by Sarina Dorie
“Take hold of Miss Lawrence,” Thatch said to Imani.
She slung her backpack over her shoulder and grabbed onto my arm. Thatch lifted an arm around my shoulder, not quite touching me as he performed his Celestor transportation spell. Black mist spiraled around us. The air was sucked from my lungs. Vertigo washed over me.
The plan was to drop us off at Imani’s house in Skinnersville, so I could see where she lived. I would then pick her up in a few days before it was time to go back to school so Thatch wouldn’t have to make multiple stops.
After dropping off Imani, he would then take me to my fairy godmother’s in Eugene, the next town over. He would bring Maddy on Christmas Eve day to my mom’s house so that she wouldn’t be unattended on the day there would be the least amount of staff around to supervise. I liked the idea of giving Maddy a safe place to stay, where she would feel welcome for Christmas.
In a swirl of black mist, Thatch transported Imani and me with him to a place out of the way, where we arrived between two wooden fences, out of sight from cars and pedestrians. The pathway led to the bike path behind her apartment complex. The towering trees and fence created a discreet location for magical transportation that hid us from the Gladys Kravitz of the neighborhood. The sun was just beginning to brighten the sky. Shadows of a pine tree next to the fence hid us from view. As we circled around to the front, a loud boom from the street made me jump.
Thatch continued without hesitation, and I saw it was just a car backfiring.
The sidewalk around the front was covered in a fine carpet of frost that would probably melt as the sun rose. One of the cars we passed was missing all four tires. A homeless man picked through the dumpster in the parking lot of the apartment complex, eyeing us warily.
Imani skipped up to apartment twenty-eight and knocked. She waved to me. “See you in a few days.”
Thatch shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and stepped back. I snagged his arm. “Let’s wait.”
He shrugged me off. “I have things to do, students to give detentions to.”
“Fine. Go ahead.” I didn’t intend to leave until Imani made it into her family’s house. She was too young and vulnerable, and I didn’t like this neighborhood.
Thatch could have returned to the shelter of the tree around the corner, leaving me stranded so I’d be forced to call my mom to come get me, but he remained.
Imani knocked again and rang the doorbell. No one answered. She looked under the doormat.
A man opened the door. He wore a stained undershirt that didn’t quite cover his beer gut. He didn’t resemble Imani, but he could have been a relative.
Imani stepped back. “Who are you?”
He looked her up and down. “We aren’t interested in whatever you’re selling.”
“Merlin’s fucking balls,” Thatch muttered under his breath.
I jogged forward. “Hi, do you live here? We’re looking for Mr. and Mrs. Washington.”
“You’ve got the wrong address.” The man closed the door.
Imani turned one way and then the other, looking like she was about to bolt. I’d seen kids run when faced with more than they could handle emotionally.
I placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her toward the front of the apartments, hoping we might find an office or a sign for the landlord. “Do you think we got the wrong address, sweetie? Is there an apartment manager we can talk to?”
She started to hyperventilate.
“When is the last time you spoke with your family?” Thatch asked.
Imani sucked in a few breaths, her words coming out in clumps as she unsuccessfully tried to calm herself. “I mailed them a letter … last week … to tell them … when I would be coming home. I sent a letter because … my mom’s email … kept bouncing.” She covered her face with her hands and sobbed.
I hugged her and patted her back. “Do you have your parents’ phone numbers? We can use my cell and call.”
She shook her head and cried into my coat. “My mom changed it.”
“Do you truly need to do that?” Thatch hissed at me.
“What?” I asked.
“Hug her and coddle her like that. It’s highly inappropriate for a professional to touch students, and it isn’t going to help.”
As Josie would say, what a bag of dicks. “Hugs make some people feel better.” I turned to Imani. “Are there any other family members we can call?”
She shook her head.
“When is the last time your parents spoke to you?” Thatch asked. “Have you talked to them on the phone? Gotten any mail from them since you arrived at school?”
