“Well, I hope you get everything you want,” Ms. Zia said, sounding like she meant it. Suddenly, she reached down underneath her desk. “And to help those wishes come true, and to make up for what should have been a much better day, I’ve got a little something for you.”
After some shuffling, she popped back up, this time holding a single cupcake with a candle on top.
“Ms. Z.—you didn’t have to do that!” I squealed, grateful that no one else was around to hear how excited I was over getting baked goods.
“Happy birthday, Brooklyn,” she said with a big smile. I blew out the flame and watched as the smoke swirled up into the air, making designs as it lifted and then disappeared. Ms. Zia took out a plastic knife and cut the cupcake in half, letting me choose my piece first. I reached out and grabbed the chunk closest to me, shoving half of it in my mouth at once. It was chocolate with a peanut butter filling and buttercream frosting. I nearly fainted with delight as I licked the leftovers from my fingers.
Ms. Zia delicately pulled a piece off her own section and popped it into her mouth. How did she manage to make everything look effortless? I made a note to try to be more like her when I was eating.
“So, any plans for the big day?” she asked, changing the subject. “You having a party or just taking a spin now that you’re officially a licensed driver?”
“Nah, we’re not really doing anything big,” I said, waving off the idea.
My parents actually had offered to throw me a big party in honor of the occasion, but then I would’ve had to invite people. And when nobody showed, my parents would’ve found out that I didn’t have any friends, and that was a conversation I really didn’t want to have. So I’d said that I just wanted to spend the night with them. They didn’t question me about it, since they knew they couldn’t give me my birthday present when people were around anyway.
“Do you think there’s a set of keys in your future?” Ms. Zia asked, suddenly sounding like a giddy teenager. “Man, when my parents gave me my first car, it was like love at first sight.”
I laughed as she got a dreamy look in her eyes. “They might let me take the old Ford around the block once or twice,” I said.
“I’m telling you, Brooklyn, you’re going to enjoy your freedom,” she said. “It’s going to change your life.”
I nodded, because it was true. My life was about to change—but not for the reasons Ms. Z. was thinking.
The truth was, I came from a family of witches, and up until now, I hadn’t been allowed to use my powers. But my parents had promised to unbind my gifts the day I turned sixteen. I knew through witching chat rooms that most magically inclined kids learned how to cast around the same time they learned how to walk. My parents, however, were beyond strict about magic. Their reasoning behind binding my powers was that they thought I should be mature enough to handle the responsibility it took to do magic safely. I think that, to them, magic equals freedom and my parents just weren’t ready to let go. They probably still weren’t ready, but they’d promised me that tonight was the night I would come into my heritage. After so many years of wishing I could use magic, I was itching to take my powers out for a test run.
And I already knew what my first spell was going to be.
“I think you’re right, Ms. Z.,” I said. “I have a feeling things are about to change around here.”
“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy biiiirthday, dear Brook-lyn.” My parents paused for dramatic effect. “Happy birthday to you!”
They’d insisted on singing, even though I’d pointed out that I was sixteen now and entirely too old for such childish traditions. When they were finished, they both laughed at their inability to sing on key and looked at me expectantly as they waited for what came next. For the second time that day, I blew out my birthday candles, wishing for the same thing I always did: a different life.
“Brilliant, just brilliant,” my mom said, clapping, when I’d blown them out. Mom watched a lot of British television and I think she wished she lived there. She thought the accent was so proper, and every once in a while she’d speak like the characters in her favorite shows. It used to bug me and Dad, but after a while we just sort of got used to it.
“I bet I know what you wished for,” my dad said, wagging his finger at me like I was a child misbehaving. He did that all the time. It was like he was in denial about the fact that I was no longer a toddler. It probably stemmed from the fact that he’d always wanted another kid, but Mom had said she was done after it took her thirty-six hours of nonstop pain to have me. She’d said if Dad wanted another child, he’d have to push it out himself.
“Let’s have some cake,” Mom said, already slicing into the vanilla cake with vanilla frosting. No matter how many times I requested something different, like raspberry filling or double fudge, it was always vanilla. My parents said they didn’t like riffraff in their cake.
And that pretty much summed up my family. Vanilla, hold the riffraff.
I waited as patiently as I could as my mom served us, my leg bouncing up and down anxiously below the table. After she handed me my piece, I practically inhaled it.
“Can we do it now?” I asked as I swallowed the last bit of cake.
“Patience, Brooklyn,” my dad said as he chewed slowly. “Your mother and I haven’t even finished our slices yet.”
I held in an aggravated sigh and tried to remind myself that I’d waited sixteen years for what was about to happen, so a few more minutes wouldn’t kill me. But it turned out to be the most excruciatingly long ten minutes of my life. And just when I thought I might explode, my parents pushed their plates away and sat back, finally full and happy.
“Here, let me get those,” I said, jumping up and clearing the table.
“Well, we should unbind your powers more often.” Mom chuckled, watching me go. “Maybe then I’d finally get you to do your chores.”
“Sure. Yeah,” I said, ignoring her tone. “Can we do it now?”
My parents looked at one another.
