“What is it?” I asked, curiously.
“It’s this cat that’s always grumpy. He’s a meme that’s become like, one of the most famous cats on the Internet,” Colette said, grinning back at us.
“I meant the table,” I said, chuckling at her enthusiasm over a cat. “How does it work?”
“Oh, sure. Right,” she said, suddenly embarrassed. “Well, it acts sort of like a computer. Like if you want to find something—pictures, videos, sites, information on things—you can just ask for it and it appears. Only, in 3D and without glasses.”
“Can you see people around the world?” Abby asked, as if she were reading my mind. The tool could come in handy if I wanted to check up on the Parrishables.
Or on Asher.
Not like I was planning on eavesdropping or anything . . . well, okay, who am I kidding? I wanted to eavesdrop. And apparently Abby had the same idea. Only, I wondered who it was she planned to spy on.
“Already tried it,” Colette said, adjusting her glasses smartly. “And no. There’s no live feed. At least as far as I can tell.”
“Oh,” Abby said, and grew quiet again.
“I hope you guys don’t mind, but I took the bed on the right, because, well—I have to wake up on the right side of the bed,” Colette said as if this was a logical explanation.
“Fine with me,” I said. Tilting my head toward the area that our new roommate had claimed, I checked out what she’d done with the place.
As much as I liked the girl, it was like a rainbow had thrown up on her side. The wall was covered with dozens of bright-yellow and lime-green circles in all different sizes. Her bedspread was hot pink, with a sort of glittery topcoat that glistened as you moved around the room. The pillows were a vibrant blue. Her dressers were deep purple and trimmed with gold. Oversize framed pictures of bright flowers decorated the wall and seemed to disappear behind her bed.
The two areas for Abby and me were completely white.
White walls, white sheets and comforter, white dresser and closet. It almost looked sterile with the total lack of color. Definitely not my idea of an inviting place to stay day in and day out.
“I didn’t realize we were supposed to bring our own stuff to decorate,” I said, pulling my bags over to the bed that was opposite the front door. It held a big rectangular window and looked like it had the best natural light.
Good lighting, after all, was a girl’s best friend.
“Oh, you weren’t,” Colette said. “That’s the other cool part.”
Colette pranced over to my bed and waved her hand over the top of it while closing her eyes lightly. As her hand moved over the comforter, the bed cover began to change colors, shifting until it showed four Andy Warhol–looking photos of Marilyn Monroe.
Opening her eyes again, Colette clapped her hands together excitedly. “See? You just think about what design you want and it appears. The whole room’s enchanted so we can personalize our living space. You can change your walls”—she walked over to the space behind my bed and it became textured and orange—“and the pictures”—a touch of one of the frames and the picture inside changed to abstract art—“and even the furniture.”
“That’s sick!” I said stepping forward and surveying my now-colorful area. “Although this isn’t exactly my style. No offense.”
“None taken,” Colette answered.
I waved my hand over the different parts of my room and within seconds, the bed had turned candy-apple red, the walls changed to black and white stripes, and my furniture turned black with feathers and crystals as accents.
“Wicked,” Colette said, nodding her head in approval.
I turned around to see Abby pimping out her side too, having chosen an interesting jungle-theme for her wallpaper and a baby-blue bedspread. Not at all what I’d have expected from her, though it pretty much proved how desperately we needed to spend more time together. Clearly I still didn’t know Asher’s little sister at all.
“There’s more. Sit down on your beds,” Colette commanded, sitting down on hers and motioning for us to do the same. With a glance at Abby, who was following along without argument, we both lowered ourselves onto the squishy mattresses. As I pulled my legs up from the floor to sit cross-legged, I began to feel something weird.
It was like the bed was vibrating.
No, not vibrating. Moving.
Then, as I watched, all three of our beds began to rise off the floor. They continued to float into the air until we were just a foot away from hitting our heads on the ceiling.
“Whoa,” I said, already wondering how we were going to get down.
“It’s like a magic carpet ride,” Abby said, leaning forward and clinging to the blankets tightly.
“Yeah, pretty sweet, huh?” Colette said. “I could just hang out up here all day, passing the time away.”
The three of us lay back on our respective beds and took everything in. I placed my arms behind my head and stared at the ceiling in silence for a few moments.
“I can’t believe this is our room,” I said quietly, feeling truly content for the first time since we’d arrived. But then my mind drifted back to Asher and what I’d witnessed between him and Brooklyn in the lobby earlier and felt myself getting worked up again.
I had to try to get more information on her. It seemed like Asher had been genuinely surprised to see her, which meant that they obviously hadn’t kept in touch. This was a plus at least, but there was still that hug between them. It was oddly intimate and I wondered if it would’ve gone on longer had dozens of people not been around to witness it.
I admit, it was slightly irrational to be upset with either of them for just saying hello. Neither of them was crossing any lines, after all. But I also felt strangely justified in my anger and frustration.
What had happened between them?
I wanted to grill Abby about it, but didn’t feel comfortable doing it in front of Colette. And if I was being honest, I was hesitant to bring the topic up to Asher’s sister at all. The last thing I wanted her to think was that I was actually jealous of some Barbie-looking girl and was capable of snooping for information on her brother.
