In Memoriam

by Michael Beaulieu

I look down and see that she’s tossed a hairbrush on me. One with a wooden handle with black bristles that have a lot of hair in them. I gag. “This is disgusting.”

  Her eyes grow wide as she gets excited. “But it’s his! It’s his.”

  I pick it up by the very end of the handle, just touching it with a few fingers. There’s definitely a lot of hair in it. Looks like brown hair. “He’s a brunette?”

  She nods. “Yeah.”

  “So, how did you get this?” It seems weird that she would have this Don Lee’s brush.

  “His locker,” she says like it’s no big deal.

  “No offense, but that is creepy as hell.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m sure he can afford to buy another one. I just thought it might help you girls spell him to fall for me. Objects can help with spells like that, right?”

  “Yes, I suppose.” This whole thing just feels shady now. But she’s got me backed into a corner.

  “Please. Just take the brush and talk to the girls. If you can’t find something to make Don fall for me then do that soulmate spell.”

  I put the brush in one of the side pockets on my backpack and zip it shut. “Fine. But we might not get to it until this weekend. Tomorrow night we have to go to a memorial for this woman who helped us take down this evil witch who was killing other witches to steal their power.”

  Her expression shifts into one of sympathy. “She died helping you?”

  I look down at my lap, feeling sorrowful now. “That she did.”

  “I’m sorry. Do you need a ride to the memorial?”

  “No, thanks, though. Juliana is driving me and Li.” I can’t believe she offered. I wonder if there’s a chance that her knowing my secret will bring us closer together like we were before I hit my teens?

  She looks at me and smiles. “I take it Juliana knows you’re witches then?”

  “Yeah, she’s pretty supportive.” I’m not about to tell her Juliana is a witch herself. It’s not my place to reveal that about someone and we don’t need Arja getting any more leverage over us.

  Now we’re pulling into the driveway so this conversation has to end. “Remember, you said you wouldn’t tell anyone.” I just had to say it.

  She shuts the car off. “I’m not completely stupid.”

  I want to say, no, but you’re turning into a blackmailer and a stalker. Instead, I go in the house and head for my room where I put my pajamas on and get in bed. Thank you, Lord and Lady, for not letting us get pulled over.

  .

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  LIA

  I’m sitting on the living room couch with my mother. I talked her into letting me have a glass of wine tonight. She poured me one from a bottle of red from Spain she’d just opened. We’re watching that show Scientology and the Aftermath, which is pretty disturbing.

  “I don’t understand how they’re still able to recruit people when anyone can go online and read about their secrets,” Mom says.

  “Beats the hell out of me,” I say. “I don’t know how anyone ever trusted the religion in the first place when the guy who created it was a sci-fi writer. You’d think that would’ve made people weary.”

  Mom nods. “Yeah. What I don’t understand is how they’re considered a religion when they don’t worship anyone. You never hear about them so much as praying to anything.”

  “I guess they worship the guy who created it.”

  “From what I’ve seen on this show, it sounds like they basically worship that guy who runs it now. David Miscarriage.”

  I erupt with laughter. “Miscarriage?”

  “Whatever his name is. You know what I mean.”

  I laugh for a few more seconds and take a sip of my wine as we continue watching. I’ve drank half the glass already and it’s calming me down, just as I’d hoped it would. I was just a little on edge tonight. People think I’m so calm, cool and collected, but I’m often screaming inside. Sometimes it just feels like my thoughts are racing from one side of my brain to the other so hard and fast they’re going to burst through my skull. Tonight, I’m just antsy.