“Please?” I wanted to add, “You promised.” But I didn’t think whining would help my case, since I was trying to get them to see me as mature now.
My dad stood up and reached out his hand to help my mom up out of her chair. “Fine. But we’ll need a few things,” he said, walking into the living room. I followed after them like a puppy dog. “First, I need a bucket of water, a rose, cayenne pepper, peppermint oil, dirt from the backyard, a large candle, and a glass of milk.”
“Got it,” I said, disappearing at once to gather everything he mentioned. After several minutes of rummaging around the kitchen, I came back into the living room with my arms full. I placed each item on the coffee table, except for the bucket of water, which I put on the floor between us. My dad held the jar of dirt in his hands, which he’d been nice enough to retrieve for me. No girl should have to go digging around in the dirt, especially on her birthday.
While I’d been gone, my mom had left the room to retrieve a few items of her own. In her hands was an oversize leather-bound book with yellowing papers sticking out of the sides. I’d read on magicking boards that families like mine often had spell books. I wondered if this was ours.
“Please, remove your shoes, socks, and any jewelry you may have on and then step into the water,” my dad said.
Suddenly everything seemed so formal; it was a side of my parents I’d never seen before. I did what they said and hurried into the water, not worrying when a few splashes came up and over the bucket’s edge.
“First, we’ll add the peppermint,” Dad said, placing the oil in the water. The aroma filled the air instantly and I inhaled the scent deeply. “To enhance your memory as well as soothe your stomach so you can always trust your gut.”
I watched him bend down and pick up the bottle of red powder next. “Cayenne,” he said, sprinkling just a little near my feet, “to add a touch of heat to your spells when they call for it.”
It was more than wei
rd to hear my dad talk about heat in relation to me, but I willed myself to stay silent so that he’d continue with the spell. “Rose petals to remind you to be gentle with yourself and others. The power that comes along with performing magic can harden a person and often sweep them up in the moment. Sometimes you need to stop and smell the roses. Try to find the beauty in life.
“A little dirt from the earth to keep you grounded and make sure you always appreciate the gifts that the universe offers,” he said, dumping a fistful of the dark stuff right onto my foot. With a flick of his hand, he ignited a flame and lit the tall candle, placing it down into the bucket and away from my legs. It stood firmly in place, with more than half the pillar sticking out of the water. “And finally, a candle to light your way on all your journeys.”
“What’s the milk for?” I asked, noticing that it was still sitting on the table and hadn’t been added to the mixture yet.
My dad looked at me and then down at the glass. He blinked. “The cake made me thirsty.”
I rolled my eyes at him but didn’t say anything.
“Okay, so now we’re ready,” he said. “Mabel, do you have the offering?”
My mom stepped forward and presented him with a piece of string that was tied in a knot. I stared at it, noting that it didn’t appear to be anything special.
“Your father and I bound your powers when you were born, to ensure that you had a chance to grow up as a normal kid, free from the complications that magic can bring. As you know, we don’t use our powers much in this house and we hoped that by the time you came of age, you would respect the gifts that you were given and make similar decisions.”
In other words, they wanted me to choose to live a low-magic lifestyle. They hadn’t exactly been subtle about these desires as I grew up. It’s not like they’d hidden our gifts from me, but they’d made it very clear that I could live a normal life without using my powers. But all this did was make me feel like I didn’t fit in anywhere. I didn’t fit in as a normal teenager and I didn’t fit into the witching world.
I was over a decade behind in honing my skills, since my ’rents steered clear of that part of our life.
Thank God for the Internet, because without it, I wouldn’t know half the stuff I do about magic and casting. Through special message boards online called the witchboards, I was able to connect with other teen witches—nicknamed twitches on the boards—from around the world, so I wouldn’t be totally hopeless when the time came.
“We hope that we’ve shown you that you don’t need to use your powers if you don’t want to. It’s okay to be a normal teenager. You don’t have to stand out. Life’s a lot easier that way. And a lot safer, too.”
I wanted to scream and say that I was sick of being normal, because normal was boring, and boring people weren’t popular, and that being invisible sucked. But I didn’t. I kept my mouth clamped shut so they would finish.
“Are you sure you want this life?” my dad asked me.
I tried not to answer too quickly, but it was out of my mouth before I could stop myself. “Yes,” I said. Then, a little more calmly, “I’m sure.”
“All right.”
They took a step toward me. “Hold out your hand.” I did as they said, and my mom placed the knotted string in my palm, and then closed my fist around it. Then she put her hand over mine, and Dad put his on top of hers. “Now close your eyes.”
It hit me that this was the first spell I’d ever been involved in, and I began to get really nervous as I lowered my lids. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I knew I was ready for something to happen. Even if things didn’t turn out the way I’d always imagined they would, anything had to be better than the way my life had been going so far.
And with that thought, they started chanting:
Born free but quickly reined,
Thy powers were hidden but remained.
Deep inside thy bridled soul,
Discovery of thyself was the ultimate goal.
Here, this string ties thou to us,
Unwind, unfurl, undo thou must.
Though once bound, thy gifts are now free,
We wish thou well on life’s journey.
