Tomás made me feel safe and normal. Lately, I had been trapped between two worlds, not quite belonging in one or the other. But Tomás made that all disappear. He smiled gently at me as we headed outside, the early September heat still making my hands clammy. We sat on the front steps of the foster home, holding hands in silence for a long while before Tomás spoke up.
“I’ll be eighteen in just a few months.”
I looked up at him, my heart dropping in my chest. My cheeks burned. “You excited?” I asked.
“Absolutely not. I have no idea what I’m going to do, where I’ll live.”
It was the inevitable fear of every foster child: being thrown out to the wolves on your eighteenth birthday, when the government decided they wouldn’t care for you anymore. Most kids were forced to drop out of school, get dead-end jobs, and eventually end up nowhere in life. Or hooked on drugs. Knocked up. And they’ll be another statistic, another foster child “gone wrong” like the government cared in the first place.
“Will you finish school at least?” I asked.
“I want to. I’ve worked so hard to keep my grades up. They’re looking at me for an academic scholarship to Duke. All I gotta do is make it to next fall and I’ll be set.”
I didn’t respond. I felt his pain, though his was more impending doom than a distant worry like mine. I had almost two years to figure out my plan. Unlucky for me, I’d traveled through most of South Carolina during my school years and never managed to keep up the grades to get a scholarship to anywhere. I wasn’t even sure I could graduate high school—I was at least a whole year behind everyone else.
Still, I noticed now how upset the conversation was making Tomás. His face had flushed red, and his eyes looked sadder than normal. I gripped his hand tighter, and in my head, I pictured what I wanted my magic to do: I wanted Tomás to feel safe and secure in his abilities. I wanted him to experience confidence, and know that he was going to get to Duke next fall. He would pick up a part-time job, finish out school, and get to where he needed to go. I willed all of this into him, using the physical contact of our hands to transfer my intentions over to him.
“It’s gonna be okay, I think,” I willed out loud. “I think you’re gonna get exactly where you need to be.”
“I guess you’re right,” Tomás murmured as his demeanor changed entirely—from insecurity to confident in his ability to get through it. That’s what foster kids did, anyway. We got through everything life threw at them.
Tomás leaned over, tucked up my chin, and kissed me softly. When he pulled away, he smiled. “I won’t forget about you, Noa Rembrandt.”
“Please don’t,” I responded.
CHAPTER 19
That Sunday, I sat with Lily and Cyrus like always, but today there were two new additions to our table: Tomás, who sat next to me, and Alana, who sat by Cyrus. They were huddled over what I assumed to be a magic book, but Alana wouldn’t say that in front of my presence, and Cyrus wouldn’t say it in front of Tomás’s.
“Now that the twins are old enough,” Alana hinted in between bites of scrambled eggs, “we have to keep a close eye on them.”
“Obviously,” Cyrus responded in his typical attitude and rolled his eyes at Lily. Alana hit him in the shoulder.
“Don’t sass me. I’m just saying.”
“I have a younger brother. I’ve gone through it before,” Cyrus scowled.
“Gone through what?” Tomás butt in. All of the witches glanced at him, and then each other. I kept my mouth shut. As far as Alana was concerned, I was 100% not a witch. I wasn’t involved in their inside conversations.
I also noted just how close Alana and Cyrus sat together. It seemed like some part of them constantly had to touch or else they wouldn’t be able to cope. Alana had to laugh loudly at pretty much everything Cyrus said, and there was just some sort of look in Cyrus’s eye that I couldn’t place. A look he never gave Lily or I. My face burned.
“Puberty,” Lily piped up. “You know, eight is where they start nowadays. They put hormones in the milk.”
I choked on my own glass of milk. I wanted to laugh loudly, but I didn’t. I side-eyed Tomás. He was completely oblivious.
“You know, I read studies about that,” he said. “It’s really the stuff they give to cows to keep them producing milk.”
