Sitting on a small, uncomfortable chair across from two of the three headmasters, is not how I wanted to start off my school year here.

“Mr. Daniels, thank you so much for showing Mackenzie to our office,” one of the headmasters says. He’s dressed in all black: black trousers, black tie, black shirt. It stands out in complete contrast to his fair skin and white-blond hair.

“Yes, that will be all,” the other, Mr. Lockhart, adds adjusting his blue tie.

“Actually, I’d like to stay. If that would be acceptable?” he asks, taking up a position sitting on the edge of a low filing cabinet, clearly not waiting for an answer.

“Yes, yes, that will be fine. Now, Mackenzie, it appears you lost control of your fire power in your lesson today?” His beady eyes narrow on me, and I feel myself squirm in my seat.

“But, sirs, it was my first lesson, it was just an accident,” I mumble. I try to look anywhere but at the headteacher dressed in black. His beady eyes are giving me the creeps.

“It was many students’ first lesson today, and yet, they did not set fire to their classrooms,” he replies.

Yeah, but they didn’t have a teacher that gave them no frickin instruction. I bite my lip to keep in my retort, instead casting my eyes downward.

“Mr. Layan, we have had other students lose control in the past, and I remember one who destroyed the swimming pool. I believe all Miss Crowe needs is training,” Mr. Daniels says, interrupting whatever Mr. Layan was going to say next. They have a frickin swimming pool here?

“That may be true, but still, this is not acceptable,” he says, his tone frustrated that Mr. Daniels is sticking up for me. Even I don’t really understand why he is.

“Of course not,” Mr. Daniels says, his voice placating as he watches me closely. Mr. Lockhart is watching me, too, but doesn’t say a word. Just sits, with his hands folded on his lap.

“We have no other option than to give you detention, where I hope to see an improvement on your powers in six months,” Mr. Layan says. I get the feeling out of the three of the headmasters, he is the one with the most power over the school.

“Six months?” I ask, shocked. That’s seriously steep for a little mistake on the first day. Just, you know, accidently making fire tornadoes in your first class must happen all the time. I barely hold in a laugh at that thought.

“Yes. We would usually suspend a student for an incident like this, but we will let it pass this once,” he replies, and looks to Mr. Lockhart, who nods his agreement.

“Why?” I ask, my voice dripping with suspicion. I have a feeling it’s because of my twelfth mark, and that they want to know what it does. Don’t we all? I know I shouldn’t have said anything when he glares at me, not answering.

“Mr. Daniels, you will take over detention every Sunday. Hopefully, you can teach Miss Crowe some control over her powers,” Mr. Lockhart says, finally speaking, but it’s not to me. Frickin great, the one day I have off, and I’m going to be in detention.

“I would be happy to,” Mr. Daniels responds, and I look over at him, his warm eyes watching me closely, and his lips turn up in a smirk. Maybe detention wouldn’t be so bad? I mean, at least there is a good view guaranteed. He stands up and walks to the door, holding it open for me.

“Bye,” I say to them, and they nod, one after the other. It’s a little creepy. I walk out of the room and wait for Mr. Daniels to close the door behind me.

“I’m afraid we have missed lunch while we waited for the headmasters to get here. What class do you have this afternoon?” he asks me.

“Divination,” I say.

“That’s on the top floor, come on,” he replies, nodding his head and walking down the corridor. I catch up and walk by his side. There are a few students rushing around, they don’t look our way as they hurry to their classes.

“Tell me what really happened in fire class today, Miss Crowe,” he asks me, his voice soft, but there’s an undertone of concern in it that I pick up on. He probably thinks I’m mad after seeing me punch a wall earlier.

“Why do you think anything happened other than me setting fire to a classroom?” I ask, and he smiles down at me as we get to the staircase.

“Just a hunch,” he says, but there’s a note of humour in his tone. I follow him up the first staircase, and then we go up the next.

“Miss Tinder didn’t explain how to stop my power. I imagined a ball of flames like she asked, and then dropped it, thinking it would go out. I then tried to use air to put it out, but that only made fire tornados–” I stop blabbering on when I trip up a step, and his arm catches me, pulling me close to his chest as he stops me from falling. Holy smokes, this teacher is way too attractive up close. I can see the deep-green of his eyes behind his glasses and the smooth, faultless skin. How is he this friggin attractive and my teacher, a teacher I can’t just kiss?

“Careful, Miss Crowe,” he says in a whisper, his arm still around my waist. The sound of a bell ringing startles him, making him step back and clear his throat. We carry on walking as he speaks, and we get to the next set of stairs.

“Never use air to put out fire. It only feeds it. Water would have been ideal,” he explains.

“I was going to call water when a guy walked through the flames and put them all out,” I say, thinking of the jackass. I’m going to get him back for pointing me the wrong way to the headmasters’ office and for being a general ass.

“This is your classroom, Miss Crowe,” Mr. Daniels says, and I turn back to look at him.

“Thank you,” I reply.

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll see you Sunday in the gym at six and not a minute later,” he instructs with a deadly serious face.

“In the afternoon?” I ask, concerned that he is going to say the morning. He only laughs.

“The morning, Mackenzie,” he says my name softer than the rest of his words, and he turns to walk away. My eyes drop to the amazing ass he has in his tight clothes, then up to the muscular chest and soft-brown hair.

Damn. This teacher is going to be the death of me.