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The Witch Is Back

Page 10

by Brittany Geragotelis


  We were told to spread out into a straight line across the woods, facing away from the campgrounds. Not close enough to touch the person next to us, but also not so far that we felt alone. I wondered what we were about to do and my palms began to itch with excitement.

  “Wooden disks such as this will soon appear in front of each of you,” Miss Peggy said, holding up a round slice of wood colored with a red-and-white bull’s-eye in the middle. It was about three feet around and no more than two inches thick—an easy target for even the most undeveloped witch. “We’d like you to attempt to hit all your targets, and we will increase the difficulty accordingly. When we are finished, you will all be ranked based on your accuracy. This session will begin now.”

  Miss Peggy, Mrs. B, and Mrs. Jeanette each took their places behind us, where they wouldn’t be in danger of any stray spells. The rest of us took our preferred casting stances and geared up for what seemed like magical target practice. Seconds later, dozens of wooden rounds lifted up into the air about fifteen feet in front of us.

  “Are they serious with this?” Jasmine asked, as we saw how close the objects were to us.

  I shrugged and raised my arm. “Looks like it.”

  I called out the spell and watched the disk explode easily. Jasmine did the same, and then I watched with pride as the rest of the Cleri hit their targets too.

  “Well done,” Miss Peggy said and then called up the next round. This time they were pulled back to twenty-five feet.

  “There we go,” I said as I prepared to cast again. Still hitting the bull’s-eye easily, I looked around and waited for the other twitches to finish their rounds.

  Each time, the targets were sent back ten more feet and we were all given a chance to reach them. As people missed their pieces of wood, they were forced to stay at that distance until they were able to successfully hit them. Within ten minutes, some of us had pulled ahead of the pack. Jasmine, Colette, and I were in the lead, and annoyingly, Brooklyn and Eve were progressing as well.

  When the targets finally became so small that we could barely discern them from the rest of the woods, we were told to relax as the counselors set the stage for the next phase in our class.

  “This next section will test your ability to multitask and work under pressure,” Mrs. Jeanette said. “A good witch should be able to cast one spell, while focusing on her surroundings. Not only for defensive purposes, but also to become more successful in her casting life. Quick thinking and multicasting will come in handy more often than you think.”

  “For this, we will break you up into groups of ten and ask you to take turns practicing,” Miss Peggy said. “Please don’t be discouraged if you don’t hit every target. Very few witches your age can. This is a skill that you’ll develop over time.”

  Though I knew this was likely true, I still planned to hit every target they threw my way. And from the looks on some of the other twitches’ faces, I could tell they had the same idea.

  We lined up in our groups and watched as the first person in each line stepped forward to hit the moving targets that were now being controlled by the counselors. The first few people in our section each hit the first and second targets that flew into the air, but as more and more began to appear and fly by, they got flustered and sent spells randomly into the woods.

  When it was finally my turn, I stepped forward and rolled my shoulders before planting my legs firmly on the ground. I took a deep breath and let my mind grow quiet, focusing on the sound of the air moving in and out of my lungs. Letting my eyes rest on the space in front of me without focusing on anything in particular, I tried to prepare myself for the disks that would be flying from any direction.

  “You’ve got this, Hadley!” I heard someone say from behind me, but by this point it was just background noise.

  Before I even saw it, I heard the whooshing sound of the first wooden round slice through the space in front of me. I hit it before it had barely been cast into the air. The second came around the same time the first target exploded and my head shot to the right and zeroed in on it. It quickly became one piece of wood after another until they were all a blur. I missed a few targets, but I was still confident that I’d hit more than anyone else so far.

  “Very impressive, Hadley,” Mrs. J said with an encouraging nod. “You hit twenty-five out of the thirty targets.”

  I beamed at the compliment, but inside I was slightly annoyed that the number hadn’t been higher. Now that I knew that others were aware of what had happened with the Parrishables, I was feeling a bit of pressure to live up to whatever expectations that created.

  “Next up!”

  Colette took my place and I moved toward the back, and then stopped to watch her. There was still plenty I didn’t know about my new roommate, including her casting abilities. She seemed to be pretty knowledgeable when it came to history and current affairs, but intelligence and practical application were two totally different things.

  “Ready,” she said, after tweaking her oversize glasses until they were secure on her face.

  The first disk appeared and Colette’s head turned quickly in its direction. Whipping her hand around her head like an imaginary lasso, she shot her hand out in front of her and the wooden round shattered. It was as if she was using her arm as a magical whip and the cracking sound it made when it hit home echoed through the woods.

  Suddenly she had the attention of everyone at camp.

  We all watched in awe as Colette continued to hit target after target with her wild arm motions and moves. When the final piece was split in half, she stood back, breathing hard and looking like she was still expecting more. The rest of us remained where we were, completely silent as we processed what the quirky oddball had just done.

  Mrs. B cleared her throat loudly. “I can honestly say I’ve never seen anything quite like that, Miss Jordan,” she said. “And I’ve never seen numbers like this from a student. You hit twenty-seven out of thirty of your targets.”

