“I’m sorry,” I say. And I mean it. I know what it’s like to blotted out of existence and replaced. I know what it’s like for people who used to be your friends to suddenly turn into your worst enemies.
The two of us sit in silence for a long time, swinging back and forth, our feet never quite leaving the ground. I work up the nerve to ask the question buzzing around in my mind. “Do you really think it’s true? That she’s a witch?”
Lexie digs her feet into the earth below her. “I don’t know. All I know is she changed. Maybe it’s just easiest to blame it on witchcraft.”
I stare off at the thicket of trees across the water. Does Crystal really know something about what happened in history class? Could magic or witchcraft really be the cause of the strange occurrences that plague me? And if that’s the case, should I look into it if what I learn has the power to change me?
Chapter Thirteen
“Do you think I’m strict enough?”
Jodi watches me as I eat my breakfast on Tuesday morning, and I sputter a little on the bite I’m chewing. “What?” I ask, my mouth still full of scrambled eggs.
She spears a strawberry with her fork and picks it up but doesn’t bring it to her mouth. “I had a dream last night about your dad.”
My heart speeds up at the mention of my father. Though the topic is not taboo here like it was with my mom, we don’t speak about him often. I swallow my eggs, coughing a little as they stick in my throat. “What about him?”
She waves her hand, the fork and strawberry swaying gently with the motion. “Well, I misspoke—it wasn’t actually about your dad. It was about giant pandas attacking Clearwater. But your dad showed up at one point, and I was all like, ‘Yeah! You’re here to save me!’ but all he did was ask me about you. He accused me of not being strict enough.”
“Hence the question.”
She nods. “I mean, this is all new to me. I’ve never had a kid before, and here you are, almost grown. I think I’ve been doing alright, but maybe my subconscious doesn’t.”
Some of the tension drains from my body. Of course she doesn’t think my father really came to her in a dream. I sigh. It was silly of me to think she was actually talking about him. “I never really had a reason to leave the house before, so my mom never had to institute rules about me hanging out with friends or curfew or anything like that. I don’t really have anything to compare your strictness to.”
Jodi finally puts the strawberry in her mouth and chews it thoughtfully.
She’s different from my mom in so many ways. I would never wear my mother’s hand-me-downs, and Jodi laughs more easily than she did. I interact with Jodi more like a friend or how I imagine I would with an older sister, but I still respect her. I want to please her. I don’t want to lose her. I finish my last bite and stand to take the plate into the kitchen. On impulse, I set my hand on my aunt’s shoulder as I pass. “I think you’re doing a great job.”
At school, the atmosphere is already buzzing with excitement about the upcoming dance. It’s the topic of conversation throughout the day. In health during fifth hour, Lexie, Owen, and Felix weigh the pros and cons of going out to dinner before the dance.
“All I’m saying is that if we eat too much, we won’t want to dance,” Lexie says. Her health book is open, but she’s not even pretending to answer the questions.
Felix flicks a small wad of paper across the table at her. “So? Don’t eat too much.”
Owen snorts. “Have you never watched Lexie eat?”
Lexie winds up like she’s going to hit him in the arm and leans over me to reach him just as Mrs. Stanton walks by. Dropping her hand and painting on a large, fake smile, Lexie nods at the teacher, who raises an eyebrow as she passes.
I smile as I write out the answer to the next question on the worksheet.
“Krissa, you’re too quiet,” Felix says, tapping my text book with his pencil. “What do you think? Should we do dinner or not?”
I’m taken aback, as I always am, at being asked my opinion on something. I’ve spent so much time just listening in on the lives of others, I’m still surprised to be part of the plan here. Heat rises in my cheeks as I try to formulate my response. “I… I’m not sure.”
“Look,” Owen says, drawing Felix’s attention away from me. “I get that going out to eat in a big group can be fun, but it just doesn’t seem right for a dance. I mean, if I’m going out to eat before a dance, it’s gonna be with a date, not just my friends.”
I think I see Owen’s eyes flick to me for the briefest of seconds as he says the word date, but it’s entirely possible I just imagined it. Either way, his argument resonates with me. “I agree with Owen.”
He smiles at me as Mrs. Stanton announces there are only five minutes left of class. Lexie leans toward me and begins feverishly copying down my answers to the questions. When the bell rings, Owen walks me to history before heading off to his English class.
Mr. Martin assigns group work and I stifle a groan. Group work was the bane of my existence in my last school. But here, I remind myself, I’m not a social leper. I sigh as I glance around the room. Unfortunately, this is the one class that none of my friends are in. I think of the mousy boy who sits behind me and wonder if he’ll need a partner, but before I can turn around, Crystal and Bridget appear at my desk. Both of them are smiling.
“Work with us, Kristyl,” Crystal says. It’s not an order, but it’s not a request either.
I shift, uncomfortable. So far this week, I’ve been able to avoid talking to either of them. After Crystal’s weird coded words at the coffee shop on Saturday, I’ve done my best not to even make eye contact with her. I look at the boy behind me, but he’s already turned around to work with two kids behind him. A quick survey of the rest of the class tells me everyone else has already found a group to work with. Steeling myself, I nod.
