by Cassandra
Jessica looked longingly toward the kitchen and debated whether it was worth the risk to quickly get some food before she retreated to her room. When her stomach twisted with hunger again, she knew she wouldn’t survive the night if she didn’t find something to scarf down.
Her mind made up, she moved as quickly and quietly as possible—which was much easier said than done considering she suddenly felt rather unsteady on her feet—she darted to the kitchen and prayed she could quickly find something to eat. If she had any luck, there would be leftovers in the fridge that didn’t need to be reheated.
Regretfully, she realized she couldn’t see in the dark, flipped the light switch on, and flinched when the brightness hurt her eyes.
Squinting, she headed to explore the kitchen counter but froze when she noticed a piece of paper resting against a glass of water beside a pack of two Tylenols.
“What the hell?” Jessica muttered and snatched up the piece of paper. She blinked a few times to help her eyes adjust and recognized her grandmother’s handwriting.
There’s a sandwich in the fridge.
She stared at it in disbelief for a moment and wondered how in the world Grandma Ethel could possibly have known.
So dumbfounded by her grandmother’s knowledge, Jessica almost missed the bottom of the note, which read: P.S. – Garden work for a week.
“Dammit,” Jessica muttered and dropped the note back onto the kitchen counter.
With nothing more for her to do except regret the inevitable punishment, she stumbled to the refrigerator and opened it, where she found a beautifully made sandwich waiting for her. She ate it so ravenously that it was practically gone before she even closed the refrigerator door. Finally, she walked back to the counter, where she popped the two pills in her mouth and drained the glass of water in a few gulps.
“Garden work for a week,” she mumbled, shook her head, and wondered once again how Ethel had known.
Had Chad told her?
No, he couldn’t have, Jessica thought. She had been with him the whole time, and she hadn’t seen him call or text anyone.
Jessica turned the light off and left the kitchen. She shooed a few cats out of her way, no longer concerned about the noise she made since her grandmother already knew everything.
As she trudged upstairs, she reminded herself that when living with a witch as formidable as her grandmother, you could never be too careful. Maybe Chad had been right after all. Fooling people never ended well—a rather disturbing thought when she reflected on the number of times she’d used the convincing spell already.
But for now, she simply wanted to sleep and hoped the pills would save her from having too bad a hangover in the morning. She stumbled up the stairs, tripped over several along the way, and practically collapsed the moment she reached her bed.
Jessica stared at her bedroom ceiling and marveled at how such a fun night had ended with such a buzzkill.
I guess it could be worse, she thought, especially since Grandma Ethel hadn’t waited up to lecture her. She knew not to count her chickens before they were hatched, though. If anything, the old woman had jowould wait until morning to tell her off.
In all the excitement, she had forgotten that her parents were actually out of town on vacation. Hence, she was confident that her grandmother wouldn’t disturb them simply to rat her out. However, she was likely to tell them eventually, and that would be a whole additional headache to deal with.
Or another punishment, more accurately.
Maybe I should do a convincing spell on all of them so that they never find out or remember I did anything wrong.
Jessica killed that thought almost the second she had it. She was sober enough to know that the absurd idea had been purely a result of her drunkenness.
Using a convincing spell on Grandma Ethel? Jessica couldn’t come up with a more ridiculous idea if she tried.
In fact, she knew she needed to heed Chad’s warning and leave those kinds of spells alone altogether.
With a sigh—and considerably more effort than usual—she sat up and decided it would be a good idea to change into her pajamas. However, her eyes landed on the candlestick she was supposed to use for practice.
First, she laughed at it, then she frowned.
What was the chant again? she thought, the memory hazy in her brain.
She cleared her throat. “Power of fire…come to me…Power of fire…light the candlestick. See?”
She shook her head and knew that wasn’t even close. Annoyed, she stuck her tongue out at the candle and laughed at how childish she felt.
Get a grip, Jessica, she told herself. At that precise moment, she nearly jumped out of her own skin. She had so clearly heard something knock on her window, and it took a moment for her to realize that it was only the stupid tree branch again.
Maybe during yard work, I’ll cut that damn thing off, she promised herself when she recalled how it had scared her so badly the previous night when she had studied the deck of cards she’d bought from Christa at the magic shop.
Her gaze drifted to her desk and she saw the cards neatly spread out, covering the surface The sight vaguely stirred her curiosity because, despite the fact that she was too drunk to think it through, she seemed to recall packing them away. Jessica sighed and walked toward the desk on wobbly legs.
She swayed a little drunkenly but, fuzzy-brained or not, she did realize that the card depicting the scary stick-man was missing.
Jessica tilted her head suspiciously, knelt to look under the desk, and wondered if the card had fallen. The floor beneath her desk was empty.
Her head bumped painfully as she stood and she swore. More confused than ever, she rubbed the back of her head momentarily before a new thought came to her.
I wonder if there’s anything in these cards about shortcuts to lighting candlesticks? Maybe if I figure out how to light it, Grandma Ethel will go easy on me.
She took a seat at her desk and picked up the Coven Seven card. Fire. It seemed appropriate, so she flipped it over in her hand and began to read the instructions on the back before her phone suddenly beeped and made her jump again.
