“Oh, I know you know all about it,” her mother snaps. “But don’t change the subject. Tonight we will not be having that discussion. Tonight you will go to your room and stay there. I’m too angry to talk to you now.”
Willow obeys, knowing she was wrong to just take off like that. On her way upstairs, she catches a glimpse of Wisp, who is safely curled up in front of the TV. He gives her a wave and a small smile of understanding.
Willow goes to their room, puts on her pajamas, and climbs into bed. Cora brings her a tray of food. But even though she was starving earlier, Willow is so tired now that she barely finishes half of it before falling asleep.
That night, she dreams of Wisp and her when they were little. They are running free through the woods, climbing high into the tree house their dad built for them and lying on their backs on the floor. The dream is so real Willow can actually feel Wisp’s hand in hers, its warmth and its little-boy size. She lets herself drown in it.
She wakes late in the morning to tears on her cheeks. Will her dreams still be this vivid if something should happen to Wisp? Will she remember him this well after a month? In a year? Ten years from now?
She thinks of the berry and for a moment longs for its assurance that this will not happen. But then she remembers that if she ate one, and Wisp dies, she will live it twice—the day of and the night before. The horror of that thought is enough to harden her resolve to pressure her mother to leave this town.
* * *
Willow makes her way downstairs, where her mom and Cora are standing drinking coffee. Her mother gives her a look and Cora hands her a plate—french toast and bacon.
Her mom tells Wisp to put on his coat. They are going to the hospital for a checkup. She tells Willow to stay put, even when Willow begs to go with them in the hopes of seeing Topher. But her mother’s lips tighten, and so Willow closes hers fast. She thinks of the funniest Super Bowl ads she’s ever seen and the best comedy routines she’s ever heard, until her mom stalks out of the room to get her things from their bedroom.
“Did you see any blood-covered zombies or hairy, toothy werewolves out in the woods?” Wisp asks as he sits, swinging his feet, waiting for their mom to come back.
Willow can’t help it. Today, his weird fascination with gory things makes her laugh.
Wisp looks up and grins, finally laughing with her.
After they leave, Willow’s thoughts turn to Topher. She wonders what he is doing and if he is in as much trouble with his mom as she is with hers. Will they still have the party? When he returned last night, did Topher give in and make his decision?
For all Willow knows, he ate one of the berries last night and made his commitment to the town, and all has been forgiven.
But for Topher’s sake, she hopes he’s still refusing.
* * *
Later that day, Cora tells Willow that Topher’s party has been canceled—for now. She tells Willow this with lips tight and voice uncharacteristically low, and Willow can’t help but feel badly for her part in squelching the celebration. But a part of her is relieved. This gives Topher more time to decide. Willow just wishes there was something she could do to help him.
That night, Willow finally corners her mom as they get ready for bed. She blocks the door so it will be impossible for her mom to avoid the conversation.
“Mom,” Willow says, “we have to talk about those berries and what’s going on in Kismet. We can’t stay here. This place…the magic…it’s not normal.”
Her mom sighs and finally turns to face her. “Yes, it’s odd, Willow, but don’t you think in a way it would be strangely comforting to know your future?”
“No. I think it would be awful,” Willow says, “always knowing what’s going to happen to you before it does, every day. It would make life really boring.”
Her mom gives her a look and shakes her head. “You think that now. But you might change your mind.”
“I would never change my mind,” Willow says. “I’m just glad I’m not Topher. I feel sorry for him, having to make that decision.”
Her mother bites her lip but says nothing more.
In that moment, Willow realizes that her mom is unable or unwilling to see the problem with staying in Kismet and accepting the berries. If her mom doesn’t snap out of it shortly, Willow might have to someday make the same decision Topher has to.
She needs to talk to Topher quickly. Together they have to find a way to beat the waters and these berries with their predetermined future. They both have a lot at stake—Topher, his imminent decision; Willow, her mom’s scary indecision.
Willow might be forbidden to see Topher, but there are ways to run into him accidentally. She has to.
She goes to the diner for dinner with Mom and Wisp. But Topher is not there.
She goes with Wisp and Mom to the hospital. But he is not there either.
She would text him if she had a cell phone. But she doesn’t, and he doesn’t.
He never stops by Cora’s to see her either, so Willow is left to wait and wonder.
Is Topher okay?
* * *
On Thursday, Mom and Wisp are at the hospital again. Cora is napping in the front room.
Willow gathers up her coat, stealthily slips out into the dazzling brightness of a sunny winter’s day, and heads toward the lake to skate, hoping that Topher might be there.
But again, no sign of him. Willow sees only Grace, alone, skating on the far side.
Willow walks around the end of the lake and sits on the bench. She slips on the skates she used a week ago, stands up, and steps out onto the ice.
Soon Grace glides up beside her, having completed her neat little skating circle. “Nice of you to help Topher miss his party.”
Her eyes are icier than the lake water frozen below Willow’s feet.
