Crystal Magic (Clearwater Witches Book 1)

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Crystal Magic (Clearwater Witches Book 1) Page 18

by Madeline Freeman


  Jodi glances at me when I walk in, offering a quick smile before turning back to Crystal. I approach the register, setting Jodi’s coffee on the counter. “Millie wanted me to remind you to bring her DVD when you guys hang out tomorrow night,” I say to Jodi.

  Jodi nods but doesn’t respond to me.

  Crystal doesn’t even look at me. Instead, she reaches across the counter and takes Jodi’s hand in both of hers. “Thanks for your help, Miss Barnette,” she says, smiling.

  “You’re welcome.” Jodi returns her smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

  Crystal releases Jodi’s hand and picks up the bag from the counter. When she walks toward the door, the rest of the circle trails after her.

  Jodi’s eyes follow them out. When the door closes behind them, she looks at me, shaking her head. “I’m worried about her. I’m worried about all of them.”

  I’m surprised by her words. “What do you mean?”

  The corner of her mouth quirks upward. “You don’t have to pretend like you don’t know.”

  “What? That they’re all witches?”

  Jodi nods. “Crystal’s too much like her aunt. And we both know how that turned out for Crystal Taylor.”

  “You think she’s going to get herself killed?”

  “I think they’re all too young and too foolish to be playing with magic. I mean, come on. Fox and his attraction spell? Does he think he’s being clever? Or subtle?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m glad you’re smart enough not to get caught up with them.”

  Part of me bristles. Is she implying that if I were involved with them, I’d be stupid? How can she be so dismissive of their desire to use magic when she dabbled in it when she was our age? “Maybe they wouldn’t be like that if they had someone teaching them. A mentor.”

  Jodi sighs. “Krissa—”

  I narrow my eyes. “No. What right do you have to judge them? Look at the things you sell. You have everything here a witch could ever want and you’re going to be mad when a couple of them decide to use this stuff for magic?”

  Her eyebrows cinch together. “I’m not mad, I just—”

  “You just don’t think people should do magic.” I raise my eyebrows, daring her to correct me. “You think it’s okay for people to use magical things but not actually do magic themselves.”

  She straightens, squaring her shoulders. “The things I sell here are natural remedies. They don’t have anything to do with magic.”

  “They don’t have to. But they can. And you think you have the right to dictate how people use these things.”

  “No, I don’t. What are you—” She stops herself, pursing her lips. She presses one hand to her forehead and with the other points toward the break room. “Go get my keys out of my purse.”

  I’m so surprised by her abrupt request that I do it without asking any questions. When I emerge from the room, she’s pointing toward the parking lot.

  “Go home. I’ll get a ride from Millie.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I ask. “I disagree with you and you send me home?”

  She sighs. “Yes. We can continue this conversation later, but for now, just go home.” A breathy laugh escapes her lips. “Look, my parenting bag of tricks is less than limited. If you stay here, I’m just gonna get pissy and start yelling. And you don’t deserve that. So, take your moody teenage self home and we can talk about this later, okay?”

  “Okay.” I grab my things from the back room and head to the parking lot without another word. I guess I was wrong. I can’t tell Jodi about the circle or about wanting to learn to use my magic. She won’t understand. If I want to learn, I’ll have to do it myself.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  On the way to school on Friday, Jodi tells me I don’t have to come into work today. We still haven’t talked about our fight last night, and we haven’t continued the discussion, so I figure it’s probably for the best if we’re not cooped up in the shop together for hours.

  Crystal, Fox, and the other members of the circle continue to give me a wide berth, which doesn’t bother me in the least. I’d much rather have them ignore me than try to talk to me about my decision not to join them.

  At lunch, Lexie announces that I have plans for the evening.

  “Oh, do I now?” I ask, smiling. “And what, may I ask, are these plans of mine?”

  Lexie grins, obviously pleased that I’m playing along. “You know the bookstore downtown?”