With a sigh, she dropped the card and stumbled back to her bed where her phone had fallen out of her pocket. She picked it up to see that she’d received a text from Kacey. Fun night. Hope we can hang out again soon.
The message almost sobered her immediately when she recalled with a mixture of horror and intrigue that she had willingly made out with him at the concert.
“Oh, my God,” she sighed, brought a hand to her forehead, and fell back onto her bed.
It would definitely be interesting the next time she saw Kacey, that was for sure. Still, she was too drunk to figure out what that even meant.
Jessica squeezed her eyes shut and suddenly wished she had someone to talk to. Oddly enough, the only person she could think of in that moment was Frank.
Where was he anyway?
“Frank?” she said out loud to test whether it would summon him to her. When he didn’t appear, she hoped he wasn’t in a mood with her for some reason.
If she couldn’t count on her familiar, who could she rely on?
Tired, confused, and dizzy, she rolled over on her bed and snuggled into her blanket, not at all concerned that she hadn’t managed to put her pajamas on.
Or that the tree branch tapped constantly against her window.
Chapter Five
Her first moments of consciousness were accompanied by a throbbing ache that pounded relentlessly through her forehead. Jessica groaned into her pillow. Her mouth and throat felt unbearably dry and she coughed and instantly regretted it when an even deeper pain shot through her head.
With another low groan, she flipped to her back. The movement launched new waves of pain and another tickle in her throat. She coughed again, only to feel as if someone had banged her over the head with a sledgehammer.
“Oh, God,” she cried, overwhelmed by the pain and disgusted by the taste i
n her mouth. She smacked her lips around some strange and fuzzy combination of the sandwich she had eaten before bed and the shots she had taken at the concert.
It was enough to make her promise to never drink again.
The way she felt, she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to even move again.
Why do adults do this to themselves? she thought.
She rolled onto her side, moaned loudly, and decided should rather remain still before she puked all over the place. Already, her stomach gurgled alarmingly.
Then she remembered her grandma’s note. Garden work for a week.
Jessica sighed. Although her back faced the window, she could hear the rain outside. Plus, there was a chill in the air that let her know that in addition to rain, it was also cold outside.
Surely Grandma Ethel wouldn’t make her work in the cold and rain, would she? Somehow, she didn’t think the current weather conditions would do much for her pounding headache.
Jessica snuggled deeper into her covers and rocked herself gently against the slight nausea she felt.
Maybe I need to stay in bed and cancel this whole day entirely.
No sooner had she thought that when Grandma Ethel yelled from downstairs. “Jessica!”
She squeezed her eyes shut, her grandmother’s voice so loud it sounded like it had been amplified. In fact, she was reasonably certain it was amplified, for someone like Ethel surely would know a spell for that kind of thing.
“Get your butt out of bed, lazy-bones. You’ll be late for school.”
In response, she shut her eyes even tighter and pressed the palms of her hand against her forehead. Ethel’s voice felt like it drilled into her sore brain. She knew without a doubt that this was part of her punishment. Grandma Ethel never yelled at her like that to get up for school.
“Don’t make me come up there,” the old lady called and her voice sounded closer like she shouted directly up the stairs—or at least somehow sent her voice in that direction with a magical amplifier.
It was not a good idea to press her luck with Grandma Ethel. Jessica sat slowly and her head throbbed even more. She sat in bed for a moment and rubbed her forehead as if that would help. Then she sighed and stood cautiously, taking careful steps to ensure her legs still worked and that she wouldn’t wind up falling flat on her face. The last thing she needed was to be hungover with a broken nose because the way Grandma Ethel sounded, she would make her go to school regardless.
Instinctively, she glanced at the magic cards still spread out across her desk and recalled vaguely that she had looked at them before she’d passed out in bed. Something about them nagged her, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it at the moment. It wasn’t time to be concerned with them right now, though. She had to face Grandma Ethel, which would undoubtedly require more energy than she had.
With another weak groan, she left her bedroom and headed downstairs. Echoes of the band’s music still seemed to blare through her head and made the ache even worse. It certainly didn’t help matters when she reached the kitchen and her grandmother blasted music of her own while she stirred eggs cheerfully at the stove.
“Good morning!” Grandma Ethel said much too loudly and banged the wooden spoon in her hand on the pan.
Jessica flinched. “Grandma.” She sighed and waved her hand around to indicate the music, although she couldn’t see where it came from. There was no stereo or anything in the kitchen. As far as she could tell, the old lady had the music coming out of the walls or something. “Is this really necessary?”
“What? Breakfast?” Ethel batted her eyes innocently.
“The noise, Grandma. All this noise.”
“If by noise, you mean music… Why, pardon me. I didn’t think it would bother you after you spent all night listening to it at the concert.”
“Trust me, they didn’t play this garbage at the concert,” Jessica said and rubbed her temples fruitlessly once again. “And what’s with the lights? Do we really need them on? Why are they so bright?” She frowned. her grandmother still attempting to look innocent, but she knew she must have done something to make the lights brighter than normal to mess with her.
Squinting against the brightness, she stumbled over toward the kitchen table, where she collapsed into a chair with a groan.