  I keep thinking about my conversation with Shar before we had sex this afternoon. Wondering if she’s crushing on Emma. When we first got together, she was really hoping that Emma would join us. I guess that would’ve been cool, but whenever she’d bring it up I’d feel like I was her second choice. I suppose that’s how I’m feeling tonight. I don’t doubt that she’s my soulmate or that she loves me. But maybe she has romantic feelings for Emma, too? Like how January loves Pete but she’s crushing on Emma. She didn’t encourage January to pursue her, but maybe she wants her to? Because if they ever break up then there would be a chance Emma might finally want to be a threesome or thruple – or whatever they’re calling it this week – with us. I don’t know what I’d do if that happened. I look at Emma as my sister, which would make being with her feel weird. Almost gross. I suppose I might get used to it, but I’d prefer not to. I like Shar and I just being a regular couple. I don’t want to have to share her with anyone. That’s partially why this afternoon’s talk is lingering in my mind. I fear that Emma is occupying part of her heart and I want it to be all mine.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  EMMA

  I’ve just finished eating eggs and vegan bacon, which my mother made for her, my father and I this morning. I love it when she cooks, but I’m totally cool with just grabbing an everything bagel and eating it in the car. A lot of times, that’s all I have time for, but this morning I was up early working on my article about the frog incident again and burning a French mix I made for January (she asked me to; just didn’t get to it until last night). Now that the article is almost finished, I’m thinking about scrapping it and starting over. I feel like I should do interviews with other students who were in the class and get their theories. I should speak with Mr. Solomon, too, since it was his class that it happened in. Maybe even get a quote from Principal Clarke, see what her take on it is. I guess I can try to interview them today and take the best quotes and basically insert them in what I’ve already written. That doesn’t sound too grueling. I just don’t know how I’m supposed to do the interviews and attend my classes. I’ll have to figure something out, though, since the article is due tomorrow.

  “You’re awfully quiet this morning,” Dad says. I’ve been calling my parents Mom and Dad more often lately. Referring to them as parental units just doesn’t feel right anymore. I guess after everything I’ve been through during recent months I’ve come to appreciate them more. Not that I’ve ever not appreciated them. Jamais. Maybe I just have less of a teenage rebellion streak in me now.

  I sigh. “Just thinking about this article I’m writing for the school paper.”

  He looks up from his Cardiac Monthly magazine. Apparently, I’ve piqued his interest. “So, you’re writing for the paper then?”

  “The article is going to act as my writing sample. If they like it, then I get to write for the paper. If not, well, I can always start a zine.”

  “They still make zines?” Mom asks. Her back is to us as she’s loading the dishwasher.

  I’m almost laugh, surprised she even knows what a zine is. “Yeah. I guess they’re becoming popular again.”

  She shuts the door to the dishwasher. “Why do you think that is?”

  “Probably because they’re something you can hold in your hands. Like how vinyl has made such a big comeback. People like physical media. Hence there still being a school paper in the digital age. Speaking of which, I have to ask you about something.”

  Mom sits down at the table and looks at me. “What is it?”

  I quit slouching and sit up straight in my seat. “Well, you and Dad and the other parents have decided that suing Noah’s Catholic is a bad idea, right?”

  Dad looks at me, almost glaring. “It wasn’t a bad idea. That school was negligent in several areas that all contributed to what happened there.”

  I need to hear about these areas. “Can yo
u tell me about them?”

  He frowns and blows air out of his nose, impatiently. “Will you listen and not interrupt me like every other time this has come up?”

  “Yes, yes. Fine.”

  “Well, for starters, that school did not have metal detectors. More importantly, they didn’t have enough security guards. They also lacked a police presence, whereas public schools have an officer do a walk through the building at least once a day now. Furthermore, the school should’ve had one entrance with a traditional door knob and not bar handles so that it couldn’t be chained shut from the outside. They had no anti-bullying policy either. We found out that an author wanted to come talk to the school about bullying and suicide and the school turned him away.”

  “Oh, what author?” I ask, being that I read a lot and am interested in writing.

  He rubs the back of his head. “Um... Jay something?”

  “Asher,” Mom says.

  Wow. I can’t believe I missed out on a talk by Jay Asher. “Are you kidding me? Jay Asher, author of Thirteen Reasons Why, wanted to come talk to us and they wouldn’t let him? Damn, maybe you should sue.”

