by K. K. Allen
My eyes are pinned on the burger section, reading the description of each item while my mouth waters.
“Are you ready to order, or should I come back again?”
The gruff voice has an instant effect on my heart, causing it to triple its beat. I raise an eyebrow at his tone, refusing to meet his gaze again. Someone should tell this asshole that his impatient demeanor is unbecoming. Not that it would do much. Something tells me he wouldn’t care at all.
“I’ll have a chicken salad wrap with fries,” Charlotte says. “Kat? Did you decide?”
I hand the menu to the giant grump creating a shadow where the sun should be, then I look up, matching his chilly gaze. “I’ll try the temple burger. No onions or pickles, please. Oh, and extra lettuce if you can.”
His jaw ticks. “Sure thing. How would you like that cooked? Rare, medium rare…?” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but I suspect he’s trying to offend me with his strange question.
I do my best to stuff my annoyance deep into my chest. “Medium well will do.”
“And for your side?” he asks dryly.
I’m not even sure what my choices are. “I’ll have a side salad if that’s an option.”
He doesn’t confirm my choice. “Is that all? Perhaps you’d like to try our crème brûlée as well?”
My chest heats, and my jaw drops at his patronizing tone. Who does this guy think he is? I snap my mouth shut and adopt a syrupy-sweet smile. “Only if it’s on the house.”
He yanks the menu from my grip, obviously annoyed. “It’s not.” He starts to walk away.
“Oh,” Charlotte adds, making him halt. “Do you mind bringing us some waters too? Extra ice. Extra tall glasses.”
The guy looks between us both like he knows he’s been caught being a prick, and in that split-second when he’s not looking at me, I search quickly for a name tag like the one I saw Trisha wearing. Nothing. Not that I should be surprised. The guy clearly goes out of his way to be a rebel.
I watch the grump walk away before I look over to find Charlotte’s waiting eyes and an amused smile on her face.
“What?” I ask.
She lets out a laugh and raises her brows. “Do you want me to spell it out for you, Katrina? You have a crush.”
I can feel a blush creeping up my neck. “On that guy? No way. He’s not very nice.”
“Maybe not, but I could feel you overheating from here. I couldn’t figure out if you were going to kiss him or lose your temper. Neither would have been a great option.” She leans in with warning in her eyes. “I know about how things were for you back in Silver Lake. You were misunderstood. The kids were vile. And you didn’t know how to control that temper of yours. I can teach you.”
I swallow, confused and intrigued in equal measure. “What? Is there a school file on me or something? Because the things they think I did… didn’t happen the way they said they did.”
Charlotte nods. “I trust that you’re correct. Even still, there are things you can do to protect yourself.”
I frown. “So you think I did those things? You think I pushed Steve out of a window?” Just talking about the events from back in Silver Lake makes me want to cry. I look up to find the grump’s accusing eyes pinned on me. I didn’t think I was talking that loud. I’m quick to turn my gaze away. “I didn’t touch him,” I say in a quieter voice.
Charlotte nods again. “Of course you didn’t. But there are moments when our emotions can get the better of us. Sometimes, it’s not what we do or don’t do, but how we react. There’s a power within all of us, Kat. For people like you and me, that power can become so intense, it feels like we might implode. Am I right?”
I can feel my bones shaking with her words. Somehow, Charlotte just explained it perfectly. “Yes.” It’s just a whisper, but I can tell by her slow inhale that she heard it.
“You can learn to control that energy, Kat. I can help you.”
“How?”
Charlotte smiles, altering the mood from intense to relaxed in one single beat. “For starters, you can change your mindset. It’s you who chooses the energy you accept and release, not the other way around. You should only take in what you know you can control.”
I think about her words. The concept seems so simple, but I have no idea where to start when it comes to applying the thought process to myself. So when the grump returns to drop off our ice waters, I flash him the biggest smile I can muster and say, “Thank you,” as if there’s never been a problem at all. “You don’t happen to be hiring, do you?” I bat my eyes up at him.
