The world explodes around me, a wave of searing hot air and flames engulfing the walls.

People scream, some duck or try to run, but there is nowhere to run to; the fire is everywhere.

I stagger back, confused and afraid, and I see Mr. Donovan struggling to rise from the ground. I look around and see utter chaos as panic seizes my classmates. My head is spinning, my ears are ringing, and I'm having trouble understanding what just happened.

I'm suddenly aware that I feel empty, utterly empty. Every drop of magic has been drained from me in a single instant and I can finally breathe properly again without the weight of it pushing down on my lungs.

I fall over a desk and hit the ground hard, realizing that my sense of balance is completely shot. Mr. Donovan is on his feet now and he's running towards the door which is engulfed in fire. “Extinguetur!” he cries, pointing his wand at the door. The fire dies back for a moment, long enough for him to get it open. The fire is raging in the hallway as well, but there's enough room for us to get out, if we go now.

“Silence! Eyes on me!” he shouts, and there is magic in the words. The cries of fear are cut abruptly silent, and every head turns to face him. “Everyone line up and follow me, keep calm and treat this like a fire drill! Come on!”

People rush to form a line, pushing and shoving to get to the front of it. I'm still on the ground and I can't seem to find my feet, and the line has started moving, leaving without me and I don't know how I'm going to catch up if I can't even stand--

And then someone is beside me, hauling me to my feet. They slip under one of my arms so they're supporting me and together we hurry to the back of the line.

Fire is everywhere, in every classroom and down every hallway, and our line meets up with others fleeing classrooms until a few hundred students all burst out of the front doors, the path cleared by the extinguishing magic of a dozen teachers who keeps the flames at bay, but only momentarily.

By the time the entire school is outside, the fire is back again and bigger than ever, completely engulfing the right wing of St. Bosco's. The fire alarm is howling, screaming its banshee EEEEE, EEEEE, EEEEE until the sound of it echoes in our ears. Little kids are crying, and some older ones are as well, and everyone looks confused and terrified.

The person supporting me lets go, letting me fall to the ground.

“Didn't I tell you?” a voice shouts, and I look up to see Felix standing over me, his face contorted in anger. “I knew something like this would happen! I told you not to try it. You were too full of magic and you couldn't keep your mind focused, and you blew the damn place to hell!”

Students and teachers are looking in our direction, their attention drawn by Felix's shouts.

The next thing I know Ms. Cross is crouching down beside me, looking into my eyes and inspecting me for injuries.

“Are you okay, Adam? What happened?” she asks.

“I... I blew up the school,” I somehow manage to gasp, without really understanding what the words mean. I can see the burning building in front of me, the place that has been my home for the past three years, and I know that I had made it happen, but I somehow can't really believe it.

I've been using the expression “blow up the school” for years to describe what could happen if I lost control, but it had always just been hyperbole. I'd never really expected it was a real possibility.

And yet here I am, staring at the worst possible scenario.

Somehow El finds me through all the chaos. I think she can because the people nearby have formed a sort of circle around me to stare, as if they are afraid to get too close, and who else could be in the middle of it but me?

She forces her way through the crowd and runs over to me, grabbing me by the shoulders to shake me, and then pulling me in for a tight hug.

“Stars and Sorcery, thank Hecate you're alright! What happened?”

“I blew up the school,” I repeat, unable to tear my eyes away from the flames that lick higher and higher.

Ms. Cross only stops to make sure I'm in one piece before leaving me to El's care and returning to her duties as headmistress. She gets all the teachers to take the students to the field and line us up, just like we do for fire drills, and everyone willingly falls into line, glad to let routine procedure take over.

The fire department arrives in ten minutes and they immediately set to work containing the fire, trying to keep it from spreading to the as-of-yet untouched left wing of the building.

No one will talk to me, but whispers spread quickly, those who were in class with me telling the story of what had happened to anyone standing nearby. Even those that I consider friends keep their distance, muttering to each other and casting me frightened or angry glances.

Parents are called, and soon the parking lot is filled and students are being evacuated. A few protest, saying that their things are still in the building and they can't leave behind their phones or laptops, but frightened parents drag them away into their cars.

I get into the car with El and her siblings, but not before Ms. Cross stops me to tell me that she'll be in contact as soon as possible, and until then not to speak to anyone about what happened. El's mom is instructed to pretend that I'm not staying with them if anyone asks, until Ms. Cross herself says otherwise.

I'm squished in the backseat between Noemi and Ryan. Noemi is freaking out about her wallet still being in her backpack back at the school, with $51, all the money she owns in the world, inside. Ryan is crying, the sound of his wails almost drowning out Noemi's.

Twenty minutes later we arrive at El's house, and El wrangles her siblings into the living room where she puts on a movie to distract them while Mrs. Fuentes leads me into the bathroom.

She makes me bend over the sink, and she puts a warm, wet towel on the back of my neck. I stay like that while she fills up the bathtub and searches in the medicine cabinet.

Finally she pulls out a tub of Vic's vapor rub and proffers it to me.

“You're going to take a hot bath, and put this on your chest,” she instructs.

“But I'm not sick,” I say weakly.

“You'll do it anyway." Her tone leaves no room for argument.

I emerge from the bathroom an hour later, not feeling any better, but smelling strongly of menthol.

El has been sent to Burger King while I was in the bath, and there is a mountain of greasy food on the table.

I suddenly realize that I haven't eaten a full meal in almost a week, and a wave of painful hunger hits me so hard that I'm nearly bowled over. I stuff my face, eating so much that I only stop when I feel like I'm about to throw it all back up.

It's still only three in the afternoon by now, but I'm exhausted. Mrs. Fuentes seems to sense that, or more likely she can tell just by looking at my face. She kicks the kids out of the living room and makes up the couch for me, piling up pillows and blankets into a small mountain. I hardly have enough energy to mumble a slurred "thank you" before I fall onto the couch, and my eyes close and sleep takes me without having the chance to really comprehend what I have done.