The desks nearest to me have been vacated and Crystal and Bridget drag them so they’re by mine. I look down at the assignment sheet Mr. Martin passed out and open up my textbook. Crystal and Bridget do not mirror me. They watch me.
Irritation flares in the pit of my stomach. Do they expect me to do all the work by myself? It’s one thing when Lexie copies my answers in health, but this is entirely different. “Why are you staring at me?”
“You look different,” Crystal says, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Doesn’t she, Bridge?”
Bridget squints. “Definitely.”
I wait for the other shoe to drop. What is it about my appearance they’re going to make fun of? What flaw have they detected?
Crystal leans toward me. “Did you do something different with your hair?”
Self-consciously, I run my fingers over my hair. Nothing seems out of place.
“Maybe it’s your makeup,” Bridget suggests.
I haven’t got any makeup on, but I refuse to tell them that. “Can we just get started on the assignment, please?”
Crystal sighs. “I’m just saying, you look nice today. You don’t need to get all snippy.”
Both Crystal’s and Bridget’s expressions seem genuine, but years of experience tell me that it doesn’t mean they’re truly sincere. I look down at the assignment. “It looks like we’re supposed to read section three and make a chart…”
“Do you like history?” Bridget asks.
I don’t look up. I’m not sure what her angle is.
A few beats pass before Crystal speaks. “I think history can be pretty interesting. I mean, not like textbook history. But there’s some fascinating stuff you can learn from the past. Especially here in Clearwater. Do you know much about Clearwater’s history?”
Their eyes bore into me so steadily that I can’t concentrate on the worksheet on my desk. “No, not really. But that’s not what the assignment’s about—”
“Did you know your ancestors were some of the founders of the town?” Crystal presses, talking over me. “Mine and Bridget’s, too. I guess that means we’re connected.”
Crystal exchanges a glance with Bridget and smiles as her eyes flick in my direction. “Yeah, I bet we do, Kristyl.”
My stomach clenches at the sound of my name. I had my suspicions this weekend, and this conversation is only solidifying them: They think it was me who caused the whole school to tremble. I bite the inside of my cheek, feeling ridiculous for even thinking it. But it has to be true, doesn’t it? It can’t really be a coincidence that the whole building shook when I got upset and embarrassed, not when strange things always happened at my old school when I was in those states.
But even if it is true, Crystal and Bridget are two of the last people I would want to confide in. Sure, they’re being passably nice to me at the moment, but who’s to say how long it will last? What if they only want to know so they can use my secret as ammunition? What if they use it to turn Owen and Lexie against me?
My pencil rolls away from its position against my text book, toward the edge of the desk. I catch it before it falls off, my heart thudding in my chest. When I look up at Crystal and Bridget, I see smiles playing at the corners of their mouths. “Maybe there’s something wrong with the building. The foundation or something. In any case, I’m not really concerned about it. We should get to work.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Crystal says, waving her hand. “The work’ll get done.”
“By who? Do you have magical little mice in your purse who love doing history projects or something?”
Crystal and Bridget exchange a loaded glance at the word magical. A shiver courses through me. It can’t actually be true, can it? They can’t really use magic, can they?
I could just ask. The simplicity of the idea surprises me. If I really want to know, I can just ask them.
But do I really want to know?
Mr. Martin heaves himself up from his desk. Though he’s not an incredibly tall man, he’s thick around the middle and moves like he’s in his sixties rather than his forties. He’s checking in with the groups, which means there isn’t much time left in the hour. My stomach twists as I look down at my empty assignment sheet. I haven’t even written my name yet. I pick up my pencil and begin filling in the chart with whatever random information I can find.
Crystal reaches across our desks toward my hand, but I pull away before she can make contact with my skin. “Calm down,” she says. “I’ve got this under control.”
Her hand rests on my book, obscuring the information below. Mr. Martin is only two groups away from us. “Move your hand. Someone has to do the assignment. I don’t want to get a zero.”
Bridget chuckles softly. “We don’t get zeroes.”
Before I can respond, Mr. Martin is upon us. “I’m interested to see what this group has come up with, seeing as I haven’t seen any of you writing anything all hour.”
My eyes drop to my worksheet, heat rising in my cheeks. Mr. Martin is the kind of teacher who holds students up as bad examples, who pokes fun at their shortcomings under the guise of “teachable moments.” I can’t handle the eyes of all my classmates on me, judging me.
But Crystal doesn’t seem worried. She presses her hand to her worksheet and takes in a deep breath before holding it out to the teacher. “We did it all on one sheet. I hope that’s okay.”
Mr. Martin’s dubious expression turns to confusion, then to curiosity as his eyes scan the sheet Crystal gave him. He flips it over twice before looking up at us. “Well, I guess you were getting your work done after all. It looks thorough.”
