Clove Morgan giggled loudly, uncontrollably, in the middle of the school cafeteria, during an exam, the written portion of the final exam for her junior year at Witchyton High.

She knew, immediately, that she was under a spell. She had been under enough spells in the past 17 years, her whole life, to know when she was under one.

She cast her eyes around the room, looking for the witch who had cast the spell. She fixed her eyes on Juniper Moss, the only person in the cafeteria who wasn’t focused on her exam.

Juniper made eye contact with Clove and smiled maliciously.

Suddenly, and against her will, Clove burst into laughter.

This time, all of the witches in the room looked up from their exams to stare at Clove.

“Clove Morgan,” the exam proctor Mr. Ball said, “is there something funny about your exam?”

Clove felt like she was being burned all over from the tip of her head all the way down to the tips of her toes. She wanted to disappear. She had worked so hard for the past 3 years at Witchyton High to be above reproach, to be above speculation. She was first witch in the junior class, with excellent grades and great relationships with all of her classmates and teachers. She kept every hair on her head in place and her clothes never wrinkled or got stained.

She was just perfect enough to make sure that no one in Witchyton suspected the reason that she wasn’t perfect at all.

Clove knew that any mistake might shatter her flawless image. And she knew that, if her flawless image shattered, the witches might look beyond her image to her true self, to her one unforgivable flaw. And if that happened, she would die.

Clove had to spin this awkward laughter in her favor. But she didn’t know how she was going to do that. She couldn’t admit that she was under a spell. She was supposed to be a supremely powerful witch, the kind of witch who could easily laugh off a laughing spell.

Clove attempted to charm Mr. Ball with a smile.

Against her will, Clove’s smile turned into a look of horror.

“What is wrong, Clove?” Mr. Ball asked.

“Mr. Ball,” Clove laughed. “I’m not feeling well. I think it might be Jitteritis.”

“Jitteritis?” Mr. Ball asked.

“Yes,” Clove said as her face contorted. “I was sure you had heard of it, Mr. Ball, since you are so well read. I know you are surprised because it is so rare, Mr. Ball, but as you can see, I have all of the symptoms.”

“Yes,” Mr. Ball said. “I was only surprised because it is so rare. Yes, it looks like you do have Jitteritis, Clove. Please go to the front office and have them call your parents to take you home.”

“But Mr. Ball,” Clove said as she stuck out her tongue. “What about the test?”

“You’ll have to retake it when you have recovered,” Mr. Ball said. “Go now.”

As Clove walked through the cafeteria to the door, she purposefully passed by Juniper.

“Thank you for the extra day to study,” Clove hissed at Juniper. “I really appreciate it.” Clove didn’t need an extra day to study. She needed Juniper to think that she hadn’t broken the spell on purpose.

“I was hoping you would break it,” Juniper whispered at Clove as she removed the spell. “It was only a simple spell.”

“I won’t reveal my magic until the senior finals,” Clove said.

“Breaking a simple spell would hardly have revealed much,” Juniper said.

Clove didn’t answer. She knew that not breaking the spell had revealed much. She knew that the only reason no one suspected the truth was because she looked so perfect, too perfect to be so flawed.

While waiting for her ma to pick her up, Clove felt overcome with guilt that her ma was having to miss an important day at work to come to get her. If she had been a witch, if she had had magic, she would have been able to cast off Juniper’s spell, she wouldn’t have had to have left the exam.

Only Clove’s ma and her mom knew that Clove didn’t have magic. Not even Clove’s younger sister Rose knew her secret.

In the outside world, it was dangerous to be a witch. Witches were burned if they were found out. But it was the opposite in Witchyton. It was dangerous not to be a witch. And if anyone found out that Clove didn’t have magic, she would be burned.

Witches didn’t learn magic in school until senior year, and the more powerful witches often hid their magic until then to get a competitive edge against the other students.

Clove, her ma, and her mom had decided that Clove would go to stay with her mom’s parents, with her grandparents that she had never met, in the outside world, just before senior year started. Until then, Clove needed to be perfect and to hide her magic so that no one would suspect her secret. But maybe Clove should volunteer to leave home earlier. Maybe she was putting too much at risk by staying with her ma, her mom, and Rose.

Clove’s ma arrived to pick her up.

Clove smiled at her ma. She felt an overwhelming love for her. And she forgot all about volunteering to leave home early. She felt that one more summer with her family was worth any risk.