Sea-Witch

by JE Hunter

CHAPTER FIVE

  I struggled to stay afloat in the overwhelming rip tide. I held my breath and did what every swim instructor I'd ever had told me to do: tried not to panic.

  But I couldn't help it.

  As the cold water pressed around my body, I gave into my urge to scream. I was silenced by a mouthful of salty seawater slithering its way into my lungs. Then, as quickly as it came, the sea retreated, dumping me unceremoniously on the wet, sandy beach. I landed hard on my knees and fell forward, coughing and heaving liquid from my lungs.

  “I think you're wrong about my being a sea-witch,” I croaked once the coughing had subsided. I shivered as the wind blew through my wet clothing. My red hair swung forward and with dismay I realized my hat had been swept away by the rushing tide.

  “No, I'm right; you're a sea-witch. You just have no idea how to exercise your birthright. But, at the very least, you do believe that I'm a sea-witch now, yes?”

  I looked at Grandma with both anger and jealousy. Even though I'd seen the ocean swallow her whole right before it swallowed me, she’d somehow managed to remain completely dry. She wasn’t dripping wet. She wasn’t coughing and heaving. She looked immaculate in her linen pants and long grey sweater.

  “You sure are something, I'll give you that. Possibly a murderer. I can't swim, you know. And you lost my hat. Now what am I supposed to do with this horrible red hair?”

  Grandma crossed her arms, shaking her head. “A sea-witch who can't swim is a disgrace, but a repairable disgrace at least. As for the hat, you'd better get used to not wearing it; your hair's beautiful and there's nothing you can do to change it. Now come on, I want to get home before dark.”

  “No.” I pushed myself up off the wet sand and began to pick smelly, pale-brown strands of seaweed off of my drenched navy hoodie.

  “No, what?” Grandma looked down her nose at me.

  “I'm not going anywhere until you bring my hat back. I love that hat. I loved it before my hair turned this stupid red color. I'm not giving it up.”

  She raised one eyebrow, and the corner of her mouth rose to join it. “It's just a hat.”

  I stood my ground firmly, assuming that Grandma couldn't move the earth, just the ocean. “I don't care. It's mine. You can't decide to get rid of it just because you don't like it. What I wear isn't up to you.”

  Grandma walked past me and stopped. She looked over her shoulder and smirked. “You're right. It's your hat and therefore your responsibility. However, I'm an old woman and that little demonstration of my powers has worn me out. I'm afraid if you want your hat back, you're going to have to call for it yourself.”

  “Call for it? What do you mean?”

  “You're a sea-witch Nessa; if you need something from the sea all you have to do is ask for it. Just remember to focus, the ocean needs clarity.” Grandma walked up the beach to her four-door sedan, leaving me alone to talk to a billion gallons of seawater.

  “Great,” I muttered, bending over to pick up a rock, throwing it at the water. “Just great.” In two weeks my life had gone from cozy beach bonfires with a potential boyfriend to being half-orphaned and nearly murdered by my own grandma who just happened to be a witch. I couldn't deny it anymore: Grandma had powers I could barely comprehend. The only thing that scared me more than Grandma was the thought that I had the same incredible powers burning through my skin.

  I raised a hand to my forehead, wiping off the lingering water droplets. I searched the horizon for my hat, but saw no sign of it floating on the rolling waves of the bay. I looked toward the car and saw Grandma sitting behind the steering wheel, watching me like a judge at a figure skating competition. She waved her hand as if to say, “Get on with it.” I turned back to the water.

  I felt like I was five again, wrapped in a blanket watching Star Wars with Dad on a rainy day. Whenever I’d watched Luke Skywalker command the force, I'd tried to do it too. I remembered trying to make the television remote magically fly into my hand. I remembered failing each and every time.

  I took a deep breath and sighed. The only difference between those early attempts at becoming a Jedi and now was that my hair had turned red and my eyes had transformed from brown to blue. And apparently I was born to do this: to call to the ocean and ask for my hat back.

  I lifted my arms up, emulating Grandma, pushing the thought that I was just as crazy as she was out of my mind. I tried to do exactly as she'd instructed. I thought: Ocean, bring me my hat back. As a sea-witch, I command you.

  I opened one eye, peaking out at the calm, rolling water. My hat was nowhere to be seen. No rogue waves carried my hat on their crests.

  Again, I held out my arms and closed my eyes. This time I pictured my hat: I imagined it on my head, I imagined it hanging on the back of my chair, I imagined holding it in my hands. Unbidden, the anger over losing my hat—after already loosing so much else—flooded my mind. Just give me my hat back, I thought, please.

  Cold water splashed around my ankles. I gasped, dropping my arms as my eyes popped open. I looked down. The water had swelled up around me, and floating at my feet was my hat.

  Slowly, I bent over, scooping it up. I stared at it. I turned it over, checking it for the sparkling heart Marnie had painted on the tag with fabric glue. The heart was right where it had always been. It was definitely my hat.

  “Has it sunk in yet, Nessa?” I jumped; Grandma was at my side. I hadn't even heard her approach.