Crystal smiles as she and Bridget exchange glances. I gape openly at both of them. Like Mr. Martin, I didn’t see either of them pick up a pencil since they sat down. How, then, was Crystal able to turn in such a “thorough” assignment?
The bell rings and I’m torn between wanting to linger back to ask how Crystal pulled it off and the desire to put distance between myself and these girls. Flight wins out and I gather my belongings and dart into the hallway before Crystal or Bridget can say anything else.
I can feel Crystal’s eyes on me as I twist the dial on my locker. I try to ignore her as I take my history book out of my backpack and replace it with my math and science books. Inhaling the scent of Owen’s sweatshirt—which, despite my best efforts, I have yet to return to him—I try to calm down. I just want to leave the building and forget what happened last hour.
As I stand and slam the locker closed, I scan the hall for Owen. But the masculine form my eyes land on belongs to Fox. His back is to me, but I can tell it’s him. Forgetting their mission, my eyes follow his progress down the hall.
Crystal sees him and waves him over. When he approaches, Bridget sidles up next to him and a flash of jealousy overtakes me. I close my eyes and shake my head. I have no reason to be jealous, I remind myself.
When I open my eyes, Fox is watching me. He smiles as our eyes connect. I want to look away but can’t. He glances at Crystal and Bridget for a second before breaking away from them and heading back down the hallway toward me.
Bridget looks put out but I can’t make myself care. My stomach flutters as he approaches and I shift in my spot.
“Hey,” Fox says, stopping in front of me.
“Hey,” I return, smiling.
“You going to the dance?”
My mind is fuzzy. Am I going to the dance? Yes. And I’ve been excited about it since last week. But why? It’s because I promised a dance to someone. But who? “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
I lean toward him and inhale his scent. It’s spicy but understated, but there’s something else. I take in another breath and detect a distinct floral note. It’s familiar; I know I’ve smelled it before at Jodi’s store, but I can’t recall the name.
A black cord circles his neck, disappearing under the collar of his shirt. I reach up and brush my fingers against a small lump under his shirt. “You’re wearing a necklace.”
His hand pushes mine gently away from the hidden pendant. “Yeah. It’s a special necklace.”
I bite my lower lip. “Can I see it?” Unbidden, an image flashes in my mind: a small rose quartz pendant resting against Fox’s bare chest. I shake my head to rid myself of the image. “Rose quartz,” I murmur. Jodi told me something about that particular stone once, but I can’t recall what.
Fox’s eyes widen in surprise. “How do you—”
“Hey, Krissa.”
Owen’s voice cuts off whatever question Fox was about to ask. He appears at my side and cups his hand around my elbow. My head clears and I take a step away from Fox. When I look up at Owen, his expression is concerned. Confused.
“Owen.” Guilt sweeps through me, although I’m not entirely sure why. “Fox and I were just talking.”
“About quartz crystals.” Fox winks at me.
“Fascinating,” Owen says dryly. He tugs gently at my elbow. “You ready to head out?”
I nod. “Yeah, let’s go.”
I allow Owen to lead me down the hall toward the stairwell. It’s not until we exit the building that he speaks.
“Was Fox bothering you?”
I shake my head. Why is such a simple question so difficult for me to answer? “I don’t think so.”
A muscle in Owen’s jaw twitches. He opens and closes his mouth twice before managing to speak. “He’s not a good guy, Krissa. For some reason, the girls all seem to like him. And he seems to like all the girls, if you know what I mean. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
His words pierce me. He sounds protective—jealous, even. We arrive at his car and I’m spared having to respond right away. I open the door and slide into the seat. I take my time putting on the seatbelt. “Thank you.”
Owen starts the car. “For what?”
“Looking out for me. I’ve never really had someone do that before.”
He offers a lopsided grin as he puts the car into gear. “Well, get used to it.”
My heart swells at his words. Owen is a good friend. I
’m overcome by the desire to tell him about what happened with Crystal and Bridget last hour, from their talk about the founding families to the strangeness of our assignment completing itself. But what can I really say? Crystal and Bridget might really be witches and, by the way, I might be one too? It’s best if I keep it to myself. Will Owen’s promise of looking out for me extend to a place where he might have to protect himself from me—from the things I can do?
Chapter Fourteen
In science on Wednesday, Mrs. Bates drones on about the flowers and plants in the courtyard by the commons. I’m not paying attention. The lesson for today is over and I’m two questions away from being done with tonight’s homework. But when I hear her say something about sixth hour today, my ears perk up.
“I only had a handful of students who were going to do the work out in the garden, and half of them are out sick today. I’m just worried about what will happen to the plants if we wait much longer to take care of them.” Mrs. Bates is addressing the four girls at the front of the room, the ones too close to politely ignore her. “The weather’s already getting colder, and it always seems to rain about this time of year.”
I tap my pencil against Owen’s desk. “What’s she talking about?”
He looks up from his textbook. “I think she was going to have a group of kids do some gardening during sixth hour today, but a bunch of them are absent.”
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