“I didn’t help him miss it,” Willow protests. “We were only going for the morning. We should have been back in time for the party. How were we supposed to know about the storm? We didn’t dream our day.”
“Ever listen to weather reports?” Grace snaps.
“We didn’t think—”
“No, you didn’t!” Grace interrupts.
“You can have Topher’s party some other time,” Willow protests. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”
Grace rolls her eyes. “Topher hasn’t made his decision yet. But if he doesn’t decide soon, the town will force him to do it. Not wanting to stay isn’t like him. It’s not like anyone here. What did you say to him?”
Willow shakes her head. She didn’t say anything. It was Topher who told her the magic isn’t what he wants. He’s the reason she went from thinking it was amazing to seeing it for what it really is. But when she looks at Grace, she understands why the town has chosen to stay so isolated. Seeing people who still have a choice and have not committed to the town must be difficult once you’ve abandoned that option.
Grace snorts. “You act like you know everything, like you’re better than us, so cool, coming into town all new and shinylike. Like you’re something different, something special. But you’re not.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Willow snaps back. She isn’t trying to be difficult. She didn’t plan to have a car accident that would deliver her family here to make Topher’s life tougher than it already is. The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes that the magic here is actually to blame.
Grace grins at her.
Suddenly, Willow doesn’t want to know. She wants to stop Grace from talking. Willow wants to shut Grace up.
But Grace leans close, her dark eyes piercing into Willow’s. “Do you want to know what your mom did with Cora a few nights ago?”
Willow feels a sudden quivering, like trees shivering in the wind with storm clouds on the horizon or a freight train coming down the tracks without brakes. She wants to press
her hands to her ears. She wants to shout at the top of her lungs and drown out Grace’s hateful, spiteful voice.
Willow stumbles backward, landing hard on the snowy ground. But Grace follows her, leaning down, close to Willow.
“Your mother has already agreed to the town terms. She’s agreed to stay in Kismet. She ate a berry,” Grace hisses. “So you are now a full-blown member of Kismet, just the same as the rest of us.”
Willow wants to tell her she is wrong. Her mom would have talked to her about the decision before daring to agree to stay.
But then, her mom hasn’t been worried at all lately. Is it because there is nothing for her to worry about anymore?
And Willow knows in that moment that Grace is telling her the truth.
Grace grins. “Welcome, Willow. Welcome to Kismet.”
Then Grace laughs a little and skates away, leaving Willow sitting on the ground by the side of the lake, her heart oozing hurt and her spirits sinking, sinking toward the bottom of those magical waters of Kismet.
She sits in the snow, the seat of her jeans getting soaked, but Willow does not move. How could her mother have done this? How could she make this decision without discussing it with Willow?
Her mother has eaten the poison and accepted the town terms, and now her mother is stuck here for good. What will her dad say?
Willow’s mind scrambles for a solution to this awful news she has just received. But she can think of no clock-turning, time-twisting way to undo this.
She is so deep in finding possible fixes that she does not notice anything around her until he sits down beside her in the snow, his breath frost-filling the air.
“Grace is wrong. You are special,” he whispers. “At least to me.”
Willow turns and sees him smile, but she can’t even manage to answer him or to thank him for this kindness. She is still too brain-blown about her mother.
He nods across the lake. “Let’s get hot chocolate. Let’s talk.”
She’s cold. Her bottom is soaked. Her mind is numb. Things really can’t get much worse. So she stands up and follows him toward the diner. He strides along the path around the lake while Willow trudges behind him, heavy-footed.
Inside the diner, Topher pulls a pair of sweatpants from his backpack and hands them to her. Willow looks at them and recoils.
“Did you eat a berry?” she asks.
“No,” Topher says, looking at her puzzled. “Why would you think that?”
“Because you knew I needed these.” She points to the sweatpants.
“I was going to go skating later, so I brought an extra pair,” Topher says. “It was a coincidence. Not magic.”
“Then how did you find me today?” Willow asks.
He turns red. “I was finally able to slip out. I got to Cora’s and just saw you leave. I followed you and had almost caught up to you when I saw Grace.”
She doesn’t know whether to believe him. She doesn’t know if she can trust anyone right now.
But Topher is right. She is cold. She is wet. And she is sad for her mother.
She goes to the bathroom and wiggles out of wet jeans and slides on dryness. Something stirs in her with the comfort of these warm clothes, and anger is soon filling the hole of her confusion and hurt.
She stomps her way back into the restaurant, where Topher has two cups of hot chocolate and a seat waiting for her.
“Did you know my mom ate a berry?” Willow asks. “Did you know she agreed to stay here?”
“I’m sorry, Willow. I did try to warn you,” Topher says sadly. “The decision to join Kismet is not an easy one to make. I know that. You’ll know too when you’re thirteen.”
And suddenly Willow is struck with the cold reality. She is trapped now too, bound tight like a fly caught in a spider’s intricate web. Why did that not occur to her right away? It should have.