When shock registers on his face, I want to laugh.
“Um, no. We’re not.” That’s all he gives me before he’s walking away again.
Trisha must have overheard him as she’s walking by, because she twists her face up at his back and stops at our table. “Don’t mind Johnny. He’s always like that. Most of us just ignore him. We actually are hiring.” Her blue eyes sparkle with the sun at her back. “Do you want me to get you an application?”
I flash her an appreciative smile. “I would love one, but—” I chew on my bottom lip as my insecurities rise to the surface. “I don’t have any work experience or anything.”
Trisha shrugs. “We all have to start somewhere.” Then she sticks out her hand. “I’m Trisha, by the way.”
We shake. “I’m Kat.”
“Welcome to Apollo Beach, Kat. You should call me if you ever get stir-crazy. It’s a small town, but there’s plenty to do. I’d be happy to be your guide, anytime.”
My chest warms. “Thank you.”
Charlotte reaches out and squeezes the girl’s arm. “I’m sure Kat would love that. Thank you, Trisha.”
“No problem. Let me go grab you that application.”
She hurries off, and I’m already feeling a hundred times better than I was minutes ago. Between broody Johnny and the catty crew a few tables over, I was sure my stay here was going downhill fast. But maybe I actually stand a chance of surviving this place for the short term.
Night passes without another vision or dream to wake me in a cold sweat. I expected the dreams to come. In a strange way, I wanted them to come. As haunting as they are, I can't help but feel like they’re trying to tell me something important. Maybe the dreams are a warning. Or maybe they’re telling me the opposite—that I’ll find happiness in this small town.
Alec’s face crosses my mind, and I wave it away, knowing those thoughts are only distractions. There’s no point in getting comfortable here, not when I’m planning to leave in a month. It’s a good thing too. If the confrontation with Ava and Iris is any indication of what I can expect, then I don’t want it.
An image of Trisha pops into my mind next, as if my subconscious wants to remind me that not everyone here is a complete asshole. She handed me that job application like she wanted me to return it too. I promised her I would while simultaneously ignoring the glare Johnny shot me from the other side of the room. The rebel in me wants the job even more now that I know it would bother him.
I’m still thinking about the events from yesterday when I’m at breakfast with Rose.
She’s already finished with her meal, and now she’s watching me push food around my plate. “How was your shopping trip yesterday?”
“Good. I picked out a dress for the party. I promise to repay you.”
“Don’t be foolish. You don’t need to repay me.” Rose’s insistent tone tells me she’s not up for arguing.
Sighing, I look up at her. “Okay, but I’m still going to get a job.”
Rose nods. “I can see that it’s important to you. I saw the application for Island Grille. I can put in a good word with the manager.”
Anger flares in my chest. I hate that this is my reaction, and I’m not exactly sure where it comes from exactly. But I don’t want any of Rose’s handouts. “I’d like to try to get the job on my own, if that’s okay.”
Rose looks slightly taken aback, but she nods. “Okay, dear. Then I
wish you all the luck in the world.”
“Thank you.”
Her face relaxes into a smile, and her shoulders seem to fall slightly too. “Of course,” she starts, catching me off guard. “You’ll be busy soon with… other things, so perhaps you should hold off on submitting that application for now.”
“What? Why?”
Rose shrugs. “You’ll see.”
There it is again. The secrets. The mystery. The deep sense that there’s a bigger plan for me. Anger sweeps through me again. “I don’t understand. What is it that you think I’ll be busy with?”
A small smile pushes up her cheeks. “Oh, all sorts of things.”
I force my next breath to be a slow one as I try to steady the rush of heat swirling through me. That’s it. I can’t wait to tell her anymore. Rose thinks I have a future in this place, when the opposite is true. While I feel like I owe her nothing, my conscience tells me differently. “I plan to leave after my eighteenth birthday.”
Rose gasps. “What? You most certainly will not.”
