The music was too loud, like a thousand off-key sirens blaring into my ears. I weaved between dozens of figures I barely recognized, their laughter echoing off the walls, blending with the music in a serenade of mockery.

I needed to get away before someone figured out what I had been doing before this.

“Whoa there!”

I paused and glanced up. My vision was already blurring, and I had to wait a second for my eyes to focus. “…Oscar?”

My childhood friend stared back at me with a sly smile. “The one and only.”

Relief flooded through me. Thank God, one of these faces finally had a name.

“How are you holding up?” Oscar asked cooley, stirring the cherry in his drink. He took me in, his gaze trailing down my stained collared shirt and untied tie. Wait, was I swaying? I couldn’t remember.

I stumbled a little, and Oscar caught my arm. “I think you need to sit down,” he murmured into my ear.

I shook my head determinately. “No. I need to—“ I paused and doubled over, the contents of my stomach churning dangerously. “Okay, maybe I need to sit down,” I croaked, reddening. “But please, I need… away from here.”

Oscar took the hint and helped guide me through the masses. I tried to smile weakly if people waved, but there’s no way they didn’t notice the condition I was in.

Excellent.

Once we got to a private room, Oscar quickly shut the door and flicked on the light. I looked around and realized we were in a small, dim parlor, with two mahogany chairs and a worn-out carpet.

“Take a seat,” he said.

But, embarrassingly enough, I doubled over again and missed the chair. He quickly grabbed a tiny trash bin in the corner and tossed it to me.

The contents of my stomach all came out at once, in one horrifying, disgusting sound.

And then… two more times after that.

Once I was done, I collapsed on the floor, panting heavily. Oscar bent over me. “I didn’t realized you’d had that much to drink,” he muttered.

I shut my eyes. “No,” I croaked. “It wasn’t the drinks. I was… Casting…”

“C-casting?!” Oscar spluttered, backing away.

Oh shoot. I forgot I had never told him about my powers. My sister Ethica was right. It hadn’t been good to keep so much from so many people for so long.

“As in, casting a spell casting?!”

I stared at the ceiling with a solemn expression, unable to meet his gaze. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you…”

We lapsed into silence. I watched Oscar’s expression, shifting from terror to shock to utter disbelief, like all those I had told about my magical powers always did.

That was part of the reason I had kept this secret from him. It was all just so overwhelming, for me and it would’ve been for him. Oscar was a good kid. He didn’t deserve that kind of weight on his shoulders.

But here we were, 10 years later, and I was watching feelings of betrayal stirring in his eyes.

“I thought we were friends,” Oscar began.

I shook my head and sat up a little. “It’s nothing like that—“

“Than what is it like?” he said sharply. My mouth went dry. I had never, in all those years we were friends, heard him speak like that.

“I-I—“ I searched for the right words. “I didn’t want you to have to deal with it. It would’ve been a burden of a secret. You know how people around here feel about magic…”

“I was your best friend!” Oscar shouted. “How could you not have told me?!”

“Oscar, I was sixteen. People make mistakes at that age—“

“Not ones like this.”

I went quiet. He didn’t understand. He could never understand, what it was like to have a power like Casting, where the people of the Woods called on you to protect them and you couldn’t refuse. That was my duty, in exchange for the gift of magic.

His parents weren’t from the Woods. He didn’t get it. But everything in my body still felt regret.

“I came here to help you,” he said icily. “I thought this was just another of your uncle’s miserable parties. But here you are, using your magic and having all the fun without me. Nice to see you again, by the way.”

And he stormed out.