by Patti Larsen
Neither could Alison.
“Brad!” She pulled at his arm. “You are not! No boyfriend of mine will ever be a loser. Ever!”
“Consider this a breakup,” he answered. Brad reached out to me and in my total shock, I went with him. He guided me into the echoingly empty hall beyond.
What had I gotten myself into? I glanced over at him and saw he still looked mad. In fact, he ignored the few kids he did know on the way out. Even the calls of his football buddies from across the parking lot went unanswered as we hit the sidewalk headed for my house.
Brad flashed me a boyish grin.
“Sorry you had to see that, Syd,” he said.
“Did you really break up with Alison?” I asked, clutching the remains of my belongings to me like a lifeline.
“Yeah,” he said. “I guess I did.”
“Wow,” I said.
“I didn’t mean to drag you into it,” he kicked at a piece of loose pavement as we walked. “I guess you being there... I used you, I’m sorry.”
“No worries,” I said.
“Seriously,” he turned to me, concern on his earnest face, “it wasn’t fair of me. It’s just... I’ve been looking for a reason to dump her for a while.”
“Really?” I gasped. “How come?”
He shrugged, hands deep in his pockets. “She’s just, I don’t know, not nice sometimes. Mean. Like to you. And other people. And she treats me like she owns me. I hate that.” He stared off, not with me at all and yet, I was happy to be there as his sounding board.
“So what are you going to do?” I asked. “You have all the same friends.”
“Big deal,” he said. “They won’t care.”
“You believe that?” I made a face, certain now he was clueless.
“Don’t you?” He asked.
“No. Are you telling me you don’t know what she will do to you after this? Never mind what she’s going to do to me.” I shuddered and tried not to think about it.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Brad answered.
“Brad,” I tried to get through to him. “Alison is the queen of retaliation. She will torture you, turn your friends against you. Probably make my life a living misery day after day if this one is any indication.”
“You had a bad day?” I briefly considered asking him if his mom dropped him a lot as a baby.
“I had the day from hell, thanks to your ex-girlfriend. She was pissed at me for yesterday. You really didn’t know?”
Brad shook his head. “I’ll talk to her, Syd. Get her to leave you alone.”
I didn’t even try to hide the bitterness in the bark I called a laugh.
“Do me a favor and don’t, okay? No offense, but you’ll make things worse. If it’s even possible at this point.”
Brad stopped walking and turned to face me.
“Crap, Syd,” he said. “I can’t seem to get anything right. I’m sorry about Alison. And if us being friends is going to make things worse, I’ll leave you alone.”
It took a second for that to register. Damn! Talk about backfire!
Before I had a chance to tell him different, a black SUV pulled up next to us, the tinted windows rolling down. I could hear giggling from inside the truck. A couple of football boys leaned out.
“Hey, man, get in! Johnny’s flipping burgers as we speak!”
Brad turned to me.
“See you around, Syd,” he said. I wanted so much to stop him but knew I lost the battle. I turned and started walking, refusing to watch him leave, kicking myself over and over for being so stupid as to turn away not only the first person who tried to be my friend but the very person I fantasized about having as a friend in the first place.
I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised by the derogatory remarks flying from the SUV as it sped by. Listening to the fading laughter, I felt really hurt Brad didn’t put a stop to it.
***
Chapter Eleven
I didn’t even bother trying to hide my dejection when I walked through the door at home. By that point, I didn’t care one way or the other who saw me or knew. Whatever. I told myself it didn’t matter, they couldn’t really hurt me. They were only words and stupid rotten idiots and we’d be moving soon anyway. I’d be able to start fresh with a new batch of horrible people to try to avoid at all costs.
I walked into the kitchen to my mother’s smiling face and a fresh batch of cookies.
Funny what can make you break down and sob your heart out.
As I fell totally and utterly apart, I felt Mom’s arms go around me. I clung to her like she was my only anchor to the real world. As I wept into her, pouring out my frustration and grief in huge heaves of choking tears, she held on to me and stroked my hair.
How come we couldn’t keep that connection?
I finally collapsed, finding one of the kitchen chairs in time to catch myself from slipping to the floor. Mom grabbed one of her own and pulled it up in front of me, our knees interlocking so she could still hug me if I needed it. She pushed my hair back from my face, fingers stroking the tears from my cheeks while her power embraced me. I felt so safe at that moment, so open to her I released the hold on my own power and let her support me completely.
If she was startled by it, she didn’t show it. In fact, if she was at all confused her daughter turned into a wretched mess coming home from school, she was an expert at hiding it. I snuffled and wiped at my nose with the back of my sleeve. Her fingers twitched. A tissue manifested in her hand. I took it and blew my nose hard, a little dizzy from the heavy crying. When I lowered it, she disposed of it with another twitch of her fingers. I managed a little humor through my misery.
“You could make a fortune in the sanitation business, Mom,” I said. “No more landfills.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I shook my head, but not in denial. In amazement. “Would you mind telling me who you are and what you did with Miriam Hayle?”
She smiled. So not like her. Where were the grilling questions, the third degree? Was she going to respect my privacy and let me go to my room without unearthing why I was such a pile of quivering goo?
