“It was alright,” I said with a shrug.
“What teachers you got?”
I pulled my crumbled schedule out of my pocket and handed it over. He chuckled. “Watson’s a piece of shit, so have fun with that.”
I laughed. “I could tell. He did nothing but stare at girls the whole time.”
“You have Reeves for math though. She’s a dope teacher, and she loves the Gardenside kids. She has a few fosters of her own.”
“That’s cool.”
Tomás handed me schedule back and we sat in silence for a few moments until the bus took off from the parking lot and started its drive back to Gardenside. The bus reached the first light when Tomás spoke again. “What’s your idea of fun, Miss Rembrandt?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I do a lot of stuff by myself, mostly. I think that’s a foster thing though.”
“Yeah, totally.” Tomás opened up his backpack and pulled out a book. “But the best thing about Gardenside is we’re all fosters. So we can share our favorite things.”
He handed the book to me and I stared at the cover. It looked like a dark book, with a title like Haunted Hills, and floral designs decorating the words. It reminded me of old movie theater posters. I turned it over, reading the blurb and discovering that my assumption of the genre was right.
Haunted Hills, the debut novel from Catherine Whittaker. About a woman who moves to care for a family secluded in a forest, the mother sick from an unknown illness. But a sinister secret hides in the walls of the home and the hills that the house sits upon, the blurb read.
“It sounds really good.”
“I love haunting thrillers,” Tomás admittedly sheepishly.
“Can I read it?” I asked, holding the book up to my chest. “I’ll be nice to it, promise.”
“It’s yours. Just give it back in time for me to return it to the library.”
I smiled brightly, tucking the book into my backpack. “Thank you,” I murmured as my cheeks flushed red. I groaned inwardly.
“Can I ask a kinda personal question?”
“Sure,” I said.
“Why does your face do that? Get all red?”
I shrugged. “I have a skin condition called rosacea. It’s not like, life-threatening or anything. Just annoying. My cheeks and nose get really red when I’m anxious or embarrassed, or if I eat certain foods. It can get really itchy too, but I have a cream for if it gets too bad.”
“Oh, that’s kinda cool.”
“You think so?” I glanced up at my friend.
“Yeah, like wearing your heart on your sleeve.”
My hand went to cover my face as I felt my cheeks get warmer. I smiled. I couldn’t tell if it was the rosacea or an actual blush.
We spent the rest of the bus ride in silence, and once the bus reached Gardenside, the kids stepped off and headed inside.
“Noa!” Elsa called as soon as I came into the door. I looked towards my foster parent, who had a huge smile on her face. “Can you do me a favor and help the littles out with their homework? The twins, and Taylor, too.”
“Sure, Mrs. Montgomery." I dropped my bag in the foyer. “Where are they?”
“In the library.”
“I can help too,” Tomás dropped his bag next to mine and put his hands in his pockets.
We headed into the library, which was towards the back of the house and less of a library and more of an office with a lot of books. There were three tables similar to in a school library, and four bookshelves filled to the brim with mostly children’s books, but some young adult. The twins sat at a desk with another girl a few years older, who must’ve been Taylor.
“Noa!” Josie cried when she saw me. She put both hands in the air, then dropped them dramatically. “I can’t possibly do my handwriting sheets right now.”
I walked up to the younger girl and ruffled her hair. “Yeah? Why is that?”
“Because it’s gonna be my birthday soon—" Josie started, but was cut off by Taylor.
“Josie, shush.”
“Hey,” I spoke sternly. “Don’t talk to her like that.”
“Well, she knows better. And it doesn’t concern you,” Taylor spoke matter-of-factly, flipping her brown hair over her shoulders. She bent back down over her math homework, scribbling circles onto a graph as she plotted points.
I decided to ignore the girl instead of argue, so I sat down next to Josie. “What’s for homework, guys?”