  I shrug. “I know it exists. I haven’t been in it.”

  “Well, once a month, they have a movie night.”

  “A movie at a bookstore?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “That sounds a little counterproductive. Don’t they want to make people read books?”

  Lexie laughs. “All the movies they show are based on books. And it’s a good time. You’re coming.”

  “Just you and me?” I ask, casting a furtive glance in Owen’s direction.

  Bria catches me and rolls her eyes, smiling. “You, me, Lexie, West, Felix… Oh, yeah, and Owen.”

  “Yeah, so, we’ll pick you up at Jodi’s shop around six,” Owen says.

  “Actually, I’m not working tonight.”

  “Really?” Lexie asks. “That never happens. I was beginning to think you were in indentured servitude or something.”

  I force a smile, not wanting to let on to the reason for my unexpected time off. “Yeah. We should celebrate.”

  Bria rubs her hands together. “I never need an excuse to celebrate. What should we do?”

  “Let’s make an afternoon of it,” Owen suggests.

  “Make an afternoon of what?” Felix asks as he and West approach the table.

  “I’ve got the day off work and we’re gonna celebrate,” I say.

  West nods appreciatively. “Okay, so, the movie, of course. Maybe we could get pizza beforehand?”

  “Yeah, and games at the coffee shop right after school?” Lexie suggests.

  Owen grins, bumping my shoulder with his. “Sounds like a plan.”

  We spend the rest of lunch debating the merits of different games available at the coffee shop. While Jenga is a strong contender, Felix is rather vocal about Apples to Apples while Bria laments the shop’s distinct lack of Cards Against Humanity.

  The rest of the school day flies by and it seems like no time at all has passed when Owen pulls into a parking space in front of the coffee shop. We’re the first ones to arrive and we take care in selecting the perfect table. We’ve already got our drinks by the time the others show up, and although he can sit anywhere, Owen selects the seat right beside mine. He moves close so our arms press together and my mind fills with the echoey sensation it gets when he sends a thought to me.

  I’m glad you’ve got the night off.

  I smile at him. “Me too.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Why do you always answer out loud?”

  The others join us before I can respond, and I’m relieved. All week, Owen has taken every opportunity to practice sending thoughts to me, but I’ve only done it myself a few times. Part of me is afraid that if I send something to his mind, I might end up sending too much. It seems obvious to me that to him, we’re just friends. We share the psychic thing, which gives us a certain level of intimacy, but that doesn’t change the friends designation. If I’m not careful, he might be able to sense how much I wish things could be different—that we could be closer.

  Felix wins out and we play Apples to Apples. Owen is particularly good at it and I can’t tell if it’s because he’s such good friends with everyone or because his psychic abilities are stronger than mine. In the end, it doesn’t matter because we’re all having fun.

  On the way to the pizzeria, Bria suggests we stop into Jodi’s shop. Once she mentions it, everyone insists it’s a great idea and I don’t want to correct them.

  Jodi is crouched by the wall of candles, selecting boxes from understock. Her smile is genuine when she sees us walk in.

  “I’m glad to see you�
��re taking full advantage of your day off,” she says, winking at me. Her eyes flick to Owen before they survey the rest of the group, and heat rises in my cheeks.

  “We’re going to the movie at the bookstore,” Lexie announces. “We just thought we’d come say hi first.”

  “Hi!” everyone choruses.

  Jodi laughs. “Well, I hope you all have fun. Don’t get into too much trouble.”

  West shakes his head. “Just a moderate amount,” he assures her. “You won’t have to post bail or anything.”

  “We’ll have her home by curfew,” Lexie says, saluting. She nudges me with her elbow. “What’s your curfew?”

  I shrug. Jodi’s never given me one.

  Bria brings her hands up and taps her fingertips together. “Excellent,” she says in her best evil mastermind voice.

  Jodi refolds the box holding the remaining yellow tapers before standing and turning toward us in one fluid motion. But when she reaches her full height, she sways slightly, her hand going to the shelf behind her for support.