“This is riveting, really,” Alana spoke up. She eyed me suspiciously, but then glanced over at Cyrus. It seemed as if his own gaze was a response to a question she never spoke. She picked her plate up off the table and stood, smiling at Tomás. “But I have some homework to do.”
I sighed loudly, watching Alana leave to grab her sister and they left the dining room together. Cyrus shot me a look, and he opened his mouth to speak. “Problem, Rembrandt?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
I stood up, taking my plate and following Alana’s movements out of the kitchen. I headed outside. Today was a chilly day, a little colder than the norm for southern fall. But still, I sat on the outside steps of the house, my normal spot when I wanted to be alone. It was funny though that I sat in the most obvious spot when I wanted to be left alone as if I didn’t have an entire plantation to hide.
“I don’t think you’re actually good,” came a familiar voice behind me.
I turned and scowled. “What do you want?”
“What’s on your mind?” Cyrus sat down next to me and folded his arms at the brisk wind. He wore a simple t-shirt and basketball shorts, which was not a problem inside the warmer house.
“It’s like being stuck,” I grumbled. “Between two different identities. One moment, I’m nothing special. The next, I’m some blood sacrifice.” I sighed loudly and ran my fingers through my hair. “I’d have loved to have someone to teach me the way that you and Alana are going to teach the twins. Taught me before I hurt anyone.”
Cyrus chuckled softly. “We all do something destructive our first time using magic. It’s emotion-based.”
“What did you do?” I murmured.
“We used to have this huge playset outside in our backyard. Swings, slide, monkey bars, the whole she-bang. I was so mad at my brother one day that I set it on fire.”
“But no one was hurt?”
“No. Unless you count the playset.” Another chuckle came from Cyrus. I instead looked down at my fingernails, picking at the cuticles until they burned as much as my cheeks did. We sat in silence for a few moments until Cyrus reached over and took my hand. If my cheeks weren’t already fuming, they would’ve ignited in flames at that very moment.
“Can I see?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Your first time. I can see with a spell.”
I wanted to run as fast as I could, but Cyrus’s grip on my hand was made of iron. I had never told anyone the truth, why I had really gotten kicked out of my first foster home, eight years strong. The Valentines were going to adopt me, make me their own child. Until…
“How do you see?” I whispered.
“It’s simple. I just hold your hand, like I am now. And I imagine the intention of what I want.”
“Do it.”
◆◆◆
It was a time travel machine, sucking Cyrus and I into my subconscious, traveling across time and dimensions until finally, I was back in my childhood home, surrounded by all the knickknacks of my past. Cyrus still clenched my hand tightly. He hadn’t let go yet, and I hoped he didn’t as long as we were back here.
Emily Valentine appeared in the living room I stood in, oblivious to the much older teenagers in her midst. She carried a chunky baby boy, just six months old. Baby Patrick. A younger me, with long hair in a single braid down her back and pajamas, followed Emily into the living room.
“I wanna hold him, Mama!” Noa said, reaching her hands up and tugging at the baby’s onesie.
“Not now, Noey,” Emily responded. I smiled at the memory of my childhood nickname. No one else in my next eight years of life ever called me that. Even after this day, E
mily never called me it again.
Cyrus was looking intently at me, watching my reaction to the scene. The Rembrandt baby was not born into a family, but the Valentines were the closest I ever got to one.
It was nighttime in the Valentine household. Noa would be heading to bed soon, and so would Patrick. And in a few hours, Noa’s whole world was going to change.
Cyrus and I followed the oblivious family through the motions of bedtime. We watched Emily put Patrick to bed, and then tuck Noa into her own bed, reading her a story and kissing her forehead.
Emily shut off the light to the bedroom, leaving the door cracked because Noa was afraid of the dark. Cyrus and I waited. It seemed like hours passed in minutes. And Noa was climbing back out of bed. The time on the clock read two-thirty.
“This is it?” Cyrus asked. “This is when it happens?”
Unable to speak, I simply nodded.
We followed Noa out of her bedroom and into Patrick’s. She climbed into Patrick’s crib. He roused awake with a small cry that turned quickly into screams.