Tomás sat down next to Harry, who was coloring. Josie hit her brother. “We have handwriting sheets for H aalll the way to M. And Miss Paula wants us to do it exactly like she does, and I think that’s unfair,” Josie spoke with dramatic flair like it was the end of the world to practice her handwriting.
“Well,” Tomás piped up. “How about we write some words that have those letters and get to the handwriting sheets later?”
“Fine,” Josie grumbled. “But I wanna write Noa’s name.”
“You can’t just write whatever you want, Josie,” Harry said, sticking his tongue out at her.
“I don’t wanna hear it man, you’re coloring.”
Tomás and I both laughed, and he then stood to grab blank paper out of the printer so that we could get to work.
CHAPTER 7
Throughout the evening and the entirety of the next morning, I ignored Lily’s every attempt to speak to me. I simply put in headphones or walked away, counting down the days until Elsa would move me. Elsa wanted to wait for the weekend, as to not be distracted with a move until school was out. There were still empty rooms in the house, so it wasn’t like anyone else had to be moved. But I just accepted that for now, this would be the situation.
Elsa didn’t cook super extravagant breakfasts each morning like she did on weekends. For school days, it was mostly a fend for yourself type thing, with bagels or fruit or yogurt. The younger kids usually got cereal. I went downstairs after dressing and headed into the kitchen. The toaster wasn’t being used, but it was a pain to get from one side of the kitchen to the other. Fourteen kids getting ready for school at the same time as a nightmare, but it was also strangely nice.
I placed two pieces of bread in the toaster and waited for it to pop out again. I looked for the butter in the fridge and found none, but I turned my head and saw it sitting on the counter already, having been used by someone else and just never put back. I slid butter on the now toasted pieces of bread, then looked around for the cinnamon and sugar to sprinkle over. It was one of my favorite breakfasts, and super simple to make. Once it was ready, I sat down at the breakfast nook, surrounded by a few younger kids I still didn’t know very well. I recognized Alana’s younger sister, Jane, and the twins were sitting there too. But two kids I still didn’t know the names of.
The bus left each morning at 6:45, to get all the kids to school on time. I grabbed my bag from the foyer where I had left it the night prior—Kennedy gave me one of those “don’t do that again” looks, which I understood. If all the kids left their things all over the place, it’d be a disaster. Then all the kids headed outside to board the bus, which took off exactly when it was supposed to.
I sat next to Tomás again. We were quiet, sleepy this morning. I pulled out Tomás’s book and continued to read. I had started it last night, and Tomás was right—it was dark, full of twists and turns that left my heart racing with every discovery the main character made.
The elementary kids got off first at their respective school. “Have a good day, Noa!” Josie called as she stepped off the bus, turning back to wave. I waved back with a smile.
“She really loves you, doesn’t she?” Tomás asked with a chuckle.
“It’s cute,” I murmured, not really paying too much attention to the girl’s affection for me.
“Josie Segovia is not one to like people though. You must be special.”
Special. I was reminded of Lily’s story, about how she wouldn’t have told me anything unless I was a very important person. I had never been important
. Since coming to Gardenside, I seemed to be surrounded by people who saw me as important or special. Saw me as a friend.
The bus dropped off the middle schoolers, and then came time for the high schoolers to get off. I stuffed Haunted Hills into my backpack and stood up, slinging the strap of my backpack over my right shoulder. I waved bye to Tomás and headed over to the school library. First period didn’t start for another half hour, so I had more time to read. I settled in a bean bag chair, put headphones in, and lost myself in Rachel’s story. I had just reached the part of the book where Rachel was noticing that the sick mother, Marie, might not have been sick at all, and was instead stalking throughout the house at night, causing trouble.
The bell rang to signal the beginning of the passing period and I stood to pack up my stuff. I kept headphones in and kept my head down as I walked through the busy halls. Seamont was a small town with a small high school. The junior class had to have been no more than one hundred people. But with such tight hallways, it felt like much more.
I found Watson’s class easily, not even having to check my schedule to remember the room number. The students were bustling about the classroom as Watson wrote lesson plans on the board.
