop her confident smile. "Not that smart," she repeated out loud. "I guess I discovered the spell so fast because I wanted to know what people think of me."

"It took me two weeks to hear a complete message," said Kudzu. "I didn't mean to offend you," he said out loud. In his head, his thoughts said, "but I'm the top of my class and you're always late for magic school because you have detention."

Frost folded her arms over her chest. "Getting detention doesn't mean you aren't smart. I get in trouble sometimes. It's usually not—"

"Hold on, you're still reading my thoughts?"

"That's the exercise, isn't it?"

"I wasn't ready. You're violating the oath if you keep reading my thoughts without my consent."

"I don't know about that. I get to use my own 'discernment' to follow the oath. The point of the exercise is for me to try to listen to your thoughts while you practice concealing what you don't want me to hear. It's not my fault you're crap at it."

Taking a deep breath, Kudzu said, "That's fair. Kind of." He reach out and put his hands on hers. Frost looked down at his hands as if trying to decide whether the touch was in violation of her personal space, but shrugged and met his eyes in acceptance of the gesture. "We need to set better ground rules. I wasn't expecting you to get it so fast. Great work, by the way. From now on, only start when I say. Give me a second to prepare, to compartmentalize what I want you to hear and what I don't."

After a second of boring into his eyes as if trying to read his intentions the old-fashioned, non-magical way, Frost said, "For the sake of argument, an opponent who wants to break in and steal your thoughts won't give you a second to compartmentalize — but for the sake of today's exercise, I agree to your terms."

"Glad to hear it," Kudzu said. Then he drew his hands away, called Willow over, and informed her that Frost had discovered the mind-reading spell already — on day one of learning, after just an hour of practice.

The facial reaction from Willow had differed slightly from Kudzu's. The wide eyes lasted only a brief instant before she blinked them away with the experience and kindness of a good teacher, and her head tilted to the side as she thought a moment. She crouched down to Frost and Kudzu's level.

Then she placed one finger to her temple, a wordless signal to Frost to try to infiltrate.

You must have a distinct talent for this, said a voice in Willow's head.

Frost folded her arms and said out loud, "I'm not sure why everyone's acting so surprised."

"Excellent work," Willow said, and she put a hand on Frost's folded arm, which Frost looked down at with suspicion. "We might expect great things from you in the field of psychological magic."

As the teacher stood from her crouch, Frost sent her thoughts to Kudzu like a psychological projectile, straight into his brain. 

Why does everyone keep touching me, like with kid gloves, like I'm a ticking time bomb?

Then she met his eyes and cracked a grin.

He laughed and sent back, Must be we're all afraid of you, Your Badass-ness.

Not sure whether to be embarrassed when Willow announced to the whole class that she had discovered the spell on her first day, Frost searched from face to face for expressions of approval or . . . something else.

A few glances coming her way were not friendly, but shifty. Kudzu had been ready to lead the cohort in applause, and as he clapped with vigor, loud claps he put enthusiastic energy into, the rest joined in with feather light taps so as not to seem rude.

Blushing, Frost feigned an actor's flourish and bow from her cross-legged seat. "Thank you, thank you," she mustered, trying to cast a charismatic voice, from deep in the diaphragm, to all four corners. She counted and tallied up the kind expressions mentally, and the resentful ones, too.

"Well done," Kudzu said again.

No one else paid a compliment.

Searching out her sister's eyes, she was surprised when hers seemed to meet them for only a split second before Fog looked down and away.

Thank you for reading Frost and Fog! This story updates often. Look forward to more on Wednesday and Friday. Please leave a star if you're having a good time!