  Colette smiled and nodded at her, and then skipped her way to the back of the line. I followed behind her, amazed by what she’d done. A part of me was jealous she’d done better than me, but I was mostly just impressed.

  I shook my head at her, incredulously.

  “What?” she asked, looking at me sideways. I wasn’t sure whether she was joking or really that humble, but I decided it didn’t matter. I had to find out how she’d done it.

  “Um, nice shooting there, Indiana,” I said.

  “But I’m from Texas,” she said, looking confused.

  “I think she was implying that you’re like Indiana Jones,” said Abby, who’d joined us silently.

  “How did you do that?” I asked.

  “I used to rope cattle,” she answered.

  I blinked at her, trying to picture the colorful girl in front of me, kicking up dust and taking down fully-grown cows. It was hard to imagine and even harder to understand how that had translated to exploding spells.

  “So, more rope and less whips,” I said finally.

  “Right,” she said.

  “Wow, okay, well, you’re just chock-full of surprises aren’t ya?” I said, clapping her on the back.

  She just smiled.

  “Speaking of surprises,” Jasmine said, cutting in. “Blondie’s up next. Wonder what she has up her sleeve.”

  I turned to find Brooklyn walking to the front of the line and taking her place confidently. As the wood was let loose, she began to cast, chips flying into the air around her. After I saw the ease of her accuracy, my stomach started to drop.

  Please don’t let her get a higher number than me.

  After what had happened between us earlier, I couldn’t afford to be shown up by Brooklyn or her friends. I knew that from here on out, everything would be a competition between us. Who was the better girlfriend? Who was more powerful? Who had the fiercest outfit—it would all be tallied up in private and held against us in this battle we’d begun.

  I strained to h
ear Mrs. Jeanette as she counted up Brooklyn’s stats, holding my breath as I waited.

  “Nice, Miss Sparks,” she said finally. “You got twenty-five out of thirty. Looks like you’ve improved since last summer.”

  “Thank you,” she answered politely. “But I know I can do better.”

  When she said this last line, she glanced my way as if it were directed right at me. And that was fine, because so could I.

  “Well, you’ll have all summer to do so,” Mrs. Jeanette said. “For now, this is a solid start.”

  “Okay everyone, really great job today,” said Miss Peggy. “I think we’ve all learned that simply knowing how to cast a spell isn’t enough. If your target is moving or stands at a far distance, you’ll need more focus, more power, and more practice to hit it. These things don’t come naturally. It takes practice and time, just like honing any other skill.

  “We will be going over these kinds of drills throughout the summer and encourage you to practice on your own time. The woods are available to all of you for this specific reason, but we implore you to be smart while casting. That means: be aware of those who might be in the area around you. We don’t want anyone ending up in the infirmary because of a stray spell. Stay within the area we had you in today and don’t wander too far into the woods. It’s easy to get turned around if you’re not familiar with the land. And lastly, the woods are absolutely off-limits at night. This is nonnegotiable and for your own personal safety. Please don’t test us on this, because you will be sent home.”

  I glanced over at the rest of the Cleri and gave them a curious look.

  “With that said, we look forward to helping you grow into your magicking skills, and become useful and productive young witches,” Miss Peggy said, much too enthusiastically. “You are all released for lunch now.”

  Once dismissed, we all began to walk back toward the dining hall. Even with our magic fans and the cover of the trees, I was sweating, and longed for the iciness of the Brighton buildings.

  “What was with the ominous warning?” I asked Colette as we followed the path back.

  “It’s because of the Witch in the Woods,” she answered.

  “The Witch in the Woods?” Jasmine asked. “Who else would be out there? We’re at freaking witch camp.”

  “It’s just one witch in particular they’re worried about,” Colette said. “There’ve been rumors about her for years, wandering the grounds.”

  “Why are they concerned about it if it’s just an urban legend?” I asked.

  Colette looked over at me as we emerged from the last of the trees and stepped out into the sun. But she was no longer her chipper self. Her face was deadly serious.

  “Because she’s real.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Come again?” Jasmine asked, raising her eyebrow skeptically.

  “The Witch in the Woods isn’t just some folktale,” Colette repeated. “She’s real.”

  “What is the story of the Witch in the Woods, Colette?” I asked her gently.

  By now, we were in line at the cafeteria and loading up our plates with chicken fingers and fries. Momentarily distracted by our food, Colette waited until we were seated again to ply us with the details.

  “Moll Brenner was seventeen when Brighton first opened its doors in 1864. Of course, back then things weren’t as extravagant as they are now. Like I said the other day, the grounds themselves change every year to reflect advances in technology, pop culture, and, of course, magic. But in 1864, it was just a simple structure that met the needs of the witches who stayed here that first summer.

  “Still, the bare necessities didn’t stop witches from wanting to come. The owners, Mr. and Mrs. Klenderston, were selective about attendees, even back then. That first year, there were only thirteen boys and thirteen girls found worthy enough to get an invitation. Each was picked based on their lineage, magical abilities, and natural talents. Moll Brenner was one of those lucky enough to be picked.”