Even if it was true. About the snooping, I mean. Not the jealousy. Because Hadley Bishop did not do jealous.
At least I didn’t think I did. Was that what this was? Jealousy? I wouldn’t have known from experience, because this situation with Asher was a first for me.
See, there’d only ever really been one other guy that I’d cared about—and in the end, ours was less of a relationship and more of a mistake. One that I’d learned from at the expense of my heart.
Before Asher, there was Kent.
I met Kent my freshman year and fell for him right away. Hard. He was this upperclassman, soccer stud, and the biggest draw of all: he was human. So when he noticed me cheering on the sidelines at one of his games, I just about died from excitement. It didn’t take long for him to ask me out, and we spent several weeks going to movies, hanging out in coffee shops, and walking around town.
He was my first crush. My first date. My first kiss.
He was my first . . . everything.
The problem was, I wasn’t his only.
After a while, Kent began to pull away, claiming he was too busy to hang out. I finally confronted him one day at school and that’s when he’d dropped the bombshell.
“I sort of have a girlfriend now,” Kent said, not at all ashamed to tell me this.
Boom.
“We had some fun, but we never said we were exclusive.”
Boom.
“When Mindy found out I was seeing other people, she decided she was ready to commit. She said she couldn’t stand the thought of me being with all those other girls.”
Girls? As in, more than just me?
Boom.
“Look, I love her. You understand, right?”
Kaboom.
I didn’t understand though. I didn’t understand how he could date several girls a
t once, make me think he liked me and only me, and then ditch me for someone else. My heart felt like it had been obliterated, and being the witch I am, I’d instantly searched for a spell that would make him choose me instead. Because as douchey as Kent had been to me, I still liked him.
Unfortunately, love is about the only thing that witches can’t mess with. I might have the power to persuade people to do what I want and create fire out of thin air, but I can’t make a boy like me. It was infuriating and made me feel completely helpless for the first time in my life.
When I’d confessed to my girlfriends what had happened, they hadn’t seemed all that surprised. In fact, they told me that it was a typical boy thing to do. That guys often did this as they searched for the “right” girl. After I finally stopped crying, I came to a decision that changed everything.
I would never again date a high-school boy.
The experience had made me too vulnerable and I didn’t like feeling out of control. It was much safer to concentrate on other things, like my magic, cheerleading, school, and friends, than risk having my heart broken.
And then Asher had come along and my world changed once again.
Only, choosing to date Asher was more like two magnets being pulled together by an invisible force. We were a perfect match. And while I tried to stick to my old no-dating rules, I eventually gave in, telling myself it would be different because he was a witch, and not a typical high-school guy. He was special.
So, although I hadn’t exactly enjoyed hearing that Kent had found another girl whom he wanted to date more than me, I never felt that sense of jealousy toward her. Probably because she went to a different school and I never actually met her in person. Besides, Kent and I had lasted a whopping three weeks—a lifetime at fifteen, but chump change compared to my relationship with Asher.
Given all of that, this whole jealousy thing was new to me. And I had no idea how to handle it. I so didn’t want to be that girl. The one who screamed at her beau because he said Jessica Alba was hot. I had more self-esteem than that. And more faith in our relationship. But it was like something was taking over my brain and making me feel crazy and emotional and . . . insecure.
It was like Invasion of the Body Snatchers, only the monster was in the form of a tall blonde who’d probably once had her legs wrapped around my boyfriend. . . .
And suddenly I was back to hating her.
Colette lifted her arm up to her face and checked her funky plastic watch, pulling me out of my thoughts. “First class starts in fifteen,” she announced, sitting up abruptly and then swinging her legs over the side of her bed. I watched as it drifted back down toward the floor.
Looking over at Abby, I could see that she’d pulled another book out of thin air and was already reading.
The girl sure likes her books, doesn’t she?
“You coming?” I asked her.
“Gonna read for a few more minutes, but I’ll be down for class,” she answered, her attention fully on the story she was reading.
“Okay,” I said, wondering if I’d be able to pry her away from her books long enough to get to know her.
I copied Colette and swung my legs over the side of the bed and let them hang in the air. As if I’d pulled on a lever, the bed began to lower to the floor until my feet were touching the ground.
“So cool,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief before getting ready for our session.
Chapter Six
I’d never much minded walking into situations where I didn’t know anyone. Not just because I was a natural influencer, but because I wasn’t exactly shy.
Call me crazy, but I feel like powerful people have a duty to use their positions in the public eye for good, not evil. Like the saying goes, you catch more bees with honey.
Besides, history had pretty much proven that what you put out there comes back to you, tenfold. Take a look at Marie Antoinette for instance. Great dresser, but she was selfish and focused on spending money frivolously rather than helping the hungry or lessening the rising deficit in France. In the end, it didn’t matter how great she looked or that she was royalty—her subjects were unhappy with the way she treated them and she paid the price for it.
With her head.