“I saw them in September,” she wailed. “Just before coming here. My mom said I was bad. She always knew I was bad. Now I’m at a school for juvenile delinquents. She said she was done with me and I could stay with people like me where I belonged.”
Thatch tsked. “Let me see if I understand you correctly. Your parents have disowned you, which you neglected to tell us, and then you thought they would be happy to see you again during the break.”
I shook my head at him. “You aren’t helping.”
“I didn’t think she meant it!” Imani said. “My stepfather said she was just mad about me blowing up the toaster. I figured she’d see how much I changed. I can control my magic now. I won’t make the television explode or make lightning strike the car. I haven’t had any accidents since I started at Womby’s. I told her in my letters. She didn’t answer, but I just thought… .”
It seemed Imani had as much of a history with her affinity as I did. I handed her a tissue from my pocket. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.
“Well, there’s nothing to be done about it now,” Thatch said. “I’ll take you back to school. You can spend Christmas with the other students who stay over the break.”
She looked down at the ground and nodded.
My heart broke seeing her look so forlorn. “Why don’t you come to my mom’s house with me? You can spend the break with us and go back when Maddy goes back.”
“You aren’t joking?” She grabbed onto my coat sleeve, her eyes full of desperation.
“Yeah, but you’re going to have to put up with my fairy godmother.” I waggled my eyebrows at her. “And all her delicious cooking.”
“Really?” She sniffled.
I scrounged my pockets for another tissue. “She’s going to put you to work making cookies, decorating the tree, and you’re going to have to endure shopping with me for Christmas presents.”
“Shopping! I love shopping!” She jumped up and down, her sorrows already forgotten. “And I like cookies.”
Thatch gave a little cough. “If it wouldn’t be imposing, perhaps I could bring Maddy earlier on Christmas Eve day. The more supervision she has, the better her chances are for not accidentally murdering some teenage boy who wants to kiss her.”
Imani giggled and sniffed. She probably thought that was a joke.
The following day, after shopping, baking, trimming the tree, and about four jillion other preparations, Imani watched the back door of my mom’s house, waiting impatiently for Maddy. She studied the plants nestled on shelves and the photos on the wall in the dining room. It was strange having a student in the small space, my separate worlds of home and work colliding.
“Who is this girl?” Imani asked, pointing to a photograph of Missy and me smiling and happy.
“That was my other daughter,” Mom said. “And my husband. Before they died.”
“Oh,” Imani said. Her gaze flickered to me and then away.
I imagined it was going to be even more awkward once Maddy arrived. But I liked both of them enough I didn’t mind sharing my home and my family with them.
Thatch arrived at three p.m., the appointed time, in my mom’s yard under her oak tree. Snow drifted down from the gray sky, dusting the world like a layer of powdered sugar.
“They’re here!” Imani ran out the b
ack door, forgetting her coat. The two girls hugged and laughed, overjoyed to see each other. It was nice to see Imani with a friend. They deserved to have a Christmas with people who would be nice to them.
“Guess what? It’s going to be a white Christmas! Can you believe it?” Imani jumped up and down. “Snow!”
Maddy squealed in delight. My mom laughed softly from where she stood next to the stove wearing her “Kiss me, I’m Irish” apron. “You would think those girls never had seen snow before. Some things are more powerful than magic.”
“Morty magic,” I said. Sometimes simple everyday occurrences like the Heimlich maneuver or brownies were magic for those who needed them.
I caught sight of a shadowy figure by the tree and smiled, hoping I’d get to share the magic of baked goods with Felix Thatch.
I looked for my coat in the hall closet, didn’t see the one I wanted, and went out through the open door without one, watching the girls scrape the thin velvet of snow off the outside table and throw it at each other. Thatch remained under the boughs of the immense oak tree, turned away and talking quietly.
My footsteps crunched over frozen grass as I prepared what I would say to him in my mind. Would you like to come in for some cookies and cocoa?
