But Lori Adami was nothing if not persistent, and one day she said that Nest’s mother was crazy and that was why she killed herself and that Nest was probably crazy, too. It was winter, and they were standing in the hall by their lockers before classes, stripping off their coats and boots. Nest heard the remark, and without even thinking about it, she dropped her coat and gloves on the floor, turned around, walked right up to Lori, and hit her in the face. Since Nest had never lifted a hand against her in all these years, Lori was caught completely by surprise. But Lori had been raised with three older brothers, and she knew how to defend herself. Hissing something awful at Nest, she went after her.
Then a funny thing happened. Nest, who didn’t know much about fighting, was unsure what she should do. Anger and fear warred for control. Should she stand her ground or run for it? She stood her ground. Lori grabbed for her, their eyes locked, and Nest, raising her hands to defend herself, thought, You better not touch me, you better quit right now, you better stop! And down went Lori in a heap, legs tangled, arms askew, and mouth open in surprise. Lori scrambled up again, furious, but the moment their eyes met she began to stumble about helplessly. She tried to say something, but she couldn’t seem to talk, the words all jumbled up and nonsensical. Some of the students thought she was having a fit, and they ran screaming for help. Nest was as shocked as they were, but for a different reason. She knew what had happened. She couldn’t explain it, but she understood what it was. She had felt the magic’s rush, like a gasp of breath as it left her body. She had felt it entangle Lori, its cords wrapping tightly and implacably about the other girl’s ankles. She would never forget the horrified look on Lori Adami’s face. She would never forget how it made her feel.
They were suspended from school for fighting. Nest had debated how much she should tell Gran, who was the one she had to answer to for any sort of misbehavior, but in the end, as she almost always did, she told her everything. She found she needed to talk to someone about what had happened, and Gran was the logical choice. After all, wasn’t she the one who kept saying Nest had magic? Fine, then-let her explain this!
But Gran hadn’t said anything at first on hearing Nest’s tale. She merely asked if Nest was certain about what had happened and then let the matter drop. Only later had she taken Nest aside to speak with her, waiting until Old Bob was safely out of the house.
“It isn’t as strange as you might think that you should be able to do magic, Nest,” she told her. They were sitting at the kitchen table, Nest with a cup of hot chocolate in front of her, Gran with her bourbon and water. “Do you know why that is?”
Nest shook her head, anxious to hear her grandmother’s explanation.
“Because you are your mother’s daughter and my granddaughter, and the women of this family have always known something about magic. We aren’t witches or anything, Nest. But we have always lived around magic, here by the park, by the feeders, and we’ve known about that magic, and if you live next to something long enough, and you know it’s there, some of it will rub off on you.”
Nest looked at her doubtfully. Rub off on you?
Her grandmother leaned forward. “Now, you listen to me carefully, young lady. Once upon a time, I warned you never to tell anyone about the feeders. You didn’t pay attention to me then, did you? You told. And do you remember the sort of trouble it got you into?” Nest nodded. “All right. So you pay attention to me now. Using magic will get you into a whole lot worse trouble than talking about feeders. It will get you into so much trouble I might not be able to get you out. So I am telling you here and now that you are not to use your magic again. Do you hear me?”