I ignore her and continue. “While I appreciate you taking me in and giving me a home and food and clothes, I will not overstay my welcome.”
“Overstay your welcome? But this is your home, Katrina. You must stay.” She leans forward, her expressive eyes firm on me.
“No offense, Rose, but we haven’t had a relationship my entire life, and now you want me to make this my permanent home? I can’t. I won’t.”
“You must.”
“Why?” I demand. “And don’t give me a vague answer and tell me I’ll understand in time, because I want to understand right now. Why must I stay?”
“Because this is your home. It’s where your parents met. It’s where you were born. You belong here, Katrina.”
My jaw drops. “I don’t know where I belong, but it’s not here.”
“It is.” Her tone is firm, almost scolding. “I understand your frustration, but this isn’t something I can elaborate on at this moment.”
“Why not?” I laugh incredulously.
Rose sighs. “There are discoveries you must make on your own. Here is what I can say. There is a circle of life that began at the root of our ancestry, and on the day of your eighteenth birthday, you’ll no longer be able to deny it anymore.”
“The root of our ancestry?” Somehow, I feel like the words are important. I’m racking my brain when the statue from Apollo Beach Library comes to mind. “Astina Summer.”
Rose frowns. “Where did you hear that name?”
The last thing I want to do is drag Charlotte into this. She was only trying to help. “I asked around after I saw her statue at the library. She’s beautiful.”
Rose nods. “The most beautiful goddess of all time.”
“What kind of goddess is she?”
“The Goddess of Enchantment.”
I shake my head, confused. “I thought Circe was the Goddess of Enchantment.”
Rose’s brows lift. “Circe is the Goddess of Enchantments. A big difference in our world. Astina, however she came to be, was born on the summer solstice.”
Something triggers my memory of the conversation Alec and I had yesterday. “So, what? Was she a Wiccan or something?”
Rose glares, her nostrils flaring. “Absolutely not. Where would you get such an idea?”
I sigh, frustrated with how hard these dots are to connect. “All this talk of the solstice and how obsessed you are with your culture—I’m just trying to understand. I went to the library yesterday to find some books to try and understand what the big deal is. Did you know that there are people in this town who believe you’re a Wiccan?”
Rose takes a few seconds to answer, like she’s trying to find the right words. “Do I know the things people say behind my back? Yes, I am quite aware. Do I care? No. Am I a Wiccan? No. Not that there’s anything wrong with it. That’s simply a tired rumor that I wish you would not involve yourself in.”
Just hearing her say all of that makes me feel a million times better. I don’t expect her to elaborate.
Rose stands from the table. “There’s something I need to show you. I was planning to show you after your birthday, but I think you are ready now.”
I follow her reluctantly, hating that we blew over the fact that I have no intention of staying in town much longer. We pass through the house, and she leads me down the narrow hallway that Charlotte referred to as “Rose’s quarters.”
She stops halfway down the hall, where she pushes open a door to reveal a spacious, two-story room bursting with light. A library. It’s much smaller than the one I visited yesterday, but somehow much grander in beauty. Its cream shelves with gold trim and black spiral staircases on each side of the room give off a whimsical air that goes unmatched. I’m in awe as I pivot slowly to take it all in.
In front of the massive bay window facing the water is a living room setup. The domed ceiling is made entirely of glass, through which the morning sunlight shines in. The rest of the room is filled with rows upon rows of books.
I breathe deeply.
“This is the Summer library,” Rose says. “Your grandfather spent the majority of his time here.” She watches my face for a second before continuing. “You’ll find more information about our heritage here than in any public library can offer.”
I swallow, my fingers itching to touch the spines. “Okay.”
Rose gestures for me to follow her to a section of shelves. “Most of these are first editions. Some are just for entertainment, but most have been passed down from our ancestors. Some are even handwritten and very well preserved. Any information you seek on our heritage will be here, and maybe then you’ll understand why your birthday is such a special day.”