If you aren’t busy, will you join us for some cookies inside?
I was overthinking this. We were just friends. This shouldn’t have been so difficult. Cookies weren’t going to make him fall in love with me. I didn’t even know if I wanted him to fall in love with me. I’d been telling myself I would be reunited with Derrick someday, so why would I want to complicate things by falling for someone else?
He turned. “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought another student.” The striking features of his face remained somber. He stepped aside, revealing Hailey Achilles.
Oh shit.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
How the Grinchkin Stole Christmas
That was just the kind of thing Thatch would do. He wanted to make my life miserable. This was the proof. It was one thing to invite Imani and Maddy into my mom’s house—students I trusted, people I volunteered to host—but my worst student? Hailey had nearly burned down my classroom.
I tried to smile and adopt an air of professionalism.
Hailey trudged out from behind Thatch and scowled. I shook my head at him when she wasn’t looking. He pretended not to notice. He followed the girls up to the house, shoving Hailey through the back door. The moment he stepped inside, Mom’s cat, Lucifer, yowled. His back arched as he gazed at Thatch.
“Did I hear someone come in? Is that Mr. Thatch?” Mom asked from the oven.
“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth.
Hailey shifted from foot to foot, glancing from me to Thatch.
Mom came out of the kitchen and into the dining room, wiping her hands on her green apron. She cooed at Lucifer and picked him up. That calmed the black cat down, though he kept turning to give Thatch the stink eye.
“How about some cocoa? Would you like some Mr. Th—” She stopped, looking Hailey up and down. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were bringing two more young ladies.” Mom’s rosy cheeks flushed redder. “Are you spending the night too, dear?”
“Um, I guess.” Hailey kicked at a clump of melting ice on the mat by the door.
“Perhaps we should go outside, Professor Thatch,” I said. “You and I have a few things to discuss.”
He ignored me. He examined a framed photo on the wall of my family that Dad had taken long ago, all four of us smiling and hugging. Missy made bunny ears behind my head. My sister had looked like a normal kid back then. It was from before she’d been abducted at Oregon Country Fair by a witch. I didn’t want Thatch to see that happy moment with my sister, for him to know how much I loved her, and how it hurt knowing my magic combined with Derrick’s had caused her death.
“What’s your name, dear?” Mom asked Hailey.
She glanced at Thatch as if asking permission to speak. “Hailey.”
“Would you like some cocoa, Hailey?”
“Okay.”
“Felix Thatch,” I said.
Mom waved a hand at me. “Go get more blankets out of the hall closet.”
I had already gotten all the blankets out five minutes before. “We don’t have any more, Mom.” I glared at Thatch.
Now what were we supposed to do? I didn’t want Hailey there—I wasn’t going to allow her to ruin my Christmas. It was bad enough she’d ruined my classroom. She had hexed me on multiple occasions, blackmailed me, and pushed me into the Pit of Horrors. Fortunately, I’d survived.
Thatch eyed a tiered tray that resembled a Christmas tree made out of desserts on the counter. Each shelf was made of a festive green and red plate, the larger ones on the bottom and the smaller on the top. Different kinds of brownies were heaped on the bottom two shelves, Turkish delight on the next, and fudge on the highest shelf.
“Do you want a brownie?” I crossed my arms, resenting that I had to be courteous to him because that’s what people were supposed to do when someone drooled over your pastries. “Just so you know, I helped make them, so they’re unlikely to meet your high expectations.”
“Thank you,” he said, selecting one. “When you put it like that, I can be assured of what I’m getting into.”
“I’d like to have a word with you.”
He peered more closely at the dessert tree. “If you must.”
“Outside.”
He grabbed a second brownie and followed me outside into the garden.
“Take a coat,” Mom said, waving my jacket out the door after me. “And you really should get your gloves if you’re going outside.”
