by A W Hartoin
“Well, I want a cat and a broomstick, I guess.”
“We don’t have broomsticks.”
Ella bustled in. “Mom, we’re late and Luke and Caleb are fighting again.”
“I’ll take you,” said Mom.
My sisters hurried out the front door. I followed, dragging my feet. Mom couldn’t bring Beatrice into town. That was what you called a worst-case scenario. When I opened the door I found a raven perched on the porch swing. It squawked, turned its head, and stared at me with a beady eye.
Mom pushed me out the door. When she saw the raven she said, “What are you doing here?”
The bird squawked again.
Then Mom gave me the beady eye. “Do you talk to him?”
“Um, it’s not really talking. I just tell him he’s gross.”
Ella yelled about our lateness from the van. On top, the four other ravens hopped around, pooping and being generally disgusting.
“Interesting,” said Mom as we got in the van and drove off.
I didn’t think it was interesting. It was downright disturbing. Witches were supposed to have cats. No one ever said anything about llamas or ravens. If I had to be what I was, I at least wanted a nice cat to purr and curl up with, not some freaky bird with huge nasty claws or God forbid, Beatrice.
Mom didn’t get out of the car when we got to school, although I suspected she was tempted by the way she kept smiling at me in the rearview mirror. When I looked back to make sure she didn’t, the ravens landed on the roof and made a huge racket. Luckily, we were so late no one else was in the parking lot.
I let Ella and April lead the way to the auditorium. I’d been counting the days until school started, but now that it was time I wanted to turn around and catch Mom before she got out of the parking lot.
Ella opened the auditorium door. A burst of music came out into the courtyard and stopped me completely. Ella saw me stop as she waved April inside. “What’s wrong with you?”
April stepped back and closed the door.
Mr. Hubbert’s shoulders tensed the moment April MacClarity closed the auditorium door instead of entering. He’d caught a glimpse of Puppy’s worried face and feared Puppy wouldn’t have the strength to face the school so soon after the incident with Jason Greenbow. He didn’t know how much strength the boy had left after everything that had happened.
Violet had told him the story when she’d invited him and Lorraine to spend the last week of summer at Camp. Lorraine’s cancer treatment was finished and she’d been thrilled when Violet asked them. Camp was just what he and Lorraine had imagined it. The house was ramshackle, but filled with laughter and fabulous food. Violet and Calla fed Puppy and Lorraine six meals a day whether they were hungry or not. Lorraine gained ten pounds.
Violet had hoped seeing Mr. Hubbert would help Puppy transition back to school, but Puppy hardly spoke a word to him or anyone else. He slept fourteen hours a day and blood continually seeped through the large bandages on his cheek. He didn’t join The Pack in their baseball games or swimming. Both he and Lorraine camped out on a pair of lounge chairs Violet set up for them on the lawn overlooking the river.
On the last day when Mr. Hubbert was bringing them bowls of peach cobbler, a gentle shower started and he paused to look up at the blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds. When he looked back at the lounge chairs, he saw Puppy reach out and take Lorraine’s hand. Their fingers intertwined, and it might’ve been Mr. Hubbert’s imagination, but he thought he saw a tiny spark ignite in the instant when their palms touched. Mr. Hubbert stared as the chantilly cream melted off the cobbler and dripped over the edges of the bowls, sliding over his fingers and falling in thick, gooey plops on his bare feet. Then he heard Puppy’s voice, soft through the raindrops.
Puppy sang slowly, “Showers washed all my cares away. I wake up to a sunny day.”
Mr. Hubbert listened until Puppy finished the song and then walked around the lounge chairs to see Puppy and Lorraine both sleeping, their fingers still intertwined. Lorraine’s face was curved into a smile. She looked different, like someone had peeled away the layers of illness and revealed the healthy woman underneath. Violet appeared at his side and persuaded him to let them sleep. He allowed her to lead him away, but watched them from the shelter of the porch, eating the bowls of cobbler himself. When the sun came through the clouds, they woke and saw him on the porch with his empty bowls. They smiled, their hair damp and dripping. The dusk came as they walked to the house, arm in arm, bathing them in a purplish, muted light. Perfect. Different people altogether.
In the auditorium, Mr. Hubbert sat down on the stage next to Lorraine to compose himself. Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes. The memory of Puppy taking his wife’s hand so tenderly, so loving, was a treasure to be counted alongside his grandfather’s desk and the wedding ring Lorraine had placed upon his finger. He took Lorraine’s hand now, savoring the vitality it radiated, and watched the auditorium doors, praying that Puppy could find the strength to come through and get on with the rest of his life.
“You don’t have to go in, if you don’t want to,” said April to me.
“Yes, he does. We have to get our homerooms, our class lists, and everything.” Ella tapped her foot and sighed.
My sisters stood side by side looking like they had on the last day of school, pressed and perfect, their hair braided and beribboned. The feeling of déjà vu was strong enough to make me woozy. It was only two and a half months, but I couldn’t remember what it was like not to know the things I knew. I tried to forget Miss Pritchett’s blood and screaming, Shasta’s stepfather, and the way lung tissue looked on a ceiling, but they wouldn’t go away and leave me in peace.
“You get them. We’ll wait out here,” said April.
“No. It’s okay,” I said. “I have to do it sometime.”
“See,” said Ella. “He can’t wait to show off his scar.”
“You make it sound like something to be proud of,” said April.
“It is,” said Ella, adjusting her skirt to the perfect line. “He saved Miss Pritchett. I’m proud of him, aren’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Well, that’s it then.” Ella opened the door, and the song “Better Now” geared up and erupted out of the opening.
I smiled and walked in ahead of my sisters. As soon as I stepped over the threshold, Frank and Cole ran over. Frank went past me to hold April’s hand.