As I walked in between the aisles, back to my seat near the back, I saw a familiar face—well, a sneering one. A pretty girl with blonde hair and an absolute resting bitch face. She narrowed her eyes at me as I passed, then once I was out of view, she spoke: "Unwanted bitch."
I chose to ignore her. I sat down just as the bell rang, and Watson began to talk about the journalling prompt of the day. I had no idea what he was talking about, and he didn’t explain for his new student, either. After he finished explaining the prompt, he sat back down behind his desk. I wanted to raise my hand and ask but decided against it. I noticed everyone around me was scribbling away in a composition book. Some sort of writing warmup. I wasn’t going to do it. And I didn’t need to. I wouldn't be at this school long enough.
When the bell rang, I was one of the first to leave. But not before RBF chick stuck her well-shaven leg out just enough for me to almost trip. I caught my bearing quickly just as the chick and her friends erupted into laughter. I whirled around. "Who in the Sam hell are you anyway?"
"Oh you don't know?" one of the other girls sneered as RBF chick stood up slowly, adjusting her short skirt and slinging her backpack over her arm.
"Madison Scott, mayor's daughter." She said it matter-of-factly as if that information was what defined this chick.
"Aren't you precious?" I snapped. "Don't fucking touch me."
"At least I'm someone's kid and not Gardenside trash,” she mocked then smiled knowingly. "It's not like Gardenside's gonna be around for much longer anyway if my father has anything to do with it."
I reacted solely in anger, feeling my cheeks flush with emotion. I snatched Madison's arm, gripping as tightly as I could. Madison cried out, as the room suddenly became engulfed in wind, our hair whipping violently around us, papers flying.
Madison screamed, but I just tightened my grip. Madison looked to get paler and paler, her veins popping out of her neck and skull, graying as Madison's screams grew weaker. I gasped, letting go of the girl's arm and stepping back. Madison collapsed to the ground as her friends erupted into chaos. "Psycho!" they screamed.
I stared down at Madison's practically lifeless body on the ground in complete horror. I quickly turned on my heels, rushing to leave the room and accidentally shoulder checking the two who stood at the door. I didn't even stop to apologize. I was too concentrated on leaving, escaping.
CHAPTER 8
The crisp air hit my face like a ton of bricks, bringing my panic down from ninety to zero. I let the cold ground me, bringing me back to the here and now. What just happened?
"Noa!"
I turned quickly, only to see Cyrus running towards me, absolute fear in his eyes. Nope. I turned and fast-walked as far as I could from him, and once I left campus completely I broke into a full run.
"Noa! Stop!"
I kept running, pushing my burning calves to work harder, go faster. Did Cyrus see? Did Cyrus know? Know what, though? What about me was a secret that even I didn't know about myself?
I felt my backpack yank backward, sending my body back with it. I caught myself from falling completely, grabbing on to Cyrus's arm and letting him catch me. He enveloped me in his arms, and I took a moment of shock and surprise to just look at him. The boy so handsome, whom I'd been smitten for until he opened his mouth. Then his personality just soured the whole thing.
I composed myself and gave us distance.
"What?" I snarled. "You here to make fun of me again?"
"I'm not making fun of you, Noa. I never was."
I scoffed. "Bullshit, Cyrus."
"Lily wasn't telling you a story."
"Bullshit!"
The wind picked up, blowing leaves, branches, and other foliage around like the two teens were standing in the eye of a tornado. I paid no mind to the phenomenon, but Cyrus must've. He gestured his hands all around. "Look at what you're doing, Noa!"
"I'm not doing anything! I'm just talking!"
"No, you're feeling." Cyrus cupped my face into his hands, his gray eyes staring deep into my own.
A wave of calmness fell over me, and the tornado I created dissipated. I felt no anger, no despair... I hardly felt any of my normal depression. I felt at peace.
"What did you do to me?" I whispered.
"Magic, Noa. It's real."