I felt my heart break.
Noa panicked, not wanting to wake her mother or father by getting caught in her brother’s room. She tried to calm him frantically. She then placed her hand on her brother’s chest. “Please be quiet!” she whispered to him.
Noa’s hand began to glow red, as Patrick’s screams grew weaker and weaker. Noa merely thought what she was doing was calming to him. She had no idea the true meaning of this moment yet.
Because instead of Patrick going back to sleep like I had intended, he instead was dying. My touch was killing him.
I felt tears stream down my face, stinging my burning cheeks. This was it. My biggest horror. The beginning of my curse. My reason for leaving the Valentines.
I had killed my own baby brother. Without meaning to, I had drained the life force from his little body.
They had called it SIDS.
I knew better.
CHAPTER 20
I brought the idea up to my friends the next day. I had looked for some sort of secret spell, but then realized I didn’t need to. I just had to imagine what I wanted.
"No one can even do a mind control spell," Lily complained. "You have to be like, the most powerful witch ever."
"Like an bloodborn," I said with a smirk. The next morning was warmer than the previous, and we sat outside in the secret meadow, both girls chilling in the grass in t-shirts and sweatpants. Cyrus was apart from the girls, sitting by the riverbank, skipping any rock he found within arm reach. He was quiet, for the most part. After we had returned to the present, he hadn’t spoken to me. I was convinced he hated me. Anybody would be, after finding out I had killed my baby brother.
"Noa, you can't possibly think you're ready for mind control. Besides, it goes everything we're ever taught. Free will and all that nonsense. We can't just go around controlling what people do."
"I think we let her try it," Cyrus spoke up, returning back to the group. I sucked in between my teeth at the sight of him in grey sweats and a loose-fitting gym tank. His biceps were on full display, especially when he ran his fingers through his wavy hair.
This was the first thing I had heard Cyrus say something since the events of Sunday morning. I felt my cheeks burn. My deepest darkest secret, out in the world. And he couldn’t even tell me what he thought of it.
"We can't even help her," Lily snapped at Cyrus. "It's not like we can perform something like that."
"But she can try on us."
Cyrus looked at me expectantly, and I bit my lip. Mind control. It couldn't be hard, right?
I closed my eyes. I pictured Cyrus wading into the water with his clothes fully on, pushed that idea to plant it into his head. I ached for him to go and perform the action I wanted. I heard shuffling around me, and I opened my eyes, hoping Cyrus was now mindlessly obeying. He hadn’t moved.
"It's different, isn't it?" Lily asked.
“I just don’t know how to do it."
"Because it's magic you're not supposed to be using," said Lily at the same time that Cyrus said, "Because you're not trying hard enough." They looked at each other, Lily frowning.
"Stop that."
"Stop what?" Cyrus rolled his eyes. "Look, you can't just expect her to be a baby witch for the rest of eternity…”
"She's been learning for less than a month. I'm not babying her."
"Guys!" I interrupted. "I'm literally right here."
Lily sighed. She stood up abruptly, standing over Cyrus without getting into his face. As she spoke, she waved her hands around energetically. "I didn't even want to do this, Cyrus. You're the one that forced me into it."
"I didn't do anything!” Cyrus stood up just as aggressively, causing Lily to quickly go from looking down on him to being looked down upon. She refused to stand down, cutting him off with just as loud and hostile words.
"You were the one with the stupid crush. You were the one who convinced me that we shouldn't just tell Mama." She turned towards me, and I jumped with the suddenness of her movements. "Noa, I don't hate you. I really, really enjoy being your friend. But you're older than me. And it's not my problem to have to teach you. It shouldn't fall on my shoulders."
The words hurt me like a thousand bee stings in my chest. I gulped, swallowed my next words. My breathing grew ragged as I struggled to keep my emotions in check. Finally, I whispered: "Okay."
Lily picked up her things and stormed from the meadow. Cyrus shrugged. "It's not your fault."