Ethel laughed. “Oh, I certainly remember that look. I had it about…seventy years ago.”
“What look?” Jessica asked irritably.
“The drunk for the first time look. Or I guess I should say the hungover for the first time look, rather.”
Then why are you being such a jerk about it? Jessica thought, grateful that she was at least sober enough not to say it out loud. When Grandma Ethel chuckled, though, Jessica feared she had somehow read her mind anyway.
“I know you’re at that age now, and it’s only normal for you to test your boundaries with this kind of thing. But since you’re living with me, I’d be irresponsible if I didn’t give you a hard time for it. Your parents would never forgive me.”
She opened her mouth to make a retort, but instead of words, vomit rose quickly from her throat. Her eyes wide, she clamped her mouth shut and covered it with her hands as she rushed off to the downstairs bathroom.
Thankfully, she made it to the toilet in the nick of time.
She wasn’t sure how there was so much in her stomach to throw up in the first place. And when she left the bathroom, she felt even worse instead of better.
“It looks like you’ve learned a valuable lesson last night,” Ethel said and filled a plate with food that Jessica doubted she would be able to eat. Seeing the way her granddaughter gagged when she looked at it, she chuckled and handed her a glass of water instead.
Jessica took the glass, took a small sip, and pressed it to her forehead. “Yeah, I learned a lesson all right,” she said. “No more stupid spells.”
The old lady gasped and placed a hand mockingly to her chest. “You mean simply lighting candles doesn’t seem like the stupid spell anymore?” She laughed and put her hands on her hips. “So, tell me—was all the excitement and spell-casting last night worth it?”
She shook her head. “No, not now. I swear I’ll never drink again.” When Ethel laughed once more, she narrowed her eyes at her. “Grandma, how did you know?”
Her grandmother threw her hands up in the air. “Because what else were you going to do? It’s what everyone does. No one under the age of twenty-one learns a convincing spell without eventually using it to get liquor. I knew you would do this before you even did, girly.” She shook her head. “You really are something else, if I do say so myself. Here you are, casting over-twenty-one spells when we haven’t even gotten to fourth-grade magic yet. You can’t even light a candle, for goodness sake.” She sighed. “It looks like teaching you will be much trickier than I anticipated. I never had the luxury of teaching your mother much, for obvious reasons. So this is fairly new territory for me too.”
Jessica bit her bottom lip to keep it from wobbling. Maybe it was because she was still drunk, but deep down, she had a feeling Grandma Ethel was disappointed with her—which in turn made her feel disappointed in herself. “I’m so sorry, Grandma,” she said. “I…I hope I didn’t blow it. You wanting to teach me, I mean. And you’re right. It’s so dumb that I can’t even do the simple stuff like light candles but can get myself into a mess like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“You’re a dramatic drunk, I see,” Ethel said offhandedly as she loaded the dishwasher. “You’ll be fine, so don’t start all the water-works on me now, girl. We’ll get there. Even geniuses have trouble sometimes. I once knew a kid who could solve the most complicated algebra problems by the time he was five but couldn’t tie his own shoelaces! So rest assured, everyone moves at their own pace.”
She laughed but it turned into another gag. Despairing, she pressed her hand quickly to her mouth again and fought back another urge to vomit.
“Drink up.” The old lady pointed to the glass o
f water she had given her. “And if the water doesn’t seem appealing, pretend it’s one of those shots you drank last night.” She cackled, amused by her own joke. “Anyway, we’ll do more lessons tonight after you’re done with your garden work.”
Jessica groaned. “But Grandma—it’s cold and raining outside. And I feel like crap.”
“Ahh, it is. And you look like crap too, honeybun. But I guess that’s something you should have thought about before you snuck yourself into the twenty-one and up section and got drunk.”
“But that’s not fair, especially if you already knew this would happen.”
“What did I tell you? I’d be irresponsible if I didn’t give you a hard time. Besides, you can’t tell me you didn’t expect a punishment, can you?”
“Well yeah, but—”
“Then congratulations. You’ve inherited my strong intuition. Now, let’s get it over with. We both have jobs to do. I have to be the disciplinarian, so you go ahead and let yourself be disciplined, all right?” Grandma Ethel winked and clapped her hands loudly twice—which made Jessica flinch but also made the loud and obnoxious music that had come through the walls stop. She then exited the kitchen and left her granddaughter alone to nurse her hangover before she had to leave for school.
Jessica sighed, annoyed that she still had to do the garden work but appreciative that Ethel had at least silenced the music. She desperately needed some peace and quiet before she entered the halls of Fenwick High, where she’d be forced to listen to the annoying drone of student and teacher voices and the shrill bell ringing for the next several hours.
Never again. I’ll never drink ever again, she thought, sipped her water tentatively, and frowned at the plate of bacon and eggs on the table in front of her.
Like any other student, she had always looked forward to her lunch break. It was the unrivaled highlight of the day—after the last class of the day, that was. Today, however, she was certain she had never looked forward to her lunch break at school more, and she wasn’t even hungry. She merely needed a break from classes. A break from nagging teachers and annoying classmates when all she wanted was a nap.