I wanted to be angry. I wanted to rage with every negative emotion I could feel, but there was nothing. Just peace and calmness. Exactly what he wanted me to be.
"What did you do to me?”
"Calm. I calmed you down. To show you—"
"Show me what?"
"Noa, the baby in Lily's story. The missing baby." Cyrus looked me up and down, shaking his head slightly, a smile tugging at his lips in awe. "I think it's you."
"And if I'm not?"
"Well, you're definitely a witch. And you didn’t know that."
"Of course I didn’t. Who would've told me?" I paused, listening to what I was saying, what I was giving in to. "I don't even know why I'm listening to you. You're crazy."
I turned to leave, but I couldn't step away from Cyrus. I tried to propel myself forward, but something was stopping me. Angrily, I turned back towards him, as he was now holding his hand out, clutched in a fist. Was he doing that? Was he physically stopping me from leaving without even touching me?
"Stop it!" I screamed, the strength of the anger in my tone causing Cyrus to stumble back, his fist dropping, the pressure of my body released. I could leave.
So I ran.
And I ran and ran. And eventually, I began to notice. Chaos followed me everywhere, violent winds ripping around me, throwing branches and foliage, upsetting the car alarms on the street and some mailboxes suffering some real damage. I paused to catch my breath, pressure sitting heavily on my chest. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream and cry. Rain grumbled from clouds that were nonexistent moments ago. My chest burned with anxiety.
"You can stop it."
I turned towards the voice. Cyrus. Tears brimmed in my eyes as my breathing became heavier. "I can't," I croaked. Thunder roared through the skies.
"You can. You just have to believe that you can do it.”
"What?"
“It’s called intention. It’s the same as speaking a spell in the movies, but we don’t have those. You have to live and breathe intention, think to yourself exactly what you want and the magic in your body will make it reality.”
I closed my eyes and thought hard. I wanted the rain to go away. I opened my eyes again to stare at Cyrus. Nothing. No effect. Tears began to stream down my face, and I used my long sleeve to wipe my face dry to no avail. I was going to be a mess, but at least the rain was beginning to fall, hiding my pain. My sorrow and despair wracked my entire body and I felt useless.
"Feel it in your heart, your body. Not
your brain. I know it's absurd, and against everything you've ever known, but you have to believe it's true."
I fought against everything my brain was screaming at me. I wanted to believe it was true, that every bad experience I had in my life had meaning, there was a reason it happened. All these experiences led up to this. This moment, where I finally discovered who I was meant to be. I took a deep breath, I opened my eyes and stared straight at Cyrus.
The calm was immediate. It fell over me like a wave. What should've been drowning was just relief. It worked. I had merely thought about what she wanted, and my body had listened. The rain stopped, leaving blue skies behind as if it had never even happened. The wind disappeared.
I, Noa Rembrandt, was not an orphan. I was a witch.
◆◆◆
I waited patiently as Cyrus called for an Uber to take us back to Gardenside. School seemed pointless. I almost killed a person with my... magic. I wouldn't even be allowed back.
"Why is it different? Why does it just happen to me when you can control it?”
"You're one of the most powerful witches in the world right now," Cyrus shrugged. "You're an untrained, emotional teenager..."
"We're the same age."
"Doesn't matter. My parents trained me in witchcraft before they died. I don't let my emotions get the best of me."
I took that into consideration. I thought of the past few days, where my experiences with magical phenomenon were plentiful—times when I was my most emotional. My experiences had been fueled by anger, embarrassment, sadness. I thought of my first ever experience with magic, a night I couldn't stand to remember myself.
"So how do I control it?" I asked.
"We'll teach you, Lily and me."
"And how did you know? About me?"
The car that was supposed to be bringing us home seemed to materialize out of nowhere. After double-checking the license plate with the app and verifying the driver's name, we slid into the backseat together. I was hungry for more information but figured maybe the backseat of an Uber was not the best time to ask.
The Power of Witches Page 4