  I reach for my aunt. “Are you okay?”

  She smiles, pressing her hand to her forehead. “Yeah, just stood up too fast. I’m fine.” She shoos us with her hand. “You guys go have fun.”

  The group waves and turns toward the door, but I bite my lower lip. Is it the lighting in this area of the store, or does Jodi look pale?

  Before I can comment, Lexie is tugging me toward the front door of the store.

  The pizzeria is buzzing when we arrive and we release a collective groan when we’re told there will be a twenty-minute wait. We find a place to sit and Owen uses the time to practice sharing thoughts with me. He smiles every time I share one with him. I do my best to stick to innocuous things, like pointing out someone’s hairstyle or which pizza toppings are my favorites.

  When we’re finally seated, we end up on opposite sides of the table, so we can’t continue our exchanges. To be honest, I’m a bit glad for it: It’s hard concentrating on what things to send and what to keep back. Besides, with him across from me, I get the chance to watch the way his eyes dance when he laughs and how a dimple forms in his left cheek when he smiles. Felix and Lexie keep up a steady stream of conversation at the table and by the time our food comes, I’m laughing so often my face hurts from smiling.

  The pizzas are almost gone when Bria checks the time on her phone. “Crap! The movie starts in ten minutes. We still need to get the check.”

  “We still need to finish the pizza.” West belches, rubbing his stomach lazily.

  “Was that your attempt at making room?” Lexie asks, wrinkling her nose.

  Owen smacks West on the back. “Only two pieces left. You got this, man.”

  West shakes his head. “Dude, I already ate twice as much as anyone else.”

  “I got one,” Felix says as Bria manages to wave down the waitress to ask for the check. He takes a bite of the second-to-last slice and holds up his free hand as if to ask who’s taking the last piece.

  The waitress walks away from the table to go get the check and Bria grabs the last piece. “Fine, if no one else’s taking it.”

  Felix swallows his bite. “Nice. Gotta respect a girl who can eat.”

  Lexie’s mouth twitches but she says nothing. A buzzing shoots through my mind: She’s wishing she’d taken the piece in order to have been the recipient of Felix’s odd compliment. I pat her hand. Bria said Lexie and Felix seem to have been circling each other for quite some time now. I glance at Owen and sigh, knowing how it feels to have unrequited feelings for someone.

  By the time Felix and Bria finish their slices, the waitress has returned with our check. Lexie figures out what each of us owes and we all throw in our money.

  “Less than five minutes,” Bria announces as we spill onto the street.

  “The bookstore’s in the middle of the last block,” Lexie says to me, nodding in the direction she’s indicating.

  As we walk, I fall into step between Lexie and Owen. My skin tingles each time my arm brushes against his.

  The bookstore is about twice the size of Jodi’s shop—a square instead of a rectangle. Shiny covers greet us on the new release rack at the front of the store, but the rest of the shelves seem to contain a strange mash-up of new and used books.

  In the back of the store, a few dozen mismatched chairs and couches face a wall onto which a white sheet is tacked. A table is stacked with a popcorn popper and a box full of candy bars and pop cans. There are already a few people sitting in the front, chatting animatedly with each other.

  “So, what movie are they showing?” I ask.

  Owen shrugs. “Planet of the Apes, I think. But I don’t know whether it’s the new one or the old one. Not that it really matters, anyway. It’s more about the company.”

  He smiles down at me and I feel a warmth spreading in my belly.

  “I’m gonna get some popcorn,” he says, starting toward the line at the back of the seating area.

  I groan. “Seriously? How can you even think of more food right now?”

  Lexie links her arm through mine. “Let’s go grab seats.”

  I hesitate for the briefest of moments before heading toward a set of couches. Bria leans across Lexie. “Don’t worry. You can save a seat for Owen.”

  I press my lips together in a tight line and Lexie giggles. Am I really so obvious?