As they spoke the last words of the spell, I felt a whoosh of cold air flow through the room, whipping my hair around like we were in a wind tunnel. And then it stopped. I could feel that the atmosphere had changed around us and was almost scared to open my eyes. But I did anyway and looked down at my still balled-up fist.
My parents both withdrew their hands. After a few seconds, I hesitantly opened mine. The string was still inside, but now it was straight.
“Congratulations, Brooklyn,” my mom said. “You’re officially a practicing witch.”
“How do you feel this morning, sweetie?” my mom asked as I plopped down onto the kitchen chair the next day.
I yawned in response.
“Like I told you last night, it’s normal for a witch’s body to need to rest after coming into her powers. Having all of that magic coursing through you at once has a tendency to tap you out. Kind of like when you get a new cell phone and you have to charge it before using it.”
“Crap, I forgot to charge my cell phone,” I muttered as I snagged a piece of toast from the middle of the table and took a bite.
I was grumpy that morning and I couldn’t help it. I’d had so many things planned for the night my powers were released. But immediately following the big unbinding, I’d proceeded to pass out. And not in an “I’m a little tired, I think I’ll go to bed early” kind of way. It was more like I’d been slipped a sedative or something, and it was all I could do just to make it to my bed before I collapsed. I hadn’t even had the energy to change into pajamas. And even after sleeping like the dead for more than eleven hours, I still felt like I needed a few dozen Red Bulls if I was going to make it through the day.
I was mostly annoyed at the fact that I hadn’t been able to do any magic at all. There were so many things I’d wanted to try. Summoning spells, levitation, creating light out of darkness—I had a list I’d been making for the past year and figured I’d be able to get to at least some of them before I called it quits for the night. Instead, I’d pulled a snoozer.
What a waste.
There was one spell in particular that I’d been waiting forever to perform. And it was going to change my life, I just knew it. So when I awoke that morning, unchanged and more than slightly disappointed at how anticlimactic the whole thing had been, I couldn’t seem to tame my inner brat.
“Do I have to go to school today?” I asked, bordering on whiney. “I know it’s not technically my birthday anymore, but I think considering the circumstances . . .”
“Your exhaustion will wear off the more you get up and move,” my mom answered. She didn’t have to say no for me to realize that’s what she meant. My frown grew deeper. “Pretty soon, you’ll go back to feeling like normal again.”
“That’s what I’m hoping doesn’t happen,” I said as I took another bite of the toast.
My mom stopped bustling around the kitchen and stared at me for a minute as I nibbled on my breakfast. “You do look different, though,” she said, almost wistfully.
“I do?” I asked.
“A bit . . . older, maybe. I can’t believe how quickly you’re growing up, Brooklyn.”
“Oh, Mom,” I sighed, realizing her comment had nothing to do with my magical abilities. She was just having a parental moment.
Even so, by the time she dropped me off at school, I had to admit, I was beginning to believe her. There was a little extra pep in my step, and a tingling feeling in my fingers that wouldn’t go away, sort of like when your arm goes to sleep, only pleasant, not painful. Colors seemed brighter and I could swear that the noise around me was louder. Before long, I began to wonder whether other people could see the change in me too.
My pulse sped up as I caught sight of The Elite heading in my direction. Rhodes and Wheatley were goofing off per usual and Eliza was fully en
grossed in something on her phone. Gigi and Camden were walking hand in hand down the hall.
The sensation in my fingertips increased, and instead of letting my head drop to stare at the ground, I straightened my back and continued to walk straight toward them. This would be the moment of truth. If anything had changed at all in me, The Elite would surely notice.
They had to.
I sucked in a breath and held it as we got within feet of each other. I forced my legs to continue into The Elite’s path instead of walking around them like I typically would, and I began to panic. What if they didn’t notice me and we collided? Or worse, what if they noticed me and decided that I was that weird girl who wouldn’t get out of their way? What would that do to my chances of infiltrating the group? And worst of all, what if they recognized me from my milk shake humiliation the day before?
And then it was too late to reconsider. I was practically face-to-face with the most popular kids in school and I had no idea how to handle it. Just when I thought I might faint from whatever was about to happen, Gigi’s and Camden’s hands separated and the two parted like the Red Sea so I could pass between them. I thought I might have caught a flash of Gigi’s eyes looking at me as she passed, but it was all over so quickly that it was quite possible I’d imagined the whole thing.
As soon as I was on the other side of them, I stopped in my tracks and turned around. I couldn’t help but stare behind me as they left, and noticed that they didn’t bother to do the same. They continued on down the hallway, Clearview’s power couple linking back up after a few feet.
I felt myself slowly deflate as I watched them disappear.
Nothing was different. I may have been a year older and, now, a witch, but anything that I thought I’d felt was clearly perceptible only to me.
Once again I was the only one who knew I existed.
Feeling a whole new level of defeat, I dragged myself over to my locker and leaned into it, touching my forehead against the cool metal door. For a brief moment, I considered banging my head against it. How could I have let myself think things would be different? Instead, I closed my eyes and took a minute to collect myself.
What the Spell Part 1 Page 2