  Dad sighs. “If you’ll let me continue, there are other reasons I was about to tell you.”

  “OK,’ I say.

  “Well, it was an outright hate crime when those clowns drew swastikas on Lia and Sharan’s desks. The school should’ve reported that to the police immediately. They also should have removed those desks from the classroom instead of just fading the swastikas with bleach or whatever they used in their half-ass attempt to erase them. The school could’ve been charged with aiding in a hate crime for leaving those desks in the classroom when you could clearly still see the swastikas. Another thing: it’s common for school offices to have a panic button now – like they have in banks – and they didn’t have one. Bottom line? That school did nothing to prevent what happened. Instead, they created the perfect environment for it. So, yes, there were plenty of reasons to file a lawsuit. But you and your friends begged us not to and said you would refuse to testify.”

  What should I say? I really don’t want to argue. “We just want to move on with our lives and not keep revisiting that. It’s hard enough being famous from the news. There would be even more media asshats after us if we filed a lawsuit and the whole story was thrust on the public again. And that would give us all more panic attacks and insomnia and everything else that goes with our stupid PTSD.”

  Dad stares at me for a moment then smiles. “Understood.”

  Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, given what I’m about to say to him. “So, what I wanted to ask you about. The school paper wants to interview me.”

  Mom places one of her hands on mine. “Didn’t we decide not to talk to the press so we don’t encourage them? You just said you don’t want them all over you again.”

  “I know. And I have no desire to speak with Diane Sawyer, Oprah or whoever else was asking. It’s just a school paper. I mean, yeah, I’m sure the media will find out about it, but I’m not going to say anything that would make us look bad. And I’m sure they’ll ask respectful questions because the girl who wants to do the interview says she’s a fan of mine.”

  “A fan?” Mom asks.

  “Yes. Surely, you know some people think we’re heroes. Well, some of those people consider themselves fans.”

  Worry lines mar Mom’s forehead. “That’s disturbing.”

  “Yes, I agree. But this girl who wants to do the interview is harmless. Trust me.”

  Mom and Dad look at each other but don’t say anything.

  Fuck this silence. [I should throw my plate at the refrigerator and storm the fuck out of here.] No, that’s a stupid idea. “So, is it OK if I do it?”

  Dad nods at Mom.

  Mom smiles at me. “If you really want to, you might as well. Just choose your words carefully. It’s OK to stop and think for a moment before you answer.” Can you tell she’s a lawyer?

  I bite my lip. “I’m not stupid, you know?”

  Mom takes a drink of her orange juice. “I couldn’t help notice that you have a dress by the door with your backpack. What’s that for?”

  “It’s a black dress,” I say to her, glaring slightly. Hoping she’ll remember that the memorial for Kat is tonight. Dad doesn’t know shit about me being a witch and it would be kind of hard to explain why I’m going to Kat’s memorial without mentioning it since it’s the thing we had in common.

  “Black?” Mom asks, looking confused.

  “The memorial,” I say under my breath, hoping Dad won’t hear, being that he’s burying his head in his magazine again.

  “The memorial?” Mom asks, almost whispering.

  “For Kat,” I whisper.

  “Oh. Right” She relaxes her posture as she smiles, looking pleased with herself for understanding me now.

  Dad shuts his magazine. “What are you two on about?”

  “Nothing,” I say.

  He raises an eyebrow. “It didn’t sound like nothing.”

  “It is,” Mom says.

  Dad’s forehead wrinkles as he glares at Mom. “Well, I’m glad you get to know what it is. Apparently, I’ve become a second class citizen around here.”

  I smile at him, making my best puppy dog eyes. “It’s not that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Mom raises her voice slightly. “She just has a thing to go to tonight.”

  Now Dad’s neck is starting to get red. “What kind of thing?”