  The opening credits are rolling when Owen, West, and Felix join us on the two couches we’ve claimed. West sits on my left and Owen on my right, while Felix settles between Lexie and Bria.

  It’s the old version of Planet of the Apes, and after I get over the initial cheesiness of it, I actually start to enjoy it. But, as Owen noted, it’s not the movie itself but the company that’s the most entertaining. While the group is far more restrained than they were when we did movie night at West’s house, we’re far from quiet. West can only seem to go about ninety seconds between whispered outbursts in my ear which make me laugh so hard that half the time, Owen forces me to repeat what he said. At first I feel self-conscious until I realize that the two dozen or so other people who are seated around us are likewise engaged in quiet conversation.

  During an uncharacteristic quiet stretch from West, I take a moment to scan the room for familiar faces. I half expect to see Fox seated somewhere surrounded by a harem of adoring girls, but the only face I recognize in the room is Tucker Ingram’s. He sits toward the back with a small knot of people, one of whom is a particularly giggly girl. Tucker tips something from a small silver container into his Coke can, but before I can think much about it, West is tugging at my arm to make another comment about the movie.

  About halfway through, I find myself reaching for Owen’s bag of popcorn. He catches my eye and mouths told you. I shrug, unapologetic. Clearly he expected me to sneak some at some point, since he bought the largest size available.

  The popcorn slowly disappears as the movie plays on. Toward the end, my fingers brush up against Owen’s hand as I reach into the bag. A thrill courses through me, accompanied by a flash inside my head. This isn’t like the thoughts he deliberately sends to me. Instead of the echo, I see a distinct picture. I know immediately that I’m seeing something he doesn’t mean for me to see. Owen is thinking of the night at the dance, when we were dancing together. I pull my hand back quickly on instinct.

  I bite my lower lip, embarrassed to have been spying, and sneak a glance at him out the corner of my eye. He offers the briefest of shrugs and an unabashed smile and my cheeks flush with pleasure. He rests his hand in the valley between our legs and my heart flutters. It’s an invitation. I slip my arm across my denim-clad leg and rest the back of my hand against the back of his. I call to mind my own recollection of our dance and imagine it flowing out of my head, down my arm, and into his hand. I pick up my memory where his left off: We danced, yes, but then he touched the side of my face and leaned forward. But memory and fantasy are so connected that before I can stop it, I’ve sent the image I’ve ima
gined a hundred times since that night: Owen doesn’t stop, no one interrupts us, and his lips press gently against mine.

  The overhead lights flicker on and I’m surprised to see the end credits rolling. Owen pulls his arm from mine and a wave of regret washes over me. When I glance at his face, his expression is unreadable. This is exactly what I was afraid would happen: I shared too much. I’ve made things awkward between us.

  “Okay, I’m going to the bathroom,” Lexie announces, standing. She looks from me to Bria, a tacit invitation to join her.

  “I’ll wait outside,” I say, and Lexie raises an eyebrow as she and Bria head toward the restrooms. Without waiting for the guys, I head to the front door and out onto the sidewalk. The night air has developed a gentle wind and I rub my upper arms with my hands, attempting to generate some heat. I consider my options. I can wait for Owen; no matter how uncomfortable it would be, I can’t see him refusing to give me a ride home. But do I really want to endure the unpleasant silence? I could walk down to Jodi’s shop, but she’s probably already gone home. Since Owen was my ride into town, she probably assumes he’ll be my ride home. Until about five minutes ago, I assumed the same. But now I’m not so sure it would be a good idea. I made a mistake and shared my feelings for him, and now I’m afraid I’ve ruined everything.

  I lean against the exterior wall of the bookstore, focusing on the rough brick where it juts out against my back in an attempt to distract myself from whatever—possibly painful—exchange I’m sure to have with Owen when he emerges.

  Several people exit the store. I’m not facing them, but I can tell it’s a big group by the number of voices cutting through the night air. I don’t recognize them specifically, but I’m sure they go to school with me. They pass by, heading in the direction of the coffee house.

 

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