Unless she already knew. But how?
“Who have you been talking to?” I asked, suspicious. Old habits and all that.
Mom looked hurt. I regretted doubting this new Mom, clearly trying her hardest even if I refused to meet her half way.
“No one, honey. I just... you can tell me when you’re ready.” She started to stand, but I grabbed her arm. She held my hands and waited, open. I could feel it in her power, in the way she looked at me.
Anything else and I would have run. But if she was willing to change, so was I. Besides, who else was I going to confide in?
I told her everything, not just about that day but about every new school I went to, how it always started out the same and ended in disaster. I poured out all of my hurt and fear and pain and she listened to it without a word or complaint, her strength never wavering, never judging me as I always feared to be judged, because I constantly judged myself. By the time I explained what happened with Alison and Brad, I felt a lot better. I’m not sure if it was the fact she simply sat and listened or if the telling helped me heal. Maybe a bit of both.
She stayed silent for a few minutes after I finished. Finally, she went for the tray of cookies, bringing them back to the table and setting them in front of me. I helped myself to one, watching as she struggled over what to say.
“Syd, honey, I know how hard this is for you and Meira,” she said. “Your sister may appear to have it easier, but the strain of maintaining her illusion all day gets to her after a while, not to mention the damage being done to her self-esteem knowing she can’t be who she is and has to hide it all the time.”
I knew I was being selfish. She didn’t need to point it out. Still, I also knew she understood I was screwed up over this whole thing, so I stayed quiet.
“I’m sorry this isn’t the life you would have chosen for yo
urself. Believe me, Syd, if being a normal was what you really wanted, I would move the Earth to give it to you. But honey, I don’t think it is.”
Great. The lecture. And to think I started to trust her.
The lecture never came. Surprise, surprise.
“I don’t think you realize we’ve all gone through it to one degree or another. I’m not making what you’ve experienced any less,” she assured me, “but it seems to me you’ve been trying so hard to belong you’re making it impossible for yourself to fit in. Syd,” she took my hands in hers, “I know you don’t think you want to be like us, but you do belong. And maybe if you stopped wanting to be someone you aren’t, things would change. If you accepted Syd for Syd, you wouldn’t spend so much time making yourself in their image. In fact, I’m pretty sure the real Syd wouldn’t put up with their crap for even an instant.”
The words coming out of her mouth were so close to the thoughts I’d been thinking I wondered if she tried to influence me or poke around in my mind. But as I stared into her eyes, I saw she actually gave a voice to what I already knew was true. The question remained, was I willing to do anything about it?
The first thing I did was hug my mother. Despite my instinct to storm from the room and act like I usually did, rail against her, tell her she would never understand, I embraced her and used my power to squeeze her too.
“I love you, Mom,” I said.
“I love you too,” she whispered, voice thick. When I leaned back, she wiped at one cheek. I knew I finally made Mom cry for a good reason.
“I need a shower,” I said, picking up the remains of my purse. I wanted to scrape the rest of that hideous day from me as completely as possible.
“I guess so,” she said. “And Syd,” she wrinkled her nose as I left the kitchen, “you can throw out that bag, okay?”
I scrubbed so hard in the shower my whole body turned red and my hair squeaked, but when I toweled off and dressed, I felt a hundred times better. I looked in the foggy mirror at myself. My reflection stared back, as determined as I was.
That was it. Mom was right. I was done being the new kid, the torture victim. If Alison thought she could use her little tactics against me, she had another think coming.
I was so wrapped up in what was going on, I almost forgot about soccer practice.
I loved the outdoors, way more than a normal kid, I guess because witches were so attached to the earth. It was one of the only things about being a witch I didn’t mind. Given the choice between watching movies in my room and messing around in the back yard, I’d choose outside, hands down. One of the reasons I loved soccer so much.
By the time I changed into my jersey and made it back downstairs, Mom wasn’t there. A quick glance at the driveway told me she was gone. Her pristine blue and white ’66 Mustang coupe was missing from the front of the house. She probably had it at the car wash. Mom wasn’t what you’d call a materialistic person by any means, but she loved that car more than she loved us.
I almost made it out the door when it swung open. Erica and Jared let themselves in. Yet another thing that bugged me about the coven. No one knocked. They waltzed into each other’s houses like it was home and put their feet up. One more thing for the list. I vowed to keep my door locked when I was older and on my own.
Erica tried a smile, but it was weak and I knew she was still mad at me for Mom’s sake. Being my mom’s best friend meant she heard all the gory details about us, including, I’m sure, stuff I don’t want to know about Dad. I shuddered thinking about it. But, it also meant she would take Mom’s side as usual and give me a hard time.
Her boyfriend Jared, on the other hand, would play good cop and try to be the diplomat. I hated being tag teamed and wondered if it was a setup.
Erica tossed back her blonde bob, her soft blue eyes pinning me so I couldn’t escape. She always dressed neat and tidy, makeup flawless, matching outfit adorable on her slim figure. She tried another smile and this one stuck.
“Syd, I’m glad I ran into you.”
Now I knew it was a setup. “You’re in my house.”
She frowned, the line between her brows deeper than I remembered the last time we had ‘the talk.’
“Syd, seriously, we need to discuss this thing about your mom.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I don’t suppose it would help to tell you to mind your own business, would it?”
I’ve never seen Erica turn that particular shade before. I clamped my lips together, knowing laughing in her face would make it worse.
Jared coughed, near laughter himself. He winked at me from behind her, sharing the joke. I tried not to grin back, but lost. There was something about the tall, dark and handsome Jared Runnel that made you want to trust him with your deepest, darkest secrets, the kind of person who would be great to share a practical joke with. Didn’t hurt he was yummy, either. Strong jaw, warm brown eyes, great muscles. Still there was a secret behind those eyes, as if he privately laughed at all of us. I wondered sometimes if I was in on the joke or part of it.
“Erica,” Jared said, “I think Syd is right.”
Erica turned on him, fists on hips, doing her best angry society girl. Pathetic.
And they said I was a normal conformist.
“Jared.” She gave him the dirty eyeball. “Stay out of this.” She turned back to me, all business down to her fake French manicure.
I pulled myself up on the kitchen counter. “Fine. Go ahead. But I already know everything you’re going to say.”
“Then why do I have to keep saying it?” Erica’s stern expression softened. She leaned on the counter, dropping the act. I liked Erica much better this way. “Syd, why do you have to be so hard on your mother?”
“I’m working on it,” I said.
She looked startled. “Sorry?”
“I know this isn’t doing it for either of us, okay? I need everyone to back off and let me handle it for once. Can you do that?”
She couldn’t speak for several seconds.
Jared’s whole being shone with laughter. “Wow. Erica speechless.”
I shot him a don’t-mess-this-up glare, biting my lip to keep from smiling.
He winked back.
“Okay.” She looked at me like I sprouted something unusual and she wasn’t sure if it suited me or not. I hopped off of the counter, keeping my eyes firmly away from Jared’s teasing.
“Thanks for the concern. I have to go to soccer.”
I left the kitchen and a silent Erica, leveling a mock punch at Jared’s shoulder on my way out. I almost missed the speculation in his eyes behind his dazzling white flash of teeth, and wondered what it meant.
I glanced at my oversized sport watch as I let the door slam shut behind me. I had about a half an hour to cover the five minutes it took to get to the field before practice. I was always early and I didn’t want to break my perfect record as the first one there.
I was lacing up my cleats when the first of my teammates started to arrive.
I didn’t really have any friends on the team, not because I wasn’t nice to the girls, but because I ‘felt’ different. To normals, the witch in me came across as some sort of weird aura marking me from ordinary as much as a banner across my forehead. So as much as I was a great soccer player and an asset to the team, it meant even though I was welcome on the field, I wasn’t invited into their lives outside of the game.
Story of my life.
Coach Matters pulled up in his beat-up truck, followed closely by the rest of the team. No more feeling sorry for myself. At least, not about my lack of friends. I had tougher things to worry about. Like handling the ball, running until I couldn’t feel my legs and loving every second of it so much I never wanted it to end.
I adored my coach, as much as I could adore a man who worked us so hard I wanted to throw up on a regular basis. Andrew Matters was the perfect trainer, compact himself with a bit of a limp from years and years playing the game he now taught. I loved how tough h
e could be on us and ignored the complaints of the other players. The harder I worked my body, the more normal I felt. Somehow, soccer shut down my worries about magic and set me free.
Plus, I was addicted to the rush, the smell of fresh cut grass, the impact of hurtling bodies that only turned to pain hours later. I lived so much in the moment on the field. I’m not sure what it was about soccer in particular, especially considering I sucked at all other sports I tried. Maybe it was just the one normal thing I was good at. And I was really good at it. So much so the coach pushed me way harder than the rest of the girls and they knew it. No wonder I wasn’t popular.
But, on the field, I didn’t care about popular, probably the only place I didn’t. On the field all that mattered was the ball, the grass and getting it in the net.
I packed up reluctantly at the end of practice, dragging my butt, wishing I had anywhere to go but home. I longed for friends to hang out with, to be normal and not the girl who lived the life of a cloistered nun. None of the other girls offered, as usual, going their own ways in their little packs of twos and threes. I tried to insert myself when I first arrived but took the hint pretty quickly. Their clubhouse was closed to new members. So, I made the return trip a lot slower going than coming.
I was almost home when I noticed with horror the hunched, skinny old woman across the street. My stomach clenched into immediate anxiety. I almost dropped my backpack in my haste to get to her before something awful happened. Even from thirty feet away, I recognized her hair, white and wild. In daylight, Gram’s paper-thin skin almost glowed with the veins underneath. She stumbled to a halt in front of a mailbox, dressed only in a thin, flowered nightgown brushing her bare toes. She proceeded to have a heated conversation with it, gesturing wildly. I rolled my eyes as I reached her, waving at a passing car whose driver watched with concern.
I gently touched her arm. She glanced up, pale blue eyes almost white they were so washed of color. Her lips pulled back into a grimace. She clutched at me, thin hands surprisingly strong.
“He won’t apologize,” Gram gestured at the innocent mailbox.