"I know," I breathed. Then I smiled softly. "You got a crush on me, Cy?"
“Absolutely not," Cyrus gave me a look of complete disgust, but then broke into a small smile. "Okay, fine."
I laughed. "Damn Lily can never keep a secret, can she?"
"Hell no."
It was silent. A good silence.
I sighed loudly. “Are you mad at me?” I asked.
“Why in the Sam hell would I be mad at you, Noa Rembrandt?”
“For killing Patrick.”
Cyrus shook his head. I felt relief, but my heart still beat rapidly in my chest. The next words he spoke sat in my head: “That wasn’t your fault, Noa. Someone should’ve been there for you. This shouldn’t have been the way your life turned out.”
I began to cry. Cyrus wrapped me in his arms as I bawled loudly.
CHAPTER 21
I returned to the bedroom, my face red with emotion. I went into the bathroom, pulled out my facial cream, and applied it generously to my sensitive skin. Lily appeared.
“Let’s go shopping.”
I stifled a laugh. “With what money?”
“Uh, parental life insurance?”
I stopped what I was doing. “I’m not going to spend your parents' death money.”
“You’re not spending it, I am. On you.”
I rolled my eyes. But I knew that arguing with Lily was pointless. I glanced at the time. We still had a few more hours until supper. We could make it to the shops and back. “What are we shopping for?” I relented.
“Your Homecoming dress, duh.”
I laughed loudly. “I am not going to Homecoming. Thanks though.”
“Please. You have two seniors vying for your affection. You’ll be going.”
I grimaced at the thought of Tomás, especially now that the secret of Cyrus’s affection was out. I really, really liked Tomás, liked the normalcy of his presence. I wasn’t sure what a relationship with Cyrus would be like, but I couldn’t even imagine it.
I dressed relatively comfortably, pulling myself out of my sweats and into jeans and a black t-shirt. I wore my old Converse and tied my hair back, grabbing my phone from my desk before turning back to Lily—and then I sighed. Perfect Lily, with her perfect blonde hair and pretty green eyes. She was a few inches taller than me, and she held those inches high in confidence. For a foster kid, she had all the confidence of a Hollywood star.
We headed downstairs together, Lily calling for an Uber with her phone. We walked
to the front gate together, Lily chatting happily on what color would fit me best.
“You have light skin, but dark hair and eyes, so I think we should keep it dark and sexy. Maroon? Do you like maroon?”
I smiled. I liked this side of Lily. Being normal. Not impending doom.
We made it to downtown without much hassle. We passed the diner Tomás had taken me too, and I blushed at the memory. Was it only a few days ago? It seemed like an eternity.
“Well?” Lily commanded.
I snapped out of my memories and peered over at my friend. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Your favorite color? What is it?”
“Uh,” I thought momentarily. “Green. But not like an icky sick green. Forest green. Like the trees in the summertime."
Lily scoffed. “The fire witch loves foliage. Ironic.”
I laughed. “Not just a fire witch, remember?”
“Do you ever let us forget?”
We made it to a small boutique on the waterfront, and Lily paraded inside like we owned the place. I felt out of place inside the airy store. Absentmindedly, I checked the tag on the nearest article of clothing, a nicely made sweater priced for eighty dollars.
“Uh, Lil?”
I found her in the back with the dresses, pulling out maroon, dark blue, and forest green articles of clothing. It seemed as if at the last minute, she had put together a whole color palette for my life.
“Yeah?” Lily responded, not looking away from her finds.
“This place is expensive.”
“And my parents are rich. Also dead. So it’s my money now.”
I bit my lip and shoved my hands in my pockets. I wouldn’t pick a fight with Lily in shopping mode. Maybe there was some sort of spell…
Lily threw three dresses over at me and pushed me over to the dressing room.
All of them were God awful in my opinion. The first was a maroon body con dress with spaghetti straps, hugging the curves of my teenage body and ending mid-calf. I didn’t even walk out of the dressing room in that one.
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