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Prologue

T he screech of my alarm jolts me awake like it's trying to summon the dead. It's not even 7 a.m., and I already want to hex something. Maybe the alarm. Definitely the alarm. But as much as I'd love to snooze it into oblivion, I have things to do, spells to perfect, and people to avoid.

I roll out of bed, my feet sinking into the old, creaky hardwood floor of my dorm room—a room that screams "I'm special" in that subtle, expensive way. Thanks, Mom and Dad. Apparently, donating a small fortune to the school that shaped them into "productive members of supernatural society" means I get the deluxe suite. Or, as I like to call it, The Book Fort .

Seriously, there are more books than space in here. A tower of grimoires and spell manuals looms by my desk, threatening to avalanche at any moment. I've got herbs spilling out of jars, crystals littering every surface, and candles tucked into every nook and cranny. But hey, I like to think of it as a chaotic, magical aesthetic. It works for me.

And then there's my grimoire. My pride and joy. Three years of spells, charms, and enchantments all crammed into one ancient-looking, leather-bound book. The kind of book that you'd expect to see some witch cackling over in the middle of the woods. Except, instead of curses and doom, mine is filled with the really important stuff—like how to make your hair frizz-free in a thunderstorm or get out of gym class with a well-timed sneeze hex. Don't judge. Practical magic is the best kind of magic.

The alarm blares again, and I curse under my breath, flinging a pillow at it. I need to get up. I've got classes to endure and Kyla, my least favorite witch, to tolerate. Ugh. I throw open my closet doors and scan for something cute and quirky. I mean, I have a reputation to uphold.

After a few minutes of digging, I pull out my usual ensemble—something black, something vintage, and of course, my signature red stockings. Can't be a badass witch without them. It's a rule. I'm sure of it.

I throw on my outfit, giving myself a once-over in the mirror. Messy, cute, a little witchy, and 100% me. Perfect.

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