  Colette paused as if she were remembering what it must have been like for Moll to be asked to attend the exclusive camp in its inaugural year. She was probably just as excited as Colette was the first time she’d been invited. Only, from the look on her face, this story didn’t end as happily.

  “At first she was excited about going, but when she got there, she didn’t really fit in with the other kids. She had wild hair and was sorta awkward and sometimes talked to herself. Kids thought she was dirty, even though she bathed regularly. Moll didn’t care about the other campers though, and preferred to spend her time walking through the woods alone to making friends. This, and the fact that she was an incredibly talented witch, made her an easy target for bullying. It didn’t take the others long to start harassing her.

  “The campers would cast spells to trip her when she walked by. They claimed she was into black magic and even started rumors that she had funky diseases, so that people would stay far away from her. She became a pariah, and pretty soon, even the counselors stopped being friendly to her. Moll tried not to let any of it bother her, but this only seemed to make the others more aggressive in their taunting.”

  Colette’s face scrunched up in anger. I couldn’t help but sympathize with Moll, too. Only, I wasn’t sure what this had to do with the present situation.

  “One night, about halfway through the camp session, a group of kids who really seemed to have it in for Moll woke her up in the middle of the night and convinced her to go with them to a secret place where they would initiate her into their group. They explained that they’d been hard on her because they needed to know if she was strong enough to be one of them. Nobody knows why she agreed to go. Moll was a smart girl; she had to have known they were up to something. But whatever the reason, she went along.

  “They blindfolded her and took her out into the woods. After a half hour they stopped walking and instructed her to keep her blindfold on as they set up the site for the initiation ceremony. They sat her down on a big rock nearby and left her to wait by herself.

  “Of course the campers had no intention of letting her be one of them. Once they sat Moll down, they all crept away and then raced back to the lodge. By the time Moll realized that they’d lied, she was totally lost. Because of the blindfold, she had no idea which direction to go in and despite all the times she’d wandered in the woods before, nothing looked familiar to her anymore.”

  Colette stopped talking then, picking up a french fry and dipping it into the bright red ketchup before placing it in her mouth. The rest of us were sitting around her, waiting for her to continue, completely caught up in the hell that Moll had experienced.

  “Well? What happened to Moll?” Sascha asked, finally.

  “They never saw her again,” Colette said sadly. “When she didn’t show up for classes the next day, the counselors started asking questions. And when she was still gone at dinnertime, the kids who’d led her into the woods finally admitted what they’d done. The counselors called a search to try to find her, but it was as if she’d just disappeared. They eventually found the large rock that Moll had been sitting on when the others had left her, but she was no longer there. There was something left behind though, something that proved Moll had indeed been there. Two distinct handprints in the rock, like they’d been burned into the solid surface.

  “They nearly closed Brighton for good after that, but the owners decided that with a slew of new counselors and magical safety precautions in place, there shouldn’t be another tragedy like they’d had with Moll,” Colette said. “And there hasn’t been.”

  We sat there quietly, wondering what it would be like to be left all alone like that. For a while, none of us spoke. We had no idea what to say.

  “If Moll was at camp in 1864, then she’d be around 115 today if she even survived that night,” I asked gently. “So why do people still think it’s her that’s doing this?”

  “Weird stuff has happened around here since then. Flickering lights, whispers, shadows appearing out of n
owhere. Things have been stolen from rooms, odd messages have been left in unusual places. The adults all explain it away, but it’s pretty clear that it’s Moll. I mean, the same things wouldn’t still be happening now if it were just campers pulling pranks.”

  “So, you think she’s haunting the woods, trying to get back at those who did that to her? Like . . . as a ghost?” I asked, trying to put the pieces together.

  “Well, yeah. But not getting back at them per se. After all, she never really hurts anyone,” Colette said, appearing to be working through her thoughts as she talked. “Maybe she’s just making sure nobody forgets about her.”

  “Moll’s a ghost,” I said, rolling the words over my tongue to see how they felt. It would make sense as to why the adults wouldn’t want us wandering into the woods alone. And the Cleri had seen the ghosts of our ancestors during our fight against Samuel, so the idea wasn’t entirely impossible. Only, this situation was slightly different. No one was calling on Moll, she was sort of just stuck here.

  As crazy as it sounded, I could tell we all believed what Colette was saying. We knew what it was like to have what others figured was an “urban legend” suddenly prove to be real. The most dangerous thing we could do now would be to ignore the possibility completely.

  “With weak-ass pranks like that, girl’s never gonna get the recognition she wants,” Jasmine said, finally, breaking through our thoughts. We all gave her a look, which elicited her signature eye-roll. “All I’m saying is if you don’t like the way you’re being treated, do something about it. If Moll wants us to know she’s still out there, ghost girl needs to step it up a bit. Go big or go home.”

  I turned this all over in my head. If I were in Moll’s shoes, would I want to stick around a world that had betrayed me? Punish those who were responsible for my unhappiness? Or fight fate instead of moving on peacefully?

  In the end, there was no good answer. I just hoped I wouldn’t have to find out for myself.

  Asher didn’t come to lunch.

 

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