  I stared at my hat, flipping it over in my hands again, wondering if Grandma had snuck up and thrown it at my feet when my eyes had been closed.

  “It's time to go.” She turned her back and headed to the car. I followed behind her, numb.

  I sat in the car: wet and confused. I sat for a good fifteen minutes before the cold became un-ignorable. I snapped back into the present, turning the heat on full-blast.

  Grandma snapped the heat back off.

  “Do you mind?” I reached out to turn the heat back on.

  She turned it back off. “I'm perfectly comfortable. I don't need the heat.”

  As soon as she placed her hand back on the wheel, I reached out and turned the heat on again. “Well, I'm freezing because someone let her granddaughter get swallowed by the ocean while she kept herself dry.”

  “You could have kept yourself dry if you'd listened to me sooner.”

  I slipped my feet out of my shoes and plopped them on the dash. Grandma glared at the streaks of water my black socks left behind. “Maybe if you'd explained it a little better, I would've believed you, instead of just thinking that you're crazy, which is still a likely possibility by the way.”

  Grandma steered the car around a bend in a road. “Vanessa, you need to stop believing everything the media tells you. Magic exists. Magical creatures just choose to keep their existence a secret because it's safer. For you to believe that the unexplainable doesn't exist is plain stupidity, especially given the events that have happened to you recently.”

  I glowered; choosing to run my fingers through my tangled, wet hair instead of replying. She seemed as inclined to silence as I was and pushed no further.

  I reached down into my purse, which I’d left on the floor of the car, and pulled out my cell phone. Pulling up Marnie's contact information, I typed her a text message. Help me! Grams is wacko.

  I sent the message and turned to look out the window. I watched the forest pass by outside, marvelling at the height of the Douglas Fir trees. I'd never traveled this way before. Not once had Mom taken me to the island. Now I understood why. I looked back at my redheaded, witchy Grandma. “Does she know?”

  “What?” Grandma turned her head, briefly frowning at me before turning her attention back to the road.

  “Does Mom know...about you...does she know?”

  She gave a sharp shake of her head. “No. I thought it best if she didn't. Our world isn’t meant for humans. So, when your mother didn’t manifest any powers at a young age, I sent her away to boarding school to protect her. And as I�
�m sure you know, she still hasn’t forgiven me for it.”

  “Because she doesn't have the gene? Is that why you never visited? Is that why you never sent me a birthday card, or came to visit during Christmas, because you thought I didn’t have the gene either?”

  I couldn’t tell if it was just a reflection of the sunlight, or if it actually happened, but for a brief second I thought I saw my grandma flush. “It's more complicated than that,” she said.

  I frowned. “Whatever. Does that mean I can't tell her anything either?”

  “You can't tell anyone. If you do—if you say a single word—I'll lie. I'll tell everyone you're crazy and they'll believe me. And do you know why? Because you won't be able to prove a thing.”

  I bristled. “I could. I could move the water like I did...” I bit my lip.

  Grandma smirked. “And if you can do it, Nessa, if you can move the ocean, why would you want to risk losing the opportunity to learn about your gift?”

  My phone buzzed. “Whatever.” I flipped open my cell to read the message from Marnie.

  Then come back! Miss U already! I snapped the phone shut. If only that was a possibility.

  “That won't work on the island.”

  “What? My phone?” I gripped it tightly. Please don't say my phone.

  “There's no cell service. You'll have to use the satellite phone. You'd better say goodbye now. I'll let your mom know she can cancel your plan once we reach the island.”

  Cancel my plan? No. I couldn't be cut off. I needed Marnie. I needed all the little pieces of my old life if I was going to survive this. “Is there Internet? There'd better be Internet or you might as well let me out of this car right now because there's no way –”

  “Yes, there's Internet. It’s satellite, and a bit slow, but it will suffice.”

  “Great,” I muttered. “Way to ruin my life.” I went silent as I texted Marnie the awful news that email would be our only means of communication, other than real phone calls. Cell service on the highway was bad, and I didn't receive any more messages from Marnie. She was likely too busy doing fun things in the city to reply. I lowered my seat and tried to nap. Although I'd never admit it to Grandma, I also spent some of my time feeling my insides, trying to discern if there was anything different about the inner core that made me, well, me.

  My heart was the same; I felt no difference there. My mind was still intact—I hoped. The only thing that felt slightly strange to me was a tiny, warm, tingling sensation somewhere under my right lung. I vaguely thought the feeling occurred near enough to my appendix that maybe there was a rational explanation for everything that had just happened, but the feeling wasn’t painful, and from what Marnie had told me—she'd had her appendix out two years ago—appendicitis was excruciating.

  Three hours, seven minutes, and approximately thirty-one seconds after our fight on the beach, we drove into the little town of Tofino. We hadn't reached Grandma's house yet—but we were close.

  “How big is this town?” I wasn't impressed; the town didn’t seem to have a shopping mall. What would I do in my free time?

  “A little over fifteen-hundred people. There are more people in the area, and a lot of tourists in the summer.”

  “How many kids go to the high school?”

  This time Grandma crunched her brow thoughtfully. “You know, I'm not sure if they have a school here. They have an elementary school, but I think a lot of the older kids go away or home school their high school courses.”