Cole scowled at them, but not for long. He leaned over and whispered, “Can I ask Ella out on a real date?”
“Even if I said yes, she’d say no,” I said.
“Why?” Cole flashed his best, most effective smile at the two dozen girls drooling over him. “I’m pretty cool, aren’t I?”
“She knows all about you.”
“When you say all about me...?”
“She knows what you did with Tiffany and Suzie.”
“You told your sister that?”
“No, I didn’t. But I would’ve if I thought she wanted to date you, which she doesn’t.”
“I’m not that bad,” said Cole.
“Then stop smiling like that.”
Cole’s grin dropped off his face. “I can’t believe she knows.”
“Everybody knows,” I said.
Abe and Tom came up and punched me in the shoulders a dozen times to, I guess, congratulate me. They dragged me from group to group, regaling them with the story I planned to tell. I didn’t have to say a word, just smile and nod. That seemed enough for everybody. It was certainly enough for me.
Then we got our class schedules and homeroom assignments and went to find our new teachers.
“I never thought we’d get the same homeroom again,” said Cole.
I couldn’t reply because Melody was jabbering on about how brave I was and I started to feel better, better than better. I felt pretty damn awesome. Dr. Jobs said the scar was permanent. My mom didn’t get out of the car. Shasta had expanded her business and hired ten employees. Her mom
got out of prison on parole. Luke and Caleb were getting along, more or less. Cole wasn’t going to date my sisters. Sophie winked at me when I walked by her. Okay, so I didn’t know what it meant, but it was pretty great. And I had Mrs. Pickler for homeroom. It was going to be the sweetest year ever.
A teacher told us the assembly was about to begin, so Frank, Cole, and I sat with our new homeroom in the long rows of rickety metal chairs and ate the chocolates Mrs. Pickler handed out. Chocolates on the first day. Sweet. I leaned back and waved to people as they pointed me out. The school board and teachers settled in their seats. Mrs. Hubbert was there, sitting in an armchair brought in special for her. She smiled at the crowd. Her face had filled out and she even had a little color. Mr. Hubbert stood up and made his usual welcoming speech.
When he was done, everyone stood up, but Mr. Hubbert waved us back down.
“Before we go to our new classrooms, we need to welcome someone back. Someone you all know and who had a very difficult summer.”
I straightened up in my seat and prepared to stand.
“Miss Eleanor Pritchett,” Mr. Hubbert said.
My mouth fell open. Frank and Cole gasped. The auditorium filled with buzzing whispers and exclamations. The door behind the stage opened, and Miss Pritchett walked out. She had a four-pronged cane, but made good progress to the microphone. Her bruises were almost gone, and her face was back to its original size. I hardly heard what she said. She had broken ribs, fractures in her hip, and internal injuries. How the hell could she be back?
“I want to assure all of you that I am up to the challenge of this year and none of what has happened has softened my resolve to give my students,” Miss Pritchett looked at me, “the very best of mathematical educations.”
What was she looking at me for?
A bead of sweat formed on my upper lip and I wiped it on my shirt.
Frank reached over and pointed to something on my schedule.
It said Sophomore Algebra, Miss Pritchett, second period.
“Oh, shit!” I said. My voice echoed, vibrating off the walls. The whole assembly burst out laughing.
“You should’ve let her die, dude,” said Cole.
“Another whole year of Bitch Pritchett,” I said. “I’ll never make it.”
“It’s only one period,” said Frank. “Besides, there’s always the lamps.”
“Or the glue,” said Cole.
“Or the paint,” said Frank.
The teachers stood up and began clapping for Miss Pritchett. The rest of the auditorium followed suit. A standing ovation for Miss Pritchett. Unbelievable.
Mr. Hubbert got Miss Pritchett a chair while everyone stood and clapped. Everyone, but me. Miss Pritchett sat and then focused on my face.
“Dude,” said Cole. “I think…I think she’s smiling at you.”
“I didn’t even know she could smile,” said Frank. “Do you think it’s a trick?”
I couldn’t tell, but I was tired of thinking the worst. I’d seen what that got me.
“Don’t fall for it,” said Cole.
I stood. “Too late.”
THE END
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About the Author
A.W. Hartoin grew up in rural Missouri, but her grandmother lived in the Central West End area of St. Louis. The CWE fascinated her with its enormous houses, every one unique. She was sure there was a story behind each ornate door. Going to Grandma’s house was a treat and an adventure. As the only grandchild around for many years, A.W. spent her visits exploring the many rooms with their many secrets. That’s how Mercy Watts and the fairies of Whipplethorn came to be.
As an adult, A.W. Hartoin decided she needed a whole lot more life experience if she was going to write good characters so she joined the Air Force. It was the best education she could’ve hoped for. She met her husband and traveled the world, living in Alaska, Italy, and Germany before settling in Colorado where she now lives with her family, a Great Dane, a skanky cat, and six bad chickens.
Also by A.W. Hartoin
Young Adult fantasy
Flare-up (An Away From Whipplethorn Short)
A Fairy's Guide To Disaster (Away From Whipplethorn Book One)
Fierce Creatures (Away From Whipplethorn Book Two)
A Monster’s Paradise (Away From Whipplethorn Book Three)
A Wicked Chill (Away From Whipplethorn Book Four)
To the Eternal (Away From Whipplethorn Book Five) To be released July 2016
Mercy Watts Mysteries
Novels
A Good Man Gone (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book One)
Diver Down (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Two)
Double Black Diamond (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Three)
Drop Dead Red (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Four)
In the Worst Way (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Five)
The Wife of Riley (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Six)
Short stories
Coke with a Twist
Touch and Go
Nowhere Fast
Dry Spell
A Sin and a Shame
Paranormal
It Started with a Whisper (Sons of Witches)