I’m still looking around in awe. “Thank you for showing me this. It’s incredible.”
Rose makes an appreciative noise. “I’m glad you like it. I hope you’ll spend time here. It has only seen dust since your grandfather passed.”
I nod, noting silently that there isn’t a speck of dust in the room from what I can see. “Thank you. But what does any of this have to do with why people connect the solstice to witchcraft?”
Rose looks as if she’s pondering her words carefully. “Well, dear, Wiccans practice the art of magic. They worship the earth, the gods, and goddesses. They sacrifice things to stay holy to their gods. The difference, however, is simple. Our family—the Summers—we merely come from the magic they worship.”
I let out an incredulous laugh, unable to help myself. “What?”
“Let me try that again.” I can tell Rose is struggling with her own vagueness. “We don’t practice any art, for we are that art.”
I glare at her, unappreciative of her joke. “The art of magic?”
Rose nods. “That’s right. Wiccans believe in the four elements—you know, earth, wind, fire, and water. They believe in the gods who supposedly control the elements like alchemy. It’s just a way of life. And Wiccans believe the summer solstice is celebrated as a day to give themselves to their greater beings through sacrifice. To us, the solstice is a time when we celebrate all nature has to offer.”
“So then, it’s more spiritual than anything. It’s not… witchcraft.” I let out an uncomfortable laugh, waiting for Rose to agree.
Instead, she turns away like what she just said was completely normal. “Have fun exploring, dear. I think I’ll turn in for a nap now. Let Charlotte know when you’re done, and she can take you anywhere you’d like to go.”
“Rose,” I call.
Perhaps it’s the desperation in my tone, but she stops in her tracks and turns to face me. “What is it, Katrina?”
“Something weird is going on with me. Why do I think you might know why that is?”
Rose frowns. “Weird how?”
I tell her about my strange vision on the beach and my nightmare of the woman who looked like me in the mirror. I explain how Iris nearly killed me with her car, then I was somehow able to hear her conversa
tion at Island Grille. “Why do I feel like all of this is connected?”
Rose nods slowly. “Because it is, dear. Everything is connected. Always. But I assure you, everything you’re going through is normal and nothing to be alarmed about. You’re in a new home and a new town, and information can be… overwhelming. As for the conversation you overheard, running a small town like this comes with a certain responsibility. Unfortunately, politics gets involved, and certain folks feel a sense of privilege because they’ve lived here all their lives. Most of us in the community are in agreement with the laws we’ve established. The majority want me as their leader, but there are some who don’t.” Rose shrugs.
As Rose speaks, I can see a sadness in her eyes. “I don’t understand. What is it that they want?”
She sighs. “It’s complicated. Some of them want to rip down trees and bulldoze historical landmarks to build popular chain restaurants and hotels so they can promote Summer Island as a tourism spot. It would destroy everything our family has spent our lives trying to preserve.”
“Why would they want to do that? What’s in it for them?”
Rose doesn’t even bat an eye before she answers. “Power. Greed. There’s a darkness in this world that feeds the weak. It’s my job to keep those people in check.” She winks at me then gestures around the room. “I can see your curiosity will suit this room just fine.”
There’s a soft click of the door as she exits the room, and I’m left alone with my swirling thoughts and endless list of questions that only seems to be growing. Rose says it’s all connected—my dreams, my vision, and my magnified senses and strength. My eyes scan the endless shelves of books. Somehow, I’m to find my answers here.
Guess I better get started.
Summer Library is quickly becoming my favorite room in the house. Some days, I spend my afternoons scanning the wood-paneled bookcases. On others, I just sit beneath the dome ceiling and bask in the sunlight.
The collection of books is filled with classic literature, like the works of Shakespeare, Fitzgerald, and Joyce, and the list goes on and on. But the majority of the books revolve around Greek mythology, which is what I spend most of my time devouring. Every story I read is either an interpretation or reinterpretation of other stories, but with each one, I learn something new.