  My jaw dropped. “What? You never told me that. I didn't agree to be a social outcast. Take me back to Surrey. Now.” I leaned over the meridian, trying to get my hands on the steering wheel, as if I could possibly take control of the vehicle and head back home.

  Grandma slapped my hands away. “Stop it, Nessa. You needn't worry about being a social outcast. As you already know, I don't live in Tofino and you won't be going to school here. You'll be going to the school on the island, with teenagers who are just as special as you are.”

  “Special? What does that even mean? That everyone is a social outcast?”

  “It means,” she said, “That you have powers that make you stronger and more powerful than humans.

  “Yeah, right.” I opened and closed my cell phone, wishing Marnie would text me something normal.

  “If you don't start taking the fact that you're a sea-witch seriously, I'll have to ground you—or curse you—and then you'll most definitely be a social outcast.”

  I sank into the corner of the passenger seat, crossing my arms firmly across my chest. “You can't do that. You can't...curse...people.”

  “Really? And you know this because you're an expert on sea-witches now?”

  Since her eyes were still fixed on the road, I stuck my tongue out at her. She'd already insinuated that I was immature and therefore I wasn't making the situation any worse.

  As we drove through town, rain began misting down from the grey clouds. The mist obscured my view, but I was still able to make out a few coffee shops and a sushi house. In the middle of town, I spotted a couple of outdoor clothing and surf shops where I could possibly go shopping in the future. That was a good sign. There was at least something I could borrow Grandma's boat and come to town for—so long as I could learn to drive a boat. And since I still had the credit card Mom had given me for emergencies, I’d have a little bit of money to burn.

  The town came to an end much too quickly for my liking. As the west point of the peninsula pinched out into the ocean, my redheaded grandmother turned the car onto a turnoff hidden by trees. At the end of a long driveway, a two-story, blue house sat on the water's edge. The house had rectangular windows, peeling paint, and a large, white veranda. Beside it, a long dock reached out into the waves, like a finger pointing at nothing. Three mid-sized boats were anchored to the wooden slats. The minute our car pulled into the small parking lot at the end of the driveway, an older man walked outside. He waved at us, smiling. He was the kind of old man that looked permanently happy. His head was full of hair, though it was all grey and white, and his skin was much paler than Grandma's. He'd obviously lived on the rainy coast for quite some time.

  Grandma opened her door, stepping out into the mist with a gigantic smile on her face. “Ernie, thank you so much for watching my boat.”

  The man laughed, taking one hand out of his pocket to wave off her comment. “Oh Shannon, it's my pleasure. The rent you give me helps me keep my own fishing boat going and you know it.”

  Grandma laughed, her ill mood having vanished.

  I stepped out of the car and stood a few feet from Grandma and Ernie with my hands around my elbows. As they chatted about nothing, I eyed up the boats. If I made a run for it, I could be out of sight before they realized I was gone. I wondered if I could make it as far as California. If my life was going to be hell, I'd rather it be in the sunshine. I turned, fully tempted to follow through with my new plan, when Ernie interrupted.

  “Can I give you a hand with something?” he asked, already on his way down the veranda steps and heading for the trunk of the car. I followed him, not wantng any of my suitcases to be forgotten; they were all I had left.

  “Ernie, meet my granddaughter, Nessa. She’s coming to stay with me for a while. Naturally, she packed up almost all of her belongings.” Grandma followed Ernie to the vehicle and unlocked the trunk.

  “Not all.” I tossed my purse over my shoulder and grabbed the heaviest suitcase, rolling my eyes at Grandma who said something about 'teenagers' to Ernie. I marched onto the dock and looked around.

  “Which boat is it?” I called over my shoulder. Neither Grandma nor Ernie had followed me out onto the dock.

  Grandma turned halfway round and leaned backward, taking a good look at all the boats, as if she could have forgotten which one was hers in the three days she'd been away from home. “The last one on your right.”

  I walked past the other boats, one of which I assumed was Ernie's because it reeked of fish and
even had a few remnant fish tails on the floor. The last boat on the right was white, approximately ten meters long, and had a small cabin over the captain's chair and steering wheel. I'd been on plenty of boats before—mostly belonging to people I knew back in Surrey—and had no trouble unlatching the small door. I hefted my fifty pound suitcase over the water and onto the deck of the boat. Taking a seat at the back of the small craft, I tried to ignore the misty rain as I waited.

  “Well, there you are then,” Ernie said, handing me my second largest suitcase. Grandma climbed in, signalling for me to grab my third piece of luggage from Ernie.

  “Thanks.” I took it from him.

  “Well, Nessa, it was nice meeting you.” Ernie turned to me and reached out a wide hand. “I'm sure I'll see you back here now and then. You're always welcome to pop in and say hello.”

  I smiled at him and shook his hand. “Thanks. It was nice meeting you too.”

  Ernie leaned in closer just as Grandma started up the engine. “Don't be too hard on her, eh? She's trying her best to take care of you.” Ernie winked and walked away before I could say anything. Before I could tell him that her taking care of me was exactly what I was afraid of.