And I wasn’t about to lose mine because I treated people badly. I recognized that I’d been blessed. With numerous talents like my ability to throw multiple back handsprings in a row or argue just about any topic. I’d also hit the genealogical jackpot. Being a direct descendent of one of the most powerful witches of all time had left me with magical gifts most others didn’t have.
It was with this mindset that I walked into our first session at Brighton, pumped to learn and ready to rock every challenge they threw my way. I was even looking forward to making new friends. Since graduating from Astor High in May, my relationships with my old friends had grown strained. I’d heard that this often happened to people after they graduated and moved on to separate colleges, but I hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.
Plans to spend our last summer together had disintegrated as I learned about Brighton. And then Sofia headed off to cheer camp, while Bethany and Trish flitted to Europe for the quintessential post-high-school backpacking trip. So, I found myself without my trendy trio for the first summer in forever.
I was friendless.
And apparently overly dramatic. But what was a girl without her friends? Nothing. The Cleri sort of filled the hole left by my old social circle, but even with them it was an odd relationship. I’d been their leader. Still was, if you considered the meetings I regularly held to make sure the Parrishables stayed gone. They still looked to me to guide them and that made for an unequal balance of power between us. We were friendly, but I wasn’t sure we were “friends.”
Expanding my friendship circle was exactly what I needed. Especially since I felt like there was no one I could really talk to about this ex-girlfriend thing. And I was in serious need of a sounding board. Luckily, Colette had turned out to be much cooler than I’d expected and I felt like I was already making progress with her.
“Hey guys!” I said, walking across the grass behind the cabin to meet up with the Cleri members who had already sat down within the mini amphitheater.
So far only Jasmine, Jinx, and Sascha had shown up. Like a weird Three Musketeers. Sascha was chatting excitedly as Jinx attempted to get a word in here and there, and Jasmine rested back against the edge of a stage, looking bored. Or angry. Or annoyed. I still couldn’t tell any of them apart.
“This is Colette,” I said, gesturing for her to come closer. She joined me, twisting the bottom of her shirt absently. But instead of looking down at the ground, intimidated by the group in front of her, she locked eyes with each of the girls and gave them genuine smiles. “She’s rooming with Abby and me.”
“Nice to meet you,” Sascha said, sliding her butt off the edge of the stage and coming forward to shake Colette’s hand. Jinx followed suit, but when I looked at Jasmine hoping she’d at least try to be friendly, she just nodded her head and said, “What’s up?”
“So good to meet you guys!” Colette said.
Jasmine took in Colette’s outfit and stared at her blankly. “What’s your deal?” she asked finally.
If Colette was offended, she didn’t let on. Instead she just stood there, and answered as if she were asked the question all the time.
“Well, what do you want to know?” she asked genially.
“What’s with the outfit?” Jasmine asked back.
This was the sort of thing I’d been afraid of. The rest of us were used to Jasmine’s blunt nature, but to strangers, her attitude could be misconstrued as hostility.
“Jasmine!” I scolded and then turned to Colette apologetically.
But she didn’t bat an eye. “My aunt Betsey gave it to me. She always sends me her latest creations,” she said. Jasmine’s comment hadn’t bothered her one bit.
“Is this your first time at Brighton?” Sascha asked, changing the co
nversation to safer subjects. “We’re all newbies.”
“Nah,” Colette said. “I’ve been coming here since I was, like, eight, I guess? So, like, nine years give or take a summer?”
“Is the rest of your coven here, too?” I asked, looking around for any sign of them.
“I was the only one invited this year,” she answered with a shrug. “There’ve been others from my group in the past, but they’ve all graduated. Or are too young and inexperienced to make the cut. So, it’s just me for now.”
Even though Colette seemed perfectly fine to be here by herself, I had to imagine it was incredibly lonely. I made a vow to include her as much as possible.
“What’s it like here?” Sascha asked, like she wanted Colette to spill Brighton’s biggest secrets. I, myself, was curious to hear what she thought of the witches’ intensive, too. So far, it hadn’t been what I’d expected. On several different levels.
“Brighton is unreal. The teachers are all really smart and always come up with the best lessons each year. They’re some of the most influential witches alive, you know? And they take time out of each of their summers to come here and teach us. It’s pretty wild when you think about it. I mean, these are the witches that are changing the face of the magicking world. We couldn’t be taught by more talented people.”
Well at least I was going to be in good company. I’d never really paid much attention to what was going on in terms of current events in the witching world, since I figured it had little to do with my life personally. So I probably wouldn’t recognize any of the elders for the strides they’d made in the paranormal world. But still, it was cool to find out that our teachers were so celebrated.
If you wanted to be the best, you had to learn from the best.
Other kids began to show up then and the area we were in started to get more crowded. I heard a loud-pitched laugh and turned to see Brooklyn and her posse sauntering our way. Still looking perfectly put together, the blond bombshell once again commanded everyone’s attention. I forced myself to turn back to Colette and the others.
“How about the other twitches?” I asked her, hoping it sounded nonchalant despite the timing. “Everyone else cool?”
The Witch Is Back Page 5