I accepted the coat. I wasn’t going back inside to search for my gloves. Thatch was likely to disappear before I had a chance to give him a piece of my mind. By the time I’d turned back, I found Thatch heading toward the shelter of the oak tree where he’d arrived. He must have eaten his brownies because they were already gone.
“Oh, no you don’t.” I chased after him. “You aren’t leaving yet.”
He sighed in exasperation. “I wish I could just time travel to the good parts of my life.”
“You made your bed. Now you get to lie in it.” I crossed my arms, warming my fingers under my armpits. “I told you it was fine if you brought one more student. I didn’t say anything about two. You’re taking advantage of my mother’s hospitality and kindness.”
“Yes. I’m aware.”
“My mom doesn’t have room for three teenagers. We don’t have the blankets. She didn’t plan on feeding three. I drove to the store in the ice and bought presents for Imani and Maddy. I didn’t buy any more.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage.”
“No, we aren’t going to manage. You’ve ruined my Christmas. I wanted to spend the holiday with my mom. With my family. I didn’t want to feel like I was working. I was okay sharing it with one more. I tolerated the idea of adding another student, but you’ve gone too far. Hailey Achilles. Are you kidding me? I’m going to have to babysit her the entire time and make sure she doesn’t steal things and set fire to the toilet paper. I’ll worry she might do something horrible to my mom. Do you have to make everyone’s life miserable just because yours is?”
He glanced at the house through the falling flakes of snow. “Keep your voice down. Someone will hear you.”
“You need to fix this. You are going to tell Hailey you made a mistake and take her back to school. And don’t make me the bad guy in this. You were the one who brought her uninvited.”
“Is that all?” He reached into the breast pocket of his vest as if searching for something, but he didn’t find what he was looking for.
I inched back, suspecting he was about to use his wand on me. But he didn’t pull out his wand. It took me a moment to realize he must have been searching for his pocket watch.
I raised my chin, embracing my inner Vega. “I want you to apologi
ze to my mother for imposing on her.”
He nodded. “If I must.” He waited a beat. “Are you done being melodramatic?”
I glared at him as I counted to ten. He always knew the right combination of words to set me off.
I only made it to five before he spoke. “Before I take the drastic measures you’ve demanded of me, let us first consider something you might not have taken a moment to ponder.” He waved a hand at the house. “Have you ever considered what Christmas is like at Womby’s?”
I didn’t answer. I knew what he was going to try to do. He was going to try to make me feel guilty.
He tossed back his hair, snow tumbling off his black locks as he shook it away. “Let me tell you, then. Most of the staff goes home to see their families with the exception of Mr. Khaba, Sam, and me. We are left to supervise the students. Mr. Khaba doesn’t celebrate Christmas. He only tolerates the holiday party because Jeb requires he attend. Sam refuses to come inside the school because the rules dictate he must wear clothes indoors. He feels it is an oppressive rule meant to subjugate sentient animal species of Witchkin into our ideals of conformity. That leaves me in charge. Do I strike you as someone who knows how to make Christmas merry for children?” he asked.
That made me laugh. His eyes narrowed. Oh, he wasn’t joking.
“Our school is a charity school. Many in our population are orphans. Out of four hundred students, almost half of them have no parents. Those who have friends sometimes travel home for the holidays and spend it with them. But not all families can afford to pay for the plane ticket or train ticket. Each holiday, I ferry a dozen or so teenagers home. After that, I’m left with several dozen students who have no friends to speak of. These students spend their holiday at the school.
“With me. Lucky them.”
The snow came down thicker, the wind blowing it under my collar. I tucked myself closer to the tree to block the wind.
Thatch didn’t flinch from the cold. “Christmas Eve dinner starts with the same bland soup they usually eat. For lunch and dinner the following day, they are gifted with leftovers. If the budget allows, and the brownies remember it is a holiday, they might make something special for the children like a pudding or a fruitcake for dessert. There are no presents from family and friends. No one sings or plays games. The students sit in their dormitories moping Christmas Day, and no one notices their lack of presence if they don’t show up to meals.