It is not just her mother who has agreed. If her mom has given her pledge to the town, then she has made the choice for Willow also. Her mom is not just a fate-knowing mother; they are now a future-knowing family. Willow will now have to make a choice when she is thirteen, just like Topher. The thing she feared has already come true.
Horror hits her hard in the gut. It is as if she is stuck in an elevator that will not move, or buried alive in a coffin, or tied inside a sack that is dropped into the sea.
Willow knows the truth—the whole truth. She gasps, and Topher nods. He has seen that the whole picture has come into focus for her.
“My-m dad…,” Willow stutters out.
“You can’t tell him,” Topher says. “The magic has to remain secret unless the town decides to invite him to join.”
“What would they do to me if I did tell him?” Willow asks, sarcasm now a weapon of choice. “Make me stay here, huh? They can’t force me.”
Topher shakes his head. “No, they’ll just deny it if you tell him. But that’s if he can get here. If he can find his way in. Only the berries can decide that.”
“Then I’ll let him in,” Willow says.
“You don’t have a key,” Topher reminds her. “But maybe you could convince him to come here too? To maybe stay? So you could all be together. You know, Willow, some people actually like knowing their fate. The colonel came here after being in a war. He is thankful for the certainty in every day after the hardness of battle. And Cora’s husband abandoned her, which shocked her terribly. She says she wants to know ahead of time if she is going to have a tough day. Most people who live here grew up this way and are used to it, but there are others who have had sad things in their lives, and they appreciate being prepared for difficult times. Maybe your father would feel that way, with Wisp being sick?”
Willow thinks about this, but only for a minute. Her dad did not want to baby Wisp or change his diet or cushion him from hard things. She shakes her head.
“He won’t, and I won’t stay here either,” she says, anger rising hot like steam as she tries to deny this awful situation she finds herself in, the same situation Topher is in. “I won’t stay here. I won’t. I want to do other things, see other things. I want to go to college. I want to dance under the stars by the sea and go skydiving and be a writer and live in New York City. I want to travel the world. Nobody can make me stay here!”
“That’s true,” Topher says softly. “They can’t.”
And he is right. They cannot.
If Willow wants her dreams to come true, in a little less than a year, she will have to leave her mom and Wisp and go back to her dad. But how can she just leave them?
“But there’s free will,” Willow says, her voice warrior fierce. “We have the freedom to make our own decisions. No one can deny us that.”
“Of course there is, and you can choose,” Topher reminds her. “But then there is fate, a future already determined for you. That’s what the magic is—your fate or future revealed. And you cannot change fate.”
Willow thinks on this.
Fate.
Fate or free will?
Are we free beings? Or does some unseen hand decide our lives?
If a child gets sick, is it for some reason? Or is it just random that Wisp’s body should not be as strong as another’s?
If Willow had been born a slave or a child who went hungry, would there be some rationale for that? Or is it just bad luck?
It is comforting to think there is a purpose to suffering—some why and wherefore that humans are not wise to. But that leaves everyone boxed in, soldiers following orders rather than butterflies taking wing.
Willow does not know what to do with these unanswerable doubts, these soul-searching questions. She does not know what to do for herself or for Topher. They are both stuck. Trapped—no matter what kind of worm wiggling Willow can think of. Trapped. She is nauseated at the thought of it all.
“Yo
u know you’re not alone, Willow,” Topher says. “I’m here.”
But it’s not like the other day when they went skating. His words can no longer make her heart hum.
Now she is brain troubled, soul sick. She needs to see her mom.
Willow stands up.
“Willow?” Topher says, his voice uncertain and whisper thin. “Tomorrow at nine they are going to make me choose. There’ll be a meeting. I have to decide.”
Willow can’t even force out a word. She thinks of the Middle Ages and the reasons the plague spread so quickly and how they eventually found a way to stop the disease, but this time, thinking about other things she’s learned or seen no longer calms her.
“I have to go,” she manages to say, heading to the door.
Willow walks out, into the cold and away from the diner. She does not look back, but eventually, she hears Topher call, “Please be there tomorrow, Willow. I really want you there.”
Willow wants to cry at his request. Topher was her hope, her bright-side savior, her shield against all sad things. Now she is just as trapped as he is.
Soon she is on the porch of Cora’s house. The door opens, and her mom stands there, knowledge shining bright in her eyes.
“We need to talk,” Willow tells her.
Her mom nods. “Yes. I know.”
When she finally gets upstairs and confronts her mother, Willow’s anger roars out from her in a fireball of force. “How could you?”
“How could I not?” Mom asks. “For Wisp.”
Wisp again. Always Wisp.
But guilt, for the first time, takes a backseat to this new imprisoned beast in Willow. She is a cornered animal with nowhere to go.
“But you decided for me too,” Willow yells as she walks about the room. “Without asking me or talking to me about it.”
The Root of Magic Page 13