  I let out a loud sigh. “Holy hell, I just have a memorial to go to. That’s all.”

  His neck grows redder. “A memorial? For who?”

  I just want this conversation to end. “You don’t know her.”

  Now his neck is the color of a dark scarlet rose. “Does she have a name?”

  “Kat. Kat Landry.” I only know her last name because I looked her up on Facebook the day after she helped us at George’s Magick Shop. I regret never sending her a friend request. “I have to go watch for Juliana now.”

  “Fine, go ahead.” I answered his questions, but he still looks upset.

  I get up from the table, pass through the dining room and step into the living room where I watch for Juliana via the big bay window. I use my keen psychic hearing to listen to my parents while I wait:

  Dad: “Who is Kat Landry?”

  Mom: “Just a girl she knew.”

  Dad: “From where?”

  Mom: “I don’t know. Maybe they were friends from Facebook.”

  Dad: “Don’t you think we should know more about this before we let her go?”

  Mom: “Honey, listen, she was friends with the girl and she wants to go pay her respects. I don’t see any reason why she shouldn’t. Juliana is going to take them.”

  Dad: “Lia and Sharan knew her, too?”

  Mom: “That’s my understanding.”

  Dad: “Why do I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me.”

  Mom: “Logan, you know everything I know now.”

  I hate that Mom had to lie to him. I also hate how the whole conversation went. I shouldn’t have tried to hide it from Dad. I probably hurt his feelings, which wasn’t my intention. I’m just trying to prevent him from finding out I’m a witch because he’s a science guy and knowing magick is real would make him question everything he knows. Maybe I should go apologize? Actually, no, that would just be bringing it up again and they’ve moved onto discussing baby names for the hundredth time already. No, wait, now they’re talking about going away for a weekend. [I’m going to encourage them to take a vacation before the baby comes. I need a fucking break from them already. They’re so fucking nosey. Plus, Jim and I can play house for however long they’re gone, which would be fucking awesome. Maybe we can even get January over here for a threesome? Hell, Pete could join us, too, and make it an orgy. I should look for a spell to seduce them with.] What the hell am I thinking? It must be the black magick tempting me or something.

  Jul
iana pulls up. I grab my dress and backpack and I’m out the door. [About fucking time.] Fuck; I need to get that word out of my stupid, little head before I use it at school and get detention. I don’t know why I keep using it so much lately anyway.

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  SHAR

  Li has two black dresses and we’re discussing which one she should wear to the memorial when we stop to pick up Em. As if Li and I didn’t discuss this when we video chatted last night. I haven’t told her about Arja remembering we’re witches yet. I just want to tell her and Em at the same time so I don’t have to discuss it twice. In any case, I’ve had enough talking about dresses. “Maybe the one with shoulder straps would be more appropriate?”

  “Yeah, the other one would probably show too much of my boobs,” Li says with a laugh as Em gets in the car.

  “Hey everyone,” Em says, turning in the front seat so she faces Li and I.

  “I know you girls will probably have a tough time getting through today with the memorial tonight, but try to tell yourselves Kat wouldn’t want you to be miserable,” Juliana says.

  Li shakes her head. “Like we haven’t been thinking about Kat since the mountain?”

  “Lia, you know what I mean,” Juliana says.

  “Fine. Whatever,” Li says. “I’m just nervous about the thing. People will probably be glaring at us the whole time.”

  “They better not,” Em says. It sounds more like a threat than something she’s worried about.

  I swallow hard. I’m worried that people are going to be angry with us, too, but George was her roommate and boss – and probably her closest friend – and he didn’t stay upset with us for very long. So, hopefully, the rest of their coven reacts similarly. Hopefully, they don’t all want to kill us.

  Em buckles her seatbelt. Juliana puts the car in drive and off to school we go.

  I bite my lip. Now it’s time for me to speak up. About you know what. “I need to tell you guys something.”

  Em turns looks